#a christmas imagine for him will be this week

[inlovewithpandora]

⋆｡°✩ — His Favorite Fantasy ᝰ A Rafe Cameron Christmas Special

Lyrics — Rafe’s been begging to introduce roleplay into your sex life, and you’ve been brushing him off—until now. When he comes home from a long trip, you surprise him in a sexy maid costume, turning his wildest fantasy into reality. Christmas came early, and so will he when you’re done with him.

Music Advisory — roleplay [reader is a sexy maid], a little smutty [brief handjob/blowjob], very suggestive ending, s4!rafe coded, business man!rafe,

Duration — 3k words

Words from Artist — Happy Christmas Eve Everyone! I wanted to write a fun and smutty holiday fic for Rafe and this is the concept I came up with! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — main m.list・obx taglist・navigation

Rafe has been dropping hints for months— lingering looks, teasing remarks, and casual comments that made it clear about what he wanted. The Kook prince has been wanting to experiment in the bedroom for a while, bringing a new spice to your sexual relationship by having a role-play session. It’s been on his mind for a while and he wasn’t shy of letting his fantasies be known.

It started out as a joke—or at least, that’s what you told yourself. One of Rafe’s usual throwaway, flirty remarks—the type that always made you roll your eyes and mutter a soft, “You’re crazy, Rafe,” as you gave him a playful shove. But your slightly dismissive attitude never stopped him. If anything, it only encouraged him to bring the idea up more.

Over breakfast, during your lazy afternoons at home, when you both are partying at the boneyard, even during your late night phone calls. No matter the setting, whenever the thought of you in a slutty little costume, showing off the assets you were blessed with, he speaks his mind.

Like that time a few weeks ago, when you were cooking dinner. You’d been on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab an ingredient from a high shelf, Rafe walked up behind you, pressing his chest against your back, and his arm stretching past yours as he helped you reach what you were looking for. “Y’know,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing, “you’d look so sexy in one of those little outfits. All short ‘n tight, wearing one of those skimpy skirts.”

“Rafe!” you’d hiss, fighting a tight lipped smile while your cheeks burn from his flirty comment. You stepped out of his grasp and swatted his arm like you usually do when he brings up the idea of you dressing up for him.

"What?" he'd say, grinning like the devil himself, giving your ass a nice grab before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Just tryin’ to paint you a picture."

It wasn't just the comments, though. It was the tone of his voice, the way his voice dripped with mischief, his eyes dark and suggestive, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And damn it, he was good at it. You'd laugh it off every time, rolling your eyes or shaking your head, pretending you weren't affected while saying “Keep dreaming, Cameron. Not gonna happen”. But in reality you actually wanted to dress up in a slutty costume for Rafe, you just couldn’t let him know that.

Your plan has been in moniton for months, with Christmas right around the corner you thought this would be the perfect time to give him what he’s been practically begging for as an early Christmas gift. You’ve been spending your time scrolling through multiple websites, trying to find the perfect ensemble to surprise him with. After continuously surfing the web you finally found the perfect costume and it was thankfully delivered just in time to surprise Rafe with it before he came home from his business trip.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you open the package, pulling out each part of the costume in awe as you imagine the material clinging to your curves, and how Rafe’s going to be practically trying to rip it off you after the image of you being his sexy maid is stained in his brain. Out of all the role-playing scenarios he’s talked to you about, acting as his maid who ‘cleans up his messes’ and ‘does a little extra for her holiday bonus’ is the one he’s brought up the most.

Rafe’s private jet landed a few hours ago so now you’re currently preparing for his arrival and doing final touches on your look; spraying your favorite scent of perfume, taking your hair out of its current updo and allowing it to cascade down shoulders, and finishing your makeup with your strongest setting spray to keep it as fresh as possible.

As you take one final glance in your full length mirror, you can’t help but feel a mixture of nerves and excitement bubbling in your stomach. The maid costume fit perfectly, snug in all the right places, the small white apron tied neatly around your waist, and the white thigh-high stockings with a lacy trim that adds a perfect amount of tease. You give yourself a once over, turning slightly to admire your physique, causing a smirk to come across your lips. “Damn, I look good.” You mumble under your breath as you make sure your hair looks its very best.

The sound of your phone buzzing as it sits on your vanity pulls your attention away from the mirror and you walk over to see read the notification which you soon realized it was a text from Rafe:

[8:55PM] Ray❤️: Just pulled in the driveway, baby.

As your eyes read Rafe’s text your heart skips a beat as the moment you’ve been carefully planning for months is finally here. You quickly adjust your stockings, grab the feather duster off your bed, and make your way downstairs to the front door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself and calm your nerves.

After a few minutes of waiting you can hear the keys being placed in the front door, and soon the door swings open and reveals Rafe. His navy blazer was slung over his shoulder, the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his usual confidence carrying him inside. “Baby!” He calls out while his eyes quickly scans the area around the front door before he goes into his home office and sets his things down before trying to find you around the large square footage of Tannyhill. “Baby, where are you-” His words become lodged in his throat and his eyes widen when his gaze lands on you, standing in the kitchen in your costume, leaning against the granite countertop with a feather duster in your hand with a coy smile.

"Holy shit," His voice is low and raspy, he runs his hand over his buzz cut and rubs the back of his neck out of shock and disbelief that you’re standing in front of him, acting out one of his top fantasies. Rafe’s eyes can’t pry away from you in this beautiful ensemble: an all black lace corset that pushes up your plump breast, a little mini skirt that shows the bottom of your ass cheeks if you bend over in the slightest, white garters around your thighs and stockings wrapped around your slender legs, and the cherry on top that completes the outfit—and causes his cock to strain against his slacks— is your pretty feet in the Christian Louboutin black stilettos he bought you a while back.

“Welcome home, Mr. Cameron.” your voice is laced with a playful innocence but your eyes are telling a different story. Rafe doesn't respond immediately; his jaw slackens slightly, and his piercing blue eyes roam over body, soaking in every detail of your outfit like he's committing it to memory so he’ll never forget. His hand remains frozen on the back of his neck as though he's trying to ground himself from the initial wave of shock. Finally, his lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk, the kind that always sends shivers down your spine.

"Holy shit," he repeats, his voice thicker this time. He drops his blazer onto the back of a chair and walks toward you with purposeful steps, resting his hands on your hips, trying his best to keep himself under control and not just devour you right here on the kitchen counter. "I must've walked into the wrong house because there's no way my girl-" He pauses, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "—the one who's been brushing me off for months-is standing here looking like every fantasy i've ever had."

You twirl the feather duster in your hand, your coy smile growing as you feel his hand grasp the flesh of your ass. "Well, Mr. Cameron. I thought it was time I finally give you what you’ve been asking for." you say, your tone dripping with playful seduction.

Rafe's grip on your ass tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to make you gasp. His smirk deepens and his eyes turn a shade darker with a glint of desire, showing that he’s clearly amused by how committed you are to your role. "You got no idea how long i've been waiting for this, baby." he drawls, his voice low and teasing.

Rafe steps even closer, pressing his body against yours until there's no space left between you, allowing you to feel his bulge that’s aching to be wrapped around your sweet pussy. His other hand slides up your waist, brushing against the lacy corset before resting just below your breast. "You've been playing hard to get," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making goosebumps rise to the surface. "Brushing me off, laughing it away like I didn't mean it... And now you're just gonna stand there ‘n act like you didn't drive me crazy on purpose?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your composure under his intense gaze and his fiery touch as his hands move to multiple parts of your body. "I wanted it to be a surprise, an early Christmas gift." you whisper, setting the feather duster done and beginning to unbutton the rest of Rafe’s shirt so you can get him shirtless. "And judging by the look on your face, l'd say I made the right decision."

A dark chuckle escapes Rafe’s throat as his lips graze the corner of your mouth. "Oh, you did, sweetheart," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "But don't think for a second you're getting away with teasing me like this."

Rafe steps back slightly, his hands sliding down your thighs before effortlessly lifting you onto the countertop. The cool granite against your skin sends a shiver through your body, and before you can even react, he leans in, trailing his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone in teasing nips.

"I've got a lot of making up to do for all the times you told me this wasn't your thing," he murmurs against your skin, his voice thick with desire. His lips leave a trail of red marks, each one more insistent than the last, and you know they'll be hard to cover up tomorrow when you head out.

You grin at his remark, the teasing satisfaction in your eyes matched only by the heat building between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that's raw and hungry, his large, calloused hand wrapping around your throat in a possessive grip that makes your breath hitch. He kisses you sloppily, yet perfectly, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless and desperate for more.

Finally, he pulls away, his lips hovering just above yours, his eyes dark with desire. "I'm all yours, Mr. Cameron," you breathe, your voice thick with anticipation. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Rafe pulls back, just enough to meet your eyes, his hand still wrapped around your throat, his grip firm but careful. His lips are slightly swollen from the rough kiss, and his piercing blue eyes are dark with desire. "Whatever I need, huh?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your jaw as he tilts your head back, exposing more of your neck to him.

You nod, your breath hitching as his lips graze your throat, his stubble rough against your sensitive skin. "Yes, that's what I'm here for," you whisper, your voice shaky but steady enough to keep up the act.

His piercing gaze locks onto yours, and then he lowers his eyes, making a slow, deliberate trail down to the very obvious bulge straining against his slacks. "Oh, i've got something you can help me out with," he says, his voice dripping with filthy intent. His hand slid to your chin, tilting your head up so you couldn't look anywhere but at him. "And trust me, sweetheart, it's a big job."

Your breath hitches as Rafe's words hang in the air, thick with desire and dirty promise. His piercing blue eyes pin you in place, his grip on your chin firm but gentle, commanding your attention. The smirk on his lips is cocky and confident, the kind that always makes your stomach flip.

"Oh, is that so?" you murmur, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of his gaze, though you try to keep your tone playful.

Rafe tilts his head, his thumb brushing lightly against your bottom lip. "Mhm," he hums, his voice low and gravelly. "You've been teasing me all night with this little outfit, acting like a good girl. But we both know better, don't we?"

Your cheeks flush at his words, but you hold his gaze, a small smirk tugging at your lips. "Well, Mr. Cameron," you reply, your voice dripping with false innocence, "I'm just here to... serve."

That earns you a low, dark chuckle from Rafe, his fingers sliding down to grip your neck lightly, just enough to make your pulse race. "Good," he murmurs, his lips brushing yours but not quite kissing you. "Then get down on your knees and start working... because I'm not letting you off easy."

The command sends a rush of heat through your body, and you feel his hands guide you off the counter with practiced ease. “Yes sir, Mr. Cameron.” Once your heels hit the tile you grab Rafe’s hand and lead him to the living room, making sure you twist your hips perfectly so your ass ripples with each step you take so Rafe’s eyes stay glued to your body.

When you're in front of the couch you softly push him into the cushiony material and once he’s seated your knees hit the soft rug beneath you, looking up at Rafe through your lashes while you undo the buckle of his belt, pulling the leather through its loops and throw it off to the side before pulling his pants and boxers down. Once the cotton cloth is no longer acting as a restraint, Rafe’s hardened cock springs free, softly hitting his lower abdomen before it rests in front of you, pre-cum leaking down his tip, making your mouth water at the sight.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, creating a pleasant sensation to shoot through Rafe’s body as your warm palm moves toward his tip and down to his base. Once you see the veins in his cock become prominent, and his shaft starts to throb in your hand, you move all your hair over your shoulder before kissing Rafe’s pinkish tip and taking him in your mouth, swirling your tongue on his cock and sucking him off just the way he likes.

As Rafe watches you, your lipstick leaving stains on cock, the way you're taking him deep in your throat, watching your saliva drip down his shaft, and the vibrations flowing through his body from your soft hums to keep yourself from gagging makes him throw his head back in ecstasy, wanting to fuck your pretty little throat until it’s raw and hoarse.

He uses his large callous hands as a makeshift ponytail, tangling his hands in your hair before pushing you down further onto his cock, forcing your nose to touch his groin and the tip of his cock to your uvula, making a hiss spew from his mouth. "Fuck, that's it, baby," he murmurs, his voice filled with the wicked intent to press you to your limit and use you in any way he pleases.

Rafe's grip on your hair tightens as he guides your movements, his hips rolling forward slightly, matching the rhythm of your bobbing head. His cock twitches against your tongue, and the guttural groans spilling from his lips tell you just how much he's losing control. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust, his eyes locked on the way your lips stretch around him. "So fuckin' pretty like this. My perfect little maid, doin’ such a good job for me."

Your hands rest on his thighs for support as you take him deeper, your eyes watering but fixed upward to meet his intense gaze. He groans at the sight, his free hand brushing the tears that are flowing down your cheek with surprising tenderness, a sharp contrast to the way his other hand grips your hair.

"You like this, don't you?" he growls, his tone teetering between teasing and demanding. "Taking me so well, letting me use this pretty mouth. Bet you've been thinking about this all day, huh?"

You hum in response, the vibrations traveling through him and pulling another curse from his lips. "Shit," he hisses, his hips jerking forward instinctively. "I could do this all night. But you keep this up..." He trails off, his voice rough as his breathing grows heavier. "...and I'm not gonna last much longer."

Rafe pulls back slightly, letting you catch your breath before pressing you down again, his cock sliding deep into your throat. The lewd sound of your gagging only fuels him further, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you work, completely lost in the pleasure you're giving him.

"That's it, sweetheart," he groans, his voice low and gravelly. "Prove to me you're my good little maid. Show me just how well you can take care of me."

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[swappingforgood]

Holiday Cheater

I was always jealous of my dad. The bald head and amazing beard, the hunky but thick body, he had it all. So imagine my suspicion when I discovered he would leave the house at 1 am for the past few weeks. He told Mom and me that he “has friends in town,” but why can he only see these “friends” so late at night? I tried to do everything I could to find out, like turning on his location on his phone, but I would fall asleep before checking it, and I even put an AirTag on the bottom of his boots, but he broke it while walking. I was going nuts over this because it’s almost Christmas, and if I find out that he is cheating on MoM, that would break her heart. So I contacted my friend and told her my struggles and asked if she knew anything about tracking people, and she said, “I have a foolproof method.” She taught me about astral projection and gave me the spell. She warned me about accidentally possessing someone, and if I did do that, just make sure I didn’t orgasm. I laughed at the thought of accidentally becoming my dad, but I thanked her and went home. Lo and behold, 1 am comes, and I see Dad’s truck is gone, so I begin the spell and imagine I’m where my dad is, and voila. I’m floating in someone’s house; I’m flying through the walls, and I hear moaning, but from men… I see the back of my dad’s naked body as he face fucks a man. My head started spinning with questions. Is he gay? Why would he cheat? Who is this man, and how long have they been doing this? I was furious that I tried to push him, but my spirit slid inside my dad’s body, and my fear and panic were erased with pleasure as I blew a load inside this man’s mouth. Sealing myself inside my dad's body

[megalony]

He Can't Have You

This is a new Evan Buckley imagine requested by the lovely @darkfemme1 I hope you will all like it.

There is a follow up already complete for this, please let me know what you all think.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan's baby is due any day now, therefore (Y/n) hangs around the station a lot so she isn't alone. But things take a bad turn when her ex finds her. And kidnaps her.

Enjoy.

(Merry Christmas!)

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

"Hey stranger."

A smile flooded (Y/n)'s face when she looked to the right and saw Bobby aiming her way.

"Hi Bobby,"

Part of her felt bad for turning up unannounced, at least, she hadn't been invited to the station. This was a busy, hectic place and (Y/n) always felt like she needed an invite to turn up here. Evan changed her mind. He practically begged her to come down to the station whenever she wanted, he said having a visit from her boosted him up and made his day even better. Especially when he was doing long shifts and he started to miss and yearn for her.

Bobby always told the team that family could always stop by and he was often telling (Y/n) she wouldn't be a burden or be in the way if she had to come by and see Evan for any reason.

"Buck said you'd be stopping by, how are you?" He saw the surprise light up her eyes and she stepped closer while she glanced around. The station seemed rather mellow today.

"Tired… and I was sort of conscripted to come over." (Y/n) rolled her lips together into a thin smile and glanced her eyes down.

Her hands moved to cradle her bump that was getting in the way of almost everything lately.

With her due date being next week, Evan was starting to get on edge. He didn't want her going into labour without him or while he was out on a call, and he dreaded the thought of (Y/n) being alone when it happened or something going wrong. The the last two weeks, Evan had been telling (Y/n) to stop by the station whenever she wanted, whether it was to have lunch with the team or to stay with them if she didn't feel great.

She had practically become part of the furniture and all the team loved it when she stopped by.

Bobby had agreed that with (Y/n) being so close to her due date and Evan still working, (Y/n) could stop at the station while he was on shift so she wasn't home alone.

"Well we'll all be glad you're here. Come get a drink and we'll find Buck." Bobby beckoned (Y/n) over to him and she gladly followed him towards the stairs. Her hand curled around his arm and she let him lead her up the stairs towards the kitchen.

(Y/n) loved the smile she saw on her husband's face when she and Bobby reached the top of the stairs and found Evan stood in the kitchen with Chimney.

He was leaning back against the counter, hips pushed out, one hand behind him gripping the counter while his other hand brought a mug of coffee to his blushing red lips that were quirked up into a bright smile. He chuckled into his mug and barely managed a mouthful before his eyes set on his captain and noticed who was stood with him.

"Hey, there are my girls." Evan set down his cup and pushed off the counter with a bounce in his step and a quirk of his brow when he noticed the blush that crept up (Y/n)'s neck and onto her cheeks at his remark. It was about time she turned up to see them, Evan had been missing her already.

When he reached her, Evan wrapped his arms around (Y/n)'s waist and instantly reeled her into his chest. His palms spread out over the small of her back, allowing his fingers to skim up and down her dress and he couldn't dampen his smile, even when he leaned down to kiss her. Just seeing (Y/n) brightened Evan's mood and made him feel elated.

He felt (Y/n)'s hands smooth up his arms and her fingers dug sweetly into his biceps. Evan rolled his lips together and nudged his nose against (Y/n)'s as he kept his forehead pressed against hers until (Y/n) leaned forward to bury her face in his shoulder.

"You okay?"

(Y/n) felt him whisper the words against the side of her head and she could feel his lips tickling her skin and his nose brushing against her hair.

"Yeah, we're doing fine." Her lips curved when she felt one of Evan's arms retract from her waist so his hand could cup the side of her stomach. The feeling of his thumb tracing across her bump over her dress made adrenaline pool in her stomach. And (Y/n) knew if they were at home and not here in front of friends, Evan would have lifted her dress to hold her bump properly.

"Good, that's what I wanna hear. Do you want a drink?" Turning to the side, Evan kept one arm around (Y/n)'s waist and moved towards the kitchen where Bobby was now pouring himself a drink. He felt (Y/n)'s arms circle around his middle rather tightly like she was trying to squeeze all the air out of him but it was strangely comforting.

(Y/n) nodded her head but when they reached the kitchen, her hands tightened in Evan's middle until her nails almost pierced through his shirt into his skin. She pushed her forehead into his chest and leaned her weight onto him when the baby started to move around.

"Babe?" Evan stopped walking and moved his hands to hold (Y/n)'s arms but she reached up and held his wrists with a deep breath and a smile.

"Just tense… God, your kid's heavy."

"Uh, the midwife said she's perfect, actually." Evan murmured the words against the top of her head with a smirk playing on his lips when (Y/n) rolled her eyes. They both knew he was taking that slightly out of context, the midwife had told them that their baby was the normal weight and size and that she was doing perfectly well. Of course, that was music to Evan's ears.

She changed direction and headed over to the table where Eddie and Hen were playing a round of cards. She felt better when she sat down and as expected, Evan followed her. His hand cupped her thigh as he crouched down beside her, staring up at her with that sugary sweet smile that always managed to melt (Y/n) in every possible way.

He shifted his other hand up to her stomach and a broad grin spread across his lips when he felt movement.

"She's happy today."

A burning sensation flooded through (Y/n)'s stomach and fluttered up her chest when Evan gently took her chin between his fingers and thumb and tilted her head down so she was level with him. She could see the love pooling in his eyes and the way his lips were dithering between a placid smile and a concerned look when he noticed the discomfort etched onto her face.

"I'm okay," She answered his silent question and reached down to hold his wrist as if making sure he wasn't about to move his hand away from her bump.

His lips formed back into the bright smile he wore earlier and he perched his chin down on (Y/n)'s thigh, squeezed her hip and carded his thumb across her stomach. Evan was always thrilled any time the baby moved and he was around to feel it. It was like he was witnessing a miracle and it always made (Y/n) smile to see that look in his eyes and have his hands roaming across her stomach with such wonder.

"Should we expect the new arrival soon?" A grin pulled on Eddie's lips as he looked over his hand of cards to glance across at the couple.

"Not today," (Y/n) shook her head and she smiled, murmuring her thanks when Bobby placed a drink down on the table next to her.

She was ready to have this baby, but it didn't feel like their girl would be making an appearance anytime soon. At least not today. She seemed settled and comfy, especially with Evan now muttering incoherent whispers to her that (Y/n) couldn't make out. She was always finding Evan whispering things to the baby now, ever since he read somewhere that babies could recognise voices while they were in the womb.

"Shame, I think someone's getting impatient." Hen smiled softly and pointed over towards Evan.

The team could all see that he was bouncing off the walls recently. Every phone call he got from (Y/n) made him jump and he seemed to hold his breath, waiting for her to tell him she was in labour, but it hadn't happened yet. They all knew Evan was anxious to have his baby girl in his arms by now.

"I-"

The smile on Evan's face dwindled and the words faded on his tongue when the alarm went off.

His smile turned into a grimace and he locked his jaw, shaking his head to himself. That noise was like a bad omen. When they were waiting around, bored, wishing for a call, all they got was nothing. And then they got days where they couldn't even get a drink before they were back out again.

It was like a twisted game and it was irritating. Evan didn't want to go yet, not when (Y/n) had only just got here, but it was out of his hands now. Knowing (Y/n) was going to be here when they got back made Evan feel a little better.

"You're staying here and waiting for us to get back, aren't you?" Evan pushed up to his feet but the look on his face and his hands on his hips told (Y/n) he wasn't really asking, he was telling.

He wanted her to stick around here so if she went into labour or she didn't feel well, someone would always be around. She was in the safest place by being here. And it meant Evan would see her for a bit longer if she stuck around until they came back from this call.

(Y/n) looked across at Bobby for confirmation that she was alright to hang around the station if the team went out. The smile on his face and the warm look in his eyes told (Y/n) she was more than welcome.

"You can stay here as long as you like, make yourself comfortable."

When the team all got up and made their way down the stairs to get ready, Evan stooped over and gently cupped (Y/n)'s chin in his hand so he could tilt her head up towards him. His grin was soft and his eyes were dilated and flooded with warmth.

"I'll be back soon."

He pressed a searing kiss to her lips while his thumb stroked her chin and across the side of her cheek. He felt (Y/n)'s fingers feather across his neck and she hummed against his lips, watching him finally tear away from her so he could go out on the call. But his mind would stick around here, he would constantly be thinking about his girls while he was out on this call; desperate to come back to them.

***

(Y/n) tilted her head back and slouched down a little on the sofa to try and ease the tension in her back. It felt like someone was jabbing a knife into each column of her spine; there was a horrid ache going down the centre of her back. It was probably due to how she had been sitting and sleeping recently, but there were very little positions in which (Y/n) could get comfy.

She moved her hands to run up and down her bump while she stared blankly at the tv. An old tv show was playing on repeat on one of the channels so (Y/n) had clicked on it because she wasn't watching, but she knew the rest of the 118 who were loitering about in the annex liked the background noise the same as (Y/n) did. And watching the news was always draining when every news reel was of some kind of accident or trauma these days.

The desire to take a nap was getting more and more infectious, but (Y/n) didn't want to sleep here. Not in front of or around people, especially when these were the people Evan worked with on a daily basis.

She hoped he would be back soon. She cast her eyes around the annex as if praying he would suddenly appear out of nowhere and sit next to her.

(Y/n) found herself getting lost in thought while she traced designs and scribblings against her bump with the pad of her finger. But she looked up to the left when a shadow cast over her and she noticed one of the team standing beside the sofa.

It was Alex. (Y/n) didn't know him very well, but she knew him enough and she knew Evan had gone out for a drink once or twice with him in the last few months. He had a kind grin on his face and he pressed his hand on the back of the sofa to prop himself up.

"Hey Buckley, is your car the blue ford?"

"Yeah, why?" (Y/n) sat up straighter as her smile faded into a confused frown. She had driven down to the station earlier, despite how uncomfortable it was getting to drive now she was nine months pregnant. But it was preferable than walking all the way here, and (Y/n) certainly wasn't going to get the bus.

"The alarm's going off, want me to go lock it for you?"

"Oh, no I'll do it, thanks."

The warm smile stayed on Alex's face and he nodded his head at her before he turned and headed over to the pool table.

That was strange.

(Y/n)'s car wasn't tempermental, it wasn't the kind of car that would start beeping an alarm if someone walked past. Someone must have clipped her car when they left the car park or something had landed on it for the alarm to be going off. She highly doubted anyone would try and steal her car when it was parked at the back of the station in the car park reserved for the station team.

Moving her hands to the sofa, (Y/n) slowly pushed herself up to her feet and scoured her eyes around the station for her bag. Once she grabbed it, she made her way over to the stairs.

It was hard to try and move quickly when her body felt sluggish and weighed down, but she did her best to go fast once she was down the stairs. She turned to the left and headed past the locker room, down the corridor and out the side door into the car park.

Her eyes set on her car and she fished her keys out her pocket. Sure enough, it was (Y/n)'s car that was blaring out a deafening alarm (Y/n) was surprised she didn't hear up in the annex. Her car headlights were flashing in tandem with the horn and the noise made her grit her teeth.

God, she hoped no one had clipped her car; the last thing she needed was a dint or a scratch on her car or God forbid a mirror or her bumper hanging off. She would have to sweet talk Evan into fixing her car when he got back if anything was wrong.

When the alarm was turned off, (Y/n) stepped closer to inspect her car. Hopefully someone had just bumped into it on their way out and there was no lasting damage.

There didn't look like there was any marks, scratches or dents in her car and that made (Y/n) sigh.

But her relief was short-lived.

A hand clamped down around her mouth and an arm suddenly deadlocked around her waist. She could feel short nails scratching into her abdomen like they were trying to tear at her dress and her back crashed into a slender chest.

The keys in her hand clashed to the floor and her bag slid from her shoulder in panic as she waved her arms in desperation. Reaching her hands up, she tried to claw at the hand across her mouth and she let out whatever muffled scream she could manage. Her sense of balance became distorted when she was dragged backwards.

With another scream, (Y/n) closed her eyes in preparation and tried to thrust her head back as quickly as she could manage to headbutt whoever was trying to grab at her.

A violent yell errupted from the person behind her and the hand left her mouth in favour of cradling their nose which (Y/n) hoped she had broken.

She could see stars dancing in front of her eyes and her head swayed from left to right, causing her feet to stumble beneath her. She wasn't sure she would be able to keep herself upright, but the arm bound around her middle seemed to deadlock like a metal bar and before (Y/n) could try and stumble forwards, a cloth was forcefully rammed against her mouth.

She could taste the starched fabric and her teeth ached when the person's fingers pressed against her mouth so harshly that her upper lip cut against her tooth.

It was hard to remember what Evan had told her to do in panicked situations like this. (Y/n) tried to hold her breath, she knew she shouldn't- couldn't, breathe in whatever the cloth was soaked in, but she couldn't help it.

Her chest was aching, her lungs were desperate to circulate oxygen around her body and the baby was kicking and wriggling with bursts of adrenaline. Holding her breath wasn't an option (Y/n) had right now and she had no choice but to gasp and cough, breathing through the cloth that made her feel asthmatic with how little air she actually managed to breathe.

Both her hands reached up for the person's wrist and she dug her nails in until she could feel them pushing through a layer of skin, but it didn't help. (Y/n) was still dragged backwards, away from her car, away from the station door and she knew she was being pulled towards one of the cars parked up here.

"Don't play up!"

That sneering voice and the crude tone that was whispered in her ear made (Y/n) tense up.

Her shoulders pulled up towards her neck, her body began to shake and her legs felt like they were made out of clay that was starting to harden.

Tears burned in her eyes and she screamed as much as she could into the cloth and she writhed her body from left to right. Praying that the fire truck would roll into the station and someone would hear the commotion. Or that Evan would come out here and find her. She wanted Evan. She needed him.

He promised he would keep her safe and there was no other situation that (Y/n) needed him more than she did right now.

She knew who had hold of her.

Her heels scraped against the concrete and her head thrust back into his shoulder, but it didn't help. Her body was already starting to become sluggish and the sound of a car door opening didn't give (Y/n) enough adrenaline to fight whatever drugs she was forced to inhale.

Her body went limp when she was roughly forced into the passenger seat of a dark car and her head lolled against the driver's seat while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

It was her ex-husband.

***

A horrible thumping like a repeating clunk of a hammer ignited in the back of (Y/n)'s head and caused a groan to tumble past her lips.

Her forehead felt cold. It was a struggle to open her eyes, so (Y/n) tried to focus on her other senses and see if she could get her body moving. Her temple was pressing against something smooth but frozen cold. Her hands were numb and bent at odd angles on her lap. Her chest felt tight. Her back was flooded with crippling nerves and sharp flickers of pain and there was a dull tightening feeling in her abdomen.

The only part of her body that didn't seem to be in agony was her legs. They weren't cramped her bent at strange angles and they weren't littered with bruises like the rest of her body seemed to feel.

When her eyes finally started to open and her vision cleared up, bolts of lightning struck her heart and sent waves of adrenaline sparking through her stomach.

She was leaning against a window. Scenery was passing by in a flash and (Y/n) realised the light vibration she could sense was the car heading down a seemingly deserted back road.

It took a lot of effort to push her head off the window and her temple was horribly numb; she must have been leaning on the window for a long time to make her forehead go cold like that. Her head lolled back against the headrest and she took a moment to take a few deep breaths, but it only ignited the tension that seemed to radiate in every crevace of her body.

She didn't want to look. Her head turned to the left, but (Y/n) really didn't want to look and prove her memory right. She didn't want to see who was driving the car she didn't recognise but when she looked, she felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

Caleb.

It was her ex-husband. The one she had sucessfully managed to avoid for over a year now.

This was the man (Y/n) had nightmares about, the one who frightened her, threatened her and physically hurt her when they had been together. This was the person she had to get a restraining order against. The man that had broken her wrist, three of her ribs and who made her need six stitches in her forearm when she fended him off and the knife he came at her with.

Compared to Evan, Caleb was like the devil reincarnated. (Y/n) felt like she had won the lottery when she got with Evan and marrying him had been the best part of her life. (Y/n) thought she was finished with this chapter of her life, with the torment, the abuse and fear Caleb inflicted.

He looked so stoic and calm right now.

Driving with one hand on the wheel, his left elbow resting on the door and his chin leaning on his hand. It made him look casual, as if they were old friends going on a road trip instead of ex-partners who shouldn't be within one hundred feet of one another.

"Caleb?" She wasn't sure what she wanted to say or what kind of conversation she was trying to strike up, but (Y/n) needed answers.

She needed to know what he thought he was doing and what his plan seemed to be. What good would kidnapping her do? It wasn't as if he could just take (Y/n) and hold her hostage. She wasn't an ornament or a pet or a piece of property, she was a person and she was never going to go along with this.

And Caleb couldn't kidnap her and think that (Y/n) would go along with him if he tried to make her play the happy wife again. She was re-married. She was pregnant with someone else's child. What was he planning to do by kidnapping her like this?

"About time you woke up." He spared a glance in her direction and the half-smile that quirked on his lips made (Y/n) shrink down in her seat.

When he looked back to the road, (Y/n) carefully moved her hands, trying to be slow so he wouldn't notice or see what she was doing. She cupped her stomach and tried to run her right hand along the side of her bump. Everything hurt, but (Y/n) didn't know how long she had been unconscious.

She had no idea if Caleb had hurt her by shoving her into the car or if he had intentionally or unintentionally hurt the baby when he took her. (Y/n) needed the baby to move, to kick or wriggle or just made some light movement so she knew her daughter was okay.

She tried to look around, but she had no idea what road they were on, what direction they were going in or where Caleb was trying to take her. Everything was uncertain.

She didn't have her phone. Her phone was in her bag, which she had dropped in the station car park. Maybe Caleb grabbed it and threw it somewhere in the car. Hopefully he left it. If it was still there on the floor, along with (Y/n)'s car keys, then Evan would undoubtedly find it. He would realise something bad had happened and he might be able to get to her or find her somehow.

"W-why're you doing this?"

Asking the question was almost as terrifying as hearing the answer. (Y/n) was used to not questioning him, she always tried to walk away, never argue, let him rant and rave if he wanted. And when he hurt her she tried to find a safe place, because fighting back didn't work.

But she had to ask now because she couldn't just sit and wait to find out what he was going to do and his reasons. If Caleb took her, he had to be prepared for some backlash, for (Y/n) to fight and question him and tell him how stupid and wrong he was being.

The way he glanced over at her made him look like a different person. His pupils were so small they looked like flecks of paint compared to the sage green of his eyes that looked more vile than ever. And the way Caleb snapped his head to the right to look at her made his hair fan across his temple and bounce in waves.

"You divorced me. You shacked up with that new guy, and now you're having his kid. You never wanted kids when we were together."

A twinge tore through (Y/n)'s stomach and she pressed her hands deeper into her bump while she dropped her head.

She never wanted kids with Caleb, there was a difference.

(Y/n) never said she didn't want children, not to anyone. They had always been part of her future, always something she wanted at some point in her life. And when she first got with Caleb, she thought they might have a family together. (Y/n) had a few doubts when she married him, but she went ahead with the wedding and told herself things would be okay.

When he lashed out at her, (Y/n) knew that was it. She knew she couldn't stay with him, that Caleb wasn't the right person to be with, and (Y/n) knew she could never have a child with him. That would tie her to him forever, it would bind them and she didn't want that. Someone as cruel and controlling as Caleb shouldn't have children.

But the moment (Y/n) got into a relationship with Evan, she knew it was okay. They both wanted kids and Evan was the ideal person to have a family with, he was sweet and funny and considerate and as loving as they got. And he adored kids. (Y/n) couldn't think of anyone else she would want to have a family with.

"I'm your husband-"

"No you're not. He is."

Somehow, it didn't feel safe to say Evan's name. She didn't want to hear her husband's name passing Caleb's lips, the thought was horrifying. Caleb was like an infection and (Y/n) needed to keep her husband as far away from him as possible, even the notion of him.

The way Caleb slammed his fist down on the steering wheel made the car jutter to the right and (Y/n) winced. She coiled in on herself, shrinking down in her seat as tears began to trace down the bridge of her nose. But the shock made the baby wriggle, and a small tendril of relief crept into (Y/n)'s aching system. At least the baby was moving; she was okay.

"Why would you fucking marry him? Why?" His tone made it seem like (Y/n) had gone and done something ludacris. As if she had married Evan after knowing him for only one day.

What right did Caleb have to judge or start asking those kind of questions? They were divorced, Caleb had eventually signed the agreement and finally severed himself from (Y/n). She was free to do whatever she liked with her life, to be with whoever she chose and that meant she could marry someone if she wanted. It had nothing to do with him.

"Why would I say no?" She countered with a shot of boldness in her veins and she glared over at him through narrowed eyes.

(Y/n) had been the happiest she had ever been in her life when Evan asked her to marry him. He was the best thing that had happened to her and there wasn't a single reason for (Y/n) to say no when he asked her. He was everything (Y/n) wanted; everything Caleb wasn't.

And (Y/n) had been four months pregnant when they got married. She had a tiny bump for the ceremony and Evan could barely keep his hands off her or her stomach the whole day.

"So that's it? You dump me, find the first guy you can and have his kid. How does that make any sense?"

"I love him." It didn't have to make sense to anyone else but her and Evan. They met, they fell in love and now they were having a baby together. That was the way it worked for most people, (Y/n) was no different simply because it didn't happen with the first person she married.

(Y/n) didn't like the way Caleb grunted and started to tap his fingers against the steering wheel in agitation. It made her feel like she was waiting for something, like she was expecting Caleb to fly off the handle at any moment. She wanted to reach out and hold onto the door handle in case he suddenly veered off the road and tried to crash or in case he sped up to see how far he could go before he either got caught or (Y/n) tried to intervene.

Her hands continued to trace her stomach that was more uncomfortable than ever while and she took to glancing out the window again. Maybe if she could spot a sign she could work out where they were or remember some kind of landmark or one of the junctions they might come up to. Just in case she managed to get away from Caleb at any point.

She had to. (Y/n) had to do whatever she could to get away from him. She had to keep her daughter safe. She wouldn't let him hurt her.

"Maybe that's not enough. I loved you, but you left me, so why should he get to have you?"

Those words were enough to spark a fire in (Y/n)'s stomach and her head snapped back to glare up at Caleb with wide eyes and parted lips. What was that supposed to mean? What was he going to do? How could his brain work in that twisted capacity and think that Evan couldn't love or be with (Y/n) just because she left Caleb a few years ago?

"Where are we going?" Her tone was more defined than earlier but she still sounded timid and afraid.

"You know we could have made things work, if you didn't get yourself pregnant-"

"Caleb I want his baby, I'm sorry you can't accept that. Where are you trying to take me?" She pushed up in her seat, despite the ache it caused in her back, and twisted to face him.

(Y/n)'s mind started to scream, coming up with millions of scenarios on how this would play out and where exactly he was trying to take her. She had no idea what he wanted. For all (Y/n) knew, Caleb could be doing this to wind up and frighten Evan, he could have kept her phone and was intending to call Evan and tell him who (Y/n) was with and that she was in danger.

He could intend to take (Y/n) somewhere and hold her hostage in some sick, twisted way of trying to get back into a relationship with her.

Or he could be planning to hurt her.

"Who said I'm taking you anywhere? You know, I watched you for a while, trying to find the best time to talk to you. But when I saw that," The way he pointed at her bump with a look of disgust made (Y/n)'s skin crawl. "I changed my mind. Since you abandoned me, I think it's time you did the same to him, so he knows what it feels like."

Panic was the only thing (Y/n) could feel and comprehend.

He had been watching her. Caleb had found her before today, he had been following her around and the notion made bile rise in the back of her throat. If she weren't pregnant (Y/n) got the impression he would of tried to make her stay with him, to delude her into another relationship with him. It seemed both a relief and a condemnation that she was pregnant.

At least Caleb wouldn't try and force her to be with him again, but being pregnant only cemented the fact that she was moving on from him, and he clearly wasn't going to let her do that. He might not have tried to hurt her- at least not badly- if she weren't pregnant. Now he wanted to hurt her, he wanted her to feel the betrayal he had no reasoning to feel and he wanted to hurt Evan for being with (Y/n).

If he had been watching them then Caleb would of seen that (Y/n) was everything to Evan. Her being hurt in any way would crush him and (Y/n) didn't dare think what Evan would do or how he would feel if something happened to their baby girl.

Short, panicked breaths tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips as she turned her head to look out the window. She didn't want to give Caleb the satisfaction of seeing her go into a panic attack.

It felt like stones were piling up in her lungs that weren't inflating anymore, they were just useless, heavy ornaments clogging up until (Y/n) was practically gasping for air. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go back to the station and be safe and happy surrounded by friends and people who wouldn't hurt her. People the opposite of Caleb.

She wanted to be back with Evan. Tears trickled down her face at the thought of her husband and she began to circle her wedding ring around her finger, seeing if focusing on the symbolic ring would calm her down in the slightest. It didn't work. All it did was make her think of Evan and how panicked this situation was going to make him once he found out. And (Y/n) wanted him, she wanted him to help her, to save her, protect her. To make everything okay.

Her vision blurred with the amount of tears she was shedding, but (Y/n) suddenly pressed her hand into her abdomen and held her breath when it felt like the tightening sensation in her stomach suddenly changed. It felt like a coil within her had snapped.

The sensation made her shoulders hunch and had her creasing forward, trying her best not to move and draw Caleb's attention to her.

When her eyes darted down, she could feel more tears running down her face and she held her breath to stop herself from screaming.

Her water broke.

The whole reason she had been at the station in the first place; so she wouldn't be on her own when she was so close to her due date. If she had stayed inside, if she let Alex turn the alarm off on her car, this wouldn't of happened. If she just stayed inside where she was safe.

Her water probably wouldn't have broken today if Caleb hadn't of snatched her and fought with her like he did. If he didn't frighten her and manhandle her into the car and panic her like this then (Y/n) wouldn't be in this situation.

Evan was supposed to be with her when her waters broke. He was supposed to be with her from the beginning and coach her through this experience. (Y/n) didn't want to be doing this alone. She didn't want to go through this without Evan. She needed him.

Clenching her legs together, (Y/n) moved the hem of her dress a bit further down her knees before she pressed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying. While her other hand stayed on her stomach like she was warning the baby not to squirm or give her any pains just yet.

She didn't want Caleb to notice. If he knew she was in labour he might do something rash. He might try and change his mind again and make (Y/n) stay with him. He could use this against Evan, he could torment Evan with this and hurt (Y/n). She wouldn't be able to get away from him once labour was in full swing and it would give Caleb much more opportunity to try and hurt her and the baby.

A bolt of panic surged through (Y/n)'s heart when Caleb suddenly took a sharp left turn. She hadn't noticed any signs. She had been too preoccupied in her thoughts to look for signs or landmarks.

She could feel herself beginning to shake when he drove down a small, rather bumpy road. But the way he leaned forward into the wheel and glanced around made (Y/n)'s fear multiply.

He didn't know where they were.

He hadn't driven with a set goal in mind, he had just been driving to get (Y/n) as far away from home, from Evan, as possible. He was trying to find somewhere deserted and from the looks of it, he had found just the right spot. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

(Y/n) moved her hand to press against the door to steady herself when Caleb drove down a narrow road filled with pot holes and broken concrete and gravel. He was slowing down. She debated whether it was worth trying to open the door, but throwing herself out of a moving car, even one going as slow as this, was going to have repercussions.

She could injure herself and not be fit enough to run away. Caleb could reverse and hit her. He could get out and throw her in the trunk or attack her out here in the open. Waiting for his next move was going to be her best bet.

When he pulled up and turned off the engine, (Y/n) slowly moved her right hand to reach for the door handle while she leaned forward and kept her eyes on Caleb. He grabbed the keys and tucked them into his pocket, presumably so (Y/n) couldn't take them in a desperate attempt to flee.

She wondered what he was looking for when he rummaged around in his door pocket, but when he turned to face her, brandishing a kitchen knife, her blood ran cold.

He looked crazed, like a man possessed and he pointed the knife so close to her that the end was practically touching her chest.

"Get out, no sudden moves."

(Y/n) found herself nodding even though she didn't need to. She wasn't making a break for it in her state and there wasn't anywhere she could go. Part of her wished Caleb would have gotten out the car first. She could have turned on the indoor locks and stayed safe in the car with him on the outside if he got out first.

She opened the door and slowly climbed out, noticing Caleb getting out at the same time to make sure she didn't run off. And she was relieved he hadn't noticed her waters had broken. She couldn't let him find that out.

She leaned her weight against the bonnet of the car, her wide eyes following Caleb as he moved to stand in front of her.

He was still sneering down at her stomach like he thought the baby was some kind of burden, like they had ruined everything. The distaste in his eyes made (Y/n) wrap an arm protectively around her bump and she leaned back but it didn't do her any good.

Caleb's free hand suddenly knitted into her hair and he yanked her closer causing a yelp to fly past her lips.

She struggled, pulling back until the knife was pressed beneath her chin causing her to tip her head back to relieve the pressure and prevent the knife from plunging into her throat.

"Don't like that, huh?" He sneered, leaning close enough that (Y/n) could feel his breath fanning against her cheek. "Let's make that new hubby of yours feel the way I did when you left me. He can lose both of you."

A sob bubbled past (Y/n)'s lips and she tried again to lean away from him, but he simply knitted his hands tighter into her hair and pulled. The action caused the jagged edge of the knife to scrape against her throat. A flesh wound, barely enough to draw blood, but enough to bring back memories and make (Y/n) flinch and scream.

He'd come at her with a knife once before. When (Y/n) told him she was leaving and packed her bags. She had to pin her arms in front of her face in defence and he slashed the knife down her forearm enough to need stitches.

She didn't want anymore scars from him.

"No! You d-don't get to do this." (Y/n) raised her arms in defence and tried to bend his wrist back to get the knife away from her. She couldn't get any injuries; she couldn't risk her baby getting hurt.

When the knife aimed dangerously close to her stomach and Caleb yanked her hair to pull her head back, (Y/n) thrust her elbow up towards his face. She wanted to hit his nose, she had managed to catch his nose earlier and it would make his eyes water and momentarily phase him. But she clocked his chin instead. It was still a good movement, his head snapped back and he audibly choked and spluttered.

It gave (Y/n) the momentum she needed to bash her arm into his elbow and pull away from him. He yanked on her hair, but not enough to pull her back and she broke away from him, using the time to pelt away across the broken gravelly road as fast as she could.

The twinges in her abdomen were distant and dull compared to the pounding of her heart and the panic fuelling her whole body. She knew this wasn't going to do her or the baby any good, but she had to move as fast as possible and get away from him. She had to get somewhere safe.

"You can't outrun me, (Y/n)! Not in that state." His words were sinister and followed her like a shadow.

Her breaths started to become deep and panting as she willed her numb legs to go faster.

"He can't have you!"

She had to get away. That was the only thought playing on (Y/n)'s mind, that she had to keep her daughter safe by any means necessary. But when a horrible pain that she guessed was a contraction tore through her abdomen, (Y/n)'s steps faltered. She stopped herself from collapsing to her knees by creasing forward and pressing one hand to her stomach as she tried to keep moving.

The feeling of a blade slashing against her dress made (Y/n) scream and bow her head. She wasn't sure whether the knife managed to scratch through her dress and into her upper back, but she knew it had cut through the thin material of her dress right between her shoulder blades.

She wasn't sure what threat Caleb tried to shout at her, but she felt the knife stab into the back of her left forearm just above her elbow. The adrenaline coursing through (Y/n)'s veins made it impossible to tell whether the wound was deep or superficial, but (Y/n) knew she could feel blood trickling down her arm that she coiled into her chest as she cried out.

The wound was enough to slow down her already faltering pace and when Caleb's hand knitted in her hair, he used it as leverage to pull her back towards him. His chest pressed down into her back and their combined weight tumbled forward as both their legs bent and surged them down to the floor.

A loud, piercing scream left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to fall on her side rather than her front, but it was hard to twist when Caleb was falling with her.

She crashed onto her left side, pinning her arm between her and the floor which sent spasms jolting through her injured arm, all the way down to her chest.

"No!" She wasn't sure what she was protesting or trying to splutter, but (Y/n) caged her arms over her stomach to protect the baby as Caleb moved.

The fall didn't seem to phase him at all for he pushed up onto his knees with horrible, grunting breaths and a heaving chest that made him look like he was about to transform into the Hulk right before her eyes. She did her best to sit up but the wind had been knocked out of her and left her gasping for breath and moving made her head spin and loll backwards.

She had to force her arms to stop trembling and stay deadlocked around her waist to try and help herself. She wasn't sure if that fall would have done something to hurt the baby. If the baby wasn't okay or something went wrong, (Y/n) wasn't in a very good situation for this. She was in the middle of nowhere with her crazed ex and no way of escaping or finding help. And being in labour made this situation a whole lot worse.

"He's not having you." Each word was panted and grunted as Caleb wiped his sleeve across his jaw that he clicked into place. And he seemed to delight in the way (Y/n) shivered when he pointed the knife at her stomach. "Either of you."

Caleb moved fast. He moved so fast that (Y/n) feared blinking and seeing him vanish before her eyes. He pushed forward and jolted down towards her and it was clear by the manic look in his eyes that were focused on her stomach that he wanted to hurt the baby.

Moving her arms and legs at the same time was a hard task but (Y/n) didn't know what else to do. She couldn't shuffle back, she couldn't find anything to hand to counter his attack and hit him with. All she could do was keep her arms in front of her bump and reel her knees up.

Being stabbed in the legs or arms was much more preferable than the stomach.

The knife sliced horizontally across her right knee and there was enough pain there for (Y/n) to know that it was more than just superficial. The pain blistered like she had knelt on hot coals but it was hard to focus on that pain when the tightening contractions in her stomach were worse.

A slurr of curse words rambled past Caleb's lips as (Y/n) lifted her leg and rammed her foot into his crotch fast and harsh enough to make her toes curl and her foot go numb with shock.

(Y/n) pushed forward and screamed, forcing her arms out in front of her to thrust Caleb away from her. She couldn't sit and let him slice her to pieces and hack away at her. She had to move.

But as Caleb surged forward and (Y/n) smacked her arms out at him again, their gazes interlocked and both of them seemed to gasp in horror. Panic reflected on both their faces, their expressions mirrored and stricken but it was Caleb's jaw that went slack while (Y/n)'s lips wobbled and tears began to trickle down her face again.

Her body started to shake as she shuffled backwards on her bum, scraping her shoes into the floor to get away from Caleb.

The only place (Y/n) could look was down at Caleb's hands that were shakily pinning against his stomach.

She didn't mean to.

It was an accident. It was either her or him, and she couldn't let him hurt her baby.

Tears continued to stream down (Y/n)'s face and she went to press her hand to her mouth but stopped when her eyes caught on the specks of blood coating her palm. She had thrust her hands at Caleb and accidentally thrust the knife into his stomach.

But wasn't that exactly what Caleb had been trying to do to her? If she didn't hurt and subdue him first, it would be the knife in her own stomach and her daughter's life lost. He wouldn't stop until he killed them both and (Y/n) had to do something. She didn't have a choice; Caleb made sure of that.

Gasps and strangled sounds left Caleb's lips as he hunched over until his chest was creased towards his knees like he was praying to any God that would listen to his pathetic pleas.

Spit bubbled past his lips and his face started to turn an ungodly shade of red as the veins in his neck started to pop out and become prominent. He didn't dare move his hands away from his stomach where he was cradling the knife that was imbedded into his skin up to the handle. They both knew if he tried to remove it he would bleed out. He was cradling it so (Y/n) didn't try and take it out.

She wanted to. She wanted to crawl over there and yank that knife out as slowly as possible and watch him bleed out like a spilled pitcher of milk. But (Y/n) couldn't do that. It wasn't in her nature to be cruel, not in the way it was in Caleb's own nature, and she would undoubtedly get reprimanded for that.

When Caleb looked up at her, all (Y/n) could see was pure evil pooling in those dark eyes that were blown wide like he was having a stroke.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where the courage came from, but she started to crawl towards him. He was subdued, he wasn't going to lunge at her when he could barely lean up on his thighs and Caleb wasn't going to remove the knife to weaponize it again when he knew he would bleed out.

It was safe to approach. And it was clear in Caleb's tortured, twisted expression that he didn't know her intentions. He had no idea why she was getting closer to him or what she was going to do.

(Y/n) couldn't stop the silent sobs from wracking her chest and her body shook as she knelt in front of Caleb.

One bloodied hand reached out and clamped down on her upper arm and (Y/n) winced, coiling in on herself as she tried to ignore the touch. It wouldn't be there for long. Her eyes stayed on Caleb, keeping his attention on her face and she leaned closer like she was about to sneer something horrid in his face.

He didn't see her right hand slither out beside them to grab a loose slab of concrete from the gravel road they had been running on.

He didn't see it when (Y/n) thrust the lump of concrete down on his head so hard and fast that the noise sounded like a bullet whipping through the air.

A tremendous amount of blood pooled beneath Caleb's hair and trickled down the side of his head, slithering down his neck like a tap had been turned on full. His body slumped to the left and he hit the gravel with a thud, his head bent back oddly and his arms bent inwards with his hands loosely cradling his stomach.

The concrete dropped from (Y/n)'s hand and clashed against Caleb's thigh and a horrible trembling set in (Y/n)'s bones until she was sobbing and rattling back and forth.

He couldn't follow her now. He couldn't get her if she left now and left him behind in the dirt. But she couldn't drive. (Y/n) didn't know where his keys were, she was sure he had tossed them somewhere and she couldn't drive while she was in labour and undoubtedly lost.

Her trembling hands traced over Caleb's thighs and she grimaced as she dug her hand into his back pocket and fished out his phone.

She had to call for help.

Once the phone was in her hand, (Y/n) took a second to stare down at him. He finally looked peaceful. He finally looked calm and serene, even with blood pouring down the side of his face and turning his white shirt into a blood bath of crimson.

"I hate you." The words sneered past her lips along with a bubbling cry. "I hope you die."

As if fearing he would suddenly rise up and lunge, (Y/n) inched backwards as soon as the words left her lips.

Caleb had no right to do what he did to her, at any point in their past relationship or right now. He didn't have the right to try and hurt her, to protest when she left him and try to harm her into getting back together with him. He didn't have a right to stalk her and watch her and then decide he was going to kidnap her out of spite because (Y/n) had moved on with her life.

(Y/n) had no idea if his wound was fatal or how long he would last out here, unconscious, with a knife in his stomach. And she didn't know whether anyone still used this discreet road or if anyone would find him today. No one might come down here. They might not find him until days later if (Y/n) didn't alert anyone that her tormenter was laid here unconscious.

She hoped he wouldn't wake up. He could stay here and bleed out until help eventually came to find him. He didn't deserve a speedy rescue.

One hand pressed down into the gravel to push herself up and the other cradled her stomach that was feeling heavier by the minute. Every part of her body ached when she limped away from Caleb's unconscious body. She tried to aim in the opposite direction to the car, she had to try and get as far away from Caleb as possible and back track down this road to find help.

She needed somewhere safe to be until she could get someone to help her, to find her. Being here in the middle of nowhere on the road wasn't likely to help (Y/n) much, especially not if Caleb woke up soon.

Blood was still trickling down her left arm. Her right knee was aching and pulsing with each step she took and she had to stop to gasp for breath when a horrid contraction felt like her stomach was set on fire. God, she hoped the baby was okay. She hoped Evan would be able to get to her soon. She prayed everything would turn out okay.

Once she deemed herself far enough away from Caleb, (Y/n) slumped down to her knees on the side of the road. She doubled forward, curving her right arm around her waist to cradle her aching stomach while she tried to look through Caleb's phone.

She didn't bother trying to remember or guess his password, she clicked on the emergency button and dialled the only safe number she could in this situation.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I- I need Maddie Buckley, please." The air of desperation in (Y/n)'s voice and the sob at the end of her words must have made the dispatcher feel sorry for her because she heard the woman gasp and agree instantly.

(Y/n) needed her sister in law. She had to have someone she knew and trusted on the other end of the line. Someone who could and instantly would contact Evan once (Y/n) explained what was going on.

"Hello, this is Maddie?" There was apprehension in her voice. It wasn't often that people rang the help line and asked to speak to a specific dispatcher, much less to speak to Maddie herself. She couldn't think of a time when someone had asked for her or refused to speak to anyone except her.

"Maddie! P… please, help me."

"(Y/n)? What's wrong, where are you honey?"

Where was she? Looking around didn't give (Y/n) much indication, there were no road signs or street names. No houses with names or numbers on them. No passing cars or the distant sound of a motorway nearby. There was nothing except the crackling 911 line (Y/n) was dialling out to.

"I d- I don't know." Her voice came out in a broken wail and she could feel her heartbeat increasing, pulsing blood throughout her system in panic. She had no idea where she was.

"What's happened?"

Maddie was her only link to the rest of the world. The thought made her sob harder and she bound her arm around her waist, creasing forward until her bump was pressing down into her thighs. Her eyes snapped closed but all she could think and see behind her eyes was Evan.

Why wasn't he here? Why did she go out the station and into the car park? Why couldn't someone have heard her scream or noticed the struggle and stopped Caleb before he took her? Why was she all alone?

"I'm in labour… t-the baby's coming."

[gokyrts]

Patrón!Carlos | C.S. 55

18+ | warnings: mentions of drugs, cartel politics, mentions of kidnapping, d/s dynamics, finger sucking, dom!carlos, unprotected p in v, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight degradation and humiliation, light ass play, dirty talk

Summary: you needed a favour, a favour only the leader of the local drug cartel could grant you, so you went to beg for it and you bit more than you could chew

Author’s note: MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOURS TRULY!! This is a gift for all my lovely supporters. if you’ve liked Mafia AU, you’re definitely gonna like this 🤭 welcome to Narcos AU with Carlos Sainz !

wc: 4.3k

In case you’re unfamiliar with the plot and terms of Narcos, here’s a little vocabulary with terms that are used throughout the story:

el patrón — (noun) boss of a drug cartel

sicarios — (noun, pl.) high ranking members of a cartel, armed, usually on motorcycles

DEA — (noun) drug enforcement administration; U.S. federal office tasked with combatting drug trafficking

The air outside the compound was still, heavy with the heat of late afternoon. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of laughter echoed, mingling with the crackle of a lit cigar. You sat alone, staring at the rim of your glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. The burn of it no longer registered—it had stopped doing that weeks ago. You hated this place. Hated the velvet couches, the chandeliers, the lingering stench of power and fear. But it had become your world.

Your sister was safe. That was what mattered. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Still, the memory of the first step you’d taken into this life clung to you like smoke, no matter how many times you tried to shove it away. And, as always, it returned unbidden:

The air was just as oppressive that day, tightening around your throat, pressing against your chest. But not nearly as oppressive as the gazes and words of the sicarios you encountered when you came to beg for a favor. Their eyes on you like you were a piece of meat delivered to their door.

“Move along, sweetheart,” one of them said, making your stomach churn.

“I need to speak with señor Sainz.” your assertiveness was a joke to them, seeing nothing more than a defenseless animal.

“Did you hear that?” he’d said, turning to the other guard with exaggerated mockery. “Little mama here wants to speak to el patrón.”

Their laughter had stung, but you’d swallowed your pride. This wasn’t about you. It was about your sister. It was about survival.

“Please,” you’d whispered, your voice cracking just enough to reveal the desperation in your chest. “It’s important.”

The sicarios had exchanged amused glances before one stepped forward, his expression darkening with a hint of suspicion. “Es importante, ah?” he’d asked, the firearm in his hands a reminder of who had control. “How so?”

Your fists had tightened, your body screaming to run, but you had stood your ground. “I need his help. My… my sister has been kidnapped.”

The two men exchanged a glance, this one colder, heavier. Without another word, they had stepped aside, opening the door to the building with a mockingly polite gesture. “Muy bien, let’s see what the boss has to say to this… little request.”

They had flanked you as you walked down the dim corridor, the echo of their heavy boots swallowing your lighter steps. The long hallway felt like a gauntlet, and each step seemed to draw you further into a cage you wouldn’t be able to escape. They led you to an unassuming door, another guard stationed outside. A brief knock sounded, a whisper you hadn’t caught, and then you were ushered inside.

Carlos Sainz’s office had been every bit as ostentatious as you’d imagined. The room reeked of wealth: leather chairs, imported bourbon, and a portrait of the man himself staring down from the wall. But none of it had held your attention for long. Your gaze had locked onto Carlos the moment you saw him.

He’d been seated behind his desk, looking as though he owned not just the room but the air you were breathing. His expression had been unreadable, save for the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Before you could speak, one of the guards shoved you forward. “I’m not armed!” you’d snapped, your voice sharp with indignation.

The guard’s rough hands searched you anyway, brushing over your clothes with no effort to hide his smugness. Carlos, meanwhile, had leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, watching the scene like it was some form of theater staged for his amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he’d said, his smirk widening as his gaze swept over you. “You seem to have a sharp tongue on you, señorita.”

You’d forced yourself to endure and once the guard was satisfied, you had been given the space to speak.

“I—I need your help, señor. They… they took my little sister. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He hadn’t reacted at first. Instead, he’d reached for a glass, pouring himself a measure of whiskey with deliberate slowness. The sound of the liquid hitting the glass filled the room like a mocking echo.

“You came to ask for a favor?” he’d said finally, his tone light, as though you were discussing the weather. He hadn’t given you a chance to respond. “I remember you owing a favor to me, little one.”

Your throat had tightened. Of course, he remembered. A debt passed down from your father, inherited like a curse. You’d known the weight of it would crush you someday. You just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

“Sí, señor,” you’d said, voice cracking, fighting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. “I still owe you. But I need this, please. She was taken by men from the other side. I-I don’t want them to hurt her or worse…”

Carlos had tilted his head, studying you as though you were some strange creature that had wandered into his den.

“So… you expect me to solve more of your family’s problems, sí?” His words were light, almost teasing, but the sharp edge in his gaze had made your stomach twist.

Your knees had felt weak, but you’d pressed on. “Please,” you’d said again, the word tasting like ash on your tongue. “I—I will do anything.”

At that, his amusement had deepened. The room had gone still.

“Anything…?” he’d repeated, his voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. One of the guards had snickered, but Carlos had silenced him with a click of his tongue. Then he’d mentioned for the guards to exit, leaving only the two of you in the room.

With deliberate slowness, he’d risen from his chair, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. He’d been taller than you remembered, his presence overwhelming.

“Do you know what that word means, little one?” he’d asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know what it costs to ask me for a favor?”

You’d lowered your gaze, the weight of his stare crushing you.

“I… I will pay the price,” you’d whispered.

Carlos had tilted his head, lifting your chin upward with surprising gentleness, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Careful,” he’d murmured, his tone soft but laced with warning. “There are men who would take this as an invitation...”

You’d stiffened, your skin crawling under his touch.

“But I’m not one of them…not today.” he’d stepped back with a smirk, allowing you to breathe again.

“Muy bien,” he’d said, returning to his desk. “I’ll deal with these men and bring your sister back. But… from this moment on, you’re mine. Your time, your life. When I call, you answer. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”

You’d hesitated, just for a moment, but Carlos didn’t let you. His voice had turned sharp, cutting through your resistance like a blade.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” you’d said, voice shaking. “Yes… I understand.”

He’d smirked, satisfied. “Good. Go home, little one. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

…

You closed your eyes as the memory finished replaying, pressing the glass back to your lips, its contents dwindling fast. Anticipation brewed in your gut mingling with the expensive imported whiskey. He has called again and you answered, per agreement.

Over time you learned to ignore the hungry stares from his wolves, their sleazy whispers, and dirty hands adjusting their pants when you passed them in the halls of the safehouse. It made you sick. But this was part of the price you had to pay. The price you agreed to pay for the safety of your sister’s life, and the doom of your own.

“Princesita,”

Your eyes snapped open at his voice — smooth, silky, like the liquor you just downed. The familiar burning sensation returned, your body starting to smolder again. You swallowed the bitterness and turned on your hell, the dress you were told to wear flowing around your form.

Carlos regarded you with a long gaze, from the shoes you picked to wear, across your hips and waist, where the dress tightly hugged your soft curves, to your face, lingering on your painted lips.

He nodded in approval, beckoning you closer with a finger.

Teaching you obedience was his favorite, along with making you regret every life decision you ever made, but especially the deal you made with him.

His thumb found your bottom lip as you stepped closer, the red on your lips pulling him in like a bull following its toreador. The rough surface of his finger swiped over the carefully applied lipstick, smudging it and dragging it down your chin. A flicker of amusement appeared in his eyes at your ruined look, his favorite look on you. His thumb slid off your chin, leaving a light red stain.

Beautiful, he thought, before retracting his hand only to notice the smudge on his finger.

He pressed the thumb back against your mouth.

“Clean it.”

And your body burned, the whiskey in your gut the fuse and his command the spark. The finger was thrust into your mouth with zero patience, the taste of ash and metal hitting your tongue along the unmistakable sweetness of your cherry red lipstick. As much as the taste made you retch, it was addicting.

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

Your tongue wrapped around the digit, swirling to catch the pad of his thumb and sucking it clean. Carlos rewarded you with a hum of approval, pressing down harder on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open up further.

Your jaw gave way, letting Carlos in on the sight of his saliva-covered thumb in your mouth, your tongue playing around with it. He pulled back, dragging his finger out of your mouth but not without wiping it slightly against your lip, enhancing the redness of it with a top coat.

“Good girl… good ruined girl.”

Heat pooled between your legs, forcing an involuntary hum from your throat. Weeks ago you would resist, deny, and deflect — you didn’t want him to notice, because he noticed everything — but his praise was like a switch flipped in your brain.

However, as fast as he praised, he also did the exact opposite.

“Go clean your face, I’m not letting you accompany me looking like that.” he spat, stepping aside so you could go wipe the mess he made on your face. The oval mirror in his office was nearly as familiar as the face you saw in it. The flashbacks were instant when you looked into it, images of him, of you, in positions he forced you into. Carlos liked making you watch, it etched itself in your memory better, he said.

You squeezed your thighs together as you wiped the ruined lipstick off of your chin, similar redness blooming on your cheeks. Carlos smirked knowingly, standing a few feet behind you. He could be in the background, not even touching you but your body was aflame for him, your mind playing tricks on you, triggers he put in your head setting off. You reapplied the lipstick, the phantom feeling of his finger on them almost making you miss the intimacy.

There was a knock on the door, signaling your ride was there. Armed guards escorted you to an awaiting car. A small convoy left the compound to ensure the patrón’s safety. A meeting with the other Narcos wasn’t something to underestimate. Light chatter took part in the car you were not part of. They didn’t need your opinion. You were there as a pretty face, nothing more, nothing less.

As you approached the hotel where the meeting would be held, the oppressive air started clawing at your lungs again. The delicate power balance you felt in the atmosphere was unnerving, ready to tip over in any direction. You and Carlos were patted down before entering. It was agreed that this meeting would be weapon-free. If anything was to go down, you’d be fighting with your bare hands.

The hotel was grand, smelling of the same filthy richness that Carlos’ office did. Your presence caught eyes. A woman, a pretty woman, here? Just as you learned to ignore the stares and comments of Carlos’ sicarios*, you avoided those of the other men, asking if you were lost or looking for a good time. The tension only heightened as you neared the entered the conference room and Carlos felt the need to remind you of your place. He caught you by the elbow, pulling you back against him, his lips against your ear. “You’re here to keep me company, not to speak. Understood?”

Your breath hitched, his voice, so close, sent shivers down your back. “Sí, señor.”

Carlos was satisfied enough with your response and let you go, stepping around you and opening the door. Your smaller form was hidden behind Carlos’ broad back as you entered, the other Narcos only catching sight of you as you walked along the enormous glass table.

Without looking up, you uttered a quiet ‘Buenos dias, señores.’ That was the only time you were allowed to speak.

Behind the clouds of smoke from cigars and cigarettes, the Narcos recognized a woman. They exchanged glances, whispers, scoffs but nothing you wouldn’t be used to already. Despite their visible disapproval, no one dared speak up.

Carlos sat at the head of the table, as he was the organizer of the meeting, leaving you a small seat behind him, just to further emphasize you were not part of the negotiations.

The meeting started but not much has reached your ears throughout, selectively more than not. The Narcos discussed new routes, skirmishes with the DEA, feuds over territory, nothing you could be a part of anyway.

You were picking on your nails when one of the older gentlemen mentioned the neighborhood you grew up in.

“…a possible lab location, routes go out here and through this way,”

His fat finger was pointing to a map, showing what in his mind was a new business idea the others would approve of. For a moment you were taken into your childhood home, playing with your sister on the front porch. It was nice, safe but you always saw men linger around, men who had DEA badges on their belts. Still thinking you were in your mind, you murmured. “Yeah, right into the DEA’s hands…”

Silence.

Feeling a full body chill, you looked up, slowly, each tilt of your head further revealed more shocked and angry expressions of the Narcos.

The man whose idea you challenged leaned back and looked at Carlos in disbelief.

“Carlos, who is this? Did you bring a secretary? Are you into females advising you now?”

Your heart nearly stopped, eyes widening as the weight of your little comment hit you.

“Why did you bring a woman into the meeting anyway? Now she’s thinking she’s one of us.” Another man sneered as all gazes turned to Carlos to watch his reaction.

Whatever he was thinking, one could not tell. His eyes flit briefly to you and then back, but you did notice his jaw clenching, a subtle show of his anger. But he masked it well, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not one of us, but she’s right. Think about it.”

Carlos’ response had the Narcos stunned a second time that night. They turned to one another, murmuring amongst themselves, considering the situation. But no one was stunned more than you. He saved you…he acknowledged your opinion, among those he trusted the least but had to respect the most and vice versa.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly on alert and aware of what was being discussed. With bated breath, you watch the meeting conclude and the drug lords pour out of the conference room. Some regarded you with disgust, others with interest, some with caution but you would be in the meeting minutes of everyone who attended.

When the last of the traffickers left, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Carlos was quiet, too quiet for your liking. His fingers drummed against the glass table, the echo loud in the empty room. His head tilted to the side and you saw his jaw lock in place before he spoke.

“Are you the expert on routes now?” His tone was calm and cold, the kind that makes you want to huddle for warmth. It wasn’t a question for you to answer. A loud warning despite the pitch in his voice, but you knew this was more dangerous than if he’d yelled. “What did I tell you about speaking up?” his words had bite now.

“I-I didn’t mean to… I was just— you said I was right though! I grew up in that neighborhood! If you let them set up a lab there, the DEA would be onto them and you’d be the one cleaning up the mess.”

“Oh? You think you saved me?” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Do not think this is how you repay favors, little princess.”

You averted his gaze, the taste of forced submission bitter on your tongue. Your palms were sweating again and you had to wipe them on your dress this time. Carlos watched you, the intensity in his eyes threatening to light the fire inside you again and he knew.

The sound of the snapping of his fingers was loud in the room, making you look up at him again.

“Come here.”

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

You got up on shaky legs, taking a few short strides to Carlos’ side. Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in anticipation, catching the cherry red lipstick he had given you a taste of before.

“Over the table, princesa…”

The glass table felt cold over your thighs and stomach, the dress you wore riding up as you bent over in front of him. You heard him sigh, the sound filling you with more delicious uncertainty. You felt his large hand on the back of your thigh, the rough callouses contrasting against the gentle caresses he gave you.

“This room was full of men who would shoot you for even looking at them wrong…” He spoke with softness that made you almost comfortable against the table like this was a fatherly scolding. Except it was.

Smack.

His palm landed against the back of your thigh, forcing air out of your lungs.

“And you thought you could just come in and play queen?” Carlos continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled your dress up, revealing your bare ass.

Smack.

The handprint on your ass cheek stung, its red outline hot to the touch as he rubbed his fingers over it. You cried out as he delivered the next smack to your other cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut with the force he used, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips. He fisted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head back. His lips were against your ear again.

“I have every right to throw you to them… to let them devour you till there’s nothing but bones… but,” he trailed off, a strange occurrence, stretching the moment and breathing fire to your insides.

“You’re mine.”

Your head landed against the glass table as he let go of your hair, the thud making you groan. His hands trailed back down, catching against the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You gasped as the cold air hit your soaked pussy, the undergarment landing around your ankles. Carlos grabbed at your ass cheek, squeezing and spreading you to him.

“Ah… I’m beginning to think you like this, princesa.” His tone was mocking as his index finger slid through the wetness making your hips jerk. Your neediness amused him, almost as much as your fear.

The clinking sound of his belt undoing only made you squeeze your thighs together, searching for friction despite how wrong it felt. But the smoldering need in your gut was stronger than your moral code. Your thighs spread slightly, welcoming him. You could hear a faint chuckle behind you, your willingness nothing short of amusement to Carlos.

He nudged the tip of his cock against your slit, coating himself in the slickness he was the cause of. Just like all those times before, Carlos didn’t wait, he took what he wanted. Always.

The first thrust pushed you hard against the glass table and stole air from your lungs. You never got used to his size, the stretch always stung a little, the force of his thrusts always left your hips aching the next day and you knew you’d be feeling the same later.

He hissed, forcing himself to the hilt before pulling back and in again, setting a steady pace. His large hands gripped your hips, keeping you pinned between him and the table. You knew there would be bruises, bruises you’d hide, bruises he’d expose. Regrets you’d have to face one way or another.

Carlos pressed one hand against the small of your back, making you arch, your ass pushing back against his hips.

“That’s it…that’s it,” he murmured, looking down, your ass bouncing off his hips a mesmerizing sight. As your cheeks spread further apart, his eyes fell to your tight hole, and Carlos felt an itch he could not help but scratch. His hand slid down, his thumb pressing against it, feeling you clench around him.

He growled, pressing a little harder, testing your reaction. When you whined and clenched again, he knew he found a sweet spot.

“Fuck, you like it, princesa? You like when I play with your tight little ass?”

Your insides were molten, your resolve and pride burned to a crisp. Even your unspoken protests evaporated right on your tongue from the heat. “Yes…fuck, yes!” you panted out, feeling the knot in your stomach coil.

Carlos grinned, his thumb staying where it was, relishing in your walls fluttering even tighter around him, pushing him closer to the edge. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

“Such a dirty little thing… you want it? Tell me you want it, princesa.” You knew he was getting close when his mouth spewed the filthiest words, looking to get off on your reactions.

Your tongue nearly lolled out of your mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You knew what he wanted to hear and you gave in.

“Please,”

Carlos bit his lip, groaning as you begged for him, the act alone making his cock twitch. “Again, let me hear you.” You felt his chest press against your back, pushing you impossibly closer to the table to the point you thought it would break.

“P-Please…” your voice was louder this time, enough to the man above you. He grunted in satisfaction, his pace faltering before he spilled himself inside you. His hips stilled, but the weight of him continued to bruise your smaller body.

Carlos took a moment before he pulled out, panting, the grip on your hip easing. Your knees bucked slightly with exhaustion and Carlos, thinking himself merciful, grabbed at your elbow, pulling you up. You looked up at him but the sight of the cunning smile on his face told you that this was far from over. He yanked you in his direction and you ungracefully landed on your knees, the impact making you whine. Carlos snorted with laughter, adoring the sight of your pathetic self beneath him. He stepped closer to you and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, instead, you were met with the sight of his still-hard cock, now glistening with your mixed juices.

“Clean it…” His bottom lip twitched slightly, along with his eyebrow, taunting you as he breathed deeply. He pushed your limits, used you to his heart’s content, all because he could. Each little request a test to see if you’d break and disobey. But the moment your lips wrapped around him, his hands were back in your hair.

“Fuck— good girl,” the overstimulation made him groan, tightening his hold on your hair. You licked at him obediently, the taste salty on your tongue. He revered in the skill of your mouth, praising it as you worked. Every gag made him coo in a mocking tone and when you pulled off, he didn’t hesitate to take the reins. He took hold of his cock, his other hand in your hair, and dragged it over your cheek, across your face, a sick grin spreading across his lips as he watched you squeeze your eyes tightly so none of the mess would get there. He knew the smell would cling to your sweet skin, that was why he did it. He pulled back to look at his work.

The sight of your makeup ruined, cheeks stained, now with the added smell of him on you. Perfect. Carlos grinned, moving to tuck himself back in his suit pants.

“Now, that’s a pretty slut. Come on, let’s go…”

…

want more patrón!Carlos? lemme know in my askbox!! I plan on writing more for this AU and would love to know your thoughts on it<3

2024 @ gokyrts . Do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[konigofmyheart]

warming könig up

“lemme come warm you up, you been out in the snow/ baby my tongue goes numb, sounds like ho,ho,ho”

<MDNI>

(smut, blowjob, gn!reader, no actual mentions of christmas!)

° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★ ° :. ★　 * • ○ ° ★

you and könig rent a cabin in the woods for the holidays, taking advantage of his many accumulated vacation days (imagine the look of surprise on his superiors’ face when they saw his week-long time off request! they actually did a double take as könig had only ever taken an average of two days off each year- never around the holiday season- before he started dating you).

a couple days in, after amusing yourselves hiking through the woods to take in the scenery (thoroughly bundled up to stave off the chill of the snow), soaking in the giant hot tub in the bathroom (he can finally stretch out in a tub for once!), and having lengthy movie nights, könig ventures out to chop more firewood for the rustic fireplace in the den. the house is warm enough, but the moment you remarked how you loved the fireplace and how it makes the cabin feel amazingly cozy, könig made a vow to always keep it lit for you. you’d assured him it was fine, that you didn’t need it permanently lit, but he wouldn’t hear it. why shouldn’t his liebling get every single heart’s desire?

when he comes back in, shaking snow from his heavy winter gear as he hauls in bundles of wood, you apologize for the umpteenth time. “nonsense, schatzi, you have nothing to apologize for. i love doing things for you, being useful to you” he hushes as he sheds his layers and boots, walking over to where you sit on the couch armrest. he leans down, gently pulling you in for a kiss. you shiver, gasping softly at how cold his lips feel. “come here, kö. you’re freezing!” you fuss, leading him over to the couch and pushing on his chest to get him to sit. you place your blanket around his back like a cape before taking his hands in yours, rubbing warmth back into them. he brushes off your fussing, acting like he doesn’t live for your loving and doting.

your chest tightens with affection as you think of what a wonderful time you’ve had at this cabin thus far, all thanks to könig’s planning and effort. you settle on the floor before him, the plush rug cushioning your knees comfortably. “what are you doing, schatzën- ah” he ends with a hushed groan as you lean forward, nuzzling at his cock through his pants. “just thanking you for the perfect vacation, mein könig”, you flutter your lashes at him, your voice velvety soft.

his eyes darken like turbulent oceans at the sight of you looking up at him like that. it’d make anyone weak in the knees. your teasing nuzzling has his cock hardening, filling out to its full length, and the moment a barely-there whine slips from deep inside him, you move to undo his pants and free his cock. normally you’d tease him for longer, see how long he lasts before he gets truly needy, but this is supposed to be for his benefit, a thank you for everything he’s done to make this the best vacation ever. you gently brush your fingers against the tip of his cock before wrapping your hand around it, stroking him at a slow, steady pace.

“thank you for having this idea, first of all. then thank you for picking the prettiest cabin ever. thank you for letting me sleep the whole drive up here, although on the way back i’m definitely staying up to keep you company on the drive , and you’re going to wake me if i start nodding off, okay?” you pause for a moment, looking up at him expectantly

“okay, but you really don’t have to-” his breath catches, muscular thighs tensing as you keep up your steady pace on his cock, his precum dribbling down the side to help your efforts.

“thank you for cooking every meal, especially because you’ve made just my favorites- don’t think i didn’t notice. tomorrow i’m making your favorite, and i’m not hearing otherwise. understood?” you scold, rubbing your thumb over the tip of his cock. he nods quickly, a breathy “yes, schatzi, whatever you say,” slipping from his lips.

“…and, obviously, thank you for the fireplace. you always do everything to make sure i’m happy, and for that i can’t thank you enough, but i can try to do the same for you, hm? what do you think?” you’re leaning forward a bit now, your warm breath ghosting over the sensitive head of his cock. forgive him for his incoherent, stuttered response, he doesn’t really understand words at the moment, even less so when you place a teasing kiss on his tip.

you can’t help but laugh softly as you seal your lips around him, sucking gently, earning a strained groan from your man. he’s practically gone entirely pliant, the sight of such a strong, man falling apart because of you going to your head a little. your contented little hum sends torturously delicious vibrations down his cock, making him twitch inside your mouth. now, you know you could make him cum in seconds if you wished, but you really want to treat him, reward him for being so good. you maintain a steady, slow pace, easing more of him into your mouth with each bob of your head as you stroke the base with your hand.

you make sure to do everything you know he likes, maintaining eye contact as you sink your mouth lower, hollowing out your cheeks, swirling your tongue around his length as much as you can (it’s a bit difficult with how big he is; there isn’t much room left in your mouth). he’s practically floating in the clouds at this point, the way you’re sucking him off drives him crazy. time slows, suspending the two of you in this moment where you are all that exists for him, and he’s all you know. he’s looking down at you with such an affectionate warmth in his eyes, as if you hung the very stars in the sky. you’re sure your expression is no different, dutifully working your way down until the tip of his cock is brushing against the back of your throat. it took you a while to be able to take this much, and from the feel of what you’re still stroking, you still have a ways to go before you can take him all the way.

there’s time for that another day, though, and even könig seems to agree, his hands gripping the couch cushions as a way to stop himself from pushing you further than you wish to go. he’s always like that, putting you before him, isn’t he? you pull off his length, voice a little breathy as you praise him for keeping his hands to himself. that praise earns you a pathetic little whine, a sound that’d make him blush if he weren’t so close to cumming. you stroke his length with both hands as you catch your breath, cooing sweet words at him that he answers with groans and whines, his cock twitching in your hold.

“you wanna cum in my mouth? you know how much i like it, kö,” you tease, tilting your head to the side as you look up at him through your lashes. you kinda have to do this to get him to cum in your mouth, otherwise he’s insisting on just cumming all over your hands, not wanting to pressure you into swallowing it if you don’t want to, but now that you’re asking him for it… well, he did agree to “whatever you say”. he nods, a hushed “ja, schatzi, bitte” dropping from his now bitten lips. you smile, leaning forward to take his throbbing cock back into your mouth, warming it once more.

you look up at him with a special glint in your eyes, knowing all it’ll take is one more push. that push comes in the way of your free hand cupping his heavy balls, teasingly toying with them as you intensify your efforts, relishing in the way he trembles. he moans your name as he cums, the sound like music to your ears, spilling into your mouth with each twitch of his length. your muffled whine around his cock only adds to his pleasure, especially with how that makes your throat squeeze around his sensitive tip. careful not to overdo it, you maintain the pace of your hand and mouth, steadily working him through his high. you take his seed as it comes, swallowing every drop like you were made for it.

once he’s spent you pull off, panting softly as you lick your lips clean. “and now thank you for cumming for me like that, baby,” you tease, smiling as he pulls you up onto his lap, his hands soothing stroking your sides. he buries his face in your neck, little tremors still running through his body as he comes down. “i’d do anything for you, liebling. anything.” he whispers quietly, his breath tickling your neck before he pulls back, kissing you passionately. you melt against his body, answering his loving licks with your own, getting lost in the feeling of completeness. you’re more than surprised when he pulls away from the kiss, pushing you onto your back on the couch. he grins deviously as he settles between your spread legs, his big hands squeezing your thighs. “kö, what are you-”

“now it’s my turn to thank you for that, schatzi”

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────UNDER THE MISTLETOE.

(⛄️) ── 𝓟ARK SUNGHOON﹙성훈﹚ ꒰ 𝓰. oneshot ៸ fluff ៸ f2l ୨୧ㅤㅤ WARNiNGS : not proofread ៸ kissing ៸ both of them r oblivious ៸ ❞ 𝓅ark sunghoon x 𝑓! reader ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ ꒰ WC : 1.4K ꒱ SYPNOSiS 𐙚 in which you and sunghoon are oblivious about your feelings for each other until your friends finally do something about it .ᐟ MERRY CHRISTMAS ! ── LiBRARY

THE SNOW OUTSIDE HAD CLOUDED THE STREETS IN A MILKY WHITE, it was the kind of day that felt magical, the dim lit cafe protecting you from the snowstorm outside as the hot chocolate warmed your hands.

unfortunately for you though, the magic felt quite out of reach at the moment.

you sighed, staring at the filled to the brim hot chocolate in front of you—your best friends, yuna and jake, were seated across from you at the café table.

both currently giving you the same exasperated look they’d been perfecting over the past week.

“i’m just saying,” yuna sighed, her voice melting into the dangerous territory of concern mixed with frustration, “it’s really not like you to just avoid sunghoon, what’s going on?” ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you glanced up at her, then quickly glanced away from her curious gaze.

how were you supposed to explain to your friends that the rumors about him and karina were the last straw? that your heart couldn’t take sitting next to him anymore while imagining him falling for someone else?

“it’s nothing,” you mumbled, stirring your drink absently. “can’t a girl be busy?”

jake scoffed in disbelief, not buying it for a second. “busy? you skipped movie night. that’s our thing. even sunghoon noticed, and he’s usually so dense he couldn’t tell the difference between a cotton ball and a marshmallow.”

yuna snorted, but her gaze softened. “look—i get it. it’s hard when you have feelings for someone who you think doesn’t feel the same”

“i never said i have feelings for him,” you blurted out defensively, even as your pink cheeks told a different story.

“you didn’t have to.” jake leaned back with his arms crossed. “it’s written all over your face every single time you look at him.”

you swallowed hard, glancing out the frosted window. did you really look at him like that? did everyone really know?

“it doesn’t matter anyway,” you sighed. “he’s talking to karina now. she’s like—perfect for him, his ideal type. and i’m not.”

yuna rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t get stuck. “okay, seriously? karina likes him, sure, we all know that—but sunghoon barely looks at her unless she’s waving directly in front of his face. he’s been moping around because of you, not her.”

you froze. “that’s not true.”

“except it is.” jake leaned forward, his voice serious now. “he’s not as oblivious as you think, he knows something’s wrong between you two, and it’s pretty much driving him crazy.”

“really?” you challenged, though your voice wavered. “then why hasn’t he said anything to me?”

“because he’s sunghoon,” yuna said as if it were the most obvious thing on earth. “the guy can land triple axels on ice but can’t figure out his feelings to save his life. you’re both completely hopeless.”

you shook your head, sinking lower into the plush seat. “it doesn’t matter. i’m over it. i’m ready to move on.”

jake groaned in annoyance, while yuna practically slammed her hands onto the table, gathering judging looks from the bystanders. “no, absolutely not! and we’re done watching you two tiptoe around each other like you’re each others middle school crushes. we’re fixing this.”

“wait, what?” you asked, but they were already exchanging knowing looks.

the plan, the one which you had no idea it existed, was very simple: lie to the both of you and hope for the best.

jake approached sunghoon that same evening at their gym session, where he found him punching a bag with more aggression than usual.

“damn—what’s up with you?” jake asked casually, leaning against the wall.

“nothing,” sunghoon muttered, yet his furrowed brows and clenched jaw said otherwise.

jake smirked knowingly. “you’re such a bad liar. is this about y/n?”

sunghoon flinched at the sound of your name, missing the retaliation of the bag entirely. “what? no—why would it be about her? did she say anything..”

“uh-huh.” jake pushed off the wall, walking closer. “you know she thinks you’re into karina, right?”

sunghoon stopped, his heart beating painfully in his chest. “why in the world would she think that?”

“because you’ve been seen hanging around her more lately,” jake said simply. “and because y/n is an idiot who doesn’t realize how much you like her.”

sunghoon opened his mouth to deny it but found that he quite literally couldn’t. his feelings for you weren’t new—they’d been brewing beneath the surface for years, just waiting for the right moment to arrive, but how could he admit his feelings when he wasn’t sure you felt the same?

“she doesn’t like me like that,” he said finally.

jake rolled his eyes. “wow. you two really are the exact epitome of hopeless. you know she’s planning to confess to someone else, right? she said she’s moving on.”

sunghoon’s stomach twisted at jakes’ words, his head spinning to his direction immediately. “she said that?”

“word for word,” jake lied with a grin. “but hey, if you’re cool with losing her to another guy just because you’re afraid of confessing, that’s your call.”

sunghoon wasn’t cool with it. not even a little.

meanwhile, yuna was feeding you a similar story.

“sunghoon’s been acting weird,” she said as you walked home together. “i think he’s going to confess to karina at the christmas party.”

your heart sank, even though you’d told yourself you were done hoping. “that’s great for him,” you said, forcing a smile though you could feel your heart breaking at the simple thought of it.

“is it?” yuna tilted her head. “i mean, if you’re really okay with it, then i guess there’s no reason for you to..i don’t know, tell him how you feel..”

“i told you yuna, i’m over it.”

“sure, sure.” yuna waved you off, but there was a gleam in her eyes that made you suspicious.

the annual christmas party at jay’s house was a big deal for the people at your school—loud, chaotic, and full of mistletoe planted around the house.

you arrived late, hoping to avoid too much attention (or a certain someone), but the moment you stepped inside, sunghoon was the first person you saw.

he was standing near the lit up tree, dressed in a cozy knitted sweater that made him look ridiculously handsome.

when his eyes met yours, they lit up, but the warmth quickly flickered into something more unsure and nervous.

“y/n,” he said, stepping closer. “hey.”

“hi,” you replied, your voice quieter than usual.

for a few seconds, you just stood there, the noisy blaring music of the party fading into the background.

then sunghoon finally glanced up, and you followed his gaze to see a random piece of mistletoe hanging above you.

“yuna,” you muttered under your breath, realizing exactly who had orchestrated this.

“guess we’re supposed to kiss,” sunghoon said, his voice dripping with a nervous humor.

you laughed awkwardly, stepping back—plotting your escape already. “we don’t have to.”

but before either of you could move away, jake appeared, blocking your escape. “oh, come on guys. it’s tradition.”

“jake,” sunghoon started, but his friend was already retreating into the crowd with a content smirk.

you looked back at sunghoon, your heart pounding. “we can just—”

“i like you,” he blurted, cutting you off.

your eyes widened. “w-what?”

“i like you,” he repeated, his cheeks flushed. “i like you so much—i’ve liked you for a long time, and i don’t want to pretend i don’t anymore. so if you don’t feel the same way, that’s fine, but i just needed to tell you.”

you stared at him, your mind racing with questions and thoughts. “but karina…”

“karina?” sunghoon frowned. “i don’t like karina. i’ve barely talked to her.”

you blinked, the pieces finally clicking together. “wait. did jake and yuna…?”

“set us up?” sunghoon finished your question, laughing softly. “yeah, probably.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke. then, almost hesitantly, sunghoon took a step closer.

“so,” he said, his voice softer now, “do you feel the same?”

you didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded instead. the relief on his face was immediate, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his.

the kiss was sweet and soft, and when you pulled back, sunghoon was smiling like he’d just won the lottery.

“finally,” jake muttered somewhere in the background, but you were too busy looking at sunghoon to care.

that night, as the snow continued to fall, you walked home with sunghoon’s hand in yours, feeling like maybe—just maybe, christmas magic was real after all.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

NOTE. merry christmas and happy holidays to the people who don’t celebrate !! this was based off mistletoe by jb if u couldn’t tell 😞😞 neways enjoy ur christmas everyone !! <3

୨୧ TAGLIST OPEN ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @iluvnikism @rikibwn @wonsprincess @niawonn @pockyyasii @kiss4noo @nineooooo @loves0ft @ancnymcnzjy @dazzlingjaeyun : COMMENT OR SEND AN ASK TBA.

[libingan]

merry christmas! 🎁🎄

here it is, people… the christmas fic!!!!! sorry if its so fucking corny it was funnier in my head

can someone please draw them wearing ugly sweaters i need it

the holidays were finally here, and you were determined to make this christmas with task force 141 one that none of you would ever forget. while most people spent the season relaxing and enjoying family time, you knew your family was a little different. the bond you shared with the team was unspoken, but it was there, and it had to be celebrated. and what better way to celebrate than with some over-the-top christmas sweaters?

for weeks, you worked tirelessly to create the most garish, ridiculous sweaters you could think of. your needles clicked, glittered buttons and pom-poms strewn across your workspace, and christmas music blared in the background as you tried your best to make something that was both fun and festive. but in all honesty? the result was so catastrophically ugly that it could only be described as an art form.

soap’s sweater was a brilliant lime green, decorated with a mismatched, wonky santa face, complete with googly eyes that jiggled and wobbled as he moved. ghost’s sweater was black, of course, in keeping with his usual aesthetic, but it was covered in neon-red snowflakes and the words “silent night, deadly night” in garish gold lettering. price’s sweater was navy blue, with a slightly crooked reindeer stitched onto the front, its antlers weighted down by jingly plastic bells that rang with every move he made. gaz’s was a bright red abomination, with a patchwork christmas tree that looked like it had been made by a blindfolded toddler. the tree was adorned with buttons, glitter, and tiny battery-powered fairy lights that blinked in a chaotic, seizure-inducing pattern. and yours? well, yours was a glittery train wreck—candy-cane stripes, mismatched pom-poms, and snowflakes that you’d glued on so haphazardly that some were already starting to peel off.

you waited anxiously, a grin spread wide across your face, as you handed the sweaters out to the team. soap was the first to laugh, an obnoxious, joyful sound that filled the room. “bloody brilliant!” he declared, already slipping it over his head. gaz eagerly followed, adjusting the blinking lights on his sweater with a wide grin. “it’s ugly as hell, but it’s festive!” he cheered, playfully tugging on his sleeves.

but when price looked at the sweater you handed him, his brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered. ghost was even more nonchalant, barely even looking at his sweater. “i’m not wearing that,” he stated simply, his mask hiding any trace of emotion.

you felt your heart sink at their disapproval. you had spent so much time making these sweaters, and now it seemed like your grand idea was going to fall flat. you tried to hide your disappointment, but it was impossible to mask the way your shoulders slumped and the way the grin on your face faded into a frown.

soap, ever the optimist, was quick to notice. “c’mon, lads,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “it’s christmas. don’t leave her hanging like that.” gaz nodded along, nudging ghost’s side. “yeah, don’t be such buzzkills. we’re doing this for fun.”

price sighed, rubbing his temple. “fine,” he said, clearly resigned to the idea, though you could see he wasn’t thrilled about it. ghost, after a long moment of silent contemplation, muttered a low curse and finally relented. “fine,” he growled, pulling the sweater over his head with a scowl. “but don’t expect me to smile for any damn photos.”

you couldn’t help but beam as the team finally agreed. “thank you,” you whispered, relieved and a little giddy. the fact that they were willing to humor you meant more than you could put into words.

-

the photo shoot began with a sense of awkwardness, but it quickly turned into something far more ridiculous than anyone had imagined. you set up a makeshift photo booth in the corner of the common area. christmas lights twinkled in every direction, and a small, crooked tree stood beside you, barely hanging onto its plastic glory. soap insisted on decorating it with tinsel and a few odd-looking ornaments he’d found lying around the base, including a couple of empty bullet casings.

the first shot was a classic group pose. soap threw an arm around your shoulder, his face lit up with a grin that could rival the sun. gaz stood beside you, striking a finger-gun pose with a cocky smirk, his sweater lights flashing erratically. price and ghost stood behind you, stiff and reluctant, but still part of the scene. price gave a half-smile that was more out of politeness than enjoyment, while ghost’s body language screamed discomfort, but he didn’t look entirely miserable.

the second shot was even more chaotic. soap, in a moment of pure genius, turned his sweater around so santa’s googly eyes stared blankly at the camera. ghost, ever the minimalist, crossed his arms, giving a deadpan expression as he tilted his head, pretending to be menacing. gaz tangled himself in his sweater lights as if they were trying to strangle him, and you knelt in front of him, holding a candy cane like it was an ancient weapon.

for the third photo, you decided to switch it up. this time, you all got creative with silly props you’d found around the base. soap grabbed a small santa hat and dramatically placed it on your head, pulling you into a ridiculous pose where he pretended to be your personal bodyguard. gaz stood beside you, holding an oversized candy cane like it was a weapon, while you struck a playful pose, holding up a mug filled with what was definitely not eggnog but still looked festive. ghost and price, unable to resist the chaos any longer, found themselves joining in as well. ghost raised a plastic cup as if toasting to the absurdity of it all, and price, ever the soldier, saluted with his mug.

and then came the final shot, the crowning glory of the evening. soap and gaz carefully lifted your legs while price took the middle, and ghost reluctantly held your shoulders. you struck a triumphant pose, arms thrown in the air like you’d just conquered the world. soap joked, “light as a feather, lass. guess we’ve been lifting too much.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. this was the moment you had dreamed of—a memory you would cherish forever.

-

the photo session finally came to a close, but you weren’t quite done yet. you stepped forward, cupping each of their faces gently as you planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. soap, never one to shy away from affection, let out a loud laugh and gave you a playful wink. gaz blushed, his smile turning sheepish as he muttered a quiet thank you. price gave you a resigned but soft look, and ghost—stoic as ever—simply leaned into the kiss, his body language telling you more than his words ever could.

“merry christmas,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with warmth.

“merry christmas,” soap said, grinning widely. gaz and price both offered quiet chuckles, and even ghost nodded slightly, his mask hiding the faintest hint of a smile.

it wasn’t a picture-perfect holiday—far from it—but in that moment, surrounded by your favorite people in the ugliest sweaters ever created, it was exactly what christmas should be: fun, silly, and filled with love.

after the photos were taken, you couldn’t bear for them to be tucked away somewhere forgotten. instead, you had one framed—the last photo, the one where they were all carrying you in their arms like a queen. you decided it would be perfect to hang it somewhere everyone could see, so you found a spot in the mess hall. it wasn’t glamorous, but it was home, and it was filled with laughter and memories. and now, every time the team passed by that spot, they’d see the ridiculous photo—and remember the holiday you all shared.

[alwaysbethewest]

TLOU fic: See Me After

Merry Christmas @auteurdelabre! I'm your Secret Santa for this year's @pedrostories exchange and I have a little gift for you 🥰 Most of my writing is light and fluffy so it was a fun challenge to get a prompt like forbidden relationships and figure out how to spin it, haha. I had already been thinking about sex pollen and then you told me you love that trope, so here we are. I hope you enjoy this, and that you have a very happy holiday!

Title: See Me After Pairing: Joel/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word count: 2.4k Content/warnings: Pre-series, reader is Sarah's teacher and around Joel's age. Sex pollen, masturbation, sex, breaking of school district policy on multiple levels lol. Unbetaed but thanks as always to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their invaluable advice and cheerleading.

Mrs. Taylor, the third grade math teacher, had told you about the fraternization policy your first week at the school—and the incident back in ’97 that necessitated it in the first place.

“I’ll tell you what,” she’d said conspiratorially, “I’m not so sure it would’ve made it into the handbook if the dad Miss Kayla was stepping out with didn’t happen to be married to the PTA president’s sister.”

But he had been, and it’s there now in black and white on page 16 of the packet you’d received from HR: District Policy 3A(1) On fraternization with students’ family members. In short, dating parents is not allowed.

Amid lesson plans and curriculum revision, dating is the last thing on your mind anyway and you don’t think much about it beyond the opportunity for break room gossip. You’re too busy learning the ropes at a new school, and when the weekends come you’re focused on getting your laundry done and seeing your friends. Romance falls by the wayside and you barely miss it.

Then the fall term starts, and Sarah Miller joins your class.

Mr. Miller is one of the most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s all broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, thick hair falling in soft curls over his forehead and a comfortable Texan accent from his mouth. He repeats your name as you shake hands and between his deep voice and the large, calloused hand firmly gripping yours, you feel your knees start to buckle and you know you’re fucked.

A little fantasy never hurt anybody. There’s no District Policy 3A(2) On fantasizing about that one hot dad. This is what you tell yourself at the end of Curriculum Night, after you’ve gone home and showered and climbed into bed, ready to decompress from meeting every new student and their parents in one whirlwind evening.

What were those hands so big for if not to imagine how they’d cup your hips, how firmly they’d grip your thighs and part them to discover you? Why have a voice that deep, that little bit rough around the edges, if not to hear it moan in your ear and tell you, come on, baby, just like that?

You don’t mean for it to turn into a fixation. It’s just an easy, unattainable fantasy. Cooking him dinner and him thanking you by fucking you on the kitchen table, coaxing a new orgasm from you until you’re so wrung out he needs to help you to bed. Him picking you up in his truck and driving you somewhere quiet, like two teenagers sneaking off, straddling him in the cramped space to ride his hand, and the beard burn you get on your neck doesn’t even sting. It’s a dopamine boost.

Sarah’s dad is kind of a dick.

You catch him outside on a Friday, waiting to pick up his daughter after school. He’s leaning against the door of his truck, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding his eyes. You try not to let your gaze linger too long on his biceps and how his t-shirt sleeves strain to contain them.

“Mr. Miller.”

He starts when you greet him and you wonder if he’d been dozing behind the shades, despite the cacophony of schoolchildren spilling out onto the sidewalk around you. But he gives you a polite nod in return.

“I just wanted to remind you of the parent volunteer opportunities for this year,” you say, holding out a printed flyer.

He accepts the paper, glances down at it, and grimaces like you’ve asked him to sign up for a root canal.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t crumple the paper but he drops it through the open window of his truck onto the passenger seat, where you imagine it getting lost amid the standard car detritus of fast food napkins and gas station receipts.

You wait a beat, but he doesn’t say anything more.

“Okay, well. Have a good weekend,” you tell him. He nods again, silently, and you think his eyes have probably already shut again as you turn to go. But then you hear a quiet, “you too,” like an afterthought, and for some reason—insanity, perhaps—you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you walk away.

That night, he turns a little mean. Selfish. He puts you on your knees at his feet, offers you his dick to suck, teases his foot between your legs so you can grind against his shoe for relief. You press hard against your clit and focus on his cock, imagining how he’d fill your mouth, salt-skin-heat on your tongue, and it’s mortifying how quickly it makes you come, alone and muffled against your pillow.

There’s a rumor going around school that the fifth grade chemistry teacher, Mrs. Fontaine, is a witch. If it’s true, she must be one of the good ones, because she’s only ever been nice to you.

It’s a Tuesday and you come across her in the break room, perusing a newspaper and drinking coffee out of a mug decorated with a black cat. She’s never seemed too concerned with dispelling the rumors.

“Ah, here,” she says, nodding hello as you head to the fridge. “Your horoscope. What you are dreaming of will find you, whether or not you think you’re ready for it. Embrace your destiny, even if it means breaking a few rules.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Breaking rules? Are you sure you’ve got the right sign?” you joke.

She laughs knowingly. “The stars are telling you to let loose; maybe you should listen.”

“Maybe these celestial bodies don’t really know my business,” you counter. Mrs. F just shakes her head, like you’re the one being silly here.

Sarah’s dad blows off your scheduled parent-teacher meeting and sends her uncle in his place.

It makes you prickle with irritation.

Tommy Miller is nice enough. He’s younger than you, and a natural flirt, quick with a smile and a polite yes or no, ma’am when you ask him a question. He also has no idea what subject you teach or which grade Sarah is in, but he seems sincerely pleased to hear she’s doing well in your class, and he promises to share your report with her father, who will definitely, definitely follow up.

You’re not holding your breath.

In the final week of the semester, Sarah hands you an envelope on her way to her seat. Your name is scratched on the front in boxy letters. Inside, the note reads:

I’m sorry I missed our one-on-one. I had a work project go overtime and couldn’t get away. Thanks for meeting with Tommy instead. He told me Sarah is keeping up and about your reccomendation for the competition. That’s very cool.

I know you all want parents to volunteer. Ain’t nobody wants to eat my bake sale cupcakes but if you have anything that needs fixed around the classroom I can do that for you. Tommy mentioned there was some loose tile by the door.

Call me to schedule it and I’ll show up this time, promise.

-Joel

The promise gets you. You sigh, thinking you might forgive him after all, and get started jotting down a list of the loose tiles and crooked cabinet doors your maintenance guy has been ignoring for the past year.

He shows up in a tool belt and work boots, on Saturday morning as you’d arranged. The building is deserted and it’s almost serene walking through the empty hallways, silent but for the click of your shoes and the heavy tread of his.

You feel slightly self-conscious, being alone with him in person after all the time you’ve spent with the thought of him in private, but you try your best to push that down so you can appear professional.

Mr. Miller—Joel—seems at ease, rambling about the history of the district school buildings’ retrofits and how many decades it’s been since they’ve been properly updated. It’s endearingly uninteresting, reminding you of countless students who have subjected you to impromptu lectures on their own special interests over the years, and you’re biting back a smile by the time you reach your own classroom.

He takes in the room with an expert’s eye, systematically going through the list you’d made him and making notes to himself, finally tucking his pencil behind his ear for safekeeping when he’s done.

You’ve got your own list to get through, to close out the term and ready for the upcoming one—lesson plans to print and organize, task cards to laminate, books to sort in the classroom library as you swap out this year’s unit for the next. You busy yourself while he gets to work and there’s a companionable silence in the room, broken by the shuffle of papers and books on your end, hammering and the occasional muttered curse word from his.

You allow yourself to watch him when his back is turned. You watch his back, in fact—the sturdy slope of it down to the little patch of bare skin that reveals itself when he reaches forward and his shirt rides up. His skin looks soft. Lush, you think, and you luxuriate in the vision of him until you realize you’re biting your lip and force yourself to snap out of it and get back to alphabetizing.

Coming to a break, you stand up and stretch, then slip off your shoes and wiggle your toes. Yesterday, Mrs. Fontaine had dropped off a tin of cookies and in the rush of wishing your students a happy break, you’d forgotten to grab them on your way out. They’re still sitting on the corner of your desk, and you perch next to them and open the box.

“Cookie?” you offer. “My co-worker made them.”

Joel has been re-hanging cupboard doors to make them sit straight, and he looks up from his screwdriver. “Thanks.”

He washes his hands with care at the corner sink and comes to settle by your side, a respectful distance away. You munch on the cookies, looking around the room to admire his work. The changes are subtle, but for as many hours as you’ve spent in this room, they stand out to you. Little things like the cupboard doors closing properly, and the wooden border around your white board looking good as new instead of cracked along the edge.

“It looks great,” you tell him. “I appreciate your work.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing, but you see the smile on his face and can tell he’s happy you’re pleased.

It hits you first, you think. The strangest sensation, like a ripple through your body awakening every nerve.

“I feel…” you start, unsure.

What is it you feel?

You look at him and you watch as it strikes him too, as his jaw drops and his breathing goes shallow.

Your body feels drawn to his like there’s a magnet pulling you in. The air is suddenly thick, sticky with arousal brewing between you. Your eyes are locked with his and you see his pupils dilate, his gaze turning heavy with intent.

“Maybe we just… need some fresh air,” you suggest. It’s a struggle to turn from him to walk to the door and when you reach it your body aches. You look back at him, seeing the pained expression on his face and how tightly his fingers are gripping the edge of the desk. Your eyes drop—you can’t help it—to see the bulge in his jeans, and as if your body has taken over all decision-making, your fingers reach past the knob to engage the lock instead.

He kisses how you thought he would. Intense and focused. But his hands are nicer, gentler, than in your imagination. They smooth over your curves, settle on your back and your ass to pull you closer, into the space between his legs. His arms are a solid grip around you and your body melts against his until he’s the only thing holding you up.

He turns the two of you around so you can sit on the desk while he stands over you, panting when your lips break apart.

“I’ve never felt like this,” he whispers. “I feel—I need—”

He kisses you desperately and slides his hands under your shirt. The touch of his fingers on your body is like a dam breaking; now that you’ve felt it you need every inch of his skin against yours. Your hands knock as you rush to remove each others’ clothes, and it would be almost comical if you didn’t feel like you might die without him inside you soon.

He’s nudging his cock at your entrance, a spellbound, breath-held silence between you and a wanting ache in your gut.

“Please,” you whisper. It was chilly this morning but now you’re flushed with heat. His skin is glowing with sweat—it almost distracts you, noticing how the hard angle of his collarbone is softened by the sheen of it. You lean forward, set your mouth to his skin to taste him, and he groans.

He grinds against you, the thick length of him riding over your cunt. It feels like a tease, but it’s not; he’s holding himself back.

“Tell me you want it,” he breathes.

“Joel,” you moan. “Please. I want you.”

Your body arches as his cock drives you open, pleasure buzzing through your veins. He bows his head, mouth at your neck, the soft scratch of his beard pressing into your skin. With a gasping breath, he murmurs, “I wanted you—all this time,” and you think you might see stars.

You ignore the phone ringing, but when the answering machine switches on and you hear the urgency in your friend’s voice, you reluctantly drag yourself to the kitchen to pick up.

“Tell me you didn’t eat those cookies,” Mrs. Fontaine says.

You open your mouth, wondering what you should say, but she barrels on without you, explaining the mix-up with the special batch she’d made for date night with her husband and how she’s only just realized the mistake, and maybe she’s making a big deal out of nothing but you didn’t eat the cookies yet, did you?

You look up and see Joel leaning in the doorway to your bedroom, naked but for a pair of shorts, and abruptly you decide you don’t have time for this conversation.

“You know what? I’m gonna have to call you back,” you tell her, and with that, you hang up the phone.

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?” 

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man. 

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.” 

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.” 

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while. 

“I arrived just last night.” 

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one. 

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.” 

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.” 

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses. 

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.” 

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.” 

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over. 

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away. 

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her  a cup of mystery liquid. 

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up? 

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.” 

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.” 

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.” 

She looked up. 

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate. 

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.” 

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all. 

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight. 

--

“Y/N!” 

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out. 

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving. 

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.” 

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.” 

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug. 

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room. 

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.” 

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night. 

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having. 

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.” 

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well. 

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways. 

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality. 

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship. 

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan. 

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?” 

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.” 

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.” 

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.” 

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!” 

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game. 

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners. 

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry. 

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction. 

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.” 

Her voice felt like coming home. 

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently. 

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.” 

“You said that last time too.” 

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago. 

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine. 

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.” 

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words. 

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things. 

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her. 

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door. 

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy. 

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.” 

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air. 

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him. 

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018: 

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger. 

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.” 

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.” 

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.” 

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it. 

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.” 

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.” 

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him. 

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.” 

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS: 

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life. 

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need. 

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation. 

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago. 

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well. 

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too. 

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming. 

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.” 

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.” 

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him. 

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach. 

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him. 

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time. 

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.” 

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer. 

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.” 

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.” 

He shook his head. “You hated me.” 

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.” 

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment. 

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her. 

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me? 

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him. 

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.” 

“Oh.” 

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.” 

“I loved you too, y’know.” 

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?” 

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.” 

“Me too.” 

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

[littleslaywrites]

joy to the world | spencer reid x bau!reader

summary: you surprise spencer with big news on christmas morning

word count: 1.1k

cw: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of birth control, JJ heavily featured (no jeid mentions)

The presents had all been opened, and you were sitting on the couch with Spencer in front of the fireplace. Crackles from the fire mixed with the sound of the radio playing Christmas music. You were dipping cookies you’d made the night before in a shared glass of milk. His arm is wrapped around your waist and your head is on his shoulder. 

You'd been anxious all day, waiting for the right time to give him his last gift. You knew he’d be excited, but you also knew it’d change your whole lives. 

It had been just over a week since you’d found out you were pregnant. JJ was the first to know, being the one who suggested it as a possibility. You’d been nauseous for a week, hardly having the appetite for anything. Any strong smell made it worse. JJ has suspected something was up, but what made her voice it to you was when you mentioned your period was late. It was a passing comment, but she pulled you aside, mid-case, insisting that you take a test. 

“Could you be pregnant?” she asked, whispering as to not alert the others in the local police office you were set up in. 

“I mean, I guess,” you said, trying to remember if you had missed a pill recently. You realized that, with your frequent time zone changes, you had probably mixed up times at some point. “Oh god, yeah, I could be.”

“What are you thinking?” JJ asked, sensing your nervousness. 

You had talked about having kids with Spencer, so you were sure he’d be excited, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon. 

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” you respond. She grabs one of your hands, subtle enough to not draw attention. 

“We can find a drugstore tonight and get a test for you,” she says as the two of you are called back into the conference room. 

That night, you two gathered in your hotel room. The test sits face down on the bathroom counter, phone timer counting down. When the alarm goes off, you don’t move from where you’re sitting side-by-side on the floor. 

“Turn it over,” you tell JJ.

“Me?” she says. The two of you go back and forth on who has to turn it over, giggling like school girls. Your play argument ends with the decision that you’ll flip it together. 

“What do you want it to say?” she asks when both of you are standing in front of the test. 

“I think…” you hesitate for a second, considering the two possibilities. “I think I want it to be positive.”

You imagine your life with Spencer as a family, creating a new human that’s half him, half you. 

The two of you count down from 3, flipping it over, revealing the tiny words. 

Pregnant

“Oh my god,” you say, glancing over at JJ.

“Oh my god!” she says, grabbing you by the arms. “You’re going to be a mom!” She’s jumping up and down, almost more excited than you are. You’re standing there in shock as she pulls you into a bear hug.

Pulling back, she asks “How are you going to tell Spencer?”

That’s how you two came up with the idea to tell him on Christmas. JJ knew just as well as you did that Spencer would be overjoyed. You could hardly keep the secret from him, wanting to tell everyone you knew. Penelope knew something was up, catching onto the looks JJ gave you. It was torture not being able to tell her, wanting Spencer to find out before the rest of your team. It was almost impossible to have any secrets in an office full of profilers. 

“I’ve got something else for you,” you say as Spencer is cuddling you with the cookie tin on top of his legs. 

“What is it?” he says. 

You stand up, getting the small gift bag you had hidden inside your closet. “So, you know how you like to journal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I got you one that you’ll be needing soon.”

You hand him the gift, sitting back down as your heart pounds inside your chest. 

He opens it, revealing a small book that says “First Time Dad’s Journal” on the front. 

You try to read Spencer’s eyes, shuffling through a range of emotions. “Are you…” he trails off, meeting your eyes. 

“Yeah,” you say smiling. He grabs your hands in disbelief. 

“Are you serious?” he says, borderline giddy.

“Completely serious.”

He pulls you close, holding you tight. When he pulls away, you see light tears brimming in his eyes. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” He lightly kisses you, smiles breaking across both your faces. 

“Who knows?” he asks, keeping your hands locked inside his. 

“Just JJ. She was there when I found out, but I wanted you to know before everyone else.”

Spencer can’t stop smiling. His eyes are studying you, seeing you in a whole new way. “When will we tell them?”

“I guess we have to tell Hotch pretty soon. Once we tell Penelope, I’m sure everyone else will find out.” You both giggle, imagining how she’ll react. 

The moment settles, both of you slipping into the quiet of the evening. You find a place again at his side, him holding you even closer than before. 

“I want to be a good dad for you,” he says quietly, “for you both.”

“I know you will.” There’s no doubt in your mind. You’ve seen him with kids before. “You being worried shows that you care.”

He hums, hand finding your stomach. “I just don’t want to be like my father,” he says, almost whispering. 

“You won’t. You’re already nothing like him.” One of your hands goes to his hair, playing with it. You wish there was a way to make him know how perfect he’ll be as a father. He’ll know when the baby gets here, you think. 

Silence overtakes you, the both of you imagining your new future. You’d always planned on having children, but it felt more real than ever before. You can almost picture another set of legs running around the apartment. 

Your phone rings, breaking through the quiet. You answer it, Hotch on the other end apologizing for interrupting your holiday to inform you that you have a case. 

Getting ready to go, Spencer stops you in front of the bathroom mirror by hugging you from behind. 

“Please don’t get all overprotective,” you say.

“You know I can’t promise that.”

Spencer pulls you into one last kiss before you head to the office.

author's note: merry christmas to all of you that celebrate!

[it-was-summer]

Buy Me Presents, Baby

A/N: Minors; DNI. I DONT CAREEE I WANT HIM!! Anyways, this may or may not be based on true events in my life. If you're reading this also know that I wrote this Christmas Eve and it is now 5am on Christmas Day, the powerhouse of lust. Hope you guys like this because I DID NOT proofread this AT ALL!! I mention the pill (oral contraception), so sorry if this is an issue, I'm just a girl. I KNOW there is a typo in here... i know it. Merry Christmas!! My gift is porn!!- Love you, Em

edit- the typo was fully in the title… go to bed at a reasonable time kids.

Link to the Ao3: Buy Me Presents, Baby Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Woof uhh okay! newly established relationship, Christmas sex, Spanking, Creampie, PnV sex, Reader gets called girl.. I apologize, Oral contraceptives are mentioned at the end, lingerie, that one bow lingerie... yall know which on I'm talking about?, That ONE!! WITH THE BOW YES!!, I had to use the word pussy.. IM SORRT IM NOT HAPPY ABOUT It, dirty talk, cock this cock that, not proofread, merry christmas.

Genre: Porn, no plot. Some fluff? Pairing: Established relationship!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Spencer exchange gifts for Christmas, and one of your gifts happens to be a little physical.

Word Count: 3,669

Spencer doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. 

Though the longer he thinks about it, he should have seen the signs of your recent… restlessness. Being in the BAU came with its challenges, and one of these challenges was— of course— being away from home. Usually, the two of you would find a special time that worked for both of you to meet up and spend some well-deserved time together. 

Lately, it has felt like the world was against you, though. Every time you had free time, he’d plan a date night with you, only for him to be called away on a case. The one time you planned a date, you came down with a cold. The cycle kept repeating in a million different annoying ways. 

The cherry on top? It was almost Christmas. It's nearly Christmas, and neither of you has seen each other for a good three weeks— it’s miserable. 

So imagine his excitement when his phone doesn’t ring early Saturday morning. When he steps out of his shower, he checks it again— nothing. He’s beaming when he calls you, your sleepy voice answering him before he says, “Dinner tonight?” 

There’s a pause, followed by some rustling, “You’re free?” 

“Mhm,” He hums with a grin, grabbing his glasses from the case and placing them gracefully on his face. 

He can hear the excitement in your voice. " You want to exchange presents?” He remembers the playful tone in your voice when you said it, but at the time, he thought nothing of it. He chuckles softly before agreeing, saying a sweet goodbye, and hanging up the phone. 

Dinner begins and ends at your place, decorated in lights and festive trinkets, and presents wrapped neatly under the fake tree in the corner of your living room. The gift exchange went smoothly; you got Spencer some reading essentials, followed by a special edition of one of his favorite books. Spencer, in turn, had bought you a pair of earrings you pointed out back in November and a framed copy of your favorite painting.

It was getting late now, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, you turned and whispered in a playful voice, “I still have one more gift for you.” 

His eyebrows raised at that, bending his head to look at you as you sat with your back pressed against his chest, “More? After the special edition Tolstoy?” 

“More. I was saving it for the twenty-fifth, but…” You trail off, your eyes leaving his as you glance toward your bedroom. “I could go get it ready now?” 

Spencer smiles, thinking about it momentarily before he decides that he might not be home for Christmas. He mutters a soft “Yeah, okay.” 

You stand up quickly, an excited look in your eyes when you tell him, “Okay, stay here!” And then you’re gone. 

Spencer’s watching your bedroom door close with a faint smile. He stretches as he waits, his tea finished, when he hears you call out for him, “You can come in now!” 

He stepped into your room with nothing but good intentions, that is, until he saw you lying on your bed in lingerie. Maroon satin material lays smooth against your skin, and the shape of a tantalizing bow teases him at the center of your chest and your underwear— barely there. 

He clears his throat in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected, though he’s sure you can see his blushing cheeks and growing arousal. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in the back of his throat when you sit up on your elbows, pushing your breast out toward him a little more with an innocent tilt of your head. “You don’t like it?” 

His voice cracks when he says, “No! I mean— that is to say, I do like it! I mean, I’m sure you can see how much I–” He nervously adjusts his sweater, shaky hands pulling at the collar. 

You let out a soft hum, relaxing a little. " Are you going to stand by the door the whole time, or?” You tease him with a low laugh. 

He quickly walks closer, shaking his head as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. The bed dips as he climbs onto the edge of the bed. He watches as you roll on your side to adjust for him, waiting until he is lying beside you before you whisper, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay–” 

“I do! I do. It’s just we’ve only–” He motions between the two of you slowly, replacing the word. “A few times, and I wasn’t expecting,” His eyes trail down to your chest, his fingers twitching– itching to feel the material against his palm.  

When he looks back into your eyes, you smile at him with a little sigh, “I know. I just saw it, and I thought of you.” 

Spencer feels like his entire body is on fire when you say that. His pants become increasingly uncomfortable as he croaks softly, “That made you think of me?” 

You hum a sweet-sounding “Mhm,” you lick your lips, “Cognitive association, right?” 

Spencer thinks you’ll break him with the way you’re talking to him; your voice is low and quiet, clearly amused. He holds back a sound when he feels your hand take his and guide it to your barely clothed hip. For some reason, he wants to spew some facts about cognitive association, but in a rare moment, his mind goes blank. 

His mind slows, and the only thing he can process is the feeling of satin material against your body. He drags his hand along your side, higher and higher, until his fingers trace the bra’s underwire. His eyes flicker over to yours as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips. 

Kissing Spencer always starts soft, tender, and languid. It then slowly devolves into something passionate, heated, rough– something you adore. And you’re starting to feel the shift in this kiss, his tongue slightly grazing your bottom lip– a silent plea you happily fulfill, parting your lips to let his tongue tentatively enter the kiss. 

You’re smiling into the kiss, shifting with him so you’re under him before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Spencer lets out a tiny sound of surprise against your lips at the rough movement, and he pulls away slightly, his lips barely touching yours when he says, “So aggressive,” His tone teasing as he captures your lips in another giddy kiss. 

With your eyes closed and mouth occupied, your hands get to work. Blindly, you pull the bottom of his sweater, your lips only leaving his to help him pull the piece of clothing off his body. He’s eager to get his lips back on yours, his tongue resuming its work against yours, a kiss that makes your head spin and thoughts go hazy with how intense it feels. 

You move your legs up and around his hips, pushing his hips down to yours with ease. Spencer whines into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours until he pulls away to kiss your jawline. His hips grind down onto yours, your breath hitching at the feeling. 

Feeling his hardness through his pants makes you realize just how badly you need him, and it seems it does the same for him. His lips latch onto the lower side of your neck, sucking and licking softly at the sensitive area as his hips grind against yours harder. 

The feeling makes your core squeeze around nothing; the new desire to get something, anything, inside you plants a seed in your lower abdomen. You feel shamefully needy as Spencer continues leaving light red and purple marks on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breathing heavy as he decorates you with marks. 

You’re surprised to see that he’s actually moving lower, his markings getting closer to your collarbone when he pulls away, looking up at you with those lust-filled honey eyes, “May I?” The tips of his fingers tug lightly at the satin red bow covering your breasts. 

Your legs leave his hips as he pulls the bow apart with a simple flick of his wrist. His eyes stay trained on your breast as he takes one into his hand and gently rubs at your nipple, eliciting a soft, quiet moan from you, “So pretty,” Then he dips his head lower to bring your left nipple into his mouth, licking at the sensitive bud with precision. 

A sound— embarrassingly loud— escapes your lips at the feeling, your body squirming against his. You’re sure you can feel him smiling against your breast, his right hand moving to your right nipple, pinching it lightly. 

Your fingers latch onto his hair, gently running them through his hair and occasionally pulling when his tongue does something particularly amazing against the bud of your nipple. You can feel electric arousal coursing through you, soft moans and sighs leaving you with every touch. 

However, he’s pulling his lips away from your breast soon after, his cheeks red as he mutters a low, “Need to make sure you cum,” And you find yourself nodding in agreement as his hands leave your breast, pulling the lingerie’s satin thong to the side as he swipes two fingers along your entrance. 

You let out a little sigh, feeling incredibly needy as his fingers brush against your clit teasingly. “Did dressing up like this make you this wet, or did I?” He asks, his fingers curiously leading back down to your entrance. 

Shifting under him, you let out a breathless chuckle, “A bit of both,” 

He grins at that, his head now to the side of yours, his thumb pressing against your clit slowly as he slides a finger inside you. You tense for a second with pleasure before relaxing as the feelings, his finger gently curling inside of you as his thumb presses down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves. “You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, haven’t you?” 

His voice against your ear isn’t something you expect, but you aren’t surprised for long as he slides a second finger into you— your thoughts turning to mush, “Yes,” You whisper, your back arching slightly at his fingers move faster inside you, curling and pleasing you at a medium pace. 

Spencer lets out a low hum, his eyes watching you as you get lost in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your clit a little harder as he finds that sweet little spot inside of you. He can feel the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and he’s envious of his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead. 

Your moans only add to personal envy, his fingers moving and caressing your G-spot with greater precision. He tries not to groan, watching you arch your back off the bed. A cry followed by a string of heightened gasps from you has him wholly enraptured. 

When his fingers start to get rough inside you, you’re already seeing stars, your left hand reaching over to grab onto Spencer’s bicep at the feelings, fingers gently digging into his skin as your body shakes. “Love watching you get close,” Spencer groans softly against your ear. 

His lips slowly resume their markings on your neck, and the added stimulation sends you falling over the edge with a loud cry of pleasure. Your body shakes against him, and your high-pitched moans, accompanied by heavy panting, have pride swelling in his chest as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm. 

His fingers only stop when your body goes slack, his lips leaving your neck to gently kiss at your lips— a gesture you return lazily. The feeling of his fingers leaving you has you feeling empty, but you’re quickly distracted as Spencer drags his soaked fingers to his lips. Your eyes widen for a second as you watch your boyfriend lick off every bit of you on them, “Let me get a taste,” Your voice is soft as Spencer leans in, kissing you fast and rough. Your tongue drags along his to get a second-hand taste of yourself in his mouth. 

You’re quick to pull away, your hands hooking into the belt loop of his pants, gently yanking at the loop. Spencer laughs at the feeling, and he looks into your eyes with a shameful look— lustful and pleading. You know how badly he wants to dive straight in, but his determination to make you cum too many times to count usually gets in the way of his cock. 

“Haven’t seen you in three weeks. You can make it up to me later.” You joke softly, your fingers undoing the top button with ease. 

Spencer grins as he slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. He finds himself blushing at how your eyes shamefully stare at the outline of his cock in his boxers, precum already wetting some of the fabric. He finds himself doing the same with you, though, his eyes taking in the undone ribbon of the lingerie at your sides, the way your legs are parted to give him a delicious view of your dripping sensitive folds. 

Your fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers, gently tracing his cock with your fingers, a soft, pleasured sigh leaving his lips at the feeling. “So hard,” You mutter, leaning up to kiss a part of Spencer’s jaw. 

Spencer lets out a low hum of agreement. Being as busy as he has been, he hasn’t found time for any kind of sexual release as of late. “It’s been a little while since I’ve–” 

“That’s okay,” You sigh sensually, your hands wrapping around his dick slowly, “Take off your boxers.” 

Spencer’s more than happy to comply, hurriedly discarding his boxers at your request. He watches as you pull your hand off him to take off your underwear, and Spencer squeaks out a nervous, “Leave it on?” 

Grinning, you nod, your fingers pushing the thong back to the side of him. He groans at the action, looming over you now, his hands on either side of you. “Flip over,” 

A jolt of excitement runs through you at the request, quickly flipping over on your stomach for him. A pleased sound leaves your lips as his hand moves to pull your hips up, forcing your back to arch for him. He slides his thumb and index inside the sting on your thong as he slowly rubs his cock in between your folds– the head of his cock gently kissing your clit. 

The worst part about being in an established relationship and having just started having sex with your partner is the anxiety that follows you after you say something risky. Your lips part nonetheless, your hips pushing back against him quickly, “That’s right, get that cock wet with my pussy.” 

You were never dull during sex, but Spencer was not expecting something so vulgar to fall from your lips. His hips stutter against yours before he finds himself incredibly turned on by the sudden confidence and vulgarity in your words. His hands yank your hips back roughly, lining himself up to inch himself inside of you slowly. 

About halfway inside you, he pulls out till it is just the tip and then repeats the motion— it’s infuriatingly hot. You let out a soft whine at his toying with you and start to move your hips back against him, but that is met with a surprising spank to your ass. 

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the feelings before you blink, lifting your head to peer at him over your shoulder and whisper a little, “Harder,” 

Seeing your half-lidded eyes looking over at him, your soft lips begging him to spank you harder, Spencer feels a shiver shoot down his spine. He’s sure he can feel himself grow harder as he pushes deeper into your pussy and delivers a solid smack to your ass with the flat of his palm. 

He then follows the motion with a comforting rub of his hand against the swell of your ass. For a second, he’s worried about hurting you or making you uncomfortable–  unexplored territory. The feeling of your walls tightening around him for a second, fluttering in a way that has him bottoming out inside you without hesitation, reassures him. 

“God,” He huffs as he sets a pace, his hand occasionally delivering a hard spank to your ass whenever he feels your hips moving with his. You feel terrific; the feel of your reddening ass under his hand, the soft skin of your hip in his other, he’s surprised that he isn’t drooling. 

You, however, are starting to feel yourself beginning to drool. Moans and groans coming from the two of you has your head spinning, the rough feeling of Spencer’s hips against yours making your legs feel weak. 

Spencer pulls all the way out as he feels himself getting close, his soaked cock resting against your ass– the sight is something has him letting out a shaky sigh. He doesn’t need to say anything before you’re flipping over on your back again, legs spread and lips wet as you mutter a needy sounding, “More.” 

Spencer can’t find it in himself to deny you or himself, moving closer to you and lining himself up with your entrance again. As he sinks into you, you move your legs up, your hands holding the back of your knee. The new position lets him sink in deeper, and Spencer’s sure you’re an angel. 

You’re practically sucking him in, his breathing getting heavier as he moves against you, His eyes dipping between your face and between your legs– intelligent eyes watching the way his cock disappears deep inside of you. “You take it so well.” 

His hands reach up slowly, tracing the back of your thighs before replacing your hands at the back of your knee, bending your legs back further. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, the gentle gesture leaving your head reeling when accompanied by this immense pleasure. 

You gasp out at the slight burn of your thighs, toes curling slightly, when Spencer starts to roll his hips in fast, tight circles. The roll of his hips makes his cock hit your G-spot, your eyes rolling back at the feeling as a guttural-sounding groan joins the lewd sounds leaving your lips. 

Spencer takes that as his sign to snap his hips into yours, his forehead pressing against yours as he moans and whines. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never leave again.” 

You can feel your lower abdomen tighten quickly at the rough movements. A shaky laugh leaves you at his mention of never leaving, but words fail you as you cry out. The past few times the two of you have had sex, he was never this rough. You aren’t complaining, but his frantic, rapid thrusts are leaving you with the feeling that you’ll beg for a repeat sometime in the future. 

A long whine leaves you as you feel yourself getting closer, your hands holding tight on Spencer’s shoulders, your body jolting slightly with his rough thrusts. “So good! You’re fucking me so good. Please, don’t stop.” You beg without shame, “Need to cum, make me cum again.” You beg through moans. 

Spencer almost cums inside you upon hearing your begging, but he holds off— a new mission in focus. He slows for a second, moving one of your hands off his shoulder and under your knee before he slides his hand down to your aching clit. His thumb makes quick, tight, hard circles without warning— the scream that leaves your chest has him worried for your neighbors. 

“That’s it, tighten around me like that.” He pants out from above you, his eyes locking onto yours as he speaks. He watches the way your eyebrows raise in pleasure, and your mouth starts to let out a mix of silent screams and loud groans. “You look pretty when you cum around my cock, my pretty girl.” 

Your legs are shaking with that, the coil in your abdomen snapping with force as you bite your bottom lip to try and silence the sound of your orgasm– a groan that almost sounds inhuman. Spencer’s quick to follow, his hips roughly snapping into yours with his thumb continuing its torment on your sensitive clit. 

The feeling of overstimulation has you letting out a weak-sounding whine, almost a sob. You’re gasping hard as he keeps going, frenzied thrusts that have your free hand gripping the sheet tight until he bottoms out in you with a shaking groan. His hips thrust into you a few more times as he empties himself into you, shaking hard. 

A moment passes with neither of you moving, your legs moving down to the bed, and the realization sets in. Spencer looks at you with wild eyes, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–” 

You laughed weakly and held up a hand, “Spencer, it’s okay.” Your voice sounds a little raw as you relax into your bed slightly, with him still hovering over you. “I’m on the pill, remember?” 

“Well, when taken correctly, it’s 99% effective, but if you’ve forgotten a day lately, it’s only 93%.” He pouts lightly when a giggle leaves your lips, but he smiles against his better judgment. “I’m serious, what if…” 

“I doubt it will, but if it does come to that, we’ll deal with it.” You mutter, slowly reaching a hand up to rake your fingers through his messy brown hair. “Clean me up?” 

Spencer notes how your voice sounds: shy and a little desperate. He tilts his head, a playful smile on his face as his eyes trail down to your parted thighs, “Insatiable this evening, I see,” He jokes as he begins to lower himself, soft fingers rubbing against your inner thighs.  

You groan in faux annoyance before you feel his breath fanning against your inner thighs, “Merry Christmas,” You tease softly.

[little-jana]

"Let's Be Alone Together"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.7k

Summary: Reader and Spencer escape reality together and spent Christmas together.

Christmas Eve in Quantico wasn’t exactly where I imagined spending the holiday, but the BAU didn’t really operate on a nine-to-five schedule. A last-minute case had pulled everyone into the office earlier that week, but thankfully, we’d wrapped it up just in time for the holidays.

Now, the bullpen was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights. Most of the team had already headed home, eager to spend Christmas with their families. I should’ve done the same, but somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. The blinking cursor on my laptop screen had hypnotized me, or at least that’s the excuse I told myself.

The truth was, it wasn’t like I had anyone waiting for me at home. My plans consisted of takeout, bad Christmas movies, and falling asleep on the couch. Maybe a part of me had hoped that if I stayed long enough, I wouldn’t have to face that silence.

A familiar voice broke through my thoughts. “Still here?”

I glanced up to see Spencer Reid standing by his desk, looking equally as stranded. His cardigan was slightly askew, his tie loosened just enough to look almost relaxed.

“You’re still here too,” I countered, offering him a small smile.

He shrugged, shuffling a few papers on his desk. “I thought I’d finish up some reading before heading out. What about you?”

I gestured to my screen. “Pretending to be productive.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his smile growing. “It’s Christmas Eve. You’re allowed to take a break, you know.”

“I could say the same to you, genius,” I teased. “What is it this time? A thesis on the psychological implications of holiday traditions?”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Actually, it’s a collection of Christmas short stories. Charles Dickens, O. Henry...”

“Fiction?,” I said surprised.

“I do enjoy a good academic paper,” he admitted with a grin. “But sometimes… fiction feels like a better escape.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying him. “So, you’re avoiding reality too, huh?”

Spencer hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it, something that made my chest ache. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most open person when it came to his feelings, but I’d learned to read between the lines.

“You know,” I said, standing and crossing the room toward him, “we could avoid reality together. I’ve got leftover cookies and a terrible collection of Christmas movies. What do you say?”

He blinked, startled. “You mean… tonight? With you?”

“No, Spencer, I meant with the ghost of Christmas past,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “I don’t want to impose—”

“Spence,” I interrupted, my tone gentle but firm. “It’s not imposing if I’m inviting you. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine, before finally nodding. “Okay. I’d like that.”

---

An hour later, we were sitting on my couch, surrounded by the warm glow of twinkling Christmas lights. A tin of cookies rested between us, along with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Spencer had insisted on helping me carry everything up from my car earlier, and now he was inspecting one of the sugar cookies with a level of scrutiny that made me laugh.

“It’s just a cookie, Spence,” I said, nudging him playfully.

“Actually, there’s a fascinating history behind sugar cookies,” he began, his face lighting up. “They originated in Pennsylvania in the 1700s—”

I held up a hand, laughing. “Let me stop you right there. No cookie history tonight. We’re watching Rudolph, and that’s final.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine. But if I’m going to sit through stop-motion reindeer, I expect at least one scientific inaccuracy to discuss.”

We settled into the couch, the opening credits of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playing softly in the background. Spencer was surprisingly into it, occasionally pointing out character dynamics or chuckling at the outdated animation.

By the time the movie ended, I felt a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate. Spencer had relaxed completely, his usual guarded demeanor replaced by something softer, something sweeter.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “this is the first Christmas Eve I haven’t spent alone in… a long time.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion. I turned to him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.

“You’re not alone now,” I said softly.

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “For this. For… everything.”

I smiled, reaching out to place my hand over his. “You don’t have to thank me, Spence. I’m just glad you’re here.”

For a moment, we just sat there, the silence between us filled with something unspoken but deeply understood.

“You know,” he said, his voice hesitant, “I’ve always found it hard to connect with people. But with you… it’s different. It’s easy.”

My breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s easy with you too, Spencer,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

He hesitated, then took a small, tentative step closer. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I… I think this might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had,” he said, his cheeks flushing slightly.

I felt my heart swell at his words, and before I could overthink it, I leaned in and kissed his cheek, letting my lips linger for just a moment. His skin was warm, and I felt him freeze slightly before relaxing under the soft touch.

When I pulled back, he was staring at me, his eyes wide and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Before I could say anything else, he leaned forward, closing the small distance between us, and pressed his lips gently against mine. The kiss was soft and sweet, a perfect mix of shyness and intent.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were bright red, but there was a small, shy smile on his lips.

“Merry Christmas,” he said quietly, his voice full of warmth.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer,” I replied, my heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

And as we sat there, the glow of the Christmas tree wrapping us in its warmth, I couldn’t help but think that this—being here with him—was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

a/n: I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a peaceful holiday season.

[mallowsweetmiri]

christmas miracle • fred weasley x reader

use #mallowsweetmicros to find my imagines!

Christmas at Hogwarts was your favorite time of year. Flurries outside your window, the crackling fires, the carols sung in the hallways. It all made you indescribably happy. Even the Gryffindor common room was decked out in garland and floating ornaments, the smell of fresh balsam in every corner. You sighed contentedly to yourself as you sat by the fire. Exams were finally over and you were set to head home on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow. Things couldn’t be better.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called from the portrait hole. It was Fred, George, and Lee. You waved at them and sat up, readjusting your blanket on your lap. To your surprise, only Fred continued towards you, waving to the other boys as they headed towards their dorm. George and Lee sent cheeky smiles your way.

“Hi,” you smiled, moving your books from the couch so he could sit.

“Hi love,” he beamed, taking a seat next to you. You blushed at his nickname. Fred had always been overly affectionate with most people, but you were grateful to have experienced it. You craved it, his hugs and his nicknames. The way he slung his arm around you at the Three Broomsticks. It made you smile and you didn’t care if it was just the way he was. It made you feel special.

“Excited to go home?” You asked, watching as he settled in. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his body turned towards you. You wished you could crawl into his lap, but you’d never have the courage to do so. Although, you doubted he’d mind.

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugged, the fire reflecting off his hair. “But I’m a little sad to leave this year.” You furrowed your brows and gave him a curious smile. It was hard not to smile with his contagious energy so close to you.

“Why is that?” You wondered aloud. He was usually boasting about going home to his mums cooking.

“To be honest, I wish I could spend Christmas with you,” he replied. You let out a huff as your smile grew without your knowledge.

“What?” You laughed, brushing your hair behind your ears in a feeble attempt to cool your blush.

“I’m sad I can’t watch you open my gift on actual Christmas,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. You shook your head at him, thoroughly confused. “But I figured two days before is close enough. So here, open it.” He grinned at you as he pulled out a small box from his pocket. You took it from him and bit your lip. It was small, rectangular, and fairly light. You pulled off the ribbon and opened the lid.

“Fred,” you gasped, pulling out the quill. “How did you even know I wanted this?” Your hand flew to cover your open mouth as you admired the pearl handled quill. You felt like Santa Claus had magically made your Christmas wish come true.

“I remember you admiring it when we were in Hogsmeade a few weeks ago,” Fred chuckled, watching you run a finger over the smooth surface of the grip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you want something that badly before. I couldn’t help myself.” Your eyes ripped away from the beautiful gift and up towards Fred. “Do you like it?”

“Do I like it?” You repeated. “Fred, this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” You flung your arms around him and buried yourself into his neck.

“Really,” he chuckled. “A quill is the best gift you’ve ever gotten?” You nodded you head into his shoulder.

“It’s not just a quill, it’s a beautiful quill. And-” it’s from you. You couldn’t exactly say that though, so you settled for, “I didn’t get you a gift!” You gasped and pulled abruptly out of the hug. Fred only chuckled again and held your arm from pulling away too far.

“It’s fine, Y/N. Seeing you happy with your present is more than enough for me,” he murmured, his voice laced with affection. Your blush deepened under his touch, his eyes holding yours captive. You were dizzy with realization. It was a Christmas miracle. Fred Weasley liked you back.

“Wait,” you said, reaching into your bag to grab your wand. “I think I have something for you.” You flicked your wand up, casting a flicker of red and green magic above you. It was a silly charm you had been practicing for fun, but now your festive spirit was proving worthwhile. Fred watched as the mistletoe took shape, his mouth slightly parted as his eyes fixed on the delicate bristle. You bit your lip to hold your smile as you watched his face flush red. You would certainly be replaying that image in your mind over the holiday.

“How did you learn to do that?” Fred asked in wonderment, still gaping at the red bowed mistletoe.

“I taught myself before December,” you chuckled. “Y’know. Just in case someone needed it.” Fred chuckled as his eyes settled back on you.

“I wish I’d known about this earlier,” he murmured, his hand moving from your shoulder to your cheek. “If I’d known how to cast this, I would’ve done it on December 1st.” He leaned forward gently, pressing his lips against yours with adoration. He was warm and sweet like hot cocoa, his lips moving against yours with an impossible gentleness. The kiss was unhurried and soft, and it practically melted you into the couch. When he pulled away, your body betrayed you, a soft whine escaping your pouted lips. Fred chuckled and pressed another kiss to your cheek.

“Did you like my gift?” You asked sheepishly, your rosey cheeks warming Fred’s heart. He smiled as the mistletoes shape shimmered and fell over the two of you.

“This is definitely the best gift I’ve ever received.”

[redrose10]

I hope everyone is doing okay! I have like four different versions of this saved, but couldn’t decide on which one so today I just chose one and went with it. I’ll begin working on the requests I have again soon. I just needed a little bit of a break so thank you for your patience.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄 🎄

Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of anxiety and depression, therapy sessions, mentions of cheating

You never imagined you would be spending Christmas Eve sitting in a small yet cozy office staring at Jimin, your couples therapist, but here you were. Of course your husband Yoongi was late as usual.

“I’m sorry. I can try calling him again.”, you apologized for the tenth time. “No need, but if you would like I won’t stop you.”, he said taking a bite of one of the cookies he had set out on the table. Just as you were about to pick up your phone the door opened and in came your husband. He sat down without acknowledging either of you. He was angry, you could tell by the way he clenched his jaw.

“Glad you could join us Mr. Min.”, Jimin said with a smile, “I’m guessing Santa will be bringing you a new watch this year?” You smiled, thankful that Jimin could always lighten the mood even if only a little.

Yoongi cleared his throat, “Yeah uh sorry. Traffic was terrible.”

“Thats okay.”, Jimin said while pulling out his note book, “So! Did you both finish the homework that I gave you last week?”

You nodded pulling out the long list of things you had written down. You were both supposed to write down six things, three that you liked and three that you disliked about each other so that you could discuss them and work through anything with Jimin present as a mediator.

It didn’t take long for you to notice that Yoongi didn’t have a piece of paper or a notebook, he didn’t pull out his phone or even have something scribbled on a napkin. It wasnt a surprise to you. He had barely participated in any of the sessions before this so you don’t know why you thought this would be any different.

“Ahh first you show up late and then you don’t even complete the simple task that I gave to you.”, Jimin said eyeing Yoongi up and down.

“I’m busy. I work…a lot. I don’t have time for trivial things.”, he shrugged.

“Exactly Yoongi. This is a big part of the reason you are even here to begin with. You no longer have time for other important aspects of your life.��, Jimin said slowly pointing in your direction.

You heard Yoongi scoff and mumble something about not knowing anything about him before defensively crossing his arms.

“Alrighty Y/N, let’s hear what you have written down.”, Jimin smiled, “”Why don’t you start with the things that you like most about your husband.

Gently you unfolded your piece of paper. You took a deep breath and cleared your throat, “Okay firstly I like the way that you would always hold my hand whenever we watch tv together.”

Jimin nodded, “That is a really nice thing to say Y/N. But why don’t you go ahead and say these things to Yoongi, not to me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. You turned to face your husband trying your best to ignore the way he visibly stiffened up.

“The second thing that I really like about you is your determination. When you put your mind to something you don’t stop until it’s completed, no matter what.”

Yoongi remained stone faced, but Jimin gave you a thumbs up and a nod to keep going so you did, “And the third thing I like is that you are a great cook and I loved waking up to your breakfasts in bed, especially the heart shaped pancakes.”

“Those are all great qualities. Yoongi is there anything you would like to say,either about what Y/N said oooorrrr you can go ahead and say three things you like about her.”, Jimin said in between jotting down some notes.

You watched as Yoongi shook his head. That was all it took for tears to threaded to fall from your eyes so you turned your attention to the small Christmas tree in the back of the room. The soft white lights twinkling away gave you something else to focus on.

Jimin noticing your change in demeanor deciding to provoke Yoongi a little, “Are you sure Yoongi? You’re telling me you can’t come up with three things you like about Y/N?”

Your husband readjusted his position before swallowing thickly, “I like how selfless you are. I like how you always leave me little notes to read. I like that you always reach out for me as soon as I get in bed.”

Jimin nodded, “Those are also very nice. But…I noticed that Y/N, you used the past tense. You said Yoongi always held your hand and that you used to get breakfast in bed. Let’s discuss that.”

You hadn’t even noticed you did that. Jimin was good and now you see why he was always completely booked.

“Umm well.”, you began, “We uh we just don’t seem to be as close as we used to be. We don’t spend much time together any more.”

“I see…I see. And why do you think that is?”, he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess maybe he just doesn’t love me any more or uh he probably found someone else.”, you whispered feeling a bout of confidence with Jimin there encouraging you to finally speak up.

Yoongi scoffed and shook his head.

“Do you have something you’d like to add?”, Jimin questioned.

“Nope.”

“Alright well Y/N thank you for opening up about that. Why don’t you go ahead and read the three thing you dislike about Yoongi?”

You agreed even though your throat was so dry you were worried you couldn’t speak.

“I dislike how you always leave your dirty socks on the bathroom floor.”

You looked over at Yoongi noticing no change in his reaction.

“That is a common one. I have to admit I’ve done that a time or two myself.”, Jimin laughed while encouraging you to go on.

“I dislike how you’ve been going days without even acknowledging I exist.”, you whispered feeling your emotions bubbling up to the service. You bit your lip hoping to keep them in check.

“I’m sorry you’re going through that Y/N.”, Jimin softly replied while handing you a box of tissues. After he sat back he turned to Yoongi, “But I couldn’t help notice the way your grip tightened on your knees when she said that. Did that strike a bit of nerve with you?”

“I just…I didn’t know you were feeling that way.”, he said.

“Oh please Yoongi!! What do you mean you didn’t know? You thought your wife liked being ignored and feeling replaced these last few months?! How dense can you be?”

Yoongi and Jimin both jumped a little startled by your sudden outburst.

“Okay okay I appreciate you finally opening up Y/N. Let’s hear more of that.“, Jimin said trying to get control back of the situation, “Tell him everything you’ve been bottling up.”

“Yoongi I…I’m tired of wondering what you’re doing or who you’re with. I hate that you won’t talk to me any more. You’ve completely shut me out of your life. I hate going to bed alone and waking up alone. I hate that I’m desperate for your touch. I hate crying myself to sleep at night wishing that you were there. I’m tired of coming to these sessions and trying my best to save our marriage and then feeling like I’m the only one left in this marriage.” You were out of breath by the time you were done. Tears were beginning to fall. You even felt a little sick, but at the same time felt like a giant weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

“Thank you Y/N.”, Jimin whispered, “Thank you for being honest. That was brave of you. And even though that was definitely more than three things you dislike about Yoongi.”, he chuckled, “I believe you have one more written down and I’d like you read it if you don’t mind.”

You took a deep breath and nodded and with a shaky voice you said, “The thing I dislike most about you is that no matter how you treat me, no matter how much you hurt me or how lonely you make me feel, all I can think about is you. If you’re happy. If you’re eating and sleeping well. If you are safe and comfortable. All I want is for you to be happy Yoongi even if it means your happiness doesn’t include me.”

Jimin sat there in silence giving you both the chance to process what was just said. As you reached for a tissue your hand brushed with Yoongi’s who was also reaching for one and that’s when you realized he was also crying.

“This is all very good. I’m glad we’re here and doing this.”, Jimin spoke, “Now Yoongi do you have any dislikes you would like to acknowledge .”

He shook his head.

“It’s okay. Now is the time to bring this stuff up.”, Jimin probed.

Yoongi shifted towards you before speaking, “I dislike that the only flavor of coffee creamer you buy is pumpkin spice. It’s the worst. And I dislike that you make me want to be a better person because life would be easier if I didn’t care about what you thought. But most of all I dislike that you are willing to love me no matter what, even when I don’t deserve it.”

“Well that escalated quickly, but I like this discussion we’re having.”, Jimin responded, “Yoongi is there anything else you would like to say because now is a great time to bring it up.”

You watched Yoongi looked at Jimin who was nodding and then he turned his attention back to you. He licked his lips before taking a long deep breath, “Y/N…I…I’m not cheating. There’s no one else. There could never be. I’ve uh I’ve been seeing a separate therapist on my own. I don’t know exactly what happened or why, but a while ago I just started feeling really down and depressed and my anxiety was worse than ever. I was afraid of bringing you down with me so I tried to hide it. I didn’t want my struggles to also become yours…again. So all this time I thought I was protecting you from me. I wanted to get better without you having to have the burden of knowing what I was going through, but I guess… I never saw it from your perspective. I was embarrassed that I let it get so bad and it felt like things were just getting worse and worse and I was drowning and didn’t know how to fix it.”

A lot of the pieces started falling together and making sense to you.

“Yoongi your troubles are my troubles, I want them to be. I am here for you for whatever you need. I am here to take some of the burden from you. I don’t want you to struggle alone.”, you said reaching up to wipe away his tears.

He leaned into your touch and for the first time in months firmly wrapped his arms around you pulling you as close to him as he could.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I really am. I never meant to hurt you like this. I’ll work on it. I promise.”, he mumbled against your skin.

“It’s okay Yoongs. I’m here for you. Always. We’ll work through it together.”

“I just love it when things have a happy ending.”, Jimin beamed from his arm chair, “See what a little bit of communication can do?”

The two of you nodded and agreed.

He continued, “Now you can take it slow and you don’t have to go straight back to the way things were. Take time to get to know each other again.” He got up and grabbed a small box and a couple candy canes before leading the two of you to the door. He handed you the items, “Now go home, do a little more talking, and enjoy your Christmas. If you need anything else don’t hesitate to call.”

Once in the hallway you pulled on the ribbon and gently opened up the small gift box.

‘I don’t think you guys will need this, but just in case….

Merry Christmas

Sincerely,

Jimin’

You chuckled as Yoongi picked up the small sprig of mistletoe adorned with a bright red bow.

He held it above your heads with a large smile.

“He’s right I don’t think we need this.”, you giggled.

He smiled, “Yeah, but it’s Christmas so why not…and I have always wanted to kiss you underneath the mistletoe.”

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑆𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 (𝐹. 𝑇𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑎𝑟)

Unfortunately this is my life right now. I needed my family gone YESTERDAY.

Contains: stressed, stress, stressing, tangible irritation, dysfunctional oblivious family, kissing, hiding, cameo appearance based on my older sister

There wasn’t a breath deep enough you could take to calm yourself down.

Fiyero seemed to be acutely aware of this so he stayed silent as his chest was pressed to yours where you both were glued together, currently hiding from the everlasting season of irritation that was your family and the holidays. There honestly weren’t any words.

The lack of space, the way they stayed glued to your side during most of their stay, the snoring, endless noise, whining, complaining, the way all your brothers seemed to speak in surround sound, all the mess, how nothing was ever good enough for your mother, toppled over with all your unfairly assigned “sister responsibilities”.…you exhale heavily through your mouth as you run your hands down your face. If all the general inconvenience wasn’t enough, you barely got to spend any alone time with the one person who didn’t constantly stress or annoy you. The most you got to do was a peck- maybe kiss- and you had to sneak to do that because if they knew you had a boyfriend after being socially averse your whole life, you know how badly they’d blow it out of proportion- before one of your family members was off wanting to do something or another. Another heavy sigh and with this one, you’re fighting tears. You just want your apartment back, no mess and no noise with no loud family that wears out every welcome you’ve ever given. Peace and quiet. That’s all you wanted.

So, here you were; hiding with your secret boyfriend in the bathroom with the lights off to escape the noise and be alone with the solace you give each other for just a few minutes. You’ve had a headache for days and Fiyero’s been going with everything assumingely unbothered but you know better. He likes the space you two have. He also knows that you truly didn’t want to do anything this year so the look on your face when all your close relatives and siblings literally appeared at your place on Friday for a surprise stay at your place for Christmas week gave him a hint on why you wanted to stay out of the drama for this year. Plus…Fiyero misses you. Yeah, you were there but you weren’t happy. He misses you happy and the flow you both had before it got disrupted. Your folks were nice enough but he couldn’t overlook how…inconsiderate…they also were. Just dropping in without checking in on how you felt about it or if you had any prior plans and then expecting you to accommodate them, didn’t feel right. He can only imagine how over it you really are so that’s why if in this moment all he can give you is silence, he will. Smoothing a hand down your hair, he resigns himself to wait in the darkness along with you until you’re ready but you speak first.

“I want our apartment back.”

“I know. Me too, miss having you all to myself.”

You smile a little at that because it really was lovely with just the two of you. Quiet, calm, and a sweet atmosphere that came with coexisting with the love of your life.

“Don’t get me wrong- i did miss them just-”,

“Not all at once for an impromptu 7 day stay?” You pinch your lips in as a frown overtakes your features, the picture of unhappiness and Fiyero pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you and rests his chin on top of your head while you pout.

“Exactly.”

You both sigh in tandem, soaking in the one break you’ve had in 5 whole days.

“What else is it? You’ve been more…” Fiyero trails off as he cups your face, peering down into yours. He doesn’t really have to elaborate because you know what he means and you know he won’t judge your answer.

“…they’re just so…needy. They want everything. You should’ve seen the episode yesterday in the shopping center.” You groan remembering how much a season you didn’t plan on participating in has cost you. You didn’t even want to celebrate in the first place. You just wanted to relax, have sex with your boyfriend, and enjoy holiday themed stuff and occasional outings with your friends but nooo you couldn’t even do that.

Sensing your rapidly overwhelming frustration, Fiyero presses a slow, firm, kiss on your lips. Humming when you kiss him back before pulling away.

“Just 2 more days”, he says, squishing your cheeks so your mouth opens then leaning back down to kiss you again but deeper. He swallows your moans as you drag your hand up his back, feeling the muscles there as he takes your breath away. You feel his tongue lave hotly across the inside of your cheek and you almost lose your balance from the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you, other hand gripping his forearm. However, Fiyero pulls away before you can make a scene, resting his forehead against yours as you gasp against his mouth, trying to catch your breath. You barely hear him when he talks through the blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding.

“Two more days. Okay?”

The rasp in his voice hypnotizes you and you nod belatedly, movements slow and jerky as you repeat dumbly after him.

Mmhm, yeah, two more days.”

Fiyero smiles at how eager you are to forget the past 5 days of disaster through his touch but it’s only 4:11 pm and you have company waiting. You slip your hands underneath his ugly Christmas sweater, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles, tilting your head up with a pleased hum when he meets your lips again within seconds. It’s honestly the best you’ve felt in days, held and being kissed breathless. The only noise being your panting and Fiyero’s low groans. You drag your fingertips down his happy trail- not to start anything, of course but just because his skin is nice- feeling giddy at the way his hands hold you tighter.

“Honey! Are you almost done? We have awkward posed pictures to take!” Rapid knocks accompanied by your older sisters voice make you two spring apart and you fight not to scream in frustration.

“Yeah I’ll be out in a few minutes!” You yell back, craving an empty space more than ever. Huffing one more time, you feel Fiyero nose along your temple before whispering in your ear.

“Two more days?”

“Two more days and not a hour longer.” You hear the footsteps walk away from the door but of course it’s not the end the end of it.

“You should invite your friend! The one that’s been hanging around the last couple of days! He’s ridiculously hot and he’s got an ass that could cause traffic!!” She yells across the distance she walks from the door and your mouth drops in sheer mortification, face hot while you pointedly ignore the shake of Fiyero’s chest as he laughs; clearly very much enjoying your sisters praise.

“I really am all that, huh?

This won’t be the longest two days of your life at all..

[softestqueeen]

jingle bells

pairing: spencer reid x afab!reader

summary: you surprise your boyfriend, spencer reid, with something very special for christmas.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! smut, p in v, no foreplay, kissing, pet names (angel, baby), unprotected sex (guys, don't do that unless it's with spencer reid)

wordcount: 1273 words

a/n: so this is inspired by a real pair of victorias secret panties that I saw on tiktok a while ago. i wanted to find a picture or something but couldn't for some reason and now i think it might all have been a figment of my imagination. but who cares, you're here for the smut, i know. i hope you like this christmas fic, even though it is a lil late. enjoy <3

Your boyfriend, Spencer, loved Christmas. Every year he went all out on decorations, listening to Christmas music the second it turned November and reading Christmas stories. Even if Halloween definitely was his favourite holiday, Christmas is a close second.

So, this year you wanted to surprise him with something special. This December was laced with back-to-back cases and even though you two shared a flat, you didn’t see each other a lot. But Christmas rarely came with any cases, so you knew that you would be unbothered, which was perfect for your plan.

You didn’t just surprise him with anything, no, you wanted to surprise him with you. And even though all his other presents were already wrapped and under the tree there was one present (you) that he got to open early. A few weeks ago, when you were shopping for Spencer’s other gifts, you walked by a Victoria’s Secret and in the display, you saw something you knew your boyfriend would love.

A pair of sheer lace panties, adorned at the sides with little bells that made a cute little sound when moved and a matching sheer babydoll top. You knew you had to get this as a little surprise to sweeten up the time leading up to the holiday. And even though, due to Spencer’s tight schedule, you had to move it to actual Christmas, you had to move it onto the actual holiday, you knew he would love it.

So, after Spencer came home on the 23rd of December, you knew what you had to do.

As always, you greeted the profiler with a kiss at the door, helping him out of his coat and asking him about the case. He never gave you too many details, but you still liked hearing about what he was up to. Then you told him to get himself comfortable in the bedroom, as it was already a little later, and disappeared into the bathroom. You already prepared everything and now just had to get changed.

Trying your best not to be too loud with the jingling panties, you put the matching set on and covered it with a robe. You fixed your hair, even though you knew Spencer wouldn’t care much about it once he saw your outfit.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, immediately pulling Spencer’s attention away from the books he was reading. He slowly dropped it into his lap, his jaw almost going the same path, when you opened your robe, revealing the lingerie underneath. You slowly let the robe fall off before moving your hips a bit, making the bells jingle.

That seemed to snap your boyfriend out of his stunned silence. He hastily put the book on the nightstand before clearing his throat. “Wow,” was the only thing he got out for a second, “you, uhm- you look amazing, angel.”

“Thank you, Spence,” now walking closer to the bed you could see the blush painting his cheeks. Every movement made the bells clatter, his eyes now moving to your hips. Once you were standing next to him on the bed, he took a hold of them and pulled you onto his hips, your lips finally meeting.

Spencer usually liked to take things slow, but you could feel the urgency in this kiss, all the frustration from not seeing each other now finally releasing. You started to slowly grind against him, already feeling his erection against your pussy.

His hands wander from your hips under your top and onto your soft breasts. When you let out a surprised moan he slips his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

It doesn’t take long for him to get impatient and take off your top, leaving you only in your panties. Before you could get up to take them off though, Spencer stopped you. “Please keep them on, angel. Want to hear them.”

That was all he said before attacking your neck with wet kisses, trailing down to your collarbone and to your chest. Before he could take his kisses any further, he pulled away.

He placed a quick peck on your lips, before taking your hips in his hands. “I need you to get on your knees for me, please baby.” Oh, when he called you baby like that you knew he was desperate.

“Anything for you, spence.” you told him before returning the favour and placing a long kiss on his lips.

You then moved off his lap, positioning yourself on the bed, so you were leaning your head on your arms, your ass in the air. The pillows under your arms lifted you a bit and you could comfortably turn your head and watch your boyfriend undress. He was already in his pyjamas, so he didn’t take long.

Then he moved behind you, grabbing your ass in his large hands, slowly spreading you apart for him. You wiggled your hips, making the bells jingle again. Ah, so that was why Spencer wanted you in this position.

He gently pulled your panties to the side, revealing your glistening cunt. The moment he told you to get on your knees you knew he wasn’t in the mood for any foreplay today and to be honest, neither were you. You had been apart for so long that it didn’t surprise you when you felt Spencer’s throbbing length gliding through your folds.

Every time his tip rubbed against your hole, you couldn’t help but moan, quiet pleas for more leaving your lips. Spencer complied, his tip now prodding at your entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside of your hole, giving you both time to adjust to the sensation.

Spencer loved the way your warm walls gripped his cock, and you loved how you could feel ever ridge of him against you. Once his hips were flush to your ass, he let one of his hands wander over your back, the gentle touch making goosebumps form all over your body.

After a moment he pulled out almost completely before burying himself inside of you again, the movement triggered the bells, quiet ringing accompanying the sound of skin hitting skin. Spencer continued his movements, slowly speeding up, obsessed with the noises of you and your panties.

The sound of the bells seemed to spur him on, his breath getting almost erratic while he was driving himself in and out of you. His grip moved to your waist as to not silence the noise of the bells.

You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your moans growing louder and the calls of his name whinier.

“Fuck, Spencer, I’m so close,” your voice was breathy, but you knew he heard you when he only increased the speed of his thrusts.

“I’m close too baby. Come with me, please. I need you.”

It didn’t take more for you. With a shout of his name you came, your orgasm hitting you hard. Your whole body trembled as you felt Spencer’s cock twitch and release inside of you. His thrust came to a stop, and he slowly let himself lay on top of you, his front connecting to your back.

He pressed his lips to yours, before pulling out of you. You whine at the loss, but Spencer is quick to place another kiss on your lips and wrap his arms around you, pulling you close.

“That was amazing, angel. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Spencer. Merry Christmas.”

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated! i’d like to write more with criminal minds characters, so if you have any ideas/requests lmk!!

please also consider supporting my ao3: @ softestqueeen

requests open!

taglist: @silvermagnolias@milywatermelon@bigbananaa