#why wasn’t he under my christmas tree??

[bunnis-monsters]

🎄NSFW 🎄

warning: oviposition, gangbang, fluff+smut

Your first Christmas with the bee hybrids was… certainly an experience.

You’ve only been queen for a year. Your own little ones are barely toddlers learning to walk and fly, but the babies from the previous queen have grown attached and see you as their mama too.

“Mama, what’s Christmas?”

Oh, the dreaded question. The hive had been teaching the little ones human traditions and simple biological facts to make sure they grew up knowing how to properly take care of their queen.

“Oh… it’s a holiday where the family gathers around, exchanged presents, and then we eat a nice dinner.”

One of your own toddles over, teething on one of your fingers as you speak. “Sometimes during the season, people go caroling or look at Christmas lights. There’s a lot of baking as well.”

They all let out a collective “ooo”.

This was the beginning of the end.

The second Halloween was over, the baby bees were buzzing around, begging their mama for some Christmas fun. It wasn’t fair that the humans got to celebrate such cool traditions while they “wasted away” in their cribs.

“Mama, I wanna make cookies!”

“A-and I want to see Santa!”

“Mama, are we elves?”

Overwhelmed by all of their requests and… odd questions, you quickly roped in the adults in your hive to help you make Christmas possible for your baby bees.

Surprisingly, the hardest part was your subjects trying to comprehend why the little ones should receive a gift from an outsider of the hive.

“This Santa creature… is he safe? What does he want in return for gifts of this amount? I’m not sure we have enough honey to satisfy such a beast.”

That’s when you had to break it to the adults of your hive that Santa was in fact not real, and that all of the presents would come from them.

A few of your attendants whined, burying their faces in your neck and tummy, rubbing their fluff against you. “My queen, he’s not real? We won’t get presents?”

“Oh dear…”

It took the entire month of November to simply gather all of the supplies together, and you wondered if it would be possible to give your babies the Christmas they wanted.

First up on the list was Christmas caroling. They refused to do it in the hive, babbling on about spreading Christmas cheer.

So you hid their antennas under hats, bundled them up nice and warm, and escorted them down a relatively safe human street. The bee hybrids guarded the little ones, buzzing threateningly at anyone that got to close as they sang their little songs.

You watched out of the corner of your eyes as one of them fell face first into a snow bank, their little legs wiggling while being pulled out by one of the guards.

It was difficult not to laugh.

After their caroling, they wanted to play in the snow for a while. You let them play until they were running to you and crying, their little noses runny and their hands cold.

“Alright, let’s go home.”

Through December, you helped them do fun crafts and write their letters to Santa. There was a certain magic in the air, everyone was excited for the big night.

And then it came. Christmas Eve was filled with activities, the first being a special breakfast.

The next activity was baking cookies for Santa. Since you had so many little ones, multiple ovens had to be used just to make enough cookies for them to decorate.

Of course they all ate most of them, unable to resist the sugary treats, but you were able to save a plate full for Santa.

They all gathered around the giant tree the bee hybrids brought into the hive, all giggling and decorating it as others snacked on the Christmas cookies. Seeing your cute little fuzz balls so happy made your heart soar.

The last activity before bed was to watch a Christmas movie, and they all wanted to be snuggled up with you while they waited for Santa.

They all wore little matching pajamas, their wings buzzing and antennas twitching as they curled up with their mama.

“Mama… Christmas is the best…” one of your babies cooed as another nursed. They were still so little, you hoped you’d have many more Christmas memories like this in the future.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from the pile of sleeping baby bees and made you way to the adult Christmas party.

When you opened the door, all eyes were on you. Some were drunk from overripe fruit while others were feasting on sweets and playing games while waiting for you to arrive.

And every single one of them was hard.

“My queen~!”

You were approached by your attendants, who all rubbed around you, desperate for your attention after you had been busy with the babies all day. “We missed you… everyone’s been waiting for our Christmas present!”

All of the bee hybrids cooed and hummed, buzzing with excitement. In exchange for them working so hard to give the babies a nice Christmas, you promised to give them a special treat.

Your body.

Instantly you were surrounded, being caressed and sniffed, your clothes easily coming off. Your hive had been working nonstop all month to make you and the babies happy, which meant you hadn’t been mated with much.

And embarrassingly enough, you craved this as much as they did.

You cried out in ecstasy as one of the bees latched onto your clit, sucking softly as your cunt was being fucked by another. Both of your nipples were being attacked, and your mouth was stuffed with a fat cock.

“Is this okay, my queen?”

“Ahh, my queen, you’re so tight…”

It was a night full of many orgasms, your tummy heavy and full of eggs by morning.

Each bee hybrid got their turn inside of your cunt, and admittedly it was arousing to watch them jerk off to the image of you being fucked by the others, some even sucking and fucking each other because they were too impatient.

But they ended up completely satisfied, lapping softly at your cunt, licking up some of the cum and gently pushing eggs back into your pussy.

You were so, so full and kept cumming around the eggs that it was hard to keep them inside… but your attendants swooped in to take care of the aftercare and make sure you would be ready for the morning.

You yawned, resting against a fluffy bee hybrid as your little ones opened their presents in the morning. They were all so happy, giggling and carrying around their toys to show to their mama.

It was a great first Christmas with the bee hybrids, and each one of them was looking forward to next year!

[ang3lc]

merry christmas, ya slags.

cw: none, johnnys oiled up and under your tree this year.

you’d been ranting about your latest dating disaster for the past twenty minutes, sprawled across johnny’s couch like it was your personal therapy session. johnny, on the other hand, was perched in his recliner, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he listened to you bemoan your fate.

“i just don’t get it,” you sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over your forehead. “why is it so hard to find a decent man? like, is there some sort of curse on me or something?”

johnny’s jaw clenched. he’d been biting his tongue for months, listening to you complain about men who weren’t good enough for you, all while ignoring the fact that he was obviously the best option.

“maybe you’re just blind,” he muttered under his breath, though you were too busy lamenting to hear him properly.

“what was that?”

“nothin’.” he waved you off, trying to keep his frustration in check. “keep goin’, 'm riveted.”

you sat up, squinting at him. “you’re being sarcastic.”

“nah,” he drawled, smirking in that infuriating way of his. “'m hangin’ on every word, promise.”

you rolled your eyes but didn’t press him further, deciding to let it slide. it wasn’t until later, when you were at home scrolling through instagram, and you saw a simple post from a meme account—neon pink background with text saying: “need a 6'3 man oiled tf up under my tree. santa, i’m begging.”—straight to the close friends.

it was meant to be funny, nothing more, but johnny was, in fact, a close friend. when he saw it, it was like a switch flipped in his brain.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. you’d gone on and on about not finding the right man, and here you were going on about it again. if this wasn’t his cue to finally make a move, he didn’t know what was.

christmas morning was supposed to be peaceful. you’d planned on sleeping in, maybe making yourself a nice breakfast while you watched cheesy holiday movies. instead, you woke up to the faint sound of movement coming from your living room.

your heart raced as you shuffled out of bed, grabbing the nearest “weapon” you could find—an empty water bottle—and tiptoed down the hall. you cursed yourself for not locking your bedroom door, or maybe the front door. but as you peered into the living room, weapon raised, you stopped dead in your tracks.

there, lying shirtless—and oiled up—beneath your christmas tree, was johnny.

“mornin’, sunshine,” he greeted with a lazy grin, propping himself up on one elbow.

“what the fuck?” you sputtered, staring at him in utter disbelief.

he stretched out languidly, looking entirely too comfortable on your living room floor. “just fulfillin’ yer christmas wish, bon. ye said ye wanted a man oiled up under yer tree, yeah?”

your jaw dropped as the realization hit you. “johnny, it was a meme! i was joking!” no you weren't.

he shrugged, his grin widening. “aye, but ye’ve been complainin’ abo' not havin’ a man for months, so i figured i’d do somethin’ abo' it.”

“this is insane,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as you took in the absurd sight before you. his toned chest gleamed under the soft glow of the christmas lights, and you couldn’t help but notice how good he looked, even if he was driving you insane.

“Nae, 'm brilliant!” he countered, gesturing to himself. “look at me, lassie. ’m the full package—oiled, under the tree, and wrapped in nothin’ but me boxers.”

you couldn’t help it—you laughed. it bubbled out of you uncontrollably, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation breaking through your initial shock.

“you’re unbelievable,” you said, shaking your head.

“and yet,” he drawled, sitting up and resting his arms on his knees, “here ye are, not kickin’ me out. by the way, a water bottle's a shite excuse of a weapon.”

you bit your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “you broke into my house, johnny.”

“did nae such thing,” he said, feigning innocence. “ye gave me a key months ago, remember? said it was for 'emergencies'. this felt like one.”

“i've changed the locks since then, and this is not an emergency!”

he stood up, towering over you with that cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “depends how ye look at it.”

before you could argue, he stepped closer, his expression softening. “listen,” he said, his voice quieter now. “’m nae jokin’ when i say 'm tired of watchin’ ye pine after blokes who don’ see ye for who ye are. ye want someone under yer tree, yeah, someone to make ye happy? 'm right here, love. always have been.”

his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and for the first time, you saw him not as your goofy best friend, but as something more. and it definitely wasn't because of his resemblance to a fresh baked glazed donut.

“you’re serious,” you whispered, your chest tightening.

“dead serious,” he replied, his blue eyes locked on yours. “but it’s up to ye. tell me to go, and i’ll leave. but if you give me a chance, promise ye won’t regret it.”

you stared at him for a moment, your heart pounding in your ears. then, without thinking, you stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against his skin.

“aye,” he said, holding you tightly. “but ye love me for it, don’ ye?”

you looked up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “maybe.”

his grin widened. “that’s good enough for me.”

and as the snow fell quietly outside, you couldn’t help but think that this might just be the best christmas gift you’d ever received.

mlist

[bloatedandalone04]

Under the Tree

➪the one where you and tyler celebrate christmas together, and he has a surprise waiting for you underneath the tree.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of smut, nothing too wild (yes, i write fluff too).

Word Count: 2.8k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas !

The department store was crowded, but what store wasn’t during this time of year? Christmas was next month, after all.

You were currently in the ornament aisle of the store, practically shoulder to shoulder with Tyler and an elderly woman that was standing to the left side of you. While you felt a little bad for dragging your boyfriend here after he just finished a rather grueling chase yesterday and likely still needed to rest, Tyler was still a pretty festive guy. And the chances of there being another tornado for the next few months was unlikely, so he would have lots of time to rest. 

And he didn’t even look annoyed or irritated at the moment, even though you had been in this aisle for about fifteen minutes now. His arm was slung around your waist as your eyes flickered all over the various boxes of Christmas tree ornaments, an active debate going on in your head as you thought about what theme you wanted to go for this year. 

This would be yours and Tyler’s first Christmas together, alone that is. You’d been together for almost three years, and the first year you had spent the holiday with your own families, and the second year with all of them together, but this year it was just you and him. Tyler’s family is going on a vacation this year, so you and he spent last weekend with them, and your mom was taking care of your dad since he just had surgery on his leg, so it wasn’t really a good year for them. Though you were planning on stopping by a few days after Christmas. 

With that being said, this was the first year it was just you and Tyler, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t so excited to spend the holiday with him. 

“No rush, babe, but is there a reason we’ve been standin’ here for over ten minutes?” he asked after watching you glance between two different boxes over and over again. “Again, no rush at all, but…someone’s grandma is looking a little pissed off.”

When you looked to your left and saw the elderly woman glaring at you, your hand came up to cover your mouth as you tried to hold in a laugh. “She has a valid reason,” you said, leaning more into your boyfriend’s side to give her a little more room. “This time of year is…stressful for everyone.” 

Tyler hummed in agreement, wrapping his arm tighter around you as he leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “True…but I don’t think pickin’ out what to put on the tree is very stressful,” he teases, “Or at least it’s not supposed to be.”

You laughed quietly, watching as the woman grabbed a box of all red ornaments before briskly leaving the aisle. “I don’t know which ones I want,” you whined, pulling him back to where you were before. “I don’t know if we should do red and green, or white and gold, or white, gold and red.” 

Tyler laughed under his breath as he looked at the multitude of different colored ornaments on the shelves. “Well, we have a pretty big tree, why don’t we do a mix of all of them? And maybe we can add some random ones here and there. We still have the ornament my mom got us last year to put on too, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, looking back at him. His mom had gotten you a cute ornament that said both yours and Tyler’s names on the brims of a Santa hat that two penguins were wearing, and you were kind of obsessed with it. “That’s actually a really cute idea. You’re better at this than I thought you’d be.”

Tyler smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist again as he pulled you back against his side. “I love Christmas, you know that,” 

You nodded, wrapping both your arms around his middle as you leaned your head against his chest. “I know you do,” you hummed, “But most guys don’t.”

“Baby, I think we’ve long since discovered that I’m not like most guys,” he grunted, reaching for both the big boxes of the red and green ornaments, leaving you to grab the smaller box that held both white and gold ones. 

When he gestured for you to finally leave the aisle, you rolled your eyes. “Must you always show off?” you huffed, grabbing the smaller box before following after him. 

“In front of you?” he grinned, “Always.”

-

“Pick a movie already,” you groaned, worried that the candy cane hot chocolate you had made for both you and Tyler would be stone cold by the time a film was even chosen. The living room was only lit up by the recently put up Christmas tree in the corner, an array of ornaments scattered on its branches, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think it was one of the cutest and prettiest things you had ever seen. 

Tyler turned around from where he was hunched over the fake fireplace. The remote had been lost a long time ago, so whenever either of you wanted it on, you had to get onto your knees and hit the button manually. 

The look he gave you had you cackling as you draped the big throw blanket your mom got you a few years ago across your body. “I did,” he said, “Two of them, actually. You said no to both.”

You laughed and sipped on your drink. “The Grinch is so overrated, and Home Alone is so overplayed,” you mumbled, placing your whole palm around your mug to warm your hand. “We watch it, like, five times every December.”

Tyler, once he turned the fireplace on, stood up and towered over you, his hands on his hips. His red and green Christmas pyjama pants he was wearing made your smile grow, even though you were wearing matching ones, complete with Max from The Grinch scattered all over the fabric. “Because it’s a classic,” he defended his choice of movie as he moved towards the couch. “And it’s good. Your choice was awful, but you don’t hear me complainin’, do you?”

His words weren’t harsh at all but rather teasing as he grabbed his own mug before sitting next to you and leaning over to kiss your cheek when you draped the blanket over him as well. “Love Actually is good,” you muttered, bringing the rim of your mug up to your mouth again. 

Tyler laughed, reaching for the remote with his free hand. “Babe, it’s barely a Christmas movie,”

“Okay, you have not seen it enough times to be able to say that,” you said and Tyler grunted. 

“Alright, fine, it doesn’t feel like a Christmas movie,” he corrected himself as he flipped through the Holiday section on Netflix. “How about…this one?”

You looked up and saw that he was hovering over Four Christmases, and your lips curved into a smile. “Okay,” you answered, cuddling close to him while being careful not to spill your drink. 

When the opening scene started, Tyler turned his head and nuzzled his nose against your temple. “We should do that,” he murmured, draping his arm around your shoulder as he pulled you closer to his side. 

“What?” you laughed, your eyes still on the TV but your focus was almost entirely on your boyfriend. 

“You know…roleplay,” he said, and your face heated up as you looked over at him, seeing the mischievous look in his eyes you were very used to by now. 

“Roleplay?” you echoed, tilting your head back to get a better look at his handsome face. “You wanna call me a bitch, hmm? And tell me you hate my earrings?”

Tyler’s face heated up now and he quickly shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant,” he rushed out, but you just laughed and draped your legs over his under the blanket. “I just meant, like…you know, pretendin’ we don’t know each other, only for me to kiss you in front of a room full of people like it’s the only thing I want to do for the rest of my life.”

You bit your lip and pressed your cheek against his shoulder, running the tip of your nose along his jawline. “You already do that,” you murmured, “Kiss me in a room full of people. What would be different?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before pressing his own against it. “We could make it like our first date all over again. I could act all cool and confident, when really I was already fallin’ head over heels for you, and you could pretend you aren’t completely obsessed with me already and just dyin’ to hear more of my storm chasin’ stories.”

You scoffed, pulling back to lightly slap his shoulder. “You’re so full of it,” you shook your head before moving closer to him again. “It wasn’t your stories that drew me in, it was you. Just you.”

Tyler smiled down at you before leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to your mouth. “Everythin’ about you drew me in,” he mumbled against your lips. “Your eyes, your laugh, your smile…and those tight jeans you were wearing definitely did somethin’ to me.”

You rolled your eyes and placed your hand flat against his face, pushing him away from you. “Once again, you’re full of it,” you muttered, quickly pulling your hand away from him when his tongue poked out and licked your palm. “And disgusting.”

Tyler laughed, and the sound made your mouth curve upwards in a smile as you turned your gaze back to the movie. “You love it,”

-

Christmas Day always seemed to creep up on you ever since you became an adult, unlike how it seemed to take forever to arrive when you were a kid. 

With that being said, it was just as exciting as it was when you were younger. Back then, you, like any other kid, loved receiving gifts, but now that you are older, you love giving them out. 

Okay, maybe you go a bit overboard every year, but your mom could always use another mug, and your dad could always upgrade his housecoat. And Tyler could always stock up on that piney, sexy cologne you fucking love. 

When you woke up on the 25th of December, alone and cold in your bed, you groaned and grabbed Tyler’s Tor-nae-do hoodie and shrugged it over your shoulders, the grey fabric matching well with your Grinch pajamas. 

You left the room and walked down the stairs, hearing the faint sound of Christmas music playing from the living room. When you entered the room, you found Tyler sitting on the couch, his laptop placed on his thighs and his legs kicked up on the coffee table as he scrolled through the comments on an old upload. 

“Working on Christmas?” you asked with a tired grin, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorway. 

Tyler looked over at you, his handsome grin forming on his lips as he closed his laptop, instantly giving you his full attention like he always did. “Someone has to,” he teased, setting it aside as he leaned back on the couch. “Kinda hard to make money when you’re in bed and sleepin’ all morning.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pushing off the wall when he reached his hand out to you. “It’s only ten thirty,” you mumbled, crawling onto his lap as you snuggled up on his chest. “And yeah, yeah…you’re the breadwinner out of the two of us. I know that.” 

Tyler hummed as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms wrapping around your body as he held you against him. “That’s not true and you know it,” he murmured, dipping his head down to nuzzle his face against your neck. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

You smiled, closing your eyes as you pressed a soft kiss to his jaw. “Merry Christmas, Ty,” you said back, sitting up on his lap and placing your hands on his chest. “What do you say? I make breakfast, we sit for a bit, then open presents? Maybe after we can have a nap too…you kept me up late last night.”

Tyler smirked, shrugging a bit as he ran his hands up your back, under his hoodie. “What can I say? I know how to celebrate a holiday,” he grinned, then sat up a bit. “How ‘bout presents first? I got you somethin’ I’ve been dying to see you open for weeks now.”

One of your brows raised as you let out a soft hum. “Weeks, huh?” you echoed, a small smile forming on your lips. “Alright, we’ll do presents first.”

“Okay,” he immediately agreed, his hands giving your hips a gentle squeeze. “Open mine first. It’s right there, under the tree.” he nodded towards the corner of the living room, the Christmas tree lit up in a soft, warm tone, and under it was a small, surprisingly well wrapped box. 

“Okay,” you said, getting off his lap to retrieve the box, and one of the gifts you got him. You walked back over to him and sat down on the couch beside him, rather than on top of him again, and placed your gift for him on his lap. “Remember, we said we weren’t going to go overboard since it’s just us this year, right? You remember that?”

Tyler grinned and draped his arm around your shoulders. “Babe, just open it,” he laughed, his other hand wrapping around one of your thighs to pull you closer to him.

You laughed quietly too, draping your legs over his lap. As your fingers began ripping at the wrapping paper, you noticed that Tyler began to shift beside you, but he only gestured for you to keep going when you looked over at him. “Are you okay?” you asked, glancing up at him again as you pulled off the rest of the paper. “You’re acting kinda weird or anxious or-”

You cut yourself off when you opened a small box, and you quickly looked down to see what was in it. When your eyes caught sight of the princess cut ring that was sitting on the velvet cushion inside the box, your throat closed up as a soft gasp left your mouth. 

“Ty,” you murmured, your eyes burning a bit with unshed tears as you tore your gaze off the stunning ring to look over at him. 

Tyler looked less nervous now as his fingers ran up and down your thigh, his eyes wide but his face relaxed. “Baby,” he said back, reaching up to caress your jaw in his hand. “I love you. More than anythin’ in the world. You know that.”

You nodded quickly, your hands shaking a bit as you looked between him and the ring in the box. “Yeah,” you whispered, gripping his arm tightly with the hand that wasn’t holding the box. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Tyler rasped, taking the ring out of the box as he held it between his fingers. “I want to marry you, babe. I want everythin’ with you, forever.”

Your cheeks heated up in a blush, your eyes filling with tears as you moved closer to him. “I want that too,” 

“Yeah?” Tyler grinned, taking your left hand in his as he held the ring up to you. “Will you marry me, baby?”

You were nodding before he even finished asking the question, your arms thrown around his shoulders as you pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. “Tyler, oh my God,” you mumbled against his mouth, your voice muffled by his lips. “Yes.”

Tyler laughed against your lips, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pressed multiple kisses to your mouth. Neither of you knew how long had passed before you finally broke the kiss and pulled back so he could slide the ring onto your finger, and already you were absolutely obsessed with it. 

“It’s so beautiful, Ty,” you said quietly as you gazed down at the new addition to your left hand. 

“Yeah? I tried findin’ the prettiest one because you’re the prettiest girl,” he smirked, running his hand up and down your spine as you snuggled up against his side. “This one will have to do.”

You scoffed and shook your head, nuzzling your face against the side of his neck. “It’s perfect,” you mumbled, kissing his shoulder. “I love it. I don’t even want you to open my gift now because you’ve given me the best one by far. I feel cheap.”

Tyler laughed, holding you tightly against his side as he looked down at the gift bag you had put on his lap. “Oh yeah, it’s gonna take you at least…I don’t know, four Christmases to catch up to me now,” he said, a proud smile on his face, and he was clearly happy with his stupid joke as he reached for the bag. “Oh, and thanks for the cologne by the way, wifey.”

[deans-queen]

𝐈 𝐆𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Pairing: Dean x Reader (Y/N)

Summary: it’s Christmas Eve and Reader (Y/N) is thinking about her past relationship with Dean.

Warnings: sadness, emotional topics, smut (just a bit of make up sex), angst. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: this story is based on the song “Last Christmas” by Wham!

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

The snowflakes clung to the windshield as I sat in the driver’s seat of my car, parked outside my family’s house. I hadn’t meant to get here this early, but the thought of walking in and seeing all the Christmas cheer—the garlands, the twinkling lights, the tree laden with ornaments—made me hesitate. Last Christmas had been so perfect, and this year, I wasn’t sure I could face it.

I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, letting the memories rush back.

𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔

𝑰 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚

It had been magical. Dean had shown up unannounced, his leather jacket dusted with snow, a mischievous grin on his face as he held up a box wrapped in red and gold paper. I’d never forget how he looked that night—the way the firelight danced in his green eyes, the way he kissed me under the mistletoe with a hunger that made me forget anyone else was in the room.

And then, a week later, he was gone. No calls, no texts. Just a voicemail: “Y/N, I gotta take care of some stuff. Don’t wait for me.” That was it. He was good at that—disappearing when things got too real.

𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓, 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔

𝑰’𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍

I spent the entire evening with my family trying not to think about Dean. Later on when I got home, I sighed deeply, turning off the car and bracing myself against the cold. But as I stepped out, I froze. There he was, leaning against the Impala parked across the street, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like a goddamn dream wrapped in flannel and regret.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel on velvet.

I wanted to scream at him. Or maybe throw myself into his arms. Instead, I folded my arms across my chest, keeping my distance. “What are you doing here, Dean?”

“I… I wanted to see you,” he said, taking a cautious step closer. “I know I screwed up. Big time. But I—”

“Don’t.” My voice cracked despite my best efforts. “You don’t get to show up here after what you did. After you left.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I didn’t deserve you then, and I sure as hell don’t deserve you now. But I couldn’t stay away. Not tonight.”

“Why? Because you’re lonely?” My words came out harsher than I intended, but I was tired of his games. “Because you remembered how good it was last Christmas?”

Dean flinched, but he didn’t back down. “Yeah, I remembered. Every damn detail. The way you laughed when I tried to bake cookies and almost set the kitchen on fire. The way you looked at me when I gave you that necklace. The way you—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “I remember it all, Y/N. And I’ve been kicking myself every day since I walked away.”

My heart ached, but I couldn’t let him off that easy. “You didn’t just walk away…. You broke me! I gave you my heart Dean!”

His eyes softened, and in two long strides, he was standing in front of me. “I know, sweetheart. And I’ve been broken without you. I’ve been trying to fix myself so I could be the guy you deserve. But damn it, Y/N, I need you. I love you.”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest. I tried to stay strong, but when he cupped my face in his hands, I crumbled.

“Say the word, and I’ll leave,” he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. “But if there’s even a chance you still feel something for me…”

I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss that was all fire and desperation. His arms wrapped around me, holding me like he never wanted to let go.

“God, I missed you,” he murmured against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my waist. “You’re all I think about, sweetheart. You, and the way you taste, the way you feel…”

I gasped as he backed me against the Jeep, his mouth trailing down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “Dean,” I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” he said, his voice dark and rough. “You hear me? You’re mine, Y/N. I’ll spend every Christmas and every single damn day proving it if I have to.”

I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You better mean that, Winchester.”

He smirked, that cocky, irresistible smirk that always got me. “Oh, I mean it, sweetheart. And I’ll spend the rest of the night showing you just how much.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the snow falling around us, the whiskey lingering on Dean’s breath, or the ache of all the time we’d lost, but the second his lips crashed into mine again, the world blurred. The anger, the heartbreak—it all burned away under the heat of his touch.

“Get inside,” Dean growled, his voice low and rough as his hands slid down my hips. “Unless you want your neighbors to get a free show.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I just grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. The second it clicked shut behind us, he had me pressed against it, his hands framing my face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine before trailing down my jaw. “I missed you so much, Y/N. I’ve been dreaming about this. About you.”

Before I could respond, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, carrying me through the house until he found the living room. The Christmas tree cast a soft, golden glow over the room, and for a split second, I remembered last year—how we’d curled up on this very couch, trading kisses and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Dean didn’t stop until he laid me down on the couch, hovering over me like a man possessed. His hands were everywhere—skimming up my thighs, pushing up the hem of my sweater, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips followed, tracing a path down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me gasp.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding as his hands gripped my waist. “Tell me how to make it right, Y/N.”

I arched beneath him, my body already on fire. “I want you, Dean. All of you.”

His eyes darkened, and he wasted no time. In seconds, my sweater was gone, and his lips were on my bare skin, worshipping every inch of me. His hands worked quickly, tugging off my jeans and underwear with a single, fluid motion that made my heart race.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his eyes raking over me. “You’re perfect.”

I reached for him, pulling him down into another kiss, desperate to feel him closer. His jacket hit the floor, followed by his flannel and T-shirt, revealing the solid planes of his chest, the scar that trailed over his ribs, and the tattoo I knew by heart. My hands roamed over him, memorizing every inch like it was the first time.

“You still with me?” he asked, his voice softening as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart. I want this to be—”

“Dean,” I interrupted, my voice steady despite the trembling in my limbs. “Shut up and kiss me.”

That was all it took. He slid his hands under my thighs, pulling me flush against him as he kissed me like his life depended on it. His hips rocked against mine, and I felt the hard evidence of just how much he wanted me.

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” he growled against my ear, his voice thick with need. “But you’re mine, Y/N. Every inch of you. And I’m going to prove it.”

“Then do it,” I challenged, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Show me.”

Dean didn’t need any more encouragement. His hands gripped my thighs as he sank into me, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on mine. The stretch, the burn, the way he filled me—it was overwhelming in the best way. He started moving, his pace unhurried but firm, like he was savoring every second.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, his head dropping to my shoulder as his hips rolled against mine. “Better than I remembered. Better than I deserve.”

“Dean,” I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Faster.”

He obeyed, his movements growing rougher, more desperate. The couch creaked beneath us, but neither of us cared. The only sounds were our labored breaths, the soft whimpers that escaped my lips, and the deep, guttural moans that rumbled from his chest.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice raw as he buried his face in my neck. “Say you’re mine, babygirl”

“I’m yours,” I whispered, and the words felt like a promise. “Always.”

That was all it took to push us both over the edge. His name fell from my lips like a prayer as the pleasure consumed me, and I felt him shudder against me, his grip on my hips tightening as he followed me into oblivion.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. His weight was warm and solid against me, his breath hot on my skin as he pressed lazy kisses to my shoulder.

“I meant what I said,” he murmured after a while, his voice soft but firm. “I’m not leaving again, Y/N. Not unless you make me.”

I cupped his face, brushing a thumb over his stubbled jaw. “You better not. Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

He grinned, leaning down to capture my lips in another kiss. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

And for the first time in a year, it really was.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!! I hope you enjoy the time with your families and loved ones 🥰

Last Christmas has always been one of my favorite Christmas songs so of course I’m gonna write a story about it! Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

Master list 📝

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 / @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy / @suckitands33 / @spnaquakindgdom

If you would like to be added on my Taglist for stories please send me a message or comment on this post

[vmrsdias]

A Christmas to Remember

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x reader

Plot: Jude and Y/N spend their first Christmas together, exchanging meaningful gifts: a symbolic bracelet and a scrapbook of memories. Amid laughter, emotions, and intimate moments, the evening marks the beginning of an even deeper love.

Author's note: English is not my first language

Jude Bellingham was nervous. He paced back and forth in his apartment, the warm glow of Christmas tree lights filling the room. Everything was perfect: the table was set, the gifts were neatly arranged under the tree, and the scent of cinnamon and chocolate lingered in the air. The only thing missing was her: Y/N.

He had planned everything down to the smallest detail. This wasn’t just any Christmas—it was their first Christmas together, and he wanted it to be unforgettable. When the doorbell rang, Jude felt his heart race. He quickly straightened his shirt, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Y/N stood there, as stunning as ever, wrapped in a cream-colored coat, her cheeks rosy from the cold and a smile that melted all of his tension. In her hands, she held a perfectly wrapped package with a golden bow.

“Merry Christmas, Jude,” she said softly, leaning in to give him a light kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he replied, taking her coat and hanging it up. He led her to the living room, where the warmth of the fireplace and the magic of the tree created the perfect atmosphere.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Y/N said, taking in the scene. “It’s all so… enchanting.”

Jude smiled, a little embarrassed. “I wanted it to be special. And… I have something for you.”

Y/N looked at him in surprise as he retrieved a small velvet box from under the tree. “Open it,” he said, handing it to her with a nervous smile.

Y/N opened the box slowly, revealing a delicate gold bracelet adorned with a small football-shaped charm. Her eyes lit up with emotion.

“Jude… it’s beautiful. But why a football?” she asked, gently touching the charm.

He sat down beside her, taking her hand. “Because it represents a big part of my life—a part where you’ve always been by my side. This bracelet is a way to say thank you, to remind you of how important you are to me.”

Y/N hugged him tightly, her heart full of joy. “It’s perfect, Jude. Thank you.”

Then she pulled out her own gift, handing it to him with a shy smile. “Now it’s your turn.”

Jude carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a handmade scrapbook. Each page was decorated with photos of their moments together, enriched with little drawings and personal notes.

“This is incredible,” Jude said, flipping through the scrapbook. There was their first photo together, their spontaneous trip to the beach, and even a picture of one of his matches with her cheering from the stands. “You’ve captured our entire world in here.”

Y/N smiled, noticing the wonder on Jude’s face. “I wanted you to have something to remind you how close I am, even when we’re apart.”

Jude leaned in and kissed her softly. “This is the best gift I’ve ever received.”

The evening continued with a simple but intimate dinner. They talked about dreams, laughed at their funniest memories, and exchanged loving glances.

Later, as they sat on the couch under a shared blanket, Y/N looked at Jude and said, “This has been the best Christmas of my life.”

Jude held her hand, gazing into her eyes. “And it’s only the first of many. With you, every day feels special.”

Under the soft glow of the tree lights, surrounded by laughter and whispered words, Jude and Y/N spent an evening they would never forget.

[victimeyez]

Wonderland - Xmas Special

A part of Professional//Victim

Tommy is treated to cuddles and holiday cheer, and he focuses on enjoying himself in spite of his circumstances.

CW: Captive whumpee, shock collar mention, handcuffs and binding, injured whumpee, intimate whumper, "willing" whumpee, some gentle smut, crymaxing, hidden in plain sight

~

Tommy wasn’t exactly in the holiday spirit. 

Another Christmas here, in the basement, trying to sleep the rest of his life away. But he was bored and restless, even more than usual, after being bed bound for a week. His last client had smashed his legs up pretty bad, and pins were holding his ankle together. He had a chain lead again, locking his collar to the metal bolt in the center of his room. As if he was going anywhere - he couldn’t even make it to the bathroom on his own, much less attempt an escape. Tommy was pretty sure it was just to agitate him, to help him feel trapped, not that he needed a reminder. To his chagrin, it was working - he was going stir crazy with nothing to do but wallow. 

He was scrolling through channels on his little TV, trying yet again to find some programming that wasn’t doing some lame-ass Christmas special, when he heard the basement door open above him. Moments later, Caius unlocked his door. 

“Let's get you dressed, we’re going out.”

Tommy gawked. “Uh…out?”

“Yeah, out,” Caius said, leaning in to unlock his collar. 

“Family trip!”

~

Caius had to carry him very gingerly, helping him in and out of the car. At their destination, Michelle helped Caius unfold his wheelchair. The sun had already set, but there were lights glowing over the hill past the parking lot. 

Tommy couldn’t help his quiet whimper when Caius handcuffed his wrists to the wheelchair arms. 

“Hush,” Caius cooed, and he fell quiet. He got covered in a big blanket that covered his locked wrists and his lap. A big soft scarf covered his collar, and other than the bondage, he was actually pretty comfy. 

They were at a park that had been dressed and decorated with magical light displays. Candycane arches, glittery icicle strands, and Christmas trees of every size and shape. Though it was cold, he was kept warm bundled up. There were lots of families roaming around, ones that weren’t made up of a group of three men and their captive. A few kids had strayed off the lighted path to pelt each other with snowballs, and Caius and Tommy paused to watch for a moment. A younger child packed a little snowball and approached them, wandering up to Tommy’s side. 

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” He asked curiously. Tommy managed a smile for him. 

“Because I didn’t eat all my vegetables.”

“Oh,” the child answered. “I like carrots.”

“That’s pretty cool. Snowmen like them too.” 

The kid seemed to think about that for a moment, and then a smile grew on his face and he laughed. 

“You’re funny.” He dropped the snowball on Tommy’s lap and ran away. 

Caius picked it up, dusting the extra snow from Tommy’s blanket. He offered the snowball to a little girl walking over to join the frolic. Her mother accompanying her smiled and told her to say thank you as she accepted it shyly, rushing off to go to the other children. 

“That was nice of you, Tommy. You’re good with kids.” Caius wheeled him back onto the path to catch up to Rory and Michelle, who had successfully waited out the line for hot chocolate. Michelle handed an extra one to Cauis, and Rory went to hand one to Tommy. 

“Oh - uh, thank you, but um… my hands…” 

“Here,” Caius handed his cocoa back to Michelle to reach under the blanket and unlock one of his hands, freeing Tommy to take it. He was surprised, but accepted it gratefully. It was steaming hot, with whipped cream melting on top and a candy cane hooked over the side. Tommy sipped at it carefully, not wanting to burn himself but worried about spilling when Caius moved his chair.

He’d barely thought about his legs at all, so eager to soak up all the new sights and sounds. The most stimulation he usually got was a visit to a client’s house. Being stuck in the basement all the time was, above all else, torturously boring. Even the cold air in his nose was such a welcome change of pace, he sniffled gladly. And Caius was pretty strict with his diet, hot chocolate was a real treat he only received a few times a year. Tommy had always had a sweet tooth, and his constant sugar cravings were rarely satiated. He loved fruit, which he was often provided, but he could kill for chocolate. 

“This is really good, thank you guys,” Tommy told them. It was hard to act grateful for being allowed pleasures by the people who deprived him of them in the first place, but he didn’t want to push it. It was his attempt at positive reinforcement. The urge to attempt an escape was still there, and it was so strange to be out in public with them. So close to real life, but like watching it through a one sided mirror, imprisoned behind the glass. He could see them, but they couldn’t see him, not really. It used to distress him more, but his disastrous last escape attempt had left him largely subdued. His legs couldn’t carry him anywhere, his wrist was cuffed to the chair, and Caius would shock him unconscious if he so much as let out a suspicious peep.

It was actually nice, in a way, not to struggle. To just be able to enjoy this for what it was. Caius fixed his blanket over him, and when he caught a look at Tommy’s face, he chuckled. 

“You’ve got a whipped cream mustache there, Tiger.” He pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket, but before he helped, snapped a picture with his phone. Tommy blushed when Caius dabbed at his mouth, fussing over him like a mother would, but his free hand was occupied with his hot chocolate. When Caius stood back up, Rory put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You two are cute,” he told them, and his voice was unexpectedly soft and earnest. 

“I’m happy for you, man.” 

 Caius turned to Rory and they shared a fond look, some unspoken message passing between them. 

“Thank you,” Caius answered, just as soft, and then they both broke into grins. Rory threw an arm around him and squeezed, leaning in to plant a kiss to his cheek. The atmosphere was light, and Tommy refused to ruin it by overthinking it. Caius and Rory could go at each other’s throats sometimes, and it was easy to forget that they were friends who had started a business together. And above Tommy’s head, they lived together companionably most of the time. 

“Unbelievable. I’m French and I get no kisses?” Michelle complained. Caius and Rory immediately crowded him, sandwiching him between them and making exaggerated smooching sounds as they kissed his cheeks on either side. Michelle scowled, but he was smiling, and Tommy found himself smiling and laughing, too. Strange life. But it was nice. 

Snow started to fall again, the white flakes illuminated as soon as they entered the halo around each colored light. Tommy blinked them from his eyelashes as they started to walk again, making their way into a glimmering tunnel of lighted arches. All of it was beautiful, every glittering garland and string. Even the trees were wrapped in strands of twinkling bulbs that made the surrounding ornaments glow back. 

When they were all getting cold and the park was closing soon, they made their way back to the car. Caius sat in the back with him and didn’t cuff him, just held his hand to warm it up. He was warm, and in of his soft moods, gently doting as the night was coming to a close. Tommy didn’t know how it happened, but at some point he found himself fully curled up in Caius’s lap. He could hear his heartbeat, nestled up to his chest. Caius was being so gentle, rubbing Tommy’s back. It was just so nice to be held, so he lingered in the moment. He watched the world pass outside until the car and Caius’s gentling was lulling him to sleep. His legs were cradled to them from being jostled on the bumps, and he’d been given a pill to keep the pain away.

When Caius carried him in again, he was surprised to be brought up the stairs instead of down to the basement. He was set down with a groan, and Caius stretched his back, catching his breath. He stripped and changed while Tommy settled gratefully against his soft sheets. The bed was so plushy, and he couldn’t feel a metal frame or even a stray spring against his back. 

Caius helped him out of his clothes, offering silky pajamas from his own closet. The shorts were long, the shirt baggy, but they felt wonderful. Hands returned to his chest even once he was dressed, stroking gently. They moved to his arms, lightly squeezing and massaging, then petted his stomach. Tommy had been blinking back sleep but his eyes fluttered now, letting out soft sighs and moans of pleasure just to be touched. God, it had been so long since he’d just been touched without any intent to hurt. Now, Caius’s hands all over him felt divine, and he couldn’t help his purrs. 

A hand made its way between his legs, rubbing him encouragingly. He flushed when he realized it all was affecting him, and it only took a little bit before he was panting.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, baby?” Caius murmured. Tommy nodded shakily. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Caius, please, please make me feel good,” Tommy pleaded breathily, his cheeks heated by how embarrassingly fast he was reduced to begging.

Caius’s ministrations were slow, but not to torture, only to please at a lazy sort of pace. When Tommy’s legs started to shake, he gave a harsh gasp as pain flared in his thighs suddenly, his injuries protesting. 

“Aw…poor thing. Just try to relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Caius could tell he was close, and paused to push Tommy’s borrowed pants down below his hips. Bared, Tommy covered his face with his hands in shame, watching through his fingers as Caius stroked him in earnest. 

Suddenly, it was all too much. Earlier, he had been chained by the throat in the basement, mourning the death of his freedom again. Now, he was in Caius’s bed, in his arms, feeling good. It was whiplash, it was just too much. The nice evening, the fresh air, the physical contact of getting to snuggle in the car and being touched, all of it felt suddenly overwhelming, and he hiccuped out a sob as tears rolled over. He wiped at them frantically, as if Caius might not notice. But he did, of course, and hesitated, even though Tommy’s cock was throbbing in his hand. 

“Are you alright?”

Tommy nodded quickly, clasping his hands over his mouth. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

That made him really sob, and he was fully crying. He didn’t feel sad, he actually felt nice for a change, but that was just it. Feeling this good felt like it should be wrong, and an abstract sense of guilt formed a little knot in his stomach. Caius stopped and pulled him close into his chest, petting his hair back and kissing the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t even know - hic - why I’m crying, I’m happy!”

“Poor thing…maybe it’s just been a little too much excitement for tonight. Do you want to stop and go to sleep?” Caius dabbed at his eyes and let him blow his nose. Tommy collected himself for a minute, enough that his chest would stop heaving at least. 

“No, I want to - I want to keep going, please. I want to feel good. Please?”

Caius pressed his forehead to Tommy’s, touching his chest gently before slipping his hand back down to touch him again.It felt unbearably intimate, being stroked like that with their noses nearly touching, Caius shushing him softly as he panted with pleasure. 

“That’s it, you’re alright.”

Tommy was close, trembling in Caius’s arms as they lay there curled up together. He whined softly, starting to tense. 

“Caius, Caius, Caius - wait - “

“It’s okay angel, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Tommy came with a sob, as Caius pressed soft kisses to his face to soothe him. When he was done, he struggled to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” Tommy managed, and he was grateful. Caius kissed his forehead.

 “Of course.”

Once they were cleaned up and ready for bed, Caius turned the lights out and pulled Tommy close again. He couldn’t move much with his legs healing, so he was held exactly as Caius positioned him. With some post-nut clarity, he felt a little foolish. 

Why are you letting this happen? Even begging for it, disgusting. 

Shut up. Let me have this. 

For once, the other part of him didn’t argue. Tommy fell into the best sleep he’d had in ages, and by some tiny christmas miracle, he dreamt of playing in the snow. 

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

Thank you all so much for reading!!! Merry holidays, or whatever you might be up to.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

o, christmas tree [g.t.]

Part Two of 𝑨 𝑻𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒏–𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒔 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠

Gator Tillman ✗ Win Lewis

➼ w.c. 2.9k ➼ warnings/tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, mention of roy, spiders ➼ a/n. This series takes place about a year after the events of Don’t Waste Your Time (on Me), and while technically the main series is still being written, I wanted to take a small break to write some fluff for Win and Gator for Christmas. ➼ divider credits. truck divider @/strangergraphics, bottom divider @/saradika

Gator finds out Win’s never had a real tree before, and inspired by fond memories of cutting down a yearly Christmas tree with his father, gone sour, he decides to take Win to pick one, wanting to replace his old memories with new.

Win flipped the glossy page of the catalogue in her hand as Gator walked into the living room, shoving another cookie into his mouth.

“If you keep eating them at that rate, there’s not gunna be any left by Christmas,” she chastised, glancing up at him over the top of the catalogue as he flopped down next to her and she lifted her stockinged feet to rest in his lap.

“I can’t help it, they’re so fuckin’ good,” Gator groaned around his mouthful of cookie before dusting the crumbs from his chest.  “Dealing with your dad was definitely worth it,” he murmured and Win smiled softly, still touched by the gesture.

“We should think about putting up a tree soon.  There’s some nice ones on sale,” she mused, glancing back down at the catalogue.

“What, already?  It’s a bit early for that,” Gator scoffed and Win frowned, her head snapping back up.

“What do you mean too early?  When I was a kid we’d have it up the day after Thanksgiving,” she snorted.

“If we get one now, it’ll be dead before Christmas,” Gator exclaimed, as if it were obvious.

“Ohhhh,” Win breathed, dropping the catalogue to her stomach and pushing herself up.  “You’re talking about a real tree.”

“Yeah duh,” Gator huffed in amusement, until a thought occurred to him.  “Wait, have you never had a real Christmas tree before?” he asked in disbelief and Win shook her head.

“No, only fake ones.”

“I’ve only ever had real Christmas trees,” he murmured, a far away look crossing his face.  “My dad would always take me with him to—“ he cut off, shaking his head as his lips twisted in distaste.

Win shifted, tucking her legs under herself to crawl closer, pressing into Gator’s side.  “It’s okay to miss certain things about him,” she whispered, slipping her hand in his.  “You’re allowed to have some good memories.”

Gator frowned, his brows furrowing briefly before he gave a curt nod.  Softening, he gave Win’s hand a squeeze.  “I’d rather make new memories.  With you.”

Win smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss to the back of it.  “Let’s do it.”

A dazed grin tugged at Gator’s lips as his eyes found hers.  “You, me, a real tree.  It’s on,” he chuckled.

“So what all does picking out a tree entail?” Win asked, matching his grin.

“Well, we gotta drive a ways, and there’ll be a bit of a hike, then the actual cutting down part, and then you have to drag the tree back to the truck—think you can handle that?”

“Psh, can I handle that?” Win scoffed, wrinkling her nose at him.  “You of all people should know I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, Tillman,” she teased.

Gator laughed, holding his hands up.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh my God, why is it so far?” Win exclaimed, already starting to shiver as the icy wind whipped past them, cutting through her fleece lined leggings.

“Hey, I warned you, remember?” Gator retorted, pulling his boot from the ankle deep snow only to sink through the light crust that capped the wet powder with his next step.  The cold was starting to bother his bad leg, but he wasn’t about to tell Win that, not after giving her a hard time about her own complaints.  Plus the last thing he wanted was to worry her.

“Yeah, yeah, you did,” Win huffed, her breath misting in the air before dissipating, swept away by the wind that stung her face despite the thick scarf wound round her neck.  “Couldn’t we have just gone to a tree farm, though?  Or picked a different day,” she grumbled, huddling closer to Gator’s side as they hiked across the field toward a small grove of snow dusted fir trees.

“I thought you wanted the whole experience,” Gator pointed out, a wry grin stretching his chilled lips.

“I do,” Win whined, throwing him a pout.  “I just wish this wind would die down, it’s blowing right through me.”

Gator sobered, wrapping an arm around Win’s shoulder for a little warmth, wincing slightly at the insistent ache in his leg.  

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed through gritted teeth.  “Once we hit that treeline, it should get better,” he said.  “Not far now.”

Yeah, but then we still have to make the hike back, Win thought, though she didn’t voice it.

Surely enough, once they entered the cluster of trees, the thick branches buffered them from the wind and Gator let out a sigh of relief.

“Told ya,” he quipped and Win gave him a playful shove.

“Now what?  We just pick one?” she asked, raising her eyes toward the tops of the trees, trying to measure them by eye.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Gator said, unzipping his backpack to retrieve the tape measure.

“You measured the spot by the front window before we left, right?” Win questioned and Gator gave her a flat look.

“Course I did.  I know what I’m doin’, Winnie.  I’m the expert here, remember?” he scoffed.

“Alright mister expert, I was just checking,” she laughed, holding her hands up and he rolled his eyes fondly.

“See any you like?”

Win slowly walked the row in front of them, assessing each tree carefully before finally stopping in front of one that looked promising.  

“How about this one?” she asked, reaching out a gloved hand to touch one of the snow dusted branches.  “Think it’s small enough to fit in the house?”

Gator extended the yellow measuring tape, circling the tree to measure its height and width.  “Yeah, that’s pretty perfect, actually.”

Win beamed, pleased that she’d found their tree so quickly.  “Is this part usually so easy?” she asked, helping Gator spread out the tarp next to the tree, the blue plastic bright against the snow.

Gator laughed.  “No, not usually,” he admitted.  “Sometimes it would take us nearly an hour to find the right tree.”

“Damn, we’d be frozen by then,” Win chuckled, dusting the snow from her gloves.  “Now what?”

“Now, I’m gunna need you to hold the tree steady while I saw.  Kind of pull it away from me a little to keep it taut and I’ll let you know when I’m through, then I’ll help you get it on the tarp,” he explained, crouching down to get closer to the base of the trunk while Win grasped it higher up, squeezing her eyes shut against the branch pressing to her cheek.

The steady sound of sawing filled the chill air, louder than usual in the silence of the grove and to Win it felt like hours before Gator let out a grunt.

“Okay, I’m through.  Hold it steady while I get out from under here.”

The tree gave a jerk as Gator disentangled himself, wobbling precariously for a moment before Win tightened her grip on it, wrapping her arms around the trunk with a shaky “whoa!”, her eyes squeezing shut.

“Shit, careful!” Gator yelped, grabbing the tree to steady it.  “You okay?” he asked, peering through the branches at his wife.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she breathed, finally opening her eyes.

“Before we lower this sucker to the tarp, we should shake the loose needles off so we don’t have as many when we get it in the house,” Gator said, giving the tree a few sharp shakes, a ring of dark green needles falling to the snow below.

“Will a lot of needles fall off?  Will our tree go bald?” Win exclaimed in alarm and Gator let out a snort.

“It’s not gunna go bald,” he laughed, shifting his grip to start tipping the tree so the branches wouldn’t break as they set it on its side.

“Don’t you make fun of me, Gator Tillman!” Win cried, amusement seeping into her voice.  “This is my first real tree, I don’t know these things!”

“Don’t worry, doll, as long as we keep it well watered, it won’t lose many needles,” he explained, sweetly condescending.

Win stuck her tongue out at him, but bent to grab the edge of the tarp.  “I’m excited to get it home and decorate it.”

“Me too,” Gator agreed, taking hold of the other corner of the tarp and beginning to pull.  “Gunna put those new camo ornaments on it,” he exclaimed, waiting for Win’s reaction, knowing exactly how she felt about them.

As if on cue, she let out a long suffering groan and glanced at him from the corner of her eye as they headed for the field, the tarp leaving a wide swath of flattened snow in its wake.

“Fine, but they’re not going near the front.”

“Aw c’mon, why not?” Gator exclaimed, a knowing grin tugging his lips, and Win rolled her eyes at him.

“Because they’re ugly as fuck,” she scoffed.

“They’ll blend right in, you won’t even notice ‘em,” he teased, enjoying pressing her buttons further.

Win shot him a wry look, bracing for the wind as they moved past the treeline and back out into the open.  They bickered playfully for a while longer as the wind whipped their faces and tugged at the edges of the tarp until Win noticed the pained expression that flashed across her husband’s face.

“Is your leg bothering you?” she asked, definitely clocking the stiff way Gator was moving.

“Just a bit,” he grunted, but Win knew if he was admitting that much, then it was hurting more than just a bit.

“We’re almost there,” she pointed out, mentally measuring the remaining distance to the truck.  “Toss me the keys and I’ll get the cab warm while we load the tree.

Gator nodded, pulling his glove off with his teeth so he could reach into his pocket for his key ring, dragging the tarp alone for the last few feet so Win could jog ahead to start the engine.  By the time they bailed the tree with twine and got it in the truck bed, they were both thoroughly frozen through and the warm truck was a godsend.

“Oh fuck, that was so cold,” Win breathed, holding her frigid fingers to the vent.

“Gimme your hands,” Gator murmured, enveloping them with his own and blowing on them, slowly working warmth back into them as he shivered.  “Maybe next year we’ll just go to a local tree farm,” he relented and Win barked a laugh.

“If I do say so, our tree looks pretty damn good,” Gator announced, planting his hands on his hips as he appreciated his handiwork – the tree all set up and positioned perfectly in the front window.

“It’ll look even better when it's decorated,” Win exclaimed, admiring it for a moment with him.  “At least the hard part’s done,” she said, opening the box of lights. “Speak for yourself, decorating it’s the hardest part,” Gator scoffed, peering over her shoulder at the tangle of lights in the box.

“Maybe if you hadn’t just dumped them in the box like this when we took them off last time,” Win huffed, her eyebrows pinching as she picked the strand up, trying to find the plug.

“That wasn’t me,” Gator insisted, holding his hands up, though they did little to fend off Win’s unimpressed glare.  “Alright, I’ll help,” he grumbled reluctantly, taking a swing from his bottle of Dew before pulling the lights from her hands.

“Okay, what do we have here–” he murmured, trying to detangle the strand.

“Careful!” Win yelped when he yanked at the cord to pull a section loose, the tiny plastic light bulbs catching on each other.

“Why don’t we just buy new lights?” Gator grunted, but Win shook her head.  

“That’s so wasteful.  As long as these ones still light, I think we should use them,” she argued, working the end of the strand free and managing to plug it in, all the coloured lights blinking to life in Gator’s hands.

He grumbled something under his breath, but he kept working at the knot, his brows pinching as his tongue peeked out from between his lips in concentration.  By the time they’d worked the last of the strand free, Gator had almost been ready to throw in the towel, but Win’s hand on his arm had pulled him from his bubble of frustration, keeping him from giving up.

As she began to carefully gather the lights in a neat loop to start stringing around the tree, he realized she always seemed to have that effect on him.  Win was like a soothing balm on an angry rash.  No matter how annoyed he could get about something, her presence alone was usually enough to calm him.

“Need some help?” he asked, reaching around the tree to take the lights from her.

“Oh, yeah, thanks—“ Win exclaimed distractedly, letting out a laugh as Gator pulled the strand around the back of the tree and then wrapped it around her like a lasso, pulling her closer.

“You’re gunna get us all tangled again,” she chastised lightly, biting back a grin.

“Eh, there’s worse places to get tangled,” Gator murmured, smirking down at her as he pulled her flush against him, her arms trapped against his chest.

“I s��pose so,” she agreed, lifting her chin to meet his gaze, his dark eyes lidded as they trailed her face, long lashes brushing his cheek with each slow blink, and then his lips were on hers, soft at first until she returned the kiss, a breathless whine catching in her throat as she parted her lips for him, meeting his probing tongue with her own.

“This is gunna take a lot longer if we keep this up,” she teased, nipping at his full bottom lip when he finally pulled back.

“I’m okay with that,” Gator quipped, arching a brow at her before giving a soft yelp when she poked his stomach.

“We can pick this back up where we left off once we’re finished,” Win insisted, her lips curling in amusement at the pout forming on Gator’s lips.

“Alright,” he sighed dramatically, stealing one last peck before releasing her and getting back to work.

“It’ll give you incentive to work fast,” she teased, leaning into the tree to wend the lights around again, handing the bundle to Gator on the far side.

Whatever snarky response he was formulating died on his tongue when Win suddenly yanked her hand from the tree with a shriek, a large black spider crawling up her arm.

“Fuck fuck fuck!  GET OFF!” she screeched, frantically shaking the spider from her hand and leaping up onto the couch with a violent shudder as it landed on the ground at Gator’s feet.

“What the fuck!” he yelped, dropping the strand of lights and dancing backward, nearly tripping over the end table in his rush to get away.

“Get it, quick!  Before it gets back into the tree!  I won’t be able to sleep if I know that thing’s in the house,” Win cried and Gator’s eyes darted to the spider that was already starting to scurry back toward the lowest branches.  

Scrambling upright, he lifted his foot to stomp it, only to stop just as Win let out another cry.

“Wait!  Don’t kill it!”

“What?!  How the fuck am I supposed to get rid of it then?” Gator snapped and Win hastily searched the room for something to trap the spider with, her eyes landing on the empty plastic pitcher they’d used to fill the tree stand with.

“Use this!” she exclaimed, tossing him the pitcher, and letting out a cheer as he dropped it over the spider before it could get any farther.

“Got it!” he cried, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. “You’re safe now, mama,” he drawled, smirking at her as he straightened, trying to act like he hadn’t freaked out at all.

“My hero!” Win laughed, throwing her arms around Gator’s neck as he lifted her from the couch to set her back on the floor.  “Thank you for not killing it,” she murmured a little sheepishly, handing him a piece of cardboard to slip under the pitcher to carry the spider outside.  “I read this thing a while ago about not wanting someone to kill you just for being small and it stuck with me.  Makes me feel guilty for killing bugs now,” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she followed him to the door to release the spider.

“You’re such a fuckin’ softie,” he muttered, shaking his head ruefully as he shut the door, hoping the spider wouldn’t find a way to just come back inside.

“As if you’re not,” Win snorted, returning to the living room to pick up where they left off.

“I’m not!” Gator insisted, though his words held little conviction as he trailed behind her.

Once they’d finally finished stringing the lights and getting the decorations on the tree – Win even relented on her threat of keeping Gator’s ornaments out of sight – they stood side by side to marvel at the finished product, bathed in the soft glow of the multicoloured lights as the sun sank below the horizon.

“It smells so good in here,” Win exclaimed, leaning into Gator’s side, smiling softly as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.  “I’m really glad we did this.  It’s perfect,” she breathed, her eyes shimmering in the dim room as she gazed at the tree in wonder.

“Yeah, it really is,” Gator murmured, though he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes from her.

➼ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @sailorskunk @hickeysgodcomplex @thecreelhouse

@girlwiththerubyslippers @mayhem24-7forever

[httpiastri]

oscar oscar oscar 🥺🥺🥺

[bibleofficial]

i love buying things for my mother bc i go wow !! she’s going to love it (hate it so much & keep it in the packaging but tell me the opposite)

[peachsukii]

— I’ll be home for Christmas

it's the annual friend circle christmas party, hosted at kirishima and mina's apartment. the only downside? your boyfriend, bakugo, is stationed overseas for hero work, so this year, you'll be celebrating through a screen. at least, that's what you're expecting.

✮ content. pro hero!bakugo + pro hero!reader. christmas magic and fluff. :) a special present for my elf @lady-lauren as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa exchange. ♡ ♡ ♡

✮ word count: 1.1k.

Christmas Eve, the night of a traditional Christmas dinner with all of your closest friends. A pot luck buffet, secret Santa exchange, and plenty of laughs through the night as you all reminisce over your lives. There’s just one thing that’s missing this year — Bakugo. Well, missing in person.

It was an opportunity of a lifetime, one he couldn’t turn down, no matter how much he argued against it. An esteemed agency in California was accepting applications for international transfers as part of the new “Heroes Around the World” program. It wasn’t that he wasn’t thankful, or even uninterested, but Bakugo’s biggest fear was being alone. Being away from you, especially in another country. After many nights spent hyping him up to take the chance, he accepted the offer. Before you two knew it, he was jetting off to the USA for three months.

And, unfortunately, three months turned to six.

Bakugo’s not coming home until March. The US commission was so impressed by his skillset (because why wouldn’t they be?) and wanted him to train an entire new wave of sidekicks by crafting a program to mimic Japan’s Hero protocols. You couldn’t bring yourself to be selfish and have him come home, no matter how much you missed him. So, you two made it work — 17 hour time difference be damned. Early morning voice notes, late night video calls, quick texts and even little homemade letters from time to time. Bakugo became fond of your hand written letters, especially when the paper would faintly smell of your perfume or have traces of lipstick kiss marks.

When you show up to Kirishima and Mina’s home, they welcome you with open arms, chirping how they’re happy you came and how much they’ve missed you.

Everyone starts arriving over the next hour, greeting you with warmth and love like always. It’s not long until their apartment is jam packed with all of your closest friends, shuffling around the kitchen with delicious food and drinks. Everyone shoves a present under the tree in the living room for later, truly adding a layer of joy to the atmosphere. Your heart aches softly as the night progresses, missing Bakugo’s hand on your thigh under the table or around your shoulders as you chat and laugh with everyone. The plan is to have Bakugo video call Kirishima’s phone during the secret Santa exchange, that way he’d still be included when everyone swapped presents. It’ll be 2AM for him, but he insisted it’s fine.

There’s a little pang in your chest when you look under the luminescent tree in the living room and see the one with his handwriting for Jiro. ‘To: Ears — Love: Kats’ with a skull drawn next to it. It’s endearing to see his love for your friends extend across the sea so effortlessly. Midoriya takes a seat next to you on the couch before everyone else meanders into the living room for the secret Santa exchange. His eyes gleam when they meet yours, a smile tugging on his lips and accentuating the freckles on his cheeks. “How are you doing?”

You nod and tilt your head with a soft smile of your own. “It’s nice to get out and be with friends. Being home for the holidays without Katsuki was starting to get to me.”

Midoriya’s eyes soften. “I know it’s hard. Only a few more months!” Before you get a chance to think too deeply about it, Kirishima claps his hands to get everyone to quiet down.

“Alright guys! Time to exchange presents.” He pulls out his phone and sets it on the dock by the TV, the little screen displaying a pending ‘Call’ screen. It’s not long before a familiar face appears, the room erupting in a hearty cheer.

“Bakugo!”

“Shut up, don’t all yap at once!” Bakugo grumbles with a grin on his handsome face. It seems his eyes find you in the room as you shoot him a little wave, his grin settling into a longing smile. “Kirishima, get things rollin’ before my ass falls asleep.”

The room chuckles as gifts are starting to be exchanged, anything from cute pairs of socks to video games to awkward stocking stuffers. No other presents are lining the tree skirt after a half hour of celebration, but you’re left empty handed. It’s awkward, to say the least.

“Are we missing one?” Kirishima questions with a frown. “There’s no way we left you out.”

Bakugo’s face sours on the phone screen, immediately upset that you’re excluded from the tradition. “What the hell? Someone better fess up. Don’t screw with my girl’s Christmas.” Suddenly, the video freezes and hangs up, leaving everyone silent as they turn towards you. How the hell could this happen?

“Why don’t you check the entryway?” Mina advises. “Maybe it was left there by mistake.”

You stand from the couch with defeat, sulking toward the door to double check. Who had you for secret Santa? Did they not know what to get for you, or were you truly forgotten? After a quick glance in the doorway, you come up short. Guess you won’t be getting a gift this year after all.

When you return to the living room, everyone seems to be staring at you with an apologetic look on their faces. Your head is hung low, aimlessly wandering back to the couch as you plop back down on to the plush fabric.

“No luck,” you whisper. “It’s okay, though. It’s not a big deal.”

The room is silent until someone speaks up.

“Look again.”

Wait. You know that voice.

It has you whipping your head up, looking around desperately to be sure you’re not hearing things. Like magic, Bakugo appears from behind the Christmas tree in the living room, his cheeky smirk illuminated by the bright string lights.

“Merry Christmas,” Midoriya whispers next to you, his eyes glossing over with emotion. “Sorry for tricking you!”

Before you know it, you’re launching off the couch and skipping over to Bakugo, throwing your arms around him excitedly. He picks you up, swinging around in soft circles, squeezing you tight enough to take your breath away. Once he sets you down, you pull back to look at him.

“Katsuki, how—”

Bakugo cuts you off with a kiss, cradling your face in his hands. After a moment, he releases you, all the love in your body flourishing at his touch.

“Commission gave me five days off. M’all yours,” he whispers, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Izuku pulled some strings to get those corporate assholes to approve it.”

You turn toward Izuku, mouthing a ‘thank you’ before burrowing your face into Bakugo’s chest. God, you’ve missed the way he smells, his warmth…everything about him.

“Okay you creeps, stop starin’ already,” Bakugo jests to the group. Everyone shouts with glee, the party continuing in full swing with the whole family together — at last.

This is a Christmas you’ll never forget.

Merry Christmas, Lauren!! I hope you enjoyed it. With much love from your secret Santa, Rei <3

@slayfics @maddietries @liluvtojineteyam

@Yoyolovesdaiki @catsoupki @purplescorpi0

@jays-adventure3 @simp-plague @napbatata

@www-marianette-org @obsessedpersona @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @hayatoseyepatch @awkwardchick87

@unriding @sylushi @darhinadadragon

[trashytracktales]

ong yes!! lando gotta loveeeee doggy and taking her against a wall!! But imagine her on top for the first time and not knowing how to ride him and him teaching him and telling her what to do! im asking this to santa !!

kill me now!!

Oh, Christmas treat | LN ⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── Why ask Santa when I'm literally right here... enjoy 💋

⤿ We're yapping about this ask.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── It's a quiet winter night, and Lando notices that his girlfriend seems a bit distracted. After some playful coaxing, she admits a secret desire to try something new. With his gentle guidance, they explore new paths together, each step bringing them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, light teasing, themes of vulnerability, unprotected sex, reader's first time on top, bit of swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 24, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I know this wasn’t a request per se, but I wanted to share this one-shot with you since it was already mostly ready to go. I’ve been dealing with some health issues recently and couldn't get myself to get anything done, so thank you for your patience. The rest of the requests are still on their (admittedly slow) way, but I promise they’re coming 🤞🏻 Wishing a very Merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates, and who knows, I might have another little treat up my sleeve 👀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌��﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE DAY HAD been nothing out of the ordinary, but that was exactly what made it special.

Lando had woken up late, groggy but grinning satisfied when he caught her padding around the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, humming along to Christmas songs. She loves the holiday season, because she likes it when he's home, and Lando doesn't have to be anywhere but their own apartment. That's exactly why she can't get upset when he streams with Max for hours in the night, and ends up sleeping in the next day. The simple fact that he's there is enough.

Maybe she conditioned herself to accept that, but then she sees his sleepy face and thinks she'd accept worse in order to share her mornings with him.

It's Christmas Eve, so they’d decided to bake cookies, mostly because she insisted it was a winter tradition, and Lando, ever the competitive spirit, took it as a challenge to see whose decorations would turn out better. As expected, chaos followed. By the time the cookies were ready, the kitchen looked like it had been through a snowstorm of flour and sugar. Lando had a streak of frosting on his cheek, and she had somehow ended up with sprinkles in her hair. In reality, they spent more time laughing and teasing each other than actually baking, but that was always the way it went with them.

Now, their cookies sit patiently on the counter, forgotten as the two of them relax on the couch in the living room. The Christmas tree lights glow warmly in the corner, and a cheesy holiday movie plays on the TV. They’re snuggled under a thick blanket, her legs curled up and tucked into his side. Lando’s arm drapes around her shoulders, his fingers playing lazily with her hair. It’s peaceful and comforting, but somewhere in the quiet, she feels a sudden pull in her chest.

In all the time they've been together, she never took the lead — not willingly, at least — feeling more than happy to surrender. She's been thinking about it for a long time, but she's never had the courage to do it. She doesn't feel intimidated or inhibited by her boyfriend, but rather by how it could all go wrong for both of them if she, somehow, ends up doing something she’s not supposed to.

Suddenly, her arms tighten around him, her nose nuzzling into his shirt. There’s a weight in her heart, not sadness exactly, but something tender, something raw. It makes her extra clingy, but she doesn’t say anything. She just holds him closer, hoping he won’t notice.

But Lando always notices.

His fingers pause in her hair, and his brows furrow slightly as he glances down at her. “You good, baby?” he asks, his voice soft and curious.

She hums nonchalantly, her face still buried in his chest.

“You sure?” Lando insists, his tone teasing but gentle.

The girl freezes for a moment, debating whether to brush it off, but before she can decide, he tilts her chin up with his fingers, making her look at him.

“Come on, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he asks, his eyes scanning hers.

Her cheeks heat under his gaze, and she sighs. “I don’t know. You just… feel extra nice to hold tonight,” she says quietly.

Lando blinks, then his grin widens, teasing again. “Didn’t know I had levels of cuddliness.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, hiding her face against his chest again.

His smile softens, and he wraps his arms around her fully, pulling her tighter against him. “Hey, you don’t wanna talk to me?”

She shakes her head and, at that, Lando stops pushing, knowing that whatever it is, she’ll come to him. Eventually. When she’s ready.

A few hours later, their movie marathon ends in a comfortable silence, the glow of the TV instantly muted by the credits rolling on the screen. Lando stretches, groaning softly as he shifts from the couch.

She gathers the blanket, folding it neatly before turning to him with a small smile.

“Bedtime?” she asks, her voice soft, almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the evening behind.

“Bedtime,” he agrees, though he watches her carefully as she heads toward the bedroom.

She moves through her usual routine, brushing her teeth and slipping into one of his hoodies, paired with sleep shorts. As she pulls back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, he hears it again — the same quiet sigh that makes his chest tighten.

Lando leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, frowning in her direction. “Alright, that’s the second time tonight,” he says, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “Should I worry?”

“What?” she replies quickly, too quickly, as she gets ready to tuck herself under the duvet. “No, baby. It’s nothing.”

“Right,” says Lando, stepping closer, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get it out of you another way.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Lando…”

Before she can finish, he lunges, playfully grabbing her waist and threatening to tickle her sides. She squeals, trying to wiggle away, but his grip on her is firm.

“Last chance, I'm serious,” he warns, his laughter bubbling up as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Okay, fine, stop it!” she pleads, breathless, her face flushed.

Lando stops, pulling back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulls her onto his lap. His arms wrap loosely around her waist, and he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Now,” he says, happy that he managed to break her wall, “What’s going on?”

She hesitates, her cheeks turning pink as she avoids his gaze. Instead, her fingers find his curls at the back of his head, twisting them gently as she takes a deep breath. “You know, it’s not even a big deal. I’ve been thinking about something, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Mhm,” he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It’s deep, slow, almost as if he’s trying to reassure her without words. When he pulls back, their foreheads touch, and he whispers, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She knows. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier. The heat rushes in her cheeks as she finally meets his eyes. “Look, I like when you’re on top. I mean, I really like it,” she says, stumbling slightly over her words. “But I was thinking, maybe, I’d like to, you know...”

Her voice trails off, and she looks away again, clearly embarrassed.

Lando blinks, letting her words sink in. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out as a flush creeps up his neck. Then, a grin spreads across his face, equal parts flustered and excited.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “You want to ride me, baby?”

She nods quickly, still twisting his curls nervously. “But I’ve never done it before, and I’m not sure I’d be good at it. It's just that—”

He exhales a chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Slow down,” he murmurs against her skin, his tone so tender that it makes her stomach flip. “You don’t have to worry about being good at it, baby. If you wat to try it, I can guide you, and we’ll see what works for us as we go.”

Her cheeks flush as she processes his reassurance, the tender way he’s looking at her making her feel bold and seen. And listened to.

She smiles, shifting on his lap, searching for some friction, and the slight brush of her core against his growing hardness has her letting out a soft gasp. Lando notices immediately, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead, he lets her take the lead at her own pace, on her own terms.

She shifts again, this time deliberately pressing herself against him, and the soft sound she makes has Lando’s self-control slipping. “I suppose we can try now?” he murmurs, his voice thick with heat.

She doesn’t reply — at least not with words. Instead, she grabs his hoodie, pulling it over her head in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but her shorts. Lando’s breath catches as he takes her in, his hands immediately coming up to palm her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. He's seen her naked so many times before, but somehow, every time she gets rid of her clothes she uncovers something new.

“So beautiful,” he mutters, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. She tilts her head back, giving him more access, and the heat between them builds until she pushes him gently onto the mattress.

Lando goes willingly, a grin tugging at his lips as she leans over him to kiss him again. His hands move to her hips, holding her firmly as she presses herself against him, grinding slowly. He groans into her mouth, his hands sliding lower to grip her ass, then he spreads her slightly, pushing her down against his growing length, making both of them gasp at the feeling.

Her hands trail down his chest, and she tugs at his shirt. “Off,” she breathes, and he obeys, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. For a moment, she just looks at him, her hands tracing the defined lines of his chest.

The tension between them builds rapidly, their breaths mingling as they press closer. It doesn’t take long before she’s tugging at the waistband of her shorts, her nerves creeping back in as she pushes them down. Lando sits up slightly, watching her with darkened eyes, and when she glances at him nervously, he reaches out to stroke her thigh gently.

“You’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice full of sincerity.

Her nerves ease at his words, and when he pushes his joggers down, freeing himself, her anticipation drowns out her doubts.

He sits up fully, pulling her closer until she’s straddling him again. “Alright, love,” he murmurs, his hands steadying her hips. “Go slow, yeah? Just sit on me first. Take your time.”

She nods, biting her lip as she lines herself up with him. Slowly, she sinks down, feeling the stretch as he fills her inch by sweet inch. Her breath hitches, and Lando groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps. “You always feel so good.”

She pauses once he’s fully inside, her hands braced on his chest as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full of him. Sensing her nervousness, Lando rubs soothing circles on her hips, letting her take her time.

When she finally starts to move, lifting herself up slightly before sinking back down, a soft, shaky moan escapes her lips. Lando watches her with a mix of awe and hunger, his hands guiding her gently.

“Just like that, baby,” he encourages her, “Easy. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly but surely, she manages to build a rhythm, her movements tentative at first. But as the pleasure starts invading her senses, she becomes bolder. She opens up more, craving all of him at once. Her hands slide back to grip his thighs for support as she leans back slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

The taste of power it's rather interesting in this position, and she can’t afford to be shy anymore. Not when his cock feels so good inside her, and not when she decides how to take him.

“Fuck, Lando,” she breathes, her head tilting back.

She begins to move more rapidly on top of him, her hips following a predetermined path that she wasn't even aware of before. Lando watches her in amazement, feeling every pulse of pleasure every time she comes back for more, her walls hugging his cock so tightly that it leaves him breathless.

He groans, his hands sliding up to her waist to steady her. “That’s it, baby. Keep going. God, you’re going to make me cum so fast like this.”

The sight of her riding him, her body moving with such confidence now, nearly breaks him. Somehow, he resists the urge to thrust up into her, letting her stay in control, but his grip tightens as his restraint begins to fray.

He hears a silent cry, getting ready for every scenario in his mind, while his eyes study her frame by frame.

She whimpers, her movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Lan,” she gasps, her voice shaky. “I can’t go—too much.”

He sits up slightly, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead to hers. “Of course you can, baby,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the fire coursing through him. “I’m here. Just a little more, yeah? You’re doing so good.”

She feels his cock twitching inside her as she shakes her head weakly, “Lando, please…” her hands desperately clutch his shoulders, and that's when he understands what she needs from him.

Lando's hands land on her waist again, gripping at her firmly, and he starts to guide her harder on his cock while thrusting up into her simultaneously, meeting her halfway. The sudden change in rhythm makes her cry out, her nails digging into his skin.

“Yes,” she moans, her head dropping onto his shoulder as he drives her higher. “It’s so good, fuck. I’m—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

So she does, her body trembling as the pleasure crests and crashes over her. He follows seconds later, his movements growing erratic before he stills inside her, holding her tightly against him as they both ride out their highs, breathing each other’s air. They stay tangled together, bodies still pressed close as the intensity of their orgasms fades away.

Lando brushes a strand of her hair away from her damp forehead, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You okay there?” he asks, his voice a gentle rasp.

She nods against him, her body still warm and buzzing. “Mhm, ‘m okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

He grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You did so well, baby. Made me proud.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, her head dropping back onto his shoulder. “Cheers,” she trails off, playfully groaning. “But that was so much work. My fucking thighs are on fire.”

Lando laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Oh, you poor thing,” he teases, stroking her back soothingly.

She swats at his chest, unable to hold back her grin. “I’m serious! It’s a full-body workout being on top.”

He hums thoughtfully, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her skin. “So what you’re saying is…” he starts, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I get to be in charge again next time?”

She pulls back to look at him, her cheeks flushing, but there’s a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You won't hear me complaining,” she quips, biting her lip to suppress her laughter.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[sound-of-scoups]

Twice Upon a Christmas Trap | CSC | Teaser

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Female!Reader Genre|tags: Oneshot, second-chance love, marriage in trouble, exes to lovers, divorce au, fluff, comedy, drama, angst, smut.   Word count: TBA.  Rating: Explicit adult content (MINORS DNI). A/N: 1. Finally announcing what has been keeping me busy these past days, leaving me no time to edit the chapters of MTAF 🙈 I’m really excited about this story, so I hope you’ll love it as much as I do! 2. Obviously heavily inspired by the movie The Parent Trap (1998); 3. I know that South Korea's laws are shit when it comes to divorce and women's rights. That's why, even though it won't be deeply explored in the story, I'm using brazilian laws and my knowledge as a lawyer for their "divorce." Warnings: Mentions of divorce (it’s the plot), marital problems, arguments, bickering, silly fights (they literally argue like an old married couple), mentions of teenage pregnancy, seungcheol is kind of blind (but he’s going to redeem himself, promise), crybaby!cheol (because god made men and then sent their tears as an apology), jealous!cheol, jealousy in general, miscommunication, stubborn love, explicit language, graphic sexual content.  Release date: Coming soon... 🎧 Now listening to: ‘tis the damn season - taylor swift; christmas (baby please come home) - mariah carey; you’re losing me - taylor swift; chasing pavements - adele; 첫 눈 (the first snow) - exo; i miss you, i'm sorry - gracie abrams; the winner takes it all - jae hall; nobody gets me - sza; for us - v; don’t wanna cry - seventeen; christmas tree - v; kiss me - ed sheeran; imperfect love - seventeen; h.o.l.y - florida georgia line; this love - taylor swift; you're still the one - shania twain; christmas tree farm - taylor swift.

Summary: You and Seungcheol are the perfect couple: best friends, madly in love and married. Or, at least you used to be. After eleven years together, you are now navigating through a bitter divorce following six months of separation. Married at the young age of 19 due to an unexpected pregnancy, your relationship was built on passion and youthful dreams that crumbled under the pressures of adulthood and married life. With custody of your twin daughters at stake, and the sale of your beloved Christmas home getting closer, your family is at a crossroads during what is supposed to be the happiest time of year. The twins, however, unwilling to let their family traditions dissolve, devise a plan to rekindle their parents' love by orchestrating a heartfelt final perfect Christmas in the house.

★ JOIN THE TAGLIST HERE! ★ MOODBOARD

“Seemed like Kim Taehyung was enjoying himself a little too much tonight,” Seungcheol said, breaking the silence. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, his tone aiming for nonchalance, though the sharp edge betrayed him.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows arching in confusion. “Taehyung? He was just being friendly. That’s his nature.”

“Friendly?” 

Seungcheol straightened on the driver’s seat, his hands tightening on the steering wheel, veins prominent as they bulged.

The soft nightlight cast a gentle glow on his face, accentuating the perfect features that seemed to be carved with meticulous care. His sharp jawline, the curve of his lips, the long lashes that rested against his cheek—it was unfair how effortlessly beautiful he looked, even when his expression was marred by frustration.

No one could look as handsome as he did, even when he was angry.

The way his brows furrowed in thought, the slight twitch of his lips as if he was holding back words he wasn’t ready to say—it all drew you in, even when you wanted to be mad at him. There was a rawness in his expression, a vulnerability that flickered beneath the surface of his frustration, and it tugged at something deep within you.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. 

Why couldn’t he stop being so damn attractive, just for a second?

“He practically camped out by your side all evening. Offering to get you drinks, giving you those looks—”

“Looks?” you interrupted, your voice sharper and more defensive than you intended. “You’re imagining things, Seungcheol.”

“Am I?” His eyes flicked toward you, narrowing. “Because from where I was standing, he couldn’t stop smiling at you.”

“Well, he does have a beautiful smile,” you said with a casual shrug.

Seungcheol’s glare sharpened. “Is that supposed to be funny? Am I supposed to be laughing?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know, you thought ‘see you friday’ was funny."

His jaw tightened as his hands gripped the steering wheel harder, his knuckles whitening. “He had a crush on you in high school, you know that, right?”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “That was ten years ago. Taehyung was being polite, Seungcheol. Maybe you’ve forgotten what that looks like.”

“I know what politeness looks like. And I know when a guy’s flirting with my—” 

He stopped abruptly, the unfinished sentence hanging awkwardly in the air. 

You turned to face him fully, searching his profile as his jaw tightened further, the muscle twitching with the effort to hold back whatever was on his mind.

“Your what?” you asked, challenging, your voice quieter, but no less intense.

Goal: 500 notes ❤️

[zhongrin]

zhongrin © 2024 ❥ do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or feed into ai.

muzzled.

featuring... ❥ wriothesley

involves... ❥ afab!reader, fem!reader, muzzle, restraints, teasing (reader → wrio), feral!wrio, sweet & degrading petnames used, mentioned collar & leash at the end, not proofread

wriothesley was starting to regret agreeing to this.

the thing is, you’d lit up like a christmas tree as soon as he nodded, and the way your hooded eyes coupled with your signature cheeky grin were intoxicating in itself. he couldn’t help but growl from behind the muzzle you’d fixed around his mouth - that wasn’t part of the agreement, but it seemed like you, like the impudent-yet-endearing individual that you were, had planned this from the start.

“you look so good like this, wrio~” you hum, now stepping closer to tap on the black metal, crooning as if you were talking to an adored pet, “and now you can’t use those teeth to bite me, pup.”

he growled. the cuffs - his handcuffs, the one he always carried around - jangled behind him as he tried to move his limbs out of habit. part of him burned when you treat him like this. it was both pleasant yet humiliating, arousing and infuriating, to be reduced to a tamed dog, chained to its place.

your boyfriend received an amused chuckle from you. wriothesley’s eyes sharpened, his thighs flexing when he felt your weight descend upon him, sitting across his lap as if you belonged there. which you did. and he would have welcomed you with kisses and his arms wrapping around your waist if he weren’t in such… predicament.

seriously, why did he agree to this, again?

the man watched intently as you slowly traced the hard planes of his muscles highlighted by the black bodysuit, the heat and tension of being unable to grab and hold you driving him mad by each second. all he could imagine was him flipping your position, holding your body against him, and—

“you drive me crazy whenever you wear something like this, you know?” his thoughts halted from your words, breath hitching as he felt your hand grope and kneaded against his pecs.

“truly, sweetheart? more than when i’m naked?” though his voice strained, he challenged, cocking an eyebrow up as his lips tugged into a boyish smirk.

you huffed and punished him with a hand coming down to rest against his inner thigh, so close and yet so far from his growing excitement, the bulge evident against the dark grey pants. “still cheeky? i’ll have to remind you that you’re currently under my mercy.”

“only because of these blasted restraints and goddamn muzzle, doll,” the gravel in his voice deepened the timbre of his voice, causing an involuntary shudder to run up your spine, “the moment i get out, you know who’ll be under whose mercy.”

“ohhh? then you better work hard~” you sang, leaning in unabashedly to lick and nibble on his neck. a rewarding groan from your boyfriend was all it took for you to start to earnestly mark his skin, red-purples blooming on the exposed part of his neck and shoulder. the fact that you couldn’t mark his favorite spot - the junction of his neck - was both a blessing and a curse to wriothesley. he had half a mind to beg you to rip his accursed bodysuit off somehow, though he knew it would be hard to do considering the situation.

his wrists strained against the metals, a hiss escaping through his clenched teeth. you eyed his escape attempt in amusement, withdrawing from his neck only to place your lips near the base of his ear, “aww, poor puppy… bet you never thought your cuffs would be used against you, huh? or have you thought about it before? naughty, naughty…”

“shut up,” he shivered, wishing he could turn and shut you up with a deep kiss, but this stupid contraption—

a strangled groan of your name left his throat, his thighs twitching when your hand on his thigh moved to cup his bulge, fondling softly from behind the clothing, “fuck, shit-”

yet as soon as it started, it ended. wriothesley subjected you to a fiery frustrated glare by his icy cold eyes; you were truly going to be the death of him at this rate.

“you fucking brat.”

the nickname shot a rush of desire into your core. you knew you were succeeding in riling him up in that direction when the sweeter petnames were replaced with that kind of filth.

you wanted him feral, and it seemed like you were getting your wish if you could keep this up.

“who, me?” you giggled, knowing it would irate him further, “oh, but i’m just getting started, darling.”

you shifted to face him directly, completely straddling him on his chair. the lust-filled eyes of your lover were affixed on you, unable to tear away as your hands moved to unbutton the blouse you had; one button at a time, slowly exposing more and more skin. with every inch revealed, you watched as his adam’s apple bob, his eyes dilating, breathing visibly picking up when he realized you had opted out of wearing a bra today. shakily, momentarily, his gaze dropped lower to your skirt. what if.

“like what you see?” his vision shifted back to your face at your taunt. with all the buttons off, the cloth slipped down your shoulders until you maneuver it to drop onto the ground.

“you… naughty, evil, teasing-” his words died on his tongue when your hands - oh how pretty they would look cupping around his cock - moved themselves up your ribs to cup your breasts. your dainty fingers fail to appreciate them fully, in his opinion; unable to hold the soft plumpness properly, too small to knead properly. it should have been his hands, massaging and making you moan and writhe. should have been his calloused fingers that flicked your pert nipples, making you whine needily and tremble like that.

“unlock the cuff,” he gruffly ordered, chains clinking loudly as he tried to pull and tug against them, “right now.”

you tilted your head, pausing to bat your eyelashes innocently at him. you had no idea how much he wanted to see those pretty lashes wet with tears as he bit and mark and fondle your skin all over right now. oblivious to the picture he had on his head, where he held you down and pinned you on the bed as he ravaged you senseless.

instead of giving him salvation, you gave him sin. more of sinful provocation; your moans loud, one of your hand slowly trailing down your abdomen to slip beneath your skirt. the fact that he could picture your finger gathering slick from your slit, delving into your folds to then rub your swollen clit with your abundance of slick — yet being unable to witness the sight obscured by the stupid piece of clothing, was maddening. a crime, even.

did you have to slip your hand beneath your panties? or did you also decide to forego them just like you did with your bra? and did you have to moan so prettily while looking directly at him like that?

“damn it- you unfair little-!”

his cock was straining so hard against his pants, it hurt. you hummed, both amused and aroused at the words falling from his lips and the loud creak and clang of metal chains and wooden chair scraping against the floor. you knew he wanted to touch and taste you, you knew he was going to devour you if you kept this on. you knew you probably should stop teasing him so cruelly like this.

you waited for a particular word to slip out of his lips — the word that would stop your little game altogether.

but only curses and snarls left your lover’s lips, and you relished in the pure, unfiltered want on his expression. your fingers delved into your sopping cunt, a breathy moan and a shudder racking through your body as you pleasured yourself on top of his lap, slick dripping to stain his pants.

wriothesley’s breaths were ragged and loud, his jaw locked and clenched, eyes shifting between your expression, the hand fondling your breast and perked nipple, the way your other hand moved beneath the skirt— it was all too much, too much—

you gave him a knowing, sultry smile, and he could swear he entered some kind of hypnotic daze as you pulled your hand away from under the flimsy skirt, your dainty digits covered in wetness. his mouth opened automatically, tongue out as he tried to inch forward, chasing the honeyed treat.

the metal muzzle tapped against your fingers, just as your kind smile turned mischievous.

wriothesley

snaps.

you didn’t realize the chains broke until your vision shifts, your center of gravity thrown off balance. your back slammed against the hard surface of his desk, your breath stolen out of your lungs as you lost your bearings, confusion flooding your mind. you’d barely realized what had happened when you felt your skirt ripped away, your legs pushed apart and your knees kissing your ears before your beloved’s cock plunged into the wet, sopping heat. eyes rolling to the back of your head, your back arched as he started rutting, sparks of pleasure blooming rapidly in your senses.

wriothesley couldn’t even spare a moment to talk as his hips moved so deliciously, the hardened cock dragging against your spongy walls with vengeance. this was what you’d reduced him to: a mindless, ruthless beast only caring to take and take and take, after finally having the prey you bared and dangled in front of him. preys shouldn’t have taunted their predators, but you went ahead and did it anyway.

“w-wrio- oh- f-fuck-”

a deep snarl, and the hands you tried to reach out to touch him slammed back down on the desk. you inhaled shakily and almost moaned outloud just from the sight of him on top of you, still muzzled, silver blue eyes glaring down at you. untamed and feral, the merciless slam of his hips continued, blunt head reaching into the deepest part of your pussy as it convulsed around him. the sounds of your coupling filled the room, and your mind melted from the onslaught of pleasure, senses succumbing to the carnal lust you’ve inflicted upon your lover.

amidst the feral snarls and mind-numbing oxytocin, you barely heard his voice, panting and rough with unbridled need, “gonna cum,” the grip on your hands moved onto your hips, keeping you in place as the brutish thrusts started to turn uncoordinated, “gonna breed this perverted pussy. it’s what you wanted, isn’t it? you wanted to be fucked stupid like this? huh?”

broken moans left your throat, head spinning as the arrhythmical slaps of his hips against yours brought you teetering towards the precipice of euphoria. it took all you could to nod in agreement, and wriothesley’s smirk widen, a pleased growl reverberating within his throat as he felt his cock throb, ropes of sticky cum flooding into your deepest part. the warmth flooding into you triggered your own climax, spongy walls clamping down to milk him within the tight channel.

you exhaled shakily, quivering as the intense orgasm left you sensitive all over, body tingling as it relaxed, limp against the hard surface of his work desk. wriothesley panted on top of you, his breathing heavy and almost strained as his smouldering eyes saw your boneless body under him.

he bent down, and you would have thought he was about to kiss you if not for the contraption obscuring his mouth—

“you didn’t think that was enough for that stunt you pulled on me, did you, brat?”

your breath hitched as he ripped away the metal muzzle off his mouth, flexing his jaw and massaging the red imprint it made onto his skin. he dangled the item above you, eyes hooded and dark and mean.

“this time, why don’t i let you wear this? i already have a collar and a leash prepared for you to match, after all.”

❥ banner picture © nqrse ー hoyofair 2024

[little-jana]

"Under The Mistletoe"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: kissing, just two cuties

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Another Mistletoe kiss with Spencer.

a/n: I just love love love these chrismas ff with Spencer. What do u think?

The BAU’s Christmas party was winding down, but the bullpen still sparkled with warm, holiday cheer. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the desks, Penelope’s carefully curated playlist hummed in the background, and the scent of cinnamon and pine filled the air. I stood by the snack table, munching on a sugar cookie, my eyes wandering to Spencer Reid.

He was sitting near the bookshelf, his legs crossed awkwardly, a mug of eggnog in one hand and a book resting in the other. He wasn’t reading, though. His gaze flicked up every few seconds, catching mine before darting back down.

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” JJ teased as she passed by, balancing her own plate of cookies.

“I talk to him all the time,” I said, feigning indifference.

JJ just gave me a knowing smile. “Sure you do.”

She wasn’t wrong, though. I did talk to Spencer all the time. I was one of the few people he seemed comfortable enough to really open up to, and our conversations were some of the highlights of my day. But tonight, under the glow of Christmas lights, something felt… different.

I crossed the room, weaving through clusters of my teammates, until I reached his corner. He looked up, startled, when I sat down next to him.

“Hey,” I said, smiling.

“Hey,” he replied, setting his mug down. “Enjoying the party?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against the wall. “You?”

“It’s nice,” he said, his voice soft. “A little overwhelming, but nice.”

I nodded, understanding completely. “I saw you reading earlier. What is it this time? Something festive?”

He hesitated, glancing at the book before sliding it toward me. It was a leather-bound copy of A Christmas Carol.

“Classic,” I said, impressed.

“It’s one of my favorites,” he admitted. “There’s something timeless about it—Scrooge’s transformation, the idea that it’s never too late to change.”

“Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning in a Christmas story,” I teased.

Spencer smiled, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “It’s a good story.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But you know, you’ve been staring at that same page for the past ten minutes.”

His cheeks flushed, and he quickly closed the book. “I, uh… I got distracted.”

“By what?” I asked, leaning forward, curious.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, avoiding my gaze.

“Spencer,” I said, my tone teasing. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine. I might have been… looking at you.”

That caught me off guard. “Me?”

He nodded, his face growing redder by the second. “You just… you look really nice tonight.”

I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Spencer Reid, the man who could rattle off statistics about anything and everything, was suddenly flustered.

“Thank you,” I said softly, my own cheeks warming. “You look nice too.”

Before he could respond, Penelope’s voice rang out across the room.

“Attention, everyone!” she called, clapping her hands. “It’s time for our favorite holiday tradition—mistletoe!”

The room erupted into cheers and groans as Penelope grabbed her sprig of mistletoe and started weaving her way through the crowd, stopping pairs and insisting they partake in the tradition.

“Oh, no,” Spencer muttered, sinking deeper into his chair.

“Oh, yes,” I said, grinning. “You’re not getting out of this one, genius.”

“I don’t see why mistletoe is such a big deal,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “Did you know it’s actually a parasitic plant? It attaches itself to a host tree and siphons off nutrients to survive.”

“You really know how to kill the mood, don’t you?” I teased.

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Penelope appeared beside us, brandishing the mistletoe like a weapon.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What do we have here? My two favorite geniuses hiding in the corner?”

“We’re not hiding,” I said quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Penelope said, clearly unconvinced. She dangled the mistletoe above our heads. “Rules are rules, my friends.”

Spencer groaned softly, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re not getting out of this one, Spence,” I said, leaning closer.

He hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “You know,” he said quietly, “hands actually transfer more germs than mouths. Statistically, this is the safer option.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

“I—well—I didn’t mean—”

“Spencer,” I said, cutting him off. “Relax. It’s just a kiss.”

And before he could overthink it, I leaned in, pressing my lips softly against his.

The room seemed to fade away, the laughter and music melting into the background. His lips were warm, tentative at first, but as he relaxed, the kiss deepened just slightly, a perfect mix of sweetness and surprise.

When we finally pulled back, his eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed.

“That… wasn’t so bad,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” I agreed, smiling. “It wasn’t.”

Penelope clapped her hands, breaking the spell. “That was adorable!”

Spencer groaned again, burying his face in his hands, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Come on, genius,” I said, nudging him playfully. “Let’s go find some more eggnog.”

As we walked back toward the party, I couldn’t stop smiling. Maybe mistletoe wasn’t so bad after all.

[star2fishmeg]

Congratulations on getting 1k! 🎉 Can I request FLUFF #13 with Jack Hughes please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Merry Christmas!

FLUFF #13 "You came." "You called."

📞 dialling…

Nothing could ever go her way. That’s what it felt like, at least. Every Christmas something would go wrong, and she’d be the one left to fix it. If it wasn’t a family feud, it was the cooking or the presents, or somebody got the date wrong and now nobody could fix her problem because she was at the centre of it. 

She leant against the marble counter and held her head in her trembling hands, screwing her eyes closed to hold the tears in and listening to the dial tone ring through her kitchen. She needed someone, really needed someone and that was the disadvantage of living alone. 

“Hey princess, what’s up?” Jack’s voice called out over the speaker and that was enough for her tears to slip down her cheeks.

“I needed company, is all.” Her voice shook and she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, “Just a bit lonely, right now. Everyone’s travelling and wondered if you were free? If you’re not, it’s fine, I know you and Luke are heading out soon yourselves, I just… I’m sorry, you’re busy.” 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, there’s always time for you. Gimme ten minutes to finish up and I’m all yours. I love you.” He cooed softly and he hung up. And she buried her head in her arms and sobbed until her throat hurt, the apartment so quiet she could hear her own misery echo off the walls and back around to her.

The only thing that snapped her out of her sorrow was the three knocks on her door. At first, she ignored them, but they knocked another three times, and she felt obliged to answer. It was funny how human brains worked like that, you don’t need to open the door, but you do, it’s like an embedded rule of manners people are born with. She loosely turned the handle, sore, red eyes meeting with Jack’s, his smile sinking and his stomach twisting at the tear stains on y/n’s cheeks. Her cold body grew a blooming warmth the second his strong arms wrapped around her, kicking the door shut behind him and hand placed on the back of her head, cradling her to his chest, stroking her hair as she soaked his hoodie. 

“You came.” She croaked, pulling away slightly to peer up at him. 

He smiled, placing a kiss to her forehead and one hand cupping her cheek, his thumb wiping a tear, “You called. What’s really going on?”

“My family wants to spend Christmas with my aunt in Colorado, but all flights just got cancelled because of the fucking weather and I am not driving across the country.” She sobbed, “Jack, I don’t wanna be alone on Christmas, I don’t know what to do. They’re all asking me to just drive but I can’t do that, I don’t have that kind of gas money either.” 

She buried her face in his chest, letting his hands gently sooth over her back and waist as he swayed them from side to side, murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. His stomach dropped hearing her cry, pained him deeply that she spiralled over something out of her control. 

“Why don’t you spend Christmas with me and my family? They won’t mind.” He said softly, peeling her from his body and holding her hands in his. 

“Not unannounced and I don’t have presents and-”

“-they love you and have been asking about you. Trust me, it’ll be okay. You’re more than welcome and I would rather spend Christmas with you than know you’re sat here, alone. You have your bags already packed, right?”

“More or less.”

“Then how about it? There’s still time to get presents and I’ll take you anywhere you want when we get there. Think of kissin’ under the mistletoe, we can bake those cookies you love, decorate the tree, ice skating…” Jack snaked his arms around her waist, peppering her face with kisses. He had this magic way of reassuring someone effortlessly, perhaps it was because he was an older sibling, used to doing it or maybe it rooted from being so undoubtedly in love with y/n it came naturally. 

It didn’t take a lot of consideration before she nodded, a smile breaking across her lips that soon mirrored his, tears drying and the light glowing back in her eyes. Christmas with the Hughes’ didn’t sound all that bad, if Jack had taught her anything, it was that she wasn’t always alone.

"I'd love that, thank you."

[moonstruckme]

I remember seeing you say a little while ago you would take holiday requests so if this sparks some inspo for you…. How about best friend!Steve being reader’s secret Santa and giving a gift that is so sweet and personal and kind of a confession of his feelings (like Jim’s gift for Pam in the office)

Thank you for requesting!

best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 984 words

Steve’s afraid his wrapping is a dead giveaway. 

He tried his best, but gift wrapping is a new skill for him. There’s an overabundance of tape and plastic bows covering up a hasty patch job. Nancy laughed when he gave it to her to put under the tree for the secret Santa exchange. She called him sweet for trying with a weird look in her eyes and a little smile. 

You and Steve are sitting together as always. Sometimes he wonders if it’s more habit at this point than anything else. You walk into a room and you just go to him, unthinking, like a magnet. Steve does the same thing, but, well. He knows why he does it. 

So far, Eddie’s gotten a large pack of socks without holes in them, Robin’s gotten a Bangles album, and Steve has gotten a t-shirt with the words Big Dick printed on it that he’s sure Eddie—it had to have been Eddie—thinks he won’t wear, and so he will wear solely to Corroded Coffin shows, out of spite. When it’s your turn, you find Steve’s gift with your name under the tree and your eyes move between your friends suspiciously. He’s not sure whether to be relieved that you don’t immediately guess it’s from him. 

It’s painful to watch how carefully you unwrap it. You peel back layer after layer of tape, unfolding without ripping, the paper crinkling gently. 

“Come on!” Eddie jokes. “That’s not the spirit of Christmas. You’re supposed to tear it up.” 

“No!” you laugh. “Someone put a lot of effort into this. Look at all the bows!”

“Look at all the tape,” Robin mutters. She’s got Steve dialed, for sure. 

The box underneath the wrapping is plain cardboard, found in Steve’s basement. Your lips part as you open it. 

“Oh, my god.” You lift a large ceramic mug from the box. “This is—it’s my mug. Steve?” 

Steve fights a smile as you look at him, eyes wide and happy. “Can we say?” 

Robin makes a derisive noise. “Like she doesn’t already know.” 

“Steve,” you say again, stretched out and sweet like taffy. Your face softens as you reach around him for a hug. “This is so cool. Where’d you get this?” 

“Well, they didn’t only make one,” he jokes. He’s working hard to contain the full scope of his smile. God knows Eddie would never let him hear the end of it if he saw. “I found a lookalike.” 

Behind you, Robin makes a face, widening her eyes at her girlfriend dramatically. Steve is sure Nancy’s heard all about how Robin was dragged from thrift store to thrift store, town to town, one long Saturday until they found the right mug. He’s glad when she doesn’t launch into her tale of complaint again now. 

“Harrington got you your own mug?” Eddie asks, perplexed. “Did he, like, steal it from you and give it back?”

“No,” you laugh. “No, it’s…” You turn, your eyes meeting Steve’s. 

The mug is from a coffee shop you and Steve used to go to. You went together for years, starting back in school when you wanted a place to study and Steve was willing to pay three bucks for a cup of coffee to talk at you while you worked. It had become your regular spot. You had a couch you always sat on, and the baristas recognized you, so eventually there was a mug your drink order always came in, too. It was wide and green, curved with a thick lip. Plain enough, Steve thought, but you loved it. Maybe it was more that you loved having a regular drink order at a place that felt like yours, but for some reason the mug was special to you. The coffee shop closed down last summer. Steve couldn’t get you your couch (he thought about it, but it wasn’t sure where you’d put it and it seemed like a bit much), so he got your mug. 

“It’s from this place we used to go,” you say to Eddie. Your thumb brushes across the smooth ceramic, still looking at Steve. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugs, leaning back against Nancy’s couch and trying not to look too obviously pleased with himself. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

Robin makes a half-suppressed guffawing sound. Steve sends her a look to tell her to zip it. 

⋆⁺₊𖠰₊⁺⋆

You lean into Steve’s side, and Nancy watches his face turn into something so tender she almost wants to grab her friend’s heart and keep it safe for him. But she thinks it’s safe with you. 

Anyway, there’s no saving Steve now. He’s been looking at you that way for years, practically since he’s known you. It’s only that now you might be starting to see it. 

You’re speaking to him quietly, holding your new mug between your hands like it’s the most precious thing you own. Your legs are nearly in Steve’s lap. He says something back to you, and you smile, bright and beatific. Your eyes stay glued to him like he's the center of your world. 

“Still can’t believe it took a whole Saturday to find a green mug,” Robin mutters, too low for anyone else to hear. She’s stolen Steve’s Big Dick shirt and put it on over her long sleeve, the large fit comical (and adorable, if you ask Nancy) as she tucks one of her knees up under it. 

“I don’t know,” Nancy says, leaning sideways so their shoulders rest together. “I think it’s sweet. It obviously means something to her. Don’t you think that’s sort of worth it?” 

Robin makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, but she softens when Nancy turns her eyes up to hers. “I guess so,” she sighs. 

On the other side of the couch, you erupt in laughter at something Steve’s said. He lights brighter than the Christmas tree.