#counting down to xmas

[conjcosby]

Stardate: 202312.16 ▫ Into the single digits now, not long to go but how? 😊🎄 #christmas #xmas #countdown #december #festive #season #yuletide #christmascountdown #xmascountdown #happy #happydecember #festiveseason #yuletideseason #christmas2023 #xmas2023 #december16 #december16th #9daystillchristmas #9daystilxmas #countingdowntochristmas #countingdowntoxmas #christmasmonth #xmasmonth #post #christmaspost #xmaspost #dailypost #postoftheday #potd #celebration

[shadowisabean]

Day 22 Doggie Advent Calendar 🐶📆

[joemerl]

I'm watching a special called Alien Xmas on Netflix, and it is blatantly someone's Invader Zim fanfic with the serial numbers filed off.

[aiqingdemeimiao]

Ben can also be spotted dancing behind kadiff in 3rd slide @/nickstear ig post about that gig too

lmao i was gonna be like "how the fuck did you even find this" then i realised kadiff was tagged in it 💀💀💀 i'm dumb ok. anyway, i removed the red fog and slowed it down. ben dancing at a completely different tempo to both the song and everyone else is killing me haha.

also there's this tiny moment where he just peeks between their faces for a millisecond and it's got me crying with laughter for some reason. why has he got such dark-sided energy in the club 😭😭😭

[misspickman]

do we think that back during the timcassie tt03 period cassie told cissie anita and greta about this relatively illadvised relationship*

[chleem]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

One shot: husband drew x wife yn 

Summary: In which your 5 year-old son catches you kissing santa claus, oblivious to the fact that it's just drew under the costume.

Genre: fluff, smut (shower sex , read at own caution

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ merry xmas! | mistletoe | halloween

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You lean against the doorframe of the shared bedroom, watching ‘Santa Claus’ place wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. 

Drew’s movements are very sloppy, due to the big red suit he’s wearing. 

“Seems like Santa needs to lose some weight,” you tease, not even trying to hide how funny you find his situation. 

Recently, your son, Ben learned about Santa Claus and how he brings presents to kids, and like any curious five-year-old, he's completely captivated by the idea of ‘catching’ Santa. The details of his plan are a little hazy to you—he mentioned it about a month ago, but you forgot the specifics.

You told Drew that no costume was necessary; just eat the cookies on the table and put the presents in place. But Drew insisted. And now, here he is, awkwardly fumbling around in a full Santa suit. 

Placing the last gift under the tree, he turns around, his white beard and hat threatening to slip off. His blue eyes meets yours with annoyance, lips pressed in a thin line. “Well, usually my elves do this.”

You giggle, finding Drew’s dedication to the part funny and cute. “Okay, Mr Claus,” you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “take a break and have some cookies, huh?”

The annoyance in his eyes fade away, his shoulders relaxing under your touch. “You could’ve been my elf,” he murmurs, hands wrapping around your waist. 

“But I’m Mrs Claus, remember? I stay home, do dishes, yadayada,” you joke, rolling your eyes dramatically. “leave the heavy work- important work to you.”

Drew parts his mouth, looking down at you with a knowing look. 

“I did wrap the presents, didn’t I?” You continue to say. “Doesn’t that count for being an elf? I picked out the gifts, payed for it, set the tree up with Ben-“

Drew’s lips aggressively thrusts itself into yours; tongue fighting for access. You gasp into his mouth; taken aback by the abrupt action. That allows the slip of his tongue, tangling in with yours. 

The cheap fake beard makes it hard to concentrate though; the rough hairs getting in between. 

You pull away from him; eyes hooding with a soft smile on your lips. “Rude.”

“You talk too much sometimes,” he murmurs, a hand going up to cup your face. 

“Isn’t that why you married me-“

He plants his lips on yours again, and you giggle against his lips. 

Drew laughs too; the warmth between you two palpable, the quiet intimacy of the moment almost too perfect. Drew’s hand, still cupping your face, gently tugs you closer, his thumb brushing over your cheek in that way that always makes you melt. The kiss deepens, slow and soft, as if he’s savoring every second of it. 

When you finally pull away, both of you breathless, you find yourself caught in his gaze. It’s that look—the one that makes your heart race, the one that feels like he’s seeing straight into you. You smile, your heart fluttering a little more than it should.

“Maybe I do talk too much,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smirks, his fingers tracing along the line of your jaw. “You can talk as much as you want... as long as it’s with me.”

The attempt to sound sweet and lovely is ruined by your incapability of staying serious; because how could you, when Drew’s fake beard is crooked and he’s got this silly red suit with the big belly on? 

“What now?” Drew murmurs, eyeing the silly grin on your face.

“I’m kissing Santa Claus,” you chuckle, reaching up to give his beard a playful tug.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes looking at you with a mischievous glint to them. 

“You naughty girl,” masked with a chuckle, a seductive tone is laced in his words, matching the smirk that’s hidden beneath the white beard. Drew leans in again, catching you in another kiss. 

This time, however, his hands start to roam around your body, feeling the material of your thick hoodie. 

His lips travel down your neck, kissing wherever is exposed. 

You let soft moans escape your mouth; the erotic feeling building in your lower stomach. With a hitched and breathless voice, you ask, “hey Drew?”

He lazily hums against your skin, hands resting just above your ass. 

“Wanna help me shower?” you whisper seductively into his ear, tugging the Santa hat off his head.

Drew pulls back slightly, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. “Y’know you don’t need to ask…”

You plant a kiss on his jaw, soft but deliberate, before moving away, your hand tugging at his sleeve as you make your way toward the bathroom. But Drew doesn’t follow, a thoughtful look painted all over him. 

“Stockings…” he murmurs, looking over his head at the fireplace, with the stockings that he needs to fill as ‘Santa Claus’.

You sigh, knowing exactly where this is going. After all, both of you are suckers for your son, always willing to put everything aside just to see his smile. You glance at Drew, trying to look annoyed, but the soft smile on your face betrays the affection you feel for him—and the family you’ve built together.

“Fine. I’ll shower alone,” you start, readjusting the fake beard he has on. “And I’ll leave Santa to his duties.”

“Thank you,” he sourly replies, his frown evident though the thick beard. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, your lips matching the expression he has. You pat his shoulder, before turning around, making your way to the bathroom. 

You make sure to add an extra sway to your hips, a lame attempt to convince Drew to ditch his costume and join you. 

But nope. Not even when you start stripping, leaving the door open for him to peek. 

——

The bathroom was thick with steam, the fog clouding the mirror as the water poured from the shower head.

You stand underneath the spray; getting ready to wash your body next. 

When you reach for the soap, a much larger hand takes hold of yours, stopping you. You glance over your shoulder, and sure enough, Drew, who presses his body close. 

“Hi,” you flirtatiously start, which comes out more hitched. 

Feeling the soft press of his tip against your back, the breathing gets much harder to steady. 

The temperature in here is definitely rising- not because of the shower. 

“You mad?” Drew’s voice comes out low, a soft smile on his lips as he turns you around to face him. 

You don’t miss the quick glance down to your tits; his gaze lingering longer there than it should be. 

You cock your head to the side, pretending to think it over, but the teasing glint in your eyes gives you away. His hands move to your waist, rubbing circles over your skin, his blue eyes searching yours for an answer.

Your lack of response serves as an invitation for Drew to start planting kisses along your neck, lingering longer on your sweet-spots. 

“Drew…” you softly moan, the thoughts forgotten as he starts sucking the skin on your neck. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer than he already is. His hands find themselves traveling down your body, squeezing your waist, ass, thighs, anywhere he likes. 

“I like this,” he murmurs against your skin, as his hand squeezes your ass again. 

“Mhm,” you lazily hum, running your hands through his wet hair, feeling his aroused dick brushing against your pussy. Shit.

His hands hook under your thighs; lifting you up effortlessly. And because of all the times you've done this, you instinctively wrap your legs tightly around his waist, pinning you against the tiled wall. 

This position causes his dick to brush against your inner thigh; your tits brushing his chest. 

“I like….”

Leaning against the wall, your gaze locks with his hooded blue eyes, feeling the weight of his stare on your lips. “…the way you take me in.”

You chuckle at Drew’s attempt at talk dirty, something you’ll always find amusing throughout your marriage with him. Okay, you liked it, but who were you if you didn’t play along with it? “Well, show me how much you like it.”

A dorky grin Drew fails to suppress shows on his lips, his hands’ gripping tightly on your flesh. His eyes flash down look at the closed proximity you both are in; before quickly flickering back up. 

That makes the blood rush to your cheeks, a flush creeping over your skin. 

“Gonna-“ he leans in and catches your lips in a messy kiss, his teeth pulling on your bottom lip. “-fuck your brains out.”

You breathlessly giggle at that too, your eyes softly focused on Drew, a smitten look in them. 

Without another comment, Drew adjusts his hips, and you feel his cock slowly entering you. Glancing down, your breath hitches as he thrusts in; deeply nested inside. 

“Fuck,” you moan out, tilting your head to rest against the wall.

The showering water that flows down might as well serve as lubricant- yet your walls still feel tight.

Your eyes close for a moment; and you feel Drew’s lips on your neck again- kissing hard enough to leave hickeys. He eventually trails down, lips coming in contact with your breasts. 

He groans as your hands travel down his neck, before tightening around his shoulders. Your nails dig in, averting the pressure there. 

“Drew…” you whine, hoping he starts moving, your eyes flustering open. 

He pulls away, his mouth opened slightly with the same smitten look in his eyes. “…looking at you like this-“ he delivers a thrust to your core; the shock of it causing a loud moan to escape your lips. He chuckles at that, before finishing his words, “makes me wanna put another baby in you.”

“Shit,” you breathe out, as his hips start to roughly slam into yours; one of his hands coming up to play with your tits. The sensation of his thick cock thrusting into you is enough to blur out his words. 

Your body bounces with each rough push his hips drill into your pussy- matching the moans escaping your mouth. He grunts, the sound matching the rising heat in the room, each exhale thick with the intensity building between you.

“F-feels so good,” you mumble.

“Feels good, yeah?” He chuckles lowly, repeating your words. You watch as a grin tugs itself at the corner of his lips, his blue eyes staring lustfully into yours. “Buried with my cock- you look pretty, babe.”

His words, the fast pace, his hands roaming all over sends an alarm to your core, your orgasm building and threatening to explode. 

“Fuck,” you moan, your walls clenching around him as he readjusts you; allowing his dick to thrust into the familiarity of your g-spot. “I’m, c-close”

“Yeah?” Drew kisses the corner of your lips, his moves never stopping. “Right on my cock, baby.”

His lips catches yours again, kissing you clumsily and swallowing the soft sounds you produced. 

The knot in your stomach goes undone- and you feel the warm liquid erupting out of you, over Drew’s cock. You clench around him again, as he continues his pace to chase out his own high. 

His moves become sloppier, his lips pulling away as his dick twitches inside of you, his cream painting your walls white. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, slowly pulling out to leave the tip inside you, just to push fully back in again. 

You chuckle tiredly at that, as he shoves his cum deep into your cunt. “Oh, Drew…” your tone comes out almost like a whine, your throat going hoarse. 

You don’t even try to hide how limp your body is, muscles giving out on holding onto Drew. 

“My beautiful wife,” he almost purrs, blue eyes staring into yours in a smitten way that makes the butterflies in your stomach to fly widely loose. He sets you down on the floor slowly, helping you regain your balance. 

You let his warm hands brush away the hair sticking to the side of your face, the shower head pouring warm water over both of you.

You stand in silence, staring into each other's eyes, both trying to regain your composure from the intensity of the sex. 

“Love it when you talk dirty to me,” you suddenly say, your tone a mix of teasing and heat, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Drew catches onto that; his lips curving into a smirk. His hands slips back to your waist, settling there as if it belongs. “I’k what my girl likes.”

“Geez, what a man,” you tease, your breath catching as his fingers trace over your skin. “Knows what his girl wants.”

You lean in and kiss him briefly, yet pouring your emotions into it. He returns it; bringing one hand up to cup your face, angling it to allow access to his tongue. 

Fuck.

After six years of marriage, he can still easily turn you on like a switch—effortlessly, every damn time. 

You pull away, catching the fucked-out look in Drew’s eyes, the blue beaming down at you. “I’m sleepy,” you murmur, which was your meaning of ‘fuck me in bed, I’m tired’.

“‘Kay,” he murmurs, rubbing circles along your jaw, “let me, give you the princess treatment first, yeah?”

You snort at his words, as he reaches behind you to grab the soap. You don’t miss his low chuckle, even finding his own words funny. 

You relax, and let Drew give you the luxurious ‘princess treatment’, cleaning you up and ready for bed. 

——

Christmas morning

“Ben’s acting weird…”

You whisper to Drew, as you place the dishes into the sink. You spare subtle glances over at your son, sitting on the couch. 

His attention is fixed on the TV, his new toy in hand—opened first, his excitement obvious.

Drew leans against the counter, sipping on the third cup of coffee he made this morning. Last night, well, both of you didn’t get much sleep. He furrowed his eyebrows at you, before shrugging. “No?”

“Um, not to you,” you keep your voice low, standing next to Drew as you both watch the living room.

During breakfast, Ben had been shy, avoiding your gaze and giving short answers to your questions. But he seemed perfectly fine when you tucked him into bed yesterday. “Did I do something last night?”

Drew snickers, and when you glance at him, he casually unzips his jacket. With a smug grin, he reveals the hickeys you’d left on his neck last night. 

Shit. This man is a dad, and he can’t seem to be serious at all during times like this.

His grin escalates into laughter when you roll your eyes at him, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m serious. Ask him for me, will you?”

“Alright, alr- I’ll do it.”

Drew doesn’t move, taking another sip of his coffee. 

You send him a glare, along with aggressively zipping his jacket back up. 

“You mean now, got it,” he chuckles, putting the cup down. You shake your head at him, a smile reappearing on your lips as he walks away. 

You busy yourself by scrolling through your Insta, liking posts you don’t care about. The soft whispers you hear are barely audible, drowned out by the TV and the occasional rumble of Ben’s toy.

It’s about two minutes in when you hear Drew’s throaty laugh through the house, Ben hurriedly yelling, “daddy! Quiet!”

“You got anything to support that?” Drew’s voice comes through, his attempt at keeping quiet failing miserably.

You glance up just in time to see Ben jump off Drew’s lap, rushing toward his room.

Meeting Drew’s gaze, you raise an eyebrow, skeptical. You walk over and sit down beside him, waiting for an explanation.

“You’ll see. It’s hilarious,” Drew says with a grin, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. You give him a sideways glance, not buying it for a second. 

Ben runs back, his familiar blue eyes meeting yours for a split second before he quickly looks away.

“Wanna show Mommy what’s in your hand?” you chirp, your gaze landing on the toy camera you bought him a few months ago, now clutched tightly in his small hands.

He ignores you; walking straight into Drew’s arms. 

“Well that’s rude,” you murmur, but both father and son remain oblivious, their attention now fully on the toy camera.

As you try to sneak a peek, Drew leans away with a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying whatever he’s looking at. Ben, on the other hand, glances at it nervously, his small brow furrowing in worry. 

Your curiosity grows by the minute, heightening when Ben says, “is mommy in trouble?”

His big, doe blue eyes meets yours again, and he looks like a sad puppy (much like his dad sometimes). It melts your heart; again proving you could never be mad at this kid. 

His dad, on the other hand, you might choke him to death if he doesn’t explain what’s going on right now. 

“Why don’t you tell mommy?” Drew teases, his hand rubbing Ben’s stomach in an assuring way. 

You can see the thought process on Ben’s face, the pout deepening as he concentrates. His small brows furrow, eyes narrowing in serious contemplation.

Finally, Ben points his little finger at you, his voice loud and clear. “Mommy kissed Santa Claus!”

Your mouth drops open in shock as your mind races through the events of last night. Shit. You kissed Drew, who was dressed as Santa. Then the shower together- But how did Ben catch you? Was he out of bed? Did he—

Drew flips the small toy camera’s screen toward you, revealing a paused video. There’s no mistaking it: it's you, mid-kiss, with Drew in his Santa costume.

Oh. So this was his great plan of catching Santa Claus. A hidden camera.

Your face flushes as you look back at Drew, who’s struggling to suppress his laugh. You quickly cover your mouth, trying to hide the matching smile creeping onto your lips.

“Oh, Ben, honey,” you start, your voice sweet but a little flustered. His eyes glance up at you, eagerly awaiting your response. Relax, he’s only a five-year old kid. “Santa needed help with the presents…and mommy helped him.”

You flash a small smile, hoping he’ll understand. Ben looks up at you with a puzzled face, clearly not buying it. 

Dammit, five-year olds are getting too smart these days. 

“Don’t worry; mommy’s on the good girls’ list,” Drew adds on, clearly enjoying this. 

You shoot him a glare - really? “Ben, mommy would never kiss Santa,” you say firmly. “I was hugging him- see?”

“But you kiss daddy like that all the time,” Ben loudly comments, fidgeting nervously. 

A soft laugh leaves Drew’s mouth, absolutely no help to his situation. Great, just another reminder to yourself to maybe keep the affectionate touches to a minimum around Ben in the future.

“Okay,” you start, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters. “Yes, Mommy and Daddy kiss sometimes, but Santa—he's just, well, he’s just here to deliver the gifts. That’s all.”

You glance at Drew, who’s still trying (and failing) to hide his grin. “Right, Drew?” you add, shooting him a look that says get it together.

“Right, right,” Drew says quickly, trying to sound serious. 

“So, Ben,” you turn your gaze back to your son, holding his tiny hand. Gosh, he’s adorable. “Santa's just doing his job to make Christmas magical. Okay?”

Ben nods slowly, his tiny face scrunching as he seems to take it all in. “Okay, mommy.”

You smile fondly at him, reaching your arms out.

He lets out a laugh that’s eerily similar to Drew’s, a lighter sound as he buries into your embrace. The sound of his laughter fills the room, bringing a sense of joy to your heart.

Somehow, with all its goofiness, it’s moments like this that make everything feel so right.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, as he snuggles against you, you can’t help but think—god, he’s basically a mini version of Joseph Andrew Starkey.

“Mommy loves you,” you say, as Ben pulls away. 

“I love you too, Mommy,” he mumbles, his voice soft but genuine. Like every kid, though, his attention span is short. His eyes drift over to the Christmas tree, where a few presents remain under the glittering lights. “Can I open the rest?”

You nod at him, and Ben takes off immediately, racing towards the Christmas tree. You can't help but smile as you watch him grab the first big present in front of him, tearing it apart. 

Although, your smile falters as your eyes drift back to Drew. He’s lounging on the couch, a lazy smile on his lips as he watches Ben, clearly amused.

Without thinking, you slap his stomach a bit roughly, causing him to flinch in his seat.

"Hey!" Drew protests quietly, his eyes widening in surprise as he looks at you. "What was that for?”

“Really? ‘Good girls’ list’?” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow at him.

He scoots himself closer to you, his smirk deepening, “you definitely took it like a good girl last night.”

Fuck. 

You freeze, his words hanging in the air, sending a shockwave through your chest.

"God, you're impossible,” you groan, slapping his hand away, the one trying to slip under your cardigan. 

Drew’s throaty laugh escapes again, wanting to further tease you when Ben interrupts the short conversation. 

He proudly shows off the present he got from ‘Santa’; a toy truck that he’s been begging for since forever. His small hands grip the toy truck, eyes wide with excitement.

The warmth of the moment radiates off you, and everything else fades away. Ben’s joy fills the room, and for a moment, it’s as if time stands still. 

The Christmas tree lights flicker softly in the background, casting a gentle glow, and the world outside feels distant, as if nothing else matters.

What a jolly merry Christmas. 

-------------------------------

word count: 3.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i want drew's kids. and i hate kids. but i want his.

other | mistletoe | hallow's eve

[kaluxsims]

Happy merry!! Merry happy!! Jingle twinkle! Double well-wishing for channukah and xmas!! I usually give our sims some pj's for the holidays, but this time it's somewhere to wear those pj's. I might actually have gone "ooo" when I first saw @bostyny's Ageless Bedroom for TS4. It had to be my xmas set this year. A must. Then part 2 came out and I wondered if I'd bitten off more than I could chew. This is part of why my updates have been a bit sparse lately.

I mean...look at it though! Don't you just wanna snuggle in and wait for Santa?

Since this is a long post, you can download it up here or down at the very bottom. Choose either merged or unmerged recolors. Unmerged is almost 500 files total. Merged is 22. There are a ton of recolors and I could only repo some of it.

Download:

merged - SFS or MediaFire unmerged - SFS or MediaFire

Full details, credits, more previews, etc under the fold.

I love that this set is called Ageless. It's the perfect name. Depending on the colors and items, this set can be airy or dramatic. It's so versatile! Great stuff, Bostyny!

I didn't convert absolutely everything. I didn't have the time, and some stuff was beyond my skill level. I left out the mirrors, paintings, ceiling lamp, and jewelry stands.

Each object comes with 27-ish recolors. I only added some new recolors for the olive branches. Everything else is Bostyny's swatches. I repo'ed what I could, but there are still almost 500 files total in the unmerged folder. Yeep.

I reduced poly counts here and there, when needed. I also reshaped and tweaked some stuff. The table comes in two different sizes, a side table and a larger one you can use as a desk. The TS4 dressers I did as console tables, for multiple reasons.

Here's a list of what's included, poly count, recolors, etc:

Single bed - 1432 polys - 27 recolors

Double bed - 2240 polys - 27 recolors

Single blanket - 872 polys - repo'ed to double

Double blanket - 1166 polys - 27 recolors

Deco blanket - 730 polys - 25 recolors

Candle - 557 polys - 33 recolors

Candle 2 - 557 polys - 33 recolors

Chair - 2002 polys - 28 recolors

Console table 1 - 1486 polys - 30 recolors

Console table 2 - 1242 polys - repo'ed to console1

Console table 3 - 1486 polys - repo'ed to console1

Nightstand - 632 polys - 26 recolors

Nightstand 2 - 980 polys - repo'ed to console1

Olive branches - 1718 polys - 32 recolors

Olive branches small - 1718 polys - repo'ed to olive branches

Rug - no mesh - 60 recolors of NL 3x3 round rug

Side table - 566 polys - repo'ed to table

Table - 566 polys - 27 recolors

Slippers - 588 polys - 26 recolors

Slippers 2 - 436 polys - 27 recolors

Table lamp - 1662 polys - 19 shade, 11 base recolors

I've included a collection file.

And a few more previews, because why not?

The rug and bed blankets aren't in these previews, but you can see them in the ones further up.

Here's that download stuff again, because I'm not gonna make you go all the way back up.

Download:

merged - SFS or MediaFire unmerged - SFS or MediaFire

Credits: @bostyny for TS4 meshes and textures, @hugelunatic for the bed blanket that doesn't need cheats to place (I cloned it)

[hoseoksluna]

LITTLE JUICE | JJK

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut, pwp

rating: 18+

summary: when you get insecure about being constantly needy for your boyfriend, jungkook shows you that it's okay.

word count: 6.4k

warnings: the plot is TEENY TINYYYY in this one, pure filth, mirror sex, dd/lg, little space, new roles for the wine universe omg, jungkook is a caretaker, pet names, degradation kink, praise kink, dry humping, they're so in love it's sickening, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), fingering, squirting, daddy issues, heavy dom/sub dynamics, handjob, penetrative sex without condom, cowgirl, plushies used in a sexual situation.

luna's note: i'm so sorry i couldn't get this out for you on xmas day since i was so sick, but let this be a gift for the new year! i missed writing smut sooooo much, and i can't wait to get back to it starting january. this was so fun omg. i missed wine sm. my daddy issues be daddy issuing so this has something new in it, i'm super excited abt it!! i hope you like this and that you enjoy reading. make sure to let me know what you think in my ask box!! mommy luna is baaaaackkkkkkk. HAPPY NEW YEARRRRR. <3 (one day early but i felt like saying it idc) BIG MWAH.

luna's necessary side note: i missed u all so damn much wtf. OH, AND HAPPY BDAY TAEHYUNGGGGGG.

𓂃 ౨ৎ

taglist | join here: @jjk7k, @tkslovechild, @euphoricmyth, @cinmmongirl, @ririkookiemonster, 

@perfectiondazesworld, @https-mei, @bangtansonyeondanue, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, 

@hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk, @parkinglot-nights, @sadgirlroo

The mirrors, lining the walls, are nearly all fogged up once you take a step inside the vast rehearsal room. A certain mellow, yet familiar song led you towards the right door—one that made your ears perk up in curiosity because it reminded you of something you’d heard a long time ago, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Not until you rearranged your bobas into the crook of your elbow and slid open the door. 

The stuffiness of the room only added to the sensual aura of the song, and your legs nearly gave out on you. 

No BS by Chris Brown.

The song that started it all.

Jungkook, clothed in black from head to toe, seems to be locked in his own world as he moves his body in the center of the room, his chest and feet hitting each beat without a singular mistake or a misstep. And when the chorus of the song flows in, his whole figure follows suit. It rolls into the rhythm like the slowest, most passionate wave of the sea that splits in the middle and begins to course down your sternum. Your cheeks darken with a feverish tint. You feel every inch of his movements inside you as if he were there, and when Jungkook spins and sinks to his knees, propping only one Nike-shod foot on the floor, and he hip-thrusts before he continues those rippling motions to the last beats, the muscles of your thighs quiver on reflex and your dampened private parts flutter.

You did not expect to see that when you texted Jungkook you were going to visit him just because you finished work early and you could get boba before your favorite shop closed. You feel as though you just got blessed twice. 

TGIF, indeed. Never in your life had you ever thought you’d celebrate the work week ending like you are right now—with two bobas in your arm, cooling your heated skin, and with your eyes witnessing erotically angelic artistry in a humid room. And with your sensitive parts outright dripping, too, because the song ends, enveloping the room in a silence that welcomes in Jungkook’s heavy breathing as he slumps back onto his back, his chest lifting and falling in the air. 

You feel fuzzily faint. He made you wet in record time and he hasn’t even touched you. Nor has he looked at you. 

Instinctively, your hand grasps your mango boba and you press it against the side of your face. Smile to yourself as a lightbulb flicks to life in your mind. 

Leaving behind your purse, you take both of the delightful treats and walk over to him. His eyes are closed as he’s absolutely unaware of your presence, your steps soft and sly. His round, sweat-splotched nose puffs out hard breaths that move through you and you coo to yourself silently before you place both of your feet on either side of him. You squat down, careful not to let your bum touch his lap, and you get his boba ready, placing your own on the ground. And with the loudest roar you can muster, you press the drink to his glistening cheek. 

He yelps. His fear-filled eyes fly open, his hands quick to catch you as you tumble down on him in reaction, your lungs submerging the room in your obscenely loud giggles. Tears of laughter cloud your vision, preventing you from seeing the horror twisting his face, but the little you saw was enough to douse your body in extraordinary elation. The tapioca inside the long cup swirls as it swims ferociously in the thick, violet liquid, mimicking the roundness and the blackness of his pupils with utmost perfection. 

You swipe a finger under your eye, speckles of your glitter smearing its pad. You lean down, your laughter subdued as it slowly fades out, and you can see the horror smoothing out and transforming, seamlessly, into a relieved adoration that taps against your heart. You kiss him with the boba now cooling your cheek as well. Leave behind a hard peck on his perspiration-coated mouth that makes him softly hum into this physical exchange of love, and just before you draw away, he breathes out against you with his nose. And that doesn’t just tap on your heart, it knocks on it most warmly. 

You love him so much. Too much. So much that the simplest of his body and human reactions make you feel things. Things that normal girls don’t normally feel. 

Good thing you’re not a normal girl. 

You’re a messed up girl. And you’re a girl in love. Have been for the past year. 

“You scared the shit out of me.” 

Your mouth widens into a pleased grin, and the light bulb that shone in a bright yellow melts into a warm, dusky pink tinge that floods your spine—only because he squeezes the dip of your waist that you’ve been working hard at carving out. A new thing you’ve implemented into your daily routine after you’ve gotten a new job that doesn’t allow you to fuck him all day long like you used to. The sex has gotten even better with time as the wine of his love ripened and matured. To such an extent that you found yourself craving it more than you had in those times when you were just seeing him for sex. Two rounds aren’t enough for you—and you remember well that after two rounds you were usually too exhausted to even keep your eyes open. Now, because you have matured too, your vessel for his love and his liquid stars has grown, needing more to feel satisfied to the fullest. The new job kept you away from him, the long hours teased you. So much that your bathroom breaks were too frequent and obvious and you spent them locked in a bathroom stall with one hand in your panties and your other holding your phone to your ear while Jungkook guided you, his hand, too, in his pants, locked in the same place on the other side of the line, whispering encouraging, lewd instructions that sent you shaking over the edge in mere minutes. 

Instructions that got him in trouble at his workplace, hence why he had to come up with a solution. Because your thirst was never quenched in minutes. His voice was too pretty, and too soft. 

Gym five times a week for you, dance lessons for him, physical distance for the both of you. A perfect solution for a perfect problem. All that sexual frustration was released during those exercises filled with delicious pain and you went to work the next day free of that carnal lust swishing in your veins. You focused on your work, and you didn’t have to take long bathroom breaks. You didn’t even need a spare pair of panties in your purse anymore.

It worked—and it’s completely crazy to you that all it took for you to break your public purity streak was seeing him dance like that. 

You sit up and with your swift movement, the squelching sound of your cunt rubbing up against your juices sounds out across the room. Your cheeks heat up with a different shade of red as embarrassment runs down your spine, especially as Jungkook’s brows twitch upwards and his eyes widen, his large hands lowering down a little, following the curve of your figure that leads to his favorite part of you. 

Your hips. 

A blush scatters upon his cheeks, too. He heard it. 

He calls out your name, sweeping his tongue across his abruptly dry and chapped bottom lip. Your name, not princess, not baby. Your government name without any embellishment of adoration. 

You’re in trouble. 

Your embarrassment pinches you at the two dimples on the small of your back. “Y-yeah?” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but he pauses for a moment. As if he could sense where the emotion touched you, his long and warm fingers find its icy traces that it left behind while still keeping the crooks of his thumb anchored on your hip bones. 

“Did you get wet for me?” 

A shiver cascades down the slender column of your back, a visible one for his eyes to see that coax out his softness for you, evident in the roundness of his bottom lip that he juts out, triggering your unprecedented shyness. What a drastic shift of dynamic in your relationship you perceive this to be. All along, for a year long, the atmosphere of your shared love has been nothing but an environment of safety, where you could unfold your sexuality as naturally and confidently as you wanted to without an ounce of coyness. Introduce an unyielding desire and a well-meaning solution for it into the equation and watch the change bloom. 

For some reason, you’re reminded of his past, now distant, liking of a certain degradation kink that once grew like vines across your intimate relations with him. The memories travel along your veins—the vulgar pet names, the calling out, the rough handling—and crest at your core, moistening the center of your panties even more as your walls pull in. And the way Jungkook takes that bottom lip between his teeth divulges to you quite clearly that he feels it. 

Which is a bad thing because you can’t lie about it. 

But… you can’t divert his attention from it. 

You slosh his drink in your hand. “I got you your favorite,” you chirp, the boba twirling beneath your hand while his identical pupils remain unmoving, unblinking, fixed on you. You manage a smile, but its staticness crumbles as soon as you realize that Jungkook isn’t really influenced by your change of topic. “Taro boba. I got a milk one, too. Mango. You wan—”

His hands descend down to your thighs, squeezing, halting the tide of your words, the progression of your trick. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your skirt and before you know it, he lifts you just a little bit to maneuver you and make you sit on the shaft of his semi. A low gasp gushes out of your throat as well as a leak of your dew not only onto the fabric of your underwear but onto the material that now clings to his manhood. 

He twitches, hardening beneath your pussy, and gooseflesh pricks your skin. 

“Mango? You always get Taro with me.” 

The glitter from your eye make-up that you smeared across his cheek during your kiss twinkles underneath the dimmed light and he doesn’t guide your hips to move against him. No, he rolls his own—ever so slowly, ever so discreetly. His hands merely hold you down, but nothing about it is forceful. Subdued pleasure springs up your sternum, pooling in your head, making you woozy as quickly as if he were pouring booze down your throat. And when he heightens the pressure enough that he twitches again, you recognize he’s doing the same move that is a part of the choreo he was practicing. 

Your heart hammers against your chest. Your nipples pebble against your cotton top, and Jungkook’s eyes fly to them, catching and taking in their aroused state, perhaps even coaxing it out of them. 

A sigh leaves his mouth. He fists the hem of your skirt, dipping his head into the current of the pleasure he’s giving both of you, and so do you. 

You just can’t help it; you can’t fight it. When your toe touches the surface of the wine of your shared love, nothing can keep you from taking a dip. And the same applies to Jungkook, too. In this case, he’s dripping in red, having slipped entirely into the current, one arm out of the water, fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling you into the water. 

And something about his desire lessens your strange coyness. His lack of solution offering brings down the stigma, setting you free. And you missed him. You missed him terribly. Haven’t felt his dick in five fucking days. 

You place your hands on top of his. 

A small fire begins to burn within the snug blackness of his eyes. All of a sudden, the noises he stifled come out in soft, almost inaudible growls that cause your clit to throb and your nails to dig half-moons into the skin of his hands. A green light from you for him to enjoy this—and he does. Jungkook throws his head back, his pretty chin pointing to the ceiling, and his big chest heaves. 

It is only at this moment that his eyes leave yours just to bask in this forbidden pleasure. 

Anyone could walk in—the doors aren’t locked, nor are they shut at all. Anyone could think the practice room is available for personal use, without a single soul present. And anyone could see you riding the horsey because the sight of him lost in the vivacity of it all forces you most carnally to give him more. 

You hump him. 

“My friend got it the other day and she said it was delicious,” you breathe out, speaking of your unordinary choice of boba. The movements of your hips are small, minuscule, but hard enough that his knuckles get painted with a shade of ivory that sprinkle your chest with little shocks of joy and pride. A thick vein bulges on the side of his throat as Jungkook tries his best not to let out the entirety of his noises that his body is brimming with—and for that very reason, you grab his hands and place them very brattily on your perked, full breasts. “I wanted to try it and see for myself.” 

This feels good. This feels like the time before you got older and greedy. And the feeling is validated when Jungkook whisks his eyes back at you and grapples your tits, squeezing them so hard that it’s you who bites their bottom lip until you nearly draw blood, your body set on fire with a blue desire that kisses his big hands with such roughness that he whimpers. 

But the moment is ruined all too soon. 

A myriad of high-pitched voices is carried through the thick air, accompanied by giggles. You gasp, looking behind you, and before you know it, you’re up on your feet and Jungkook’s unopened boba is knocked to the side, now rolling sideways towards the mirror. 

You go to fetch it, but a strong hand on your arm prevents you from doing so. You spring back to your place in front of him and you glance up at him in confusion just to see him frowning down at you. 

Sweat drips down his temple. The tips of his brows almost meet in the middle, but swim away and relax at the sight of your puzzlement. The voices grow louder, your breath hitches in your throat and Jungkook’s hand lifts and pets down the back of your head, awakening the butterflies in your tummy as if he’s done it for the first time in your life. 

A yearning to kiss him consumes you. 

“Stay here,” Jungkook murmurs, keeping his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. “If they see us like this, they’ll walk away.” 

You nod, understanding if you were to do as you wished, the girls would’ve taken it as a sign to enter the room and perhaps mingle. But if they see you stuck in an intimate moment like this, they quietly and quickly leave without any unnecessary fuss. 

Smart man. 

“I’m also so fucking hard that I can’t even hide it,” he continues, lowering his tone even more. It penetrates you, making your clit thrum, and as your grin blossoms, so does a romantic shade of blush across your cheeks. You envelop your arms around his torso, propping your chin on his chest, radiate your love up to him, and Jungkook smiles down at you. “As per usual.” 

He kisses your forehead, lingering there for a beat longer before he lifts his head and focuses his gaze at the situation at the door. You don’t care much because you dwell on the hot and cold sensation he left in his wake from the warmth of his mouth and the iciness of his lip ring—something you’ll never get used to and something that will always ruin your panties. 

“They’re gone.” 

And so is he. Off to shut the door and lock it, peeking through the little rectangular window to check if anyone is around. Once the coast is clear, you sense him behind you as you bend to pick up his knocked off boba and you stumble upon his gaze in the mirror as soon as you straighten your spine. 

A hungry look is wrung into his features. 

The corners of his eyes droop in arousal, narrowed as they are. His pupils are blacker than the tapioca in your hands. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip impatiently and you flutter all over, taking in his state and his large stature towering above you. You could melt into him and never be found again, hidden in the crevices of his body that you still believe are there for you. Hidden forever, safe and sound. 

He’s delicious through and through—and it’s been five days since you last had a taste of him. 

Five torturous days. 

“You must be thirsty after all that dancing,” you say, breathless and thirsty yourself. His chest heaves, colliding into your back, and all those soft crevices of him touching you brings you back into that ravenous, greedy state you can’t get out of so easily. Dangerous, he is. Utterly, utterly dangerous. Erasing your clean streak like that. “Let me open it for you.” 

You go to turn around and fetch his straw from your purse, but he doesn’t let you. He encages you where you are by a mere placement of his hand on your hip, fingers back to gripping the fabric of your skirt. He can rip it off if he likes—he can buy you a new one and make your heart elated anytime. 

The idea hardens your nipples, making a show for him all over again. 

He pushes you flush against him, earning a sultry gasp from you. The fingers that gripped your skirt elongate across your mound while the other graze your chin, elevating it a little, ensuring a strong eye contact. 

You flutter. Can’t take it anymore. He has to take you home and fuck the shit out of you before you— 

“I am thirsty,” he purrs, his lips borderline touching yours. “But for something other than bubble tea. Care to guess what it is?” 

Your breath lodges in your throat. You know well what he means, but out of habit and out of personal pleasure you pretend to be dumb. You want to hear him say it—you want him to be as detailed as he was during those naughty afternoon phone calls that got him in trouble with his boss, who told him off for having long work breaks. You want him, his filthy mouth and even filthier, condescending manners. 

You want the old times—and for the sake of your desire, you remain silent. Twist your brows in feigned confusion. Widen your eyes a little. Puff out your cheeks. 

Your adorableness makes him twitch against your hip. Jungkook sucks in a breath. Takes the hand that caressed your chin and glides it down your neck, your chest, your stomach that flexes under his touch until he winds up at the waistband of your skirt. There he stops and he tilts his head to the side, sweeping his tongue along the pillow of his bottom lip. 

“What I want,” he starts, his breathing quickening. “Is the little juice that is in here.” He skims the pads of his fingers down your mound, beneath the hem of your skirt and along the sopping surface of your clothed feminine flesh. You mewl, your hips instinctively riding his fingers, following the sailing, back and forth motion. Your adorableness deepens with the influence of the sudden pleasure by the way it scrunches up your features and Jungkook whimpers again, stopping his motions when he feels you timidly soak his fingers. “I want it so bad that I can’t go one more minute without it.” 

You glance down more to see how big of a mess you’re making on his hand, but as attuned as he is to his role, brought about by his arousal, Jungkook takes your breath away with his following actions. 

He moves you closer to the mirror. Bunches up your skirt even higher so you have a perfect view of your panties, which have a large wet spot in the middle. Little rivulets of your juices flow out of their confines and down your inner thighs, proceeding to make a puddle on the hardwood floors beneath your feet. Jungkook’s fingers are shiny in the light, coated in your lustfulness, and he drifts them up and down that stain—over your swollen clit and sensitive lips. 

“See? Here. This little wet princess part of you is what I crave.”

And just like that, owing to his words, you flourish into the little girl you haven’t been safely dwelling in for months, sliding into that role as easily, tenderly and meekly as if you were slipping your feet into your fluffy slippers. You regress, beautifully, making sweet little noises into his neck as you go to hide in there, poking his drink into his hand, silently telling him to take it while you rub your sticky thighs together, eager to get the uncomfortable throbbing feeling away. And he does, solid in his own caretaker role, sinking down onto his knees, placing the drink on the floor against the mirror. But he remains there, looking up at you, eyes big and round, yet still steady, sure, mature and irrevocably dependable. And you sense those eyes to be telling you to take your panties off and give the Daddy what he craves. 

You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear and drag it down past the middle of your thighs, letting him handle the rest, but you catch his eyes watering ever so gently—and the discovery causes your heart to skip a beat. He’s taken in the role you’ve slipped into, having watched it happen in real time in all its glory, and perhaps he’s nostalgic, or perhaps he’s just euphoric, but he takes the time to bask in it all. 

And he kisses the cotton fabric of your panties first before he kisses the soft flesh of your thigh. Drags it down. Lets it pool in his hands at your ankles. Peeks up at you. 

“The way you willingly give yourself over to me never fails to mesmerize me,” he purrs, pressing another kiss to your thigh without taking his eyes off of you. Your stomach jumps, energy-charged butterflies scurrying to the front of your stomach in longing to kiss him, too. “You’ve been feeling bad about being needy for me. Worked hard for weeks to be a good girl, but what you don’t know, princess, is that you were a good girl even when you called me up at work asking for me,” he continues, lips brushing against your skin with every pronounced vowel. He edges around your knee and begins to pepper gentle, wet kisses there. Your mouth falls open—and you discover this place is a spot of more sensitivity than your neck. You double over, grabbing a tight hold of his tousled, yet soft hair, and Jungkook moans against you. “And you’re a good girl right now for giving yourself over to me, even when you’re so careful about being horny for me in public.” 

Your body forces out the same kind of noises, so tender and pained, your heart rapidly kicking against your ribcage. Your arousal is heightened by his words carrying such devastating praise, even when the most inert core of you aches for such different debauchery—the very opposite of what he’s giving you. 

You leak for him, nonetheless. 

Unable to take it anymore, Jungkook cradles your ankles and carefully rids you of your ruined panties, half-stuffing them into the front pocket of his jeans. A tiny bit of the pink fabric sticks out of it and the sight intoxicates you, pulling you deeper into your little space. Even more so when he finishes his praise because he wasn’t done yet. Not quite. 

“And to see you be little for me so prettily again after such a long time,” he husks, spreading your legs far apart enough to see that gleaming rivulet make its way down the inner of your thigh. “That makes me the happiest man in the world, princess. I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

Jungkook leans in and, with his tongue flat against your inner thigh, he collects the little juice you leak for him. He moans at the taste, but the sound is broken by a cry marked by yearning for more. He doesn’t stop there—he delves immediately, without sparing a second, into your lap with such a verve that your back crashes against the still fogged up mirror. His mouth seizes your clit, making kissing sounds as he laps and sucks at it with a hunger that could never be replicated in the arts. You grip his hair tighter for support, almost sliding down the mirror while struggling to contain your noises, the pleasure permeating every inch of your body that is ultimately submitted to him. The pressure of the delight he’s giving you deepens when he places one of your thighs on his shoulder, helping you take it while he continues to moan into your pussy and eat her like she deserves. 

But you can’t take it. Not at all. Not when he begins to flick his tongue on your clit in a way that he does. 

Your foot slips, but Jungkook is in control. He makes sure you land on your bum safely and painlessly, not once ripping his mouth off your cunt. His eyes continue to be steady, fixed on you, narrowed into such thin, alluring slits that it hastens your sweet release. You hiccup as you take little breaths, overwhelmed by it all. Your cheeks burn, and the fire spreads down your limbs, leaping over to your boyfriend at work, who glows with a rosy tint. Jungkook pulls away a little bit, dripping in arousal and perspiration, and he allows you to see his technique in all its glory. 

The tip of his tongue stimulates your engorged clit with rapid, hard flicks. 

Your orgasm inches closer and closer. Jungkook pushes your legs all the way back until you’re a squished mochi that he can’t get enough of, and when he puts a bigger pressure on your little bud, it is your absolute undoing. 

Closer and closer, the orgasm takes over you completely. From the top of your head to your little toes that flex in your sneakers, you begin to shake uncontrollably as the highest level of the delight bursts upon your body. Jungkook’s noises grow in volume simultaneously, enraptured as he is by the view of his created paradise unfolding over you—and he never stops looking at you. 

Not even as you come down from your high. 

Not even as he, with your little juice dripping down his chin, turns you around and stacks one of your feet on the mirror while he keeps the other leg back with his hand. His limbs surround you, and as you blink through the blinding fog of your orgasm, you realize that you accidentally managed to match your shoes with his. High Nike dunks, black. The ones he got for you as well when he bought a pair for himself. 

Your hole clenches in the mirror. A stream of your little juice makes a larger puddle on the floor beneath you. 

“Look at you dripping for me, fuck.” 

Hooking your leg over his right limb, he strums your entire feminine flesh with the four of his fingers, the squelching and squeaking sounds of your pussy pulling a tortured groan out of him as if he hadn’t gotten a taste of you a mere minute ago. His other hand sneaks to your tits to feel them up, stopping at your pebbled nipple, which he fondles as he breathes against you, inhaling your scent. Your hips buckle, your drenched seashell sensitive from his feast, and Jungkook lets out a pleased chuckle. 

“My pretty little pussy. Always so sensitive from all my love, huh?” 

You nod, meeting his gaze in the mirror, and Jungkook grins before he places a fat, rewarding kiss to your cheek, the two of his fingers, middle and ring, one of them adorned with that white Miffy plastic ring, starting a series of circles on your clit. 

Your hips buckle again, the pleasure soft yet dizzying, overwhelming your senses. Jungkook tightens his grip around you, squeezing your breast. 

“Whose pussy is this, princess?” 

In the middle of it all, a light bulb flicks to life once again in your woozy mind. And a pleased smile, just like his, begins to grow on your mouth. But Jungkook is impatient and you’re not responding fast enough for his taste, so he lifts his soaked fingers and uses them to grip your mouth. 

There it is. 

“I asked you a question. Whose pussy is this?” 

You’d bite your lip if he weren’t squishing your cheeks together, but your satisfied smile reaches your eyes, crinkling them. That causes him to relax his hold and give you a chance to give him the answer he seeks. 

Little does he know you’re about to manipulate him into giving you the sin that you desire. 

“This slutty little pussy is yours. Yours and no one else’s, Dada.” 

His brows twitch and light unrolls across his face, softening his features in a way you’ve never seen before. He curses, momentarily rolls his eyes back, and he plunges his wet fingers into his mouth before he seizes your mouth in a compulsive kiss that thoroughly shuts off your brain. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you comprehend he licked off his fingers and didn’t swallow only so you could get the treat he had himself—because he busies his fingers by burying them inside your fleshy heat. 

And he fucks you hard and doesn’t stop even when you begin to make intense little noises into his mouth. 

You struggle to kiss him back when he curls his fingers and pistons into you with rapid jerks from this angle. His other hand tugs your top upwards, finds its way into the cups of your bra just so he could pinch and rub your nipple in the way that you like. And when his tongue flicks against yours and his mouth purses softly against yours before he deepens the kiss, your orgasm hits you so unexpectedly that you’re as surprised as him once you come apart all over not just his hand, but the mirror, too. 

You splatter it with your little juice and even then, Jungkook doesn’t stop. Growling with heavy breaths, he strums your clit as fast as he can until there’s nothing left you can give to him. 

You slump against him, high on the complexity of yours and his aphrodisiac love. Specks of your glitter—your small shooting stars gravitate down to your flushed cheeks, and then his fingers are in your mouth, traveling far down and deep until you grace him with the sound he likes. You gag around them and he nods, pleased, smirking. 

“Good girl. Your slutty little juice tastes good, doesn’t it, baby?” he asks, and your stomach springs, your drunken feelings intensified by the fact you finally got what you yearned for. “Your mouth makes me fucking crazy. Dada, slutty pussy. I’m gonna lose my mind.” 

You mewl, your eyes heavy, but you want more—you want his cock, and he can feel it, he knows it. He knows it when he pulls out his fingers and kisses you as if the world was meant to end in the next minute. He knows it because he withdraws and he tells you. 

“Dada’s gonna fuck that slutty little pussy of his, hm?” Jungkook murmurs, and then his zipper is down, and just like the old times—he doesn’t rid himself of his clothes and gives you a brand new world with his strokes just the way he is. 

Fully clothed, with his hard drooling cock poking out of his unzipped jeans. 

He presses you against your wet juices on the mirror, spitting on his hand and lubricating the tip of his manhood. He enters you and you gasp, fogging up the mirror with your breath, and the hand that holds your head steady against the mirror buries into your hair while the other wraps around your hip. He sheathes himself inside you slowly whilst your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally being stretched out by him and once he bottoms out, it’s over. 

Your life is over.

“Dada’s pussy always so tight.” 

He pounds into you religiously—creating a new order for this brand new world. Hard, merciless strokes that scramble your brain and turn it into a mush. Your ass ripples with each collision and his noises melt into yours, a hymn for the utopia he’s fucking you into. And then he’s lifting you from the mirror and keeping you flush to himself, staring at you in the reflection while your tits spill out from your bra, bouncing, and Jungkook can’t get enough. Both of his hands drag down your straps, freeing your breasts, and he’s groping them, pinching your nipples without ever stopping the entrancing snapping of his hips. 

“Pretty princess getting fucked. Look at you. So pretty and all mine.” 

And then his Miffy-adorned finger is back on your clit, rubbing hard circles, and your personal world is finished—because your pleasure is his ultimate undoing. 

The smacking of skin quietens and his hips begin to roll—a languid, staccato version of his choreo that got you all needy and wet but an hour ago. Jungkook whimpers into your ear how much he loves you, over and over again, as he stuffs you full of his cum, and he doesn’t stop rubbing your swollen little clit until you come all over his twitching cock. 

And he doesn’t pull away. 

He holds you like this, panting into your neck, his grip still tight, still evoking a sense of safety you won’t find anywhere else. Your drowsy eyelids flit, consider yourself well-spent, and the thought begins to sing a celebratory song in your chest—because all that hard work paid off. 

You’re no longer greedy; you’re gratified after the first round. 

Jungkook kisses the nape of your neck. “We should go before Bunny and Vinny start wondering where we are.” 

The song wraps around your heart, which dissolves at his words. Jungkook pulls himself out of you, but you swivel around and throw your arms around him, catching him off guard. His still erect and wet length brushes against your thigh—and the contact makes you quiver in his arms.

“I feel good,” you explain into his ear. “I don’t need more.” 

Jungkook chuckles. Wants to look at your face and he smooths your hair back, grinning at you. “I’m proud of you, princess, but look,” he says, glancing down. You follow his gaze down and perceive he’s talking about his private parts. “I’m still hard.” 

His cock twitches at his words and twitches once more at the sound of your giggles—happy, happy giggles because the stigma behind your neediness withers and completely disappears, never to be found again, only because Jungkook isn’t embarrassed or afraid to show you he needs more. Your chest becomes light, light enough that you think you grew a pair of wings to fly around the room with.

“Gym, Gguk. You have to hit the gym more often,” you joke, knowing his work out schedule transcends beyond the five days you spend at the place. 

The corner of his mouth curls as mischief twinkles in his eyes, divulging to you that he likes the way you challenge him. 

“Oh yeah?” he questions, lifting his arm, pulling back the oversized sleeve of his T-shirt to flex his biceps. Your cheeks heat up at the strong mountains that appear and your hand can’t help but to knead it. “These aren’t big enough for you, huh?” 

You scoff and shush him at the same time, leaning over to plant a singular kiss to his muscles. Jungkook uses the opportunity to hide you in his embrace and you both sputter into laughs and giggles. He pecks your hair, but something interrupts your sweet moment. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he says, pointing at the mirror, and you gasp when you turn around. 

An imprint of the side of your face is left behind on the reflection. Foundation, mascara and glitter amidst the little pearls and rivulets of your juices. You worry what you look like now if your make-up is smeared to this extent, but it soon is washed away from your mind when Jungkook crawls forward and makes a heart on the wetness of your slick. 

He takes a picture of it and then he cleans it off with his gym towel. The floor, too. 

At home, you fuck him hard for it. 

With his Taro boba in his arm, Vinny on his chest and Bunny in the crook of his other arm, you ride him until your thighs burn and he resembles the prettiest rose you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Having come more than enough on his cock, you jerk him off while you flick your tongue on his tip, and he moans, flushes and convulses until he spills all over your hand and his stomach. Ropes of him cum reach the plushies, too, as he can’t stop coming and, growing feignedly jealous, you swallow him, longing for him to drip down your throat. 

He comes so much that your belly is full and he’s as gratified as you were in the practice room. 

And after a quick shower, you both drift off to your brand new world unexpectedly, the events of the day having exhausted you enough that you fall asleep within the next heartbeat. Vinny and Bunny tumble on in the washing machine while you and Jungkook dance in the new paradise, having stepped into the role of parents having a date without the kids. No stress, no stigma—just the freedom of being loved right. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

BACK to masterlist

[toxicanonymity]

the downward spiral (one shot)

PAIRING: stepdad!Joel x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

WARNINGS: 18+ smut, stepcest, jealousy, possessive Joel. dubcon if you squint. Manhandling, Unsafe PIV, improvised toy, creampie. Brief allusion to Joel as your father figure. Hair can be pulled, can sit on Joel's lap.

NOTES: title is a nine inch nails album. reader has an apartment, but she's visiting for the holidays.

—---

In the kitchen, Joel listens to the coffee maker and checks the time. Leaning back against the counter, he opens his New York Times Games app. He’s contemplating what to start with in WORDLE. “CUTIE,” he types.  

A snapchat notification from you pops up, making him giddy. He adjusts his glasses, and his thumb hovers over the notification. If it’s erotic, he’d prefer to save it for a more private moment, but not now. He’s been waiting for you to wake up, and he’d rather see you first.  The inner battle furrows his brow, then he watches himself tap the notification. His face relaxes at the sight of you, and his cheeks warm with affection. The shot is pretty innocent, but there’s a look in your eye just for him. And your lips are parted. Ugh, your perfect mouth. 

“Merry xmas eve,” it says. 36 hours since he last touched you. 

A shadow moves on the stairs, and he looks up from his phone to see you watching him, biting your lip with a little smile. You clasp your fingers behind yourself and stretch, then finish descending the steps.   

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice greets you, then he clears his throat. He saves your picture to the chat, then slips his phone into the pocket of his gray sweats. He runs a hand through his hair, then braces his hands on the counter behind himself, leaning back as casually as he can, letting you know you’re in control. 

You take your time approaching, and his eyes lock with yours when you’re close enough for him to smell your shampoo. He takes a deep breath through his nose. You lift your arms to waist height as you close the gap between your bodies. You wrap your arms around his strong middle, and he exhales as warmth radiates from your chest. Your body presses gently into his. Warmth. Comfort. You’re made of joy. 

He hugs you loosely, and you rest your head on him. His chest vibrates with a low, satisfied, “Mm.” He presses the lightest kiss onto the crown of your head. 

“Mm,” you echo. 

His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, and his other hand rests lower on your back, fingers spread, rubbing a slow aimless pattern. You smell just as warm and cozy as you feel. Your hips push forward, making him flinch, but . Warmth rushes to his crotch, and you don’t pull away when it moves against you. He swallows, trying not to push back on you. 

“It’s ok,” you whisper. As he relaxes, his bulge nudges you, and there’s no mistaking his desire. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, 

“Don’t be,” you reply.  

God damn, you’re making this hard. 

The doorbell rings. “Prolly a delivery,” Joel mutters, and his thumb brushes behind your ear.   He savors every moment with you. 

A few seconds later, there’s a bunch of rustling around outside the front door. 

“Alright,” Joel grumbles. 

“Lotta packages out hea,” a Boston accent is heard through the door. Oh, great. It’s your neighbor down the street. The newly single one.  

You start to pull away. Joel’s chest begins to cave in, but the feeling is quickly muffled by irritation. “The fuck is he doin’ here?” Joel grumbles to himself, then accuses you, “That why you’re down here?”  With every muscle in his body tensing, he scratches the back of his neck. 

Your head tilts in disapproval. “Would you keep it together? Please?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“You sure? You good?” you ask. 

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and nods. 

“You’re doing good,” you reassure him, placing a hand on his chest. 

The doorbell rings again, and Joel’s nose twitches. “Get outta here,” he nods toward the stairs. “Now.”

“Chill, I’m going.” 

He waits for you to get all the way upstairs before answering the door. 

—

There’s Harold, crouched over, picking up one last package, trying not to spill his iced coffee in the process. He stands up straight and smiles with his bottom teeth, proud that he hasn’t dropped anything.  His navy, quarter-zip sweater is a little tight for his arms. “Happy holidays,” he says. 

Joel has one hand on the frame, and one holding the side of the door. His body blocks the entry.

They look at each other for a moment. Harold’s tired eyes fall on Joel’s gray sweatpants, tighter than they were ten minutes ago. With a friendly wink in his voice, he asks, “Catch ya at a bad time?” 

“Yeah,” Joel responds flatly. 

When Harold doesn’t leave, Joel bites the bullet and accepts the packages. 

“They were all out here,” Harold mutters as Joel takes them one by one. 

It would’ve been easier for Joel to bring them in himself rather than indulge this ridiculous balancing act. Joel rolls his eyes as he puts the packages down on the floor inside. As he stands up, he glances around and sees no sign of you. Good. He turns toward Harold and grips the side of the door again, ready to close it. 

Harold is standing there with a dumb smile and asks, “How ya doin’, man?”

“Not bad,” Joel forces, silently willing the neighbor to leave already. 

“Good, good,” Harold mutters to himself. “Me too,” he offers without Joel asking. “Well, ya know,” he adds with a defeated shrug. “All things considered.”  Right, his divorce. 

“Daughtah home?” Harold asks. 

As soon as Joel translates it to daughter, his nostrils flare. His blood pressure shoots up. His vision blurs, and his glasses do nothing. He’d like to kill this man. He takes a deep, calming breath and sizes him up in silence. Has he always been that tall? “Just ran into ya wife,” Harold gestures down the street with his thumb, bicep straining his sweater. “She said your daughter might wanna come to the–” 

“No,” Joel interrupts him. 

“New year’s party,” Harold mumbles. 

Joel unclenches his jaw long enough to say, “Kinda in the middle’a somethin’.” 

“Told ya wife I’d invite her,” Harold explains. “Only take a sec.” 

“She’s not dressed,” Joel blurts out. He stops short of clarifying that he’s not your father, either. He wants to be everything. He has to be every man you could ever need, and he cares less and less about who knows it. 

“Heh,” a faint blush rises to Harold’s face with a flash of his eyebrows. He rocks his plastic cup, making the half-melted ice jumble around. 

“bye, Harold,” Joel closes the door in his face, then watches through the window as this asshole walks down the driveway and raises his cup to a passing car. 

-

Joel steps back and cracks his neck in an unsuccessful attempt to release some tension, but it’s only getting worse. His whole body is wound up and ready to fight.   

He can't let you see him like this. He’s supposed to be keeping it together. 

He goes back to the kitchen and steadies his hand to pour half a cup of coffee. He holds the cup, watching the bubbles disappear. 

The bath turns on upstairs, and Joel groans inwardly at the \ urge to charge up the stairs and ravish you. He has a vision of you sitting on the side of the tub, nude. You reach back and dangle your fingers into the water to test the temperature. Every muscle in his body wants to bust through that door and take you. 

Another fantasy he’d never have the balls to act on. Right? 

He puts down his coffee and takes off his glasses, resting them face-up on the kitchen island. He eyes the stairs, then shakes his head at himself. His hands brace on the edge of the island and he straightens his arms, triceps stretching his white tee. Leaning forward, he hangs his head and closes his eyes, calming himself. He stands there and breathes for a minute. 

“Keep it together,” he whispers, but he can hardly hear himself over his inner caveman.

Kill. 

Breed. 

Kill. 

“Fuck,” he curses.

—-------

The water is loud enough that you don’t hear Joel’s heavy steps thudding up the stairs. When the door bursts open, you jump.  Your eyes widen as Joel shuts the door behind himself. He doesn’t look at you yet, despite your nakedness.  He braces one hand on the middle of the door and the other rests lightly on his hip. He looks down, still trying to conjure restraint. 

All you can say is, “Joel?”  

His muscular back flexes rhythmically under his slutty white tee as he catches his breath. After a few seconds, his head turns enough to look back at you. His eyes are dark. 

“Tell me to leave,” he commands, with his voice deep and breathy. 

Your lips part, but you say nothing. You scan his body, lingering on his pumped up muscles. 

He takes his hand off the door and turns to face you head on. His fingers twitch at his sides as his dark gaze roves your body. His head tilts forward, casting a shadow over his eyes as he looks at your face again. “Tell me to leave, honey.”  When you don’t show any sign of answering, he steps toward the bathtub, chest heaving. His brows knit and he slightly shakes his head.

You sit there captivated by his energy. The drum in your neck beats harder as he gets closer. Your chest bubbles with excitement. 

He looms over you, and you’re lifting your head up to look at him when his large hand seizes your arm and he pulls you to your feet. He wraps his other arm around you from behind and grabs between your legs. Grunting under the roar of the water, he manhandles you toward the double vanity. 

He gropes your breasts, still holding you by the pussy. He abruptly pulls you tighter against him and the hard bulge in his sweatpants makes you throb. 

After releasing your breasts, but not your pussy, he grabs your jaw and makes you look at him in the mirror. 

“Last chance, sweetheart,” he murmurs in your ear.  

You answer, “Do it or leave.”

He releases your jaw.  “Uggh,” he groans in painful desire. Emboldened by your encouragement, he slowly slides his flattened fingers along your slit, finding you wet.  “This is mine.” his stiffening cock nudges you through his sweatpants. When you don’t reply, his voice gets firmer. “Say it.”

“It’s yours. I’m yours.” 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

He bends you over the counterspace between your sinks. A sweep of your forearm sends an unplugged hair dryer, a bottle of lotion, and God knows what else into the sink you barely use. 

Meanwhile, Joel has pulled down his sweats. He holds his hard cock, and his rocks onto the balls of his feet and back. He places a hand on your lower back. You tilt your hips as he lines himself up. His tip nudges into the right spot, pushing at your dripping hole. Then he grabs your hips and shoves into you with a sigh.  You grunt at the sweet burn of his sudden intrusion. 

“Yeah,” he breathes. “gotta take it.” 

He only waits a second before withdrawing all but the tip, then slamming into you harder. He withdraws again. A bruising grip on your hips pulls you back as he slides into you, easier.  

The grip of his hands eases up as he buries his cock in you faster. He opts to hold you down. With your breasts smashed against the marble, he grunts as he fucks it all out on you. Your insides bloom with arousal, gripping his cock, pulling at him for more, deeper. Your heart tingles with exhilaration. 

His soft affection is a memory. A wild passion possesses him instead, evident with each thrust and grunt. This primal need has him desperate to own you from the inside out. 

“Ughh,” he groans, snapping his hips. 

You twitch and moan, muffled by the loud water. 

He grunts at the sound and fucks you harder. 

He needs to pour all of him in there. You have to be his. 

He slows down only to wrap a hand around your hair. His firm grip makes your scalp tingle. “Look at me,” he pants. As he begins to lift his fist, you push yourself up on your forearm and look up at the mirror with your breath fogging it. He drops your hair and pulls your upper body closer to his so you can see. 

You brace hands on the counter and marvel at this spellbound wreck of yourself.  Your movements aren’t your own. You’re controlled only by the rhythm of his cock and his hands. They make you feel small.  

 “Me,” he commands, and your eyes snap to him.

It’s the face of a man possessed. His eyes are wild and demanding. He grits his teeth. His neck vein bulges. His hair bounces with each unforgiving thrust. His hips move with a purpose -  deeper. More. More of you. His. Fuck. 

It’s the first time you've met his wild man. You've seen glimpses in the way he lashes out in jealousy. And his intensity has always been evident. But you didn't imagine a whole feral form of him. The way his veins bulge, the power of his body. You never fully noticed the build of his chest or how a v muscle cuts through his tanline. This has all been there, all along.  Every time he’s snapped at you, it's been this guy. 

“fuck, Joel,” you breathe. 

His mouth falls open with a silent moan. About to cum, he grabs your electric toothbrush and races to turn it on. He presses the smooth barrel of your toothbrush against you, with the bottom nearly touching his cock. Your lips part, and your eyelids fall. 

He bottoms out hard, and his shaft twitches against your snug insides as you’re vibrated from the outside. He twitches bigger, harder, and sighs with relief as his seed spills into you. A moment later, another burst, and the warmth spreads in your depths. 

He turns the vibration up. “Give it to me,” he demands. “C’mon, baby. It’s mine.” He holds you tight with another deep thrust. 

A massive throb of his cock sends you over the edge and releases another long rope. The climax seizes you, making you arch your back, grinding against the vibration. “I got ya,” he breathes, then moans with another shot of cum. Your nipples peak. A second later, your spasming pussy squeezes another burst out of him. 

There’s more, and more, until warmth is trickling down your inner thigh and his arms are relaxing around you as you finish. When your body relaxes, he turns off the toothbrush and rolls it onto the counter unceremoniously.  

-

As you catch your breath, Joel hugs you from behind, and his eyes soften. He buries his mouth in your neck, then kisses you on the head and glances at the mirror with a puppy dog look, with a gentle thrust deeper, making you spasm. 

He growls quietly.  God, he’s hot. 

“You okay?” He whispers above your ear. 

“Yeah,” you smile, looking down and tracing his knuckles. 

The bathwater is almost overflowing. Joel slides out of you and pulls up his sweatpants. Cum trickles all the way down your leg to the tile floor. Always such a mess. With a softening tent in his pants he goes and turns the water off, then checks the temp. He reaches in to unplug the drain and lower the water level, then asks, “that good?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sits on the edge of the garden tub, scratching one side of his scruff and manspreading as you approach.

“Hey. C’mere,” he says softly. 

You stand between his legs completely naked, and he runs his hands down your sides, then pulls you into his lap, helping you straddle him.  

“Sure you're good?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you reassure him. “That was amazing.”

He holds you in his arms, then adjusts your weight so his bulge is against your crotch, and your breath hitches. You’ve only come once. You could go for more, but it's not smart. 

He buries his head in your chest, then looks up, and pulls you down for a kiss that starts soft. His tongue parts your lips then he's trying to drink you in.  He pulls you tighter, kissing you hard, grinding you on him in a way that could have you quickly lose control. You're leaking all over him. 

Your lips break away. You cup his cheek, give him a peck, and he asks, “too much?” 

You nod and whisper, “we’re playing with fire.” 

He lets you out of his lap, then holds out his hand and you use it for balance to get into the tub. 

Your voices are hushed. “You want a bath bomb or somethin’?”

“You know about bath bombs?” You tease him. 

“Eucalyptus all the way,” he answers, then crouches down to an under-sink cabinet. 

“Linen closet,” you redirect him. 

He picks a rose one and fumbles with the wrapping until he comes back and drops it in. He sits on the side of the tub and his thumb brushes your forehead. 

“You should go,” you gently urge him. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, and leans down for a last kiss. “Can I get ya anything else?” 

You shake your head no.

“silicone Joel's water resistant,”  he offers, pointing back toward your bedroom. 

You crack a smile and tell him, “Get outta here. Now.”

------

THANK YOU FOR READING

[cuteandhughesy]

Baby Please Come Home╰┈➤ VD29

summary: you used to have a crush on your best friends older brother even though you’re pretty sure he wasn’t that fond of you—that is until he breaks your heart after he kisses you during a game of spin the bottle. years later, when your parents flight gets canceled while they’re away on holiday, you are graciously invited to spend the christmas holiday with your best friends family - vince and his sour attitude included.

[word count] 20.5k

warnings: NSFW! enemies to lovers | slow burn| best friends older brother | angst | rude!vince | alcohol | mature themes | kissing | smut | thigh riding | grinding | unprotected!p in v intercourse | read at your own discretion!

a/n: the beginning of cute and hughesy’s christmas special! hope you enjoy the first week 🎄

🎵christmas (baby please come home) by mariah carey, crush by ethel cain, please come home for christmas by the eagles, fool for you by zayn, christmas tree farm by taylor swift, winter wonderland by Aretha franklin, white xmas by sabrina carpenter, christmas love by justin bieber, + two things by kelsea ballerini

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

2014: freshman year of highschool

the noises around you are distracting - a mixture of loud laughter and singing, combined with the bass riddled music vibrating through your bones on top of the various conversations happening around you.

you eye the mingling crowd around you, watching as teenagers older than you easily chat to one another. they don't look worried or anxious - they look nothing like you're feeling.

"I didn't think they still played games like this in highschool." you best friend sammy says into your ear, her tone hushed as to not attract attention to either of you.

"me either." you admit gently. "but clearly they do."

she huffs, crossing her arms over her red top. sammy has been your best friend since the first grade when her mom and dad moved their family down the street from yours. obviously you both attended the same small town school, and since then you two have been inseparable.

sammy has always been the type of girl that everyone loves. she's the sweetest soul you've ever known, but she's not afraid to stand up for herself and tell somebody off if they need to hear it. not only does she have the most amazing personality, but she's ungodly beautiful. with her thick and shiny dark hair, as well as her naturally tinted lips, and long lashes framing her large, green eyes - she's ethereal.

ever since the two of you started your freshman year of high school four short months ago, she has been getting lots of attention, especially from the senior boys. to be ultra specific, the high school hockey team in particular was the most fond of sammy - regardless of how she was related to the assistant captain.

much to sammy's older brother vince's dismay, the hockey team had invited sammy to this party that the two of you were currently at. you weren't technically extended an invitation, but sammy would've never gone to her first high school party without you - so here you both are.

you don't know what you were expecting at a high school party. sure, the alcohol and weed was something that was a given, but sitting on the floor with various hockey players and senior girls while you all took turns spinning a bottle - well that was surprising.

the game of spin the bottle happening in front of you was definitely the cause of your growing nerves. because not only did you have to spin the bottle and kiss whoever it landed on - but you and sammy were informed you'd be spending '7 minutes in heaven' with said person, where the kiss would actually take place, rather than infront of everyone.

so that had your nerves dampening slightly - but the kissing part of it all was still having you feeling anxious - the mere fact that you haven't had your first kiss yet was the main contributor.

"do you think jake and I will end up in the closet?" sammy giggles softly, her eyes drifting to the other side of the circle where jake matthews is chatting with vince, leisurely sipping his beer - paying no mind to the game happening right in front of him.

you shrug, your eyes also trained in their direction. "well if he spins and It lands of you - those are the rules right?"

sammy then starts to get giddy like she usually does when thinking and talking about jake matthews and she immediately starts whispering to you about how he's her future husband and how much she's in love with him.

at the same time, as if he can feel your stare from the other side of the circle, vince's eyes flicker to yours. thankfully his conversation with jake doesn't stop because jake is the one who's doing most of the talking, so nobody takes notice to the way vince is looking at you.

sammy's words are falling on deaf ears unbeknownst to her - the gaze you are locked in with her brother has completely captivated your attention.

like usual vince doesn't smile or acknowledge you in any way, he just keeps his eyes on you, almost as if he was assessing you through the strangers dimly lit living room.

you squint at him accusingly - as if to ask what's his deal. you're not expecting any type of response because you've never gotten one from vince in regards to his grumpy persona - the grumpy persona he seems to only have around you.

"are you listening?" sammy elbows you in the side. your black knitted sweater provides no cushion as her elbow smacks against your ribs, and it effectively has you breaking eye contact with vince.

"what?" you hiss, rubbing your side.

"it's your turn." sammy's eyes widen and her gaze frantically switches between you and the empty beer bottle sitting in the middle of the carpet.

you can feel your face pale and heat up all at the same time. it shouldn't be as big of a deal as you feel it is - but you can't help your mind and heart from racing, your blood pumping loudly through your ears.

almost everyone in the circle was looking in your direction, waiting for you to take your turn.

"right." clearing your throat, you push up off your butt and do an awkward crawl combined with a reach to grab ahold of the empty bottle.

you give it a good spin, watching it swivel with momentum on top of the fuzzy textured rug. you move back into your seated position, not once taking your eyes of the direction of the spinning glass.

it slows and only makes it around one more complete circle before stopping. when sammy gasps quietly and the group all wolf whistles around you, your nerves max out. you don't want to look up and find who your spin has landed on - you're scared to see who it landed on and the reaction around you wasn't helping.

reluctantly you follow the direction of the bottles neck, looking upwards until you are met with the familiar green eyed gaze of your best friends older brother.

your face falls in shock - mimicking the expression on vince's face who too looks very unimpressed with the outcome of your bottle spin.

you attempt to spin again, asking if it was possible with these seemingly strict rules set by the hockey team - but no. much to your and vince's dismay nothing works and you're both ushered into one of the empty bedrooms for your required '7 minutes in heaven.'

the door clicks shut behind you, and your nerves have you feeling slightly wobbly and lightheaded. this wasn't the situation you were expecting tonight and you certainly weren't prepared to spend 7 minutes in heaven with your best friends older brother.

but vince doesn't seem to be too bothered with the situation now that he's in the room, his earlier shocked expression faded away. vince sits down before he flips backwards onto the perfectly made bed, closing his eyes and loudly exhaling.

you knaw on your lip, trying to think of something to say. he's clearly annoyed with this whole situation, because he seems to always be annoyed with you - you swear you could polish his shoes and cook him his favourite meal and he'd still give you that dead stare.

in a desperate attempt to try and ease the thick tension that's everlasting between you (even though you've never had a clue as to why), you move towards vince and nudge your foot against his.

one eye opens as he peeks up at you, a questioning raise to his eyebrow. he doesn't say anything, and he doesn't move - his foot still touching yours.

"i'm sorry," you start, "I should've tried harder to convince everyone to let me spin again. i've never been to a party before though and I didn't want to upset anyone - especially because I wasn't technically invited and only came because sammy wanted me to."

vince still doesn't say anything. he pushes up with his elbows, back into his original sitting position at the end of the bed. he looks up at you blankly, and like usual he's not giving away any of his emotions.

the position has you feeling awkward - you looking down at vince while he silently and lazily blinks up at you. you wring your hands out and take a seat beside him, the mattress dipping until you're sliding into his torso.

your nervous ramble continues. "although maybe I should be happy the bottle landed on you instead of some other asshole who probably would've started groping me by now - like how embarrassing would it have been turning down evan russell because I haven't even had my first kiss yet, never mind hooking up-"

"you've never been kissed?" vince interrupts you.

you heat up, a bright pink hue covering your cheeks and up to the tips of your jewelry decorated ears. "no...and obviously these lips won't be touching evan russell's anytime soon. at least not until I can properly and confidently go into a situation like this-" you gesture between the two of you wildly "-without my stomach falling down to my feet."

vince hums quietly to himself, and his eyes dance over your face slowly - analyzing you. "you talk way too much."

your head snaps completely over in his direction, and your eyebrows pull together in irritation. "excuse you. I don't talk too much, what are you even saying right now-"

vince kisses you.

he confidently pulls you closer towards him with a guiding hand on the back of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair in a way that gives you goosebumps. his lips are soft and taste like cheap beer, but the way he licks onto your bottom lip expertly has you completely captivated and not even the reality of the situation could snap you out of it.

vince kisses softer than you expected - a complete contrast to his hard exterior. the way his lips move against yours is almost comforting and relaxing and although you have absolutely nothing to compare it to - it feels good.

you breathe shakily against him, the unexpected pleasure from a simple kiss taking you by surprise.

the door opens and you both jump apart. vince immediately gets off the bed and walks out the room, brushing past a few of the guys from the hockey team - mumbling something to them you don't catch. vince doesn't spare you a second glance as he leaves, and that has you feeling very uncertain and confused.

you get up, ignoring the guys snickering and eyes as you walk down the hallway and back into the main area of the house. even though you'd technically been caught making out with vince, nobody had seemingly saw anything that proves it and by the bored look on everyone's faces from sitting through another 7 minutes of waiting around, they don't suspect anything.

you return to the circle, taking your original seat beside sammy, she instantly turns to you with her eyes blow wide. "are you okay? did anything happen?"

you can only pray your best friend doesn't notice your rose tinted cheeks or puffy lips - incriminating evidence that contradicts your shaking head. "no. nothing happened."

sammy laughs with relief for you. "thank god - my brother is so disgusting."

"yeah." you laugh softly.

the rest of the night, vince doesn't meet your gaze.

it has you feeling very icky and....confused. is this a usual occurrence after making out with somebody you've known your whole life? was vince kissing and not following up with any sort of interaction a normal thing for him?

so hours later, way after vince's mom had picked you all up from the party and brought you back to the dunn house (vince had hockey practice early, of course), you were determined to figure out what the hell happened in that bedroom and what it meant.

getting out of the creaky bed, you sneak out of sammy's room, leaving her and her loud snoring behind in favour of quietly making your way down the upstairs hallways - down towards closed door of vince's bedroom.

you knock once - quietly - on his door, praying that he's not yet gone to sleep and he heard your knock.

thankfully, vince answers. the door opens just a crack, his brows pulled together in confusion as he catches sight of your familiar stature through the gap - his face falls.

he pulls open the door fully, revealing his shirtless torso and pyjama pants that sat dangerously low on his chiseled hips. momentarily you're distracted. you can't help it - your teenage hormones are out of whack after that toe curling first kiss.

"what?" he huffs, crossing his arms.

you mimic his actions subconsciously. "are you going to talk to me after that?"

his brows raise questionably. "after....?"

"after you kissed me, vince."

he hums. "right, the kiss - why would I want to talk about it?"

you shrug, exasperated. "maybe because you and I have never done that before - I've never done that before."

"and?" he's looking at you expectantly.

"and," you huff, "I don't know what it means."

his face changes into something you can't decipher - maybe guilt, or possibly anger. it could even be a new version of his usual bored expression - you're not sure. vince exhales, and his arms uncross in favour of running a hand through his messy curly hair.

he meets your unsure eyes. "it means nothing, y/n. you're my little sisters best friend, okay? nothing will ever happen between us. and I know it was your first kiss or whatever, but it wasn't mine. I only kissed you so you'd stop talking, so don't be weird or annoying about it 'cause it's going to piss me off."

vince's words have you taking a visible step back, your face pulling uncomfortably as embarrassment crawls up your chest.

even though vince has never been your biggest fan, you've always liked him. there was something about vince that always has you feeling drawn in, and you always find yourself spotting him in a crowd or looking for him in a room full of others.

he was your first real crush and ever since you met him back when you were 8 and vince was turning 11, you've found yourself completely smitten with him - regardless of his grumpy and rude attitude directed towards you.

so hearing those words hurt. because after the kiss - a kiss that he initiated- you thought there could've been a small possibility that he changed his opinion of you...that he liked you back.

but clearly not.

"it doesn't matter what I do because it will piss you off regardless." you spit out, looking at him with a completely different view than you ever have before.

all vince does is roll his eyes - and that is the final nail in your coffin.

you should've given up on trying to crack vince dunn a long time ago, but the way he turned such an amazing first experience for you into a heartbreaking story is something you'll never forget- vince will forever be apart of you, no matter how badly you try to change it.

"are you done throwing a hissy fit now? i'm tired."

"yeah," you send him a sarcastic smile, the anger towards him and the situation practically vibrating off you, "i'm done."

you walk away, back down the hall in the direction of sammy's room. from this day forward, you vow to yourself to never treat vince with any less disrespect than he shows you.

you will never like vince dunn again.

christmas: 2024, december 21st

"are you guys serious right now?"

"yes honey, there's nothing we can do." your moms burnt skin is practically blinding you through the facetime video, and you can hear her beaded braids clicking against one another as he peeks over your dads shoulder.

through the phone, your dad sends you a guilty look. "because of the island's location, they only have flights once a week and due to the storm down here all flights have been cancelled for today and won’t make it out until next week."

you make a disgruntled noise, "but that will be after christmas. so i'm just supposed to spend christmas alone? - my first christmas since evan dumped me, let's not forget that mom and dad."

"i'm sorry dolly," your mom pouts, "we are upset about it too."

"yeah well at least you get to be together and spend time on a tropical island. i'm stuck in a constant freezing temperature by myself."

"don't make us feel bad honey." your dad scolds gently. it's a reminder that it's not your parents fault for their flight getting cancelled regardless of how upset you are.

you're still a little salty towards them for not bringing you on their vacation so close to christmas though, so you're allowed to feel a little annoyed.

you sigh gently, "I know i'm sorry, this just sucks." your eyes drift past your phone, finding the twinkling lights of your childhood christmas tree. your mom insists on having all the shitty ornaments you made when you were a kid still on the tree, accompanied by twinkling red and green lights that she's had since before you were born. the angel on top is missing a wing and the tree skirt is ripped but you wouldn't change it for the world.

another wave of sadness hits you as the reality sets in - you're about to be alone on christmas.

"I know - ah crap my phones about to die." your dad curses, and through the screen you watch him attempting to get rid of the low battery notification.

your mom rolls her eyes at your dads antics before she looks back at you through your phone. "we love you honey, we're sorry."

"I love you guys too."

"keep in touch, okay."

you give your parents a small smile, resting your cheek against your palm. "I will."

your parents hang up - you're not sure if it was them pressing the button or if your dads phone died, but your screen returns to normal as your mom and dads faces disappear.

you sigh gently. the house feels more empty than it did when you answered the call, knowing that you'll now be alone in it until after the holiday season is just...depressing. if this was any other year you would've invited your boyfriend over for the holiday, or perhaps you would've stayed with him and his family - but evan russell broke up with you four months ago after your college graduation.

dating one of the guys on the senior boys hockey team in high school was one of those things you weren't expecting to happen, but it just weirdly did and it worked. you two started seeing one another not long after that party where you and vince kissed - which still sends your blood boiling, by the way. evan has asked you out one day after class, and dating one of his friends pissed vince off even more.

you and evan dated for years - all through high school and college. but two weeks after your graduation, he called it off and said he needed to explore being himself and wished you well. although the breakup hurt and felt very unexpected, you respected evan and wanted what was best for him. that was until a week after the breakup you saw him posting pictures with his new girlfriend - and the respect vanished.

you open your text thread with sammy and click on the camera icon. you take a picture of yourself pouting in front of the christmas tree, looking very alone and very sad in your elf pyjamas.

y/n

these are my new christmas plans

sammy

what? wearing pyjamas still at 3 in the afternoon ?

y/n

no.

y/n

being alone on christmas. my parents flight got canceled and because the island is super remote they can't get another flight in until boxing day

y/n

so leave me and my christmas jammys alone

sammy

I love your jammys

sammy

but WHAT omg - you're not spending christmas alone

y/n

nothing I can do about it sammy

immediately after she reads the text, you get an incoming facetime call from sammy - the picture of her when she was 15 with spaghetti sauce all over her face you saved as her contact photo flashing on the screen.

you slide the answer bar, already expecting the brazen look she'll be sporting. but oddly enough, she's got an unsettling smirk on her face and you're immediately groaning. "why are you looking like you're planning on kidnapping me?"

"because I'm going to kidnap you," sammy laughs, and through the camera you watch as she sits up into a more straight position on the family couch. "mom says get over here."

just then tracy dunn pops over her daughters shoulder. she's got her apron on and you can spot the explosions of flour on the christmas cover up - she's clearly been starting early on her holiday baking. tracy gives you a stern look, "y/n honey you're not spending christmas alone - especially when you have family right here in this house. pack a bag and one of us will come get you."

in your junior year of high school sammy and the dunn family moved. thankfully, they stayed in your small southern ontario town, but instead of living two houses down from you and your family, they became a twenty minute drive away.

the garland in the doorway above sammy's head twinkles, and another pang of christmas blues hits you. a warm and inviting home with some of your favourite people was something you definitely couldn't pass up.

you eye sammy and her mom and a smile begins to grow at your lips. "okay, I'll put some stuff together for a few days."

"you're staying until your parents get back - sammy said boxing day, right?"

sammy's such a little snitch, you think. to prove your point, your best friend sends you a triumphant smile through the phone.

"yes but I don't want to oppose-"

"that's ridiculous," tracy interrupts, "you could never. sammy hang up the phone and stop distracting her, she needs to pack."

"alright." sammy moves the phone so that only she's in view, that cheeky smile still on her face. "you better go."

you nod, "if you think i'm changing out of these pyjamas though you'd be wrong."

she laughs, "i'll see you soon."

"see you soon, sammy."

she hangs up and you're immediately pushing off the couch. you pack your things as quickly as you can, gathering a weeks worth of clothes, toiletries and your favourite one direction pillow - you figure if you forget anything you can just steal sammy's.

just as you've double checked everything unnecessary is unplugged from any of the outlets, a horn honks outside - two quick beeps that alert you. you peek out the front window and see sammy's blue toyota idling in your driveway.

you grab your bag, pillow and your house keys before slipping on your winter gear over your movie themed pyjamas - the bottoms bulking up around your boots in a way that makes you look wildly non put together.

you walk wearily through the icy snow coating your driveway. you've never been good at removing snow, and you honestly should've left it and not attempted to shovel the driveway - because now you're walking on uneven, slippery, half completed snow piles.

you get in the car quickly, rubbing your hands together to create some friction - attempting to warm up your already freezing fingers. you pause to shut the car door, as well as buckle your seat belt over your puffy jacket.

the car is pulling out of your driveway before you can even fathom your surroundings. sammy has always been a nervous driver, especially in the winter, so her speedy take off has you frowning in confusion.

as you finally look towards the driver's side of the car, your face falls and suddenly the driving style makes sense.

vince eyes you quickly before finding the snow covered street again. "nice pyjamas."

"what are you doing here?"

"what am I doing here?" he repeats your question with a stupid smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he uses one hand to turn onto the main road. "i'm picking you up."

"no I mean what are you doing back home?"

vince shoots you an inquisitive glance. "you kind of just answered the question - it's my home."

"no," you correct, "seattle is your home."

"you keeping tabs on me, y/n?" he's clearly trying to get a rise out of you and you know him too well for that tone to fly under your radar. since that dreaded kiss between you both in high school, vince's attitude towards you changed - well, sort of. instead of the quite and bored attitude vince had for you, it has turned into something more mocking and insulting where he seemed to go out of his way to annoy you and push your buttons.

but you vowed to not give him the satisfaction of your ignorance and just ignore him - absolutely not. so you made sure you were just as petty and reciprocated every comment, action and insult. "I don't have to keep tabs on you to know you've been in seattle for a few years vincent - did you get injured again? is that why you're here?"

he tongues his cheek, rolling his eyes at your jab. "no, my schedule worked out so I can be home until boxing day."

your eyes widen, "so you'll be here the entire week?"

"don't sound too excited." vince breathes out a laugh, eyes flickering to yours again. "or I'll start to think you like my company."

"like is a very strong word." you sigh irritatedly and cross your arms. your coat makes that awkward friction noise, and all that does is further your annoyance. you turn your head to watch through the window - the sights of snow covered branches glistening in the sun, combined with the glowing lights of christmas light up the dimming sky.

you hear vince move after he makes the turn off the highway, and the sound of some shitty country song gets louder over the cars speakers. vince has always loved country, which has obviously ruined any kind of country song for you - you pray for a day when you can listen to old taylor swift without thinking of vince dunn.

the loud music has you huffing and you break your silent treatment in favour of turning down the radio - blanketing the inside of the toyota in silence.

vince shoots you an unamused look and before he has a chance to speak, or worse, turn the song back on, you interrupt him. "it's christmas, at least play something festive if I have to be trapped in this car with you for another 10 minutes."

"by all means, go ahead and get out of the car. i'll even slow down a bit so you don't hurt yourself too bad jumping out." he gestures to the car door beside you, his eyes darting quickly between you, the road, and the door.

"oh wow and here I thought you enjoyed being in here with me - I'm hurt, vincent, really." you hold your heart for a petty affect, pouting sarcastically over at him.

he laughs, a deep grumbling noise that has your smile faltering slightly. "oh please it's not like i'm here voluntarily-"

"that's a big word - who taught you that one?" you interrupt him, furthering your closed off position by crossing your pyjama covered legs. you merely miss the dial on the radio with your foot, and your anklet slides up your calf awkwardly.

the new position has your pant leg shifting so your leg is somewhat exposed. you feel momentarily embarrassed at the sight of your pale and prickly leg and instantly have the urge to change your seating position. but you don't, because you don't want vince to think you're uncomfortable- you can't give him that sort of satisfaction.

"nobody else could pick you up. that's why I'm here." vince continues right from where he left off, before you interrupted him about his 5th grade vocabulary.

you had already assumed that was the reason for vince's suprise arrival. with tracy always elbow deep in baking this time of year, john working the late shift this week and sammy's hectic winter driving - vince was the only option (even though you didn't know he was an option until he showed up - you figured he'd be in seattle like every other year).

"well If I knew that I would've stayed home." you huff.

vince eyes your boot covered foot as you anxiously shake it - with every jump it almost hits the volume dial. he mimics your deep sigh and rolls his eyes. "I wish you would've."

you don't say anything and keep your eyes trained through the front windshield. as dinner time approaches, the streets are starting to become enveloped in darkness, leaving you with that blue christmas light longing.

you can feel vince's gaze switching between the side of your face and the road, and you know it's only a matter of seconds before he spews some more nonsense that will leave you wanting to actually throw yourself out the car.

like predicted, vince starts to speak again, his unfortunately familiar voice filling the quiet rumble in the car. "how come you're not spending christmas with evan anyways? I saw that he was back home."

your head snaps in vince's direction so quickly you think there's a high possibility you've given yourself whiplash. you attempt to read his expression- trying to figure out if he was egging you on with bringing up your failed relationship or if he actually didn't know.

you decide it's the latter based on the way vince isn't even looking at you while he waits for a response, and his eyebrows are pulled together as he focuses on driving through the deep snow - he’s not watching you for a reaction.

you clear your throat quietly and look back to the road. "spending the holidays with my ex and his new girlfriend would've been a bit awkward, don't you think?"

he looks at you quickly, an unreadable expression on his flushed face . "I didn't know."

"why would you know? it's not like you would've asked about me for anything besides trying to benefit yourself."

you don't give him the opportunity to say anything else and you reach over yourself to turn the volume back up. to your surprise, vince has christmas music in his playlist and the familiar melody of michael buble fills the car.

the rest of the car ride neither you or vince say anything and choose to stew in the slightly awkward silence - the awkwardness being from the bombshell you've just dropped that you're no longer dating his friend from high school. thankfully he doesn't turn off the music like you'd done to him earlier, and the songs provide a comfortable white noise over everything else.

once vince pulls the car into his families driveway, you're immediately jumping out, grabbing your bag and pillow you'd left at your feet and booking it up the small set of stairs and into the cinnamon scented home.

you spot sammy who is still lounging in the same spot that she was in when you answered her call 30 minutes ago.

she meets your eyes and sends you a mix of a guilty and sympathetic smile, as if she was apologizing for the pain she knew you would've endured with vince picking you up without warning.

"you dick." you huff towards her. "no warning or anything?" your words have no bite as you're plopping yourself between the back of the couch cushions and sammy, cuddling into your best friends side.

she laughs, "If I told you, you wouldn't of gotten in the car."

you shrug. "would that have been so bad?"

sammy scoffs, "yes because we need you here with us for christmas."

you emit a grumbling noise and tuck your face further into your best friends side. sammy laughs again, patting your head sympathetically.

sammy has never been bothered by your ongoing battle with her older brother. in the beginning, she was just as confused as you were about his seemingly unwarranted negative attitude and sammy would often try and change his mind about you. but as the years went on and you and vince got more heated, she just accepted the fate and chose to be blissfully ignorant towards any negative situation or argument that brews between you.

vince walks through the front door with you purse clutched in his hands - you must've forgotten it in your rush to leave the tension stewing in the car.

he shoots you an unimpressed look and tosses the bag near your outstretched socked feet. you have the tiniest urge to pick up your purse and throw it back right in his face, but your contemplation is halted as tracy enters the warmly lit living room, a matching smile on her face.

"you guys hungry?"

you look away from vince and his condescending smirk - like he could read your thoughts - and force a smile.

"starving." sammy jumps away from you and off the couch, her sock feet bounding around the corner and down towards the kitchen nook.

your cheek hits the cushion, smooshing your face into the fabricated sofa. vince snickers from where he's lounging on the lazy boy, and you're pretty sure his snickering is directed at you and your awkward pose.

you sigh, pushing off the couch with the palms of your hands until you can manoeuvre back onto your feet. you tug down the hem of your pyjamas top, pulling it back into a more appropriate position from where it had risen up.

you follow in your friends footsteps and make the short journey down the wide hallway until you reach the large archway entrance of the cosy kitchen. the sight before you is memorizing, and you pause to look around. tracy had completely decorated the kitchen for the holidays - faux trees and garland lining the countertops, along with red plaid hand towels and table cloth. ribbons, dried orange garland, and the scent of gingerbread are all apart of making the kitchen feel like the warmest, comforting, festive space.

"looks amazing tracy." you say, your eyes still walking throughout the room. "like seriously."

tracy smiles, adding another platter to the just as festive kitchen table - it looks like perfectly crispy bite sized potatoes and your mouth is already watering. since you're parents have been gone on vacation you've only been eating take out or frozen meals. you've never been a good cook - one time in college you almost set your microwave ablaze trying to heat up some pizza...you still don't know how that happened.

you hear vince's footsteps approaching behind you. he must've not been paying attention, because he runs right into the back of you, sending you stumbling a few steps forward.

you spin to face him, already feeling the irritated pull on your face.

vince huffs like you're the one who ran into him - which makes you want to knee him - and pockets his phone. clearly, you were right and he wasn't looking where he was going.

"vince," sammy's teasing voice calls from the stove, where she is dipping her fingers into the squash soup and sucking the creamy vegetable liquid off them. "better get out from underneath the mistletoe or else you'll have to kiss her."

her eyes gesture between her brother and you.

much to your dismay, there is some mistletoe delicately hung onto the archway above vince.

vince raises his eyebrow in question, but his face stays flat, not giving away any thoughts or emotions.

you turn away and finally walk further into the kitchen, immediately offering help to tracy with setting the table. after all, it's the least you could do after she invited you to stay with her and her family until christmas- plus it's gets you away from vince and his punchable face.

john gets home a few minutes later, greeting you all warmly. he doesn't even seem shocked by your presence in his home, and when you tell him you'll be staying for a few days - he's not at all fazed.

thankfully dinner doesn't leave space for you and vince to get into any type of tiff. you're too busy catching up with the rest of the dunn family to even look in vince's direction, which means you remain with an appetite for the entirety of dinner.

"oh!" tracy exclaims, jumping off her chair to gather a small jar set aside on the counter. it's ceramic and red, shaped like a gift. "I almost forgot, we have to pull the names for secret santa - and y/n honey don't worry i've slipped your name in here."

"oh, you didn't need to do that." you breathe, watching tracy take off the lid of the jar.

she dismisses you with a wave of her hand like she always does - a true mother like fashion. tracy makes her husband go first, and john digs around the pieces of paper for a few seconds for dramatic affect - tracy tuts her tongue at his antics.

john emerges with one slip, taking a sneaky peek at the name he pulled out. he groans playfully, thumping his palm against his forehead jokingly. it makes you and everyone else laugh, which was obviously johns goal because he snaps out of character to join in.

soon enough it's your turn and you take one of the only remaining pieces of paper. nobody has pulled their own name yet, so you're praying you keep that streak going so it doesn't have to start all over again.

you pull sammy - her full name written in bold black ink across the rectangle piece of paper. you celebrate internally, always happy to buy things for your best friend.

vince goes next, and he reaches into the almost empty present shaped jar. from your turn you know there's only one remaining name to be picked, so there's no shuffling around for the name. vince pulls out and reads his name. immediately his eyes flicker towards his sister.

sammy gasps, pointing to him like she has it all figured out. "you so have me."

tracy scolds her, "don't guess samatha, you're going to ruin it."

"he looked at me," sammy defends herself, "not my fault he can't keep a secret."

vince smirks, "you're so easily gullible."

"enough you two." tracy scolds gently, looking between her two children quickly. "or i'll make you pick new names."

you know for a fact that vince didn't pull sammy's name because you did, so you're a bit confused at what's he's trying to accomplish here. if you try and think of an answer you'll just be more annoyed with vince, so you you disregard his behaviour.

you tuck the slip of paper between your phone and the case, keeping it close and away from samantha nosy and wondering eyes.

soon enough you're all getting ready for bed, and even though there's one bathroom upstairs between vince and sammy - you thankfully don't run into him while brushing your teeth or washing your face.

you slip into bed beside sammy who's already snoring away - you swear she's the heaviest sleeper who will always fall asleep immediately- and turn off her beside lamp.

being in this house is so comforting and familiar and it's soothing the longing ache you'd felt earlier when your parents broke the news to you regarding not coming home for christmas. you're so thankful for your best friend and her parents for immediately offering you a seat in their home for the holidays - especially considering holiday was time reserved for family.

the only thing that keeps you from falling into a quick sleep was the lingering thought of vince. you can't stop replaying your conversations from today and all his snarky, petty comments and arguments and the way he looks down at you as if you were nothing to him.

you think you'll continue to try and keep yourself in control and try your absolute hardest in not letting your irritation get the better of you and lash out at vince - especially infront of tracy and john. you don't think they'll appreciate you and their son arguing after they invited you into their home.

december 22nd

the dunn's have always had a real christmas tree. when you were younger you used to beg your parents to get rid of the plastic one they'd had for 20 years and to take you to a christmas tree farm and pick out a real one.

but you never got one because your parents didn't want to deal with the mess, so you lived vicariously through sammy and her families real tree. sure, it was messy and you had to take care of it, but the smell of fresh pine made it all worth it.

yesterday when you arrived at the house you were too overwhelmed with the news about your parents and vince's suprise arrival you didn't notice the lack of that christmas tree smell you’d grown so accustomed to.

"well, we had to wait for vince to get home. once he told us he was going to be here for a few days, I thought it be better to wait and that way it would be like when you were both little - when we'd pick out a tree together." tracy smiles warmly, her hand clutched to her chest as she reminisced when her kids were younger, running through the tree farms.

"you're insane, mom." sammy says with a mouthful of milky cheerios - red and geeen coloured for the holidays.

"not insane," tracy squeaks, "just feeling sentimental that my babies are all grown up." she wraps her daughter in a hug over the kitchen chair, almost smacking sammy in the jaw in the process.

you smile, glancing over your shoulder at them. sammy is wide eyed, staring at you in a silent way of asking for help - you giggle gently as tracy starts to rock her back and forth. your attention is brought back to the toaster as you patiently wait for your waffles to pop.

"go hug your other baby, he's the one who's never home." sammy grumbles, scooping another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

"where is vince anyways, we have to leave soon - vince, honey come downstairs!" tracy shouts out, her voice echoing out through the kitchen and up the stairs.

the thought of the oldest dunn sibling has your face pulling in disgust, and the idea of spending more time with him is already having you feeling worn out before the day has started. thankfully, your waffles pop and you concentrate on transferring them to your plate without burning yourself, rather than vince and his stupid face.

vince rounds the corner into the kitchen and surprisingly he's not in his pyjamas still - he’s wearing some nice light wash jeans and a black hoodie, which isn't very festive compared to your leggings and red reindeer printed sweater. thankfully tracy is matching your holiday spirit, and her sweater has a big gold bow on the front that shimmers in the sun - so at least you’re not the only one looking extra.

"honey, we are leaving soon. have you eaten?" tracy asks her son. she's currently packing her purse for all the things she thinks she'll need for the day, which you're not sure how a beatles cd will come in handy - but who knows. you are thankful for the extra socks though, because the chances of you shoving vince into a snow pile are very high.

"I'll have an apple." vince says.

you finish spreading the butter over the ridges of the waffles, the solid topping turning into a delicious liquid pool in each square of the waffle. you open the cupboard above your head where the syrup is kept (because who likes cold syrup?) but it's not on the reachable shelf it usually sits - it's on the very top shelf.

at first you don't think it'll be a challenge, you're not short by any means, but as you first attempt to reach the syrup, you come up short and you can't quite reach the bottle. you huff, pushing up on to your tiptoes to try and get ahold of the syrup- but somebody beats you to it.

vince is chewing the contents of his apple completely unfazed as he comes up beside you and grabs the syrup bottle. he places it beside your plate of waffles, and you have to take a deep breathe and tune out the sound of him crunching on the apple or you may just loose it.

you eye him, "I could've gotten it."

vince’s eyebrows raise and he swallows the chunk of apple. "oh well I can put it back up there and you can try and grab it. I found it quite amusing to watch you struggle."

"but yet you helped me?"

"thought Id try and spread some christmas cheer." vince shrugs and takes the last editable bite out of his apple, now left with only the browning core. instead of walking around to the garbage can sitting on the other side of you, vince tosses the core of his apple between you and the counter.

it merely misses you and getting sticky apple juice on your festive sweater, landing in the bottom of the garbage can with a loud smack.

you inhale loudly, shooting vince another pointed look. "could start by not attempting to hit me with something covered in your saliva."

vince smirks, crossing his arms. even his bulky hoodie can't hide the thick muscles he's maintained through the season, and you catch yourself staring. "you're the only girl I know who would protest that."

you make a gagging noise, turning you attention back to your waffle - which you haven't even attempted to dress with syrup yet.

john then walks into the kitchen, clad in his winter coat and boots. "the car is brushed off and the christmas tree farm is calling our names." he claps his hands together once, rubbing them together in anticipation. "everyone excited?"

tracy immediately answers her husband yes - just as cheerful as she's been all morning. sammy immediately drops her bowl in the sink, still full of milk, and runs off as she shouts something about needing to find the perfect coat for the farm.

amongst the slight chaos, vince turns to his father and grins suspiciously large. it already has your stomach bubbling with irritation, continuing to dread the day ahead. "so excited." vince expresses.

as his dad and mom start going over their mental check list for the day, vince looks back towards you - his vision pointed and teasing.

you only hold his gaze for a few antagonizing seconds before tearing your eyes away. the way vince can so easily irritate you, and know exactly what he’s doing is so frustrating to watch. you try and mask the scowl growing on your face by taking an angry bite of your syrupless waffle.

——

"vincent i'm one second away from shoving your head into the snow." you huff, sending him a pointed look over the puffed shoulder of your coat.

"do it," vince snickers, "because then I don't have to hear your voice anymore."

you grumble his words under your breath, deeply mocking him. vince doesn't seem to hear you though because he doesn't mumble anything back in retaliation. the silence gives you a moment of peace, saved from the tangent vince had just gone on - arguing with you about the height of the tree his mom wanted (it’s 7ft ceilings - there’s no argument.)

the smell of fresh pine trees and sticky sap is the only thing keeping you sane - truly. without the scent and christmas festivities all around you, you surely would've slammed your head in the door of john and tracy's minivan by now.

after a good half hour drive to the christmas tree farm and trying to not react to vince's overly expressive comments on the way, you figured you'd be free of the oldest dunn sibling for the next couple hours - but no.

sammy's boyfriend, logan, ended up showing up and sammy was quick to totally abandon you in order to spend time with him. which you don't resent her for obviously - she never really gets to see him since he's still away at college, but without sammy as your tree picking partner, you're left with vince.

obviously this is your worst nightmare.

vince follows a few steps behind you with his hands shoved in his front jean pockets. he doesn't seem to even be looking at the trees, which only irritates you further - because why was he so adamant about arguing with you about the height of a tree if he wasn’t even going to properly look for one.

you weave through another row of trees, slowing in your steps to look over each one - inspecting every pine and bristle. because it's so close to christmas the supply at the farm is slowly dwindling, and although all rows have trees, it's looking a little sparse - the amount and the trees themselves.

you let your previously crossed arms fall, and you complete stop your steady pace. the tree in front of you looks pretty good considering the options available, with almost perfectly green bristles and that full look tracy loved so much. you eye back at vince, a questioning raise to your eyebrows. "here's a good one."

his brows pull together tightly, forming a v shape above the bridge of his noise. vince takes a step closer to the tree you’re stopped at, and after a long silent moment he just shrugs.

"what's wrong with this tree?" you huff pointedly.

"it's shit."

"it's not shit - you don't like it because I picked it and you know it's the best one we've seen so far and there's a high chance it's the best one period."

your attitude is on full display, with your hand resting on your hip as the bone juts out towards the left. your face is pulled in a mixture of confusion and frustration, blinking quickly up at vince like you're trying to literally blink him away.

it has vince biting back a satisfied smirk - he's always so amused at how easily he can rile you up, even when you try so hard to hide it. "I bet I can find a better one."

"it's four days before christmas vincent, you're not going to find a better one." you grab ahold of the rope holding the tree and follow the natural line around to the backboard behind the trees. it's hooked into some weird latch, and you quickly try and maneuver the metal clasp off the loop - desperate to get the tree and get out of there.

"you have to push before you pull." vince is much closer than before, and he reaches towards the clasp as well. his words are warm against your frost bitten face, and the press of his body against your side is an oddly chilling feeling - underneath your clothes, your skin prickles with goosebumps.

"yeah that's what i'm trying to do - but now your hands are in my way."

he huffs, "you're only pulling - I can feel it, y/n."

"I can only pull because you're not letting me push." you argue. you both don't let up, and there's a confused mix of hands trying to pick over and around one another in a competitive match to unlatch the rope from the hook on the wooden plaque.

it’s only a few more moments of battling one another before vince's uses his strength advantage to forcefully move you out of the way and pushes your body off to the side with just his hip. your hands release the hook reluctantly, which gives vince free will to fiddle with it solely.

in a surge of anger, from not only his ridiculous strength but also your lack of, you kneel down and grab a pile of fluffy snow from the base of the cut tree stumps. you quickly and messily pack it into a ball shape and before you can think otherwise, you chuck it right at vince.

it hits him square in the chest, and the snow explodes from the impact, coming up his coat and splashing against his jawline - some of the snow even slipping past the neck hole of his sweatshirt and soaking his shirt.

slowly, he looks in your direction - his face pulled in such a way that you can't tell if he's going to scream or say nothing at all. vince is met with only the sight of your wide, shocked eyes - mitten covered hands covering your grinning mouth.

"I don't know why I did that." your words are quick and muffled through the pink gloves.

vince eyes squint accusingly as he fully turns to face you. he lets go of the hold on the lock that was still very much clasped in - but he is too shocked to even begin brushing snow off himself. "are you laughing?"

you are giggling - just a tiny bit and clearly your hands aren't doing a good job at hiding it. "no."

"I obviously have to get you back for that." vince grabs his own scoop of snow in his bare hands - because he claims he's too cool for gloves - and slowly begins packing it together.

"what? no." your hands drop from your face quickly, just as much your growing smirk. "I was just in the heat of the moment and I couldn’t help myself."

he shrugs nonchalantly, and the snow ball is getting tossed between his two bare hands mockingly - teasing you. "okay? and I'm also in the heat of the moment and I don't think I can stop myself."

"vince I swear to god if you decide today is the day you choose peace and put that snow back on the ground i'll forever be in your debt - why are you looking at me like that?"

the snow ball is still, lightly clutched in just one hand as vince looks at you. he's got an unreadable expression on his face, and it's one you've never seen before - he looks approachable and soft and so unlike the vince you've known since your freshman year.

you swallow gently - nervously - eyeing him curiously as you try to read his next move and understand his next actions before they happen. “you haven't called me vince since you were 14."

you're confused and vince can see it written all over your face. the downwards pull at your lips and the way your brows crease as you try and wrack your brain for an explanation. vince continues, his words firm but not rough. "you always call me vincent...It just made me think of the real you."

you're taken back from his words. the real you - what could vince mean by that insinuation. sure you've changed since high school, especially since vince broke your heart outside his bedroom that friday night freshmen year - but you're still you...you hope so anyways.

your mouth opens but no sounds come out - you're too busy reeling in your own head that you can't yet speak anything that would remotely make sense.

"there you are!" tracy's joyful voice interrupts as she and john make their way down the isle of trees you’re both in. "we've had no luck, unfortunately."

they come to a stop beside you, oblivious to the way you've gone completely internally crazy.

"any luck for you two? sammy and logan are at the hot chocolate stand waiting on us." john states, looking between you both.

"yeah," vince clears his throat and turns back towards the tree that you two had been attempting to unlatch. this time he's able to release the christmas tree from its rope in one try. "y/n found this one."

tracy immediately starts fussing excitedly, praising your eye. she goes on about how it will look wonderful by the fireplace, and how it's branches are so full and will compliment her home made ornaments perfectly - but you don't even feel like rubbing in the fact that you were right. you don't send vince any vindictive look, or some snarky smirk that says 'I told you so.' you can only focus on what vince's statement means.

thankfully sammy is a good distraction, and when you all meet up for the first time since arriving - vince lugging the tree behind him - and all share some hot chocolate and cider, you momentarily forget about it.

after another hour or so exploring the farm, you all decide to head back home - with a surprisingly perfect christmas tree and stomachs full and warm of hot chocolate.

sammy ends up passing out on your left quickly into the drive, her head resting against the cool glass car window with gentle snores passing through her lips. she must've been feeling tired, because she faught you for your previous seat - now you're stuck in the middle.

vince's arm is pressed into yours, and with every turn or bump in the road you can feel the way his muscles contract and move - even through the material of your puffy jacket.

you keep discreetly glancing over at him. you wish that you could read his mind or pull the thoughts right out of his head and understand them - but you can't, so you stealing glances will have to do for an attempt to understand him.

with tracy and john talking with one another in the front, voices blending with the holiday music they've turned up to block out sammy's snoring, you take an opportunity to get vince's attention.

"what did you mean by the real me?" your words aren't very loud as you don't want to draw the attention of vince's parents or wake sammy - which would ruin the chance of getting an understanding of vince's earlier words.

vince’s eyes flicker over to you, reluctantly pulling his attention away from where he was watching the road ahead through the gap between the passenger seat and car wall. his eyes dance over your wind kissed face and curious eyes, analyzing you. "it meant nothing."

you blink. "nothing? i'm going crazy here thinking that i've totally morphed into this super awful human and -"

"y/n." vince interrupts you roughly, his normal bored face making an appearance. "stop." his voice is almost pleading, like if you keep talking about it he'll become overcome with pain - vince's eyes flutter closed, and his head gently falls back against the head rest.

you don't say anything else because you're too hurt to further the conversation. you purse your lips, nodding in a bitter understanding before turning your face away from vince. you focus on the winter scenery outside sammy's window, doing your best to not feel further upset by vince's words - but you can't help the nagging feelings that swirl around your stomach, and the avalanche of emotions weighing in your head.

you don't even feel angry - just confused and left wondering what you did to make vince dislike you so much.

when did he become a stranger?

december 23rd

the santa day market in your town was always one of your favourite things about the christmas season. there was something about how all the shops decorated for the holiday, the streets put up garlands and lights, and how everyone came together to celebrate the most festive time of year never failed to put you in the christmas mood.

this year was no different, and with vince's mom being the one to always make sure you and your family all went together, here you all were - obviously with the lack of your parents, but that goes without saying.

the smell of snow and apple cider flows through the busy sidewalks, further adding to the festivities all around you. there's only an hour and a bit before the annual santa clause parade kicks off, and sammy had suggested that you all take the time to find secret santa gifts - if you haven't already.

you're happy for her suggestion, because with your and vince's tiff yesterday, buying a secret santa gift has slipped your mind.

the rest of the car ride home from the christmas tree farm was very quiet - well, you and vince were quiet - sammy's snoring and the music continued as loud as ever. the vibe between you and the oldest dunn sibling had changed, but not in the way you were now realizing you wanted it to change.

for the rest of the night, if vince did talk to you it wasn't with anger and irritation like you'd grown used to. instead he sounded more disappointed? maybe guilty? but then again, maybe your brain is trying to turn vince softer than he is, and he's not feeling any sort of remorse or guilt about how the conversation in the car went between you and it’s all in your head.

you push open the glass door of one of the boutiques lining the main street, the holly decorated wreath swinging against the window as you do so. inside is surprisingly busy considering all the attention seems to mostly be outside - but thankfully it's a relatively big store - full of cute clothing, accessories and anything in between - meaning you can browse freely without feeling overwhelmed.

it doesn't take long to start spotting things sammy would like, and you begin to make a mini collection of things in your arms. shopping for your best friends has always been so easy. sammy loves knitted sweaters, and you know she'd always wear one. she's also into perfumes and decorative tote bags. graphic baby tees, comfy pyjamas and lip gloss were also apart of sammy's never ending arsenal.

but with that being said, you can never pick exactly what you want a to give her. you always want it to be a perfect gift, and you have a hard time trying to pick one perfect thing - hence the heavy armful of various gift options.

something partnered catches your eye, and you find yourself double taking in its direction. it's beautiful throw blanket, and the soft material is decorated with vintage looking holiday homes, greenery and snowflakes- it's beautiful. with your free hand, you reach out and touch the front of it, gliding your hand across the baby soft blanket. you're immediately in love with it, and the urge to scrap the whole secret santa thing and spend your entire budget on the - no doubt - expensive throw is very strong.

but obviously that's not an option, and you'll have to just dream about the blanket longingly while your best friend enjoys her secret santa gift.

"your boots undone." you look away from the shelf loaded with various holiday blankets and in the direction of the voice.

it's vince, and you curse yourself for not registering the familiarity of his voice sooner. he's not holding any shopping bags, meaning he either previously bought his secret santa their gift, or he hasn't found anything yet.

you look down to your winter boots, which you can barley see over the monstrous pile of things still tucked against the crook of your elbow. vince is right - your left lace isn't tied up and is hanging dangerously, very close to causing you to trip.

"okay," you hum, eyes flickering back up towards him. "and what am I supposed to do about that right now?" it's a bold and snappy response from you considering the awkward and unknown vibes that have been circulating around you and vince the past 24 hours - but you can't help it, and falling into the original pattern between you is very easy.

vince still hasn't moved from a few feet away from where you had been looking at the blankets. his eyes dance between your face, the present options in your arms and the undone shoe lace.

suddenly he’s on the move and he walks towards you wordlessly. before you can register what he's doing, vince is tying your lace back up. he's down on one knee, which would usually give you the ick, but it seemingly doesn't - vince even double knots the lace, which is the cherry on top of your guilty ice cream.

once he returns to his full height and sends you a closed mouth smile, you further regret your snappy response about the undone shoelaces.

once again, vince's eyes wander down to the pile in your arms and his brows pull together in what looks like concern - whether that concern is for your arm strength or the amount of things in them...you'll never know.

"don't worry vince i'm not your secret santa."

his eyes change, a flicker of something you recognize but can't put your finger on - but it has your weird nervousness settling down. vince snickers softly, almost like he was laughing to himself. "thank god for that - I don't think those clothes would fit me."

your chest flutters with something like relief, and although you know you shouldn't so easily forget about vince's cold shoulder yesterday, it's hard when his gentle laughter warms your belly unexpectedly. so for now you decide to forget, and a small smile pulls at your lips as you eye vince teasingly. "mhmm I don't know, I think you could rock these pink frills."

his brows raise slightly, pleasantly surprised at your playful expression. "just because I would, doesn't mean I should." vince picks up a bedazzled set of salt and pepper shakers nearby and inspects them closely. you think they're gaudy and clearly vince thinks the same - he glances at you and pulls a face, putting down the set of sparkly condiment holders.

"oh, you think you're hot stuff?" you tease him further, the comment about the pink frilly sweater still prevalent on your mind.

vince snickers one more, gently prodding the side of his cheek with his tongue to stop his smile from growing any further. he doesn't answer your question but the look on his face is enough of an answer. "you're not getting sammy all of that are you?" his gaze shifts back towards the pile in your arms, and he even reaches out and tugs on one of the arms from a patterned top.

"wha!" you stutter a mixed sound of huh and what passing through your open mouth - your eyes blown wide as you eye him questionably. "how do you know I have sammy?”

vince smirks, "process of elimination."

you squint at him accusatorially, trying to decide if he actually has done some process of elimination in his head, or if vince is just trying to trick you into telling him who you’re secret santa for. "fine," you hum, admitting defeat. "no i'm not getting sammy all of this! I just....cant decide."

vince smiles victoriously - obviously he knew he was right. "you're so indecisive."

"no, i'm not." you sing song.

vince matches your pitch, mimicking you. "you are."

"you don't even know what you're talking about." you breathe gently, a small bubble of laughter following.

"okay, then go put some stuff back if you're so sure and not indecisive." vince eyes you challengingly, gesturing towards the bustling shop.

"fine," you chirp. "don't miss me too much."

"oh," he laughs, "I won't."

you walk back through the store, slowly putting the random things back into appropriate spots. you don't even remember picking up a zebra printed scarf, but there it was in your arms - and you can't help but pull a face as you hang it back around a mannequin.

"y/n y/l/n is that you?" evan's voice is practically engraved in your memory at this point, and you'd recognize it even over the cheery christmas music blaring through the stores speakers.

you turn towards the direction of his voice, and unfortunately your mind wasn't playing tricks on you - your ex boyfriend was in the shop, looking at you with a bright smile and snow dusted coat. to make everything 10 times worse than it already was, his new girlfriend was wrapped around his arm, just as happy looking as evan.

your face pales, and you slowly finish putting away the sparkly handbag on the shelf in front of you - previously stopping once each called your name. "yeah, it's me."

they walk right up to you, clearly unbothered by the whole situation. evan looks like he's greeting an old friend from highschool - one that he wasn't in a loving relationship with for years and broke up with only weeks ago. it stabs at your chest, even though you don't love him anymore. "wow, I wasn't expecting to run into you here." evan exhales, eyeing you with a curious gaze.

you wonder if he’s analyzing you - looking for damage he caused after your breakup. you’re happy that you washed your hair this morning and put on some proper makeup before coming out, and that you look - hopefully - somewhat presentable - you don’t want to boost your exes ego by letting him think he has any affect on you.

how evan wasn't expecting to see you in a town you live in and always have lived in is beyond your thought process - but evans never been the sharpest tool in the shed, so it makes sense. he continues, "are you here by yourself? or is your mom around here somewhere? I swear I was just telling jen about how much your mom used to love this store -" you zone out - oh so she has a name?

"hey I was wondering where you went." vince's words are a shock, and the way his large palm touches your lower back and slowly wraps around to the front of your torso even more so. "thought we agreed to meet back up outside the store - not inside."

you blink, looking back at vince. "what?" ever so slightly his eyes widen as if he's trying to tell you to go with it.

"dunner? holy shit" evan's voice brings you back to reality. "what are you doing home?"

vince looks away from you, and an easy going smile takes over his face. "my schedule worked out and was able to come home for christmas. thank god because I was missing y/n/n too much."

"you were?" you gawk.

vince’s teeth are clenched tightly, but his smile never waivers as he looks down at you once again. "of course babe." his fingers pinch your belly gently, another reminder to play along.

babe. oh.

"babe?" evan questions. his blue eyes flicker between you and his old friend, and you can practically see as the puzzle pieces in front of him piece together - the hand around your waist, the pet name, the look in your eyes he's never seen before. "you guys are together?"

you nod once and you sort of resemble a robot with the almost reluctant movement- vince has to take a deep, calming breath and resist the urge to die at the cause of your awful acting. "yeah, we are together."

your conformation has evan smiling - which you don't think would happen. you expected a grimace or even some sort of negative outburst at his ex and his old friend dating - but no. "I always thought you two secretly liked each other - all that hating each other crap wasn't believable."

vince goes stiff behind you, and even though he recovers quickly, you still feel it. you can't believe this is happening. you think the world might swallow you up and save you from the awkwardness that is this conversation.

completely oblivious, evan continues. " isn't it crazy how we both found our true matches after each other." the look evan sends jen has you feeling even more embarrassed and miserable, and you can't decide if your going to laugh, cry, or throw up - or all three.

"we should probably go," jen pats evan's peck affectionately. "your parents are already at the parade spot waiting for us."

"it was nice seeing you guys - you look great together." evan smiles at you both, wrapping an arm around his girlfriends shoulders as they steer through the crowd inside the shop, and make their way towards the exit.

evans words continue to ring through your head as you check out at the cash register. you ended up choosing the very first thing you picked up for sammy, because your first option is always the one you go back to.

you leave the store quickly after getting the gift receipt, and vince is close on your heels as you two make your way down the busy sidewalk.

"are you okay?" vince almost sounds cautious with his tone, and you can feel his eyes flicking across your side profile - trying to find the answer to his question before you tell him.

you glance up at him quickly. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were worried about me." your attempt at humor isn't working, and vince doesn't crack even a half smile at your teasing. your face falls, and you sigh gently, "i'll be fine."

he nods thoughtfully, but doesn't seem all that convinced by your words. it's silent for a few moments between you, walking together down the sidewalk back in the direction of where tracy told everyone to meet back up at - right under the clock tower for the parade.

"it’s okay if you're feeling hurt after seeing evan and his new girlfriend. just because you don't love him anymore, doesn't mean it's nice to see that." after a few beats, vince sighs. "do you remember amanda?" he asks you curiously.

your nose scrunches unpleasantly - how could your forget amanda? amanda was vince's awfully short-term girlfriend in the summer going into your sophomore year of highschool - his first year of college. she was very picky, rude, and always made sure to remind everyone that she felt that she was superior to them. you make a noise between a gag and a scoff. "I hated her."

vince laughs once, shoving his hands in his pockets as continue to walk through the busy sidewalks. "I could tell. honestly, she didn't like you either."

"I knew it." you cheer vindictively, because you knew you weren't crazy for thinking that - even though sammy disagreed. "she used to give me these dirty looks - specific ones like she was trying to burn me alive using just her eyes." your gaze flickers back to vince, and your brows pull curiously. "why did you break up? besides the obvious….witchy reasons."

he smiles softly and shrugs. "amanda was never shy about expressing her feelings about anything or anyone, which I never faulted her for even If i disagreed. but when she started talking badly about you, I broke it off."

"oh."

vince continues. "I never let anybody talk about you negatively, y/n. ever. and amanda wasn't an exception to that." he swallows gently, eyes dancing over your face. his expression is soft again, and familiar. it’s a look that makes you forget that the vince in front of you right now is the same one who broke your heart in high school - the same vince you thought you hated.

you now notice that you've both stopped walking and are standing still in the middle of the sidewalk. the sky is practically enveloped into darkness now, only lit up by the buildings light glow and christmas lights decorating the street.

you feel so seen in this moment - you feel completely normal. vince is looking at you in a way you've never seen before, and you can't help but wonder if he's always been looking at you like this but you've been too blinded by words to notice.

vince clears his throat, and a breathy chuckle passes his lips. "I mean after all, i'm the only one who gets to be a dick to you…right?”

his words feel like a slap in the face. is vince admitting that he only defended you to amanda because he was upset somebody else was being mean to you besides himself? - rather than the sole purpose of defending you because he cares about you? you don't let yourself outwardly show how vince's words affected you, and you force a gentle smile. "right."

you don't want to get upset and ruin the relationship dynamic between you and the vince standing infront of you - because something has undoubtedly changed. you're not sure what it is yet, but you like this version of you and vince better than any version from the past 10 years.

you also don't know what vince means with his last comment, and you're not sure if you want to know. so you choose to ignore it - just like you ignored the situation between you yesterday and how you've ignored the unspoken and underlying issue of your and vince's relationship for years.

december 24th

"stop moving or the walls are going to fall."

"the walls are going to fall because you're not using enough icing - it's going to fall weather i'm holding it together or not." vince expresses. to prove his point, he loosens his push on the gingerbread house wall, and it immediately wobbles and begins to collapse inwards.

vince brings his thumb up towrds his mouth and sucks some of the store bought vanilla icing off the digit. his eyes don't leave you as he does so- trying to fluster you with his actions. you narrow your eyes pointedly, which makes a smirk appear on vince's flushed face. he laughs at your attempt at looking annoyed all while trying to keep the sad gingerbread house from completely collapsing.

vince's mom had magically pulled out two separate gingerbread kits in the late afternoon after she put the honey ham in the oven. sammy was up on her feet immediately at the sight, her competitive nature coming to a tilt - which meant that she needed the gingerbread building to be a competition, and claimed her boyfriend as her building partner.

logan doesn't protest the partnership, which leaves you and vince no choice - if this was the beginning of your stay with the dunn family, having vince be your partner would've sent you to the grave, but now with some of the negative air clearing, you don't hate the idea, but quickly into the start of your timed - yes sammy insisted the building to be timed - gingerbread house competition, vince is proving to be rather difficult to work with.

vince seems more interested in teasing you and trying to push your buttons in a almost flirtatious way, and if he's not talking, he's completely trying to change any of your previous work and alter the look of the gingerbread house - claiming 'it looks too similar to theirs, c'mon y/n/n we gotta step it up.'

"just get the gumdrops out." you dismiss him, looking away from his intense gaze and back towards the gingerbread. thankfully you've managed to get the house back into its original stature, and the house is looking less sad and lopsided than before - although some of the icing has glooped and dropped off the seams and made a sticky mess on the candy rock path.

vince snickers at your demand, finishing up with the icing residue on his thumb - because he knew if he passed you a sticky, icing covered gumdrop package you'd loose your mind. "where do you want them coach?" vince's words are softly spoken against your ear as and attempt to try and keep your discussion from being overheard by his sister and logan across the table.

you hold back the pleasant shutter that wants to take over your body, and keeping your eyes on the gingerbread house is the best way to stay calm and collected - if you look at vince right now you may crumble. what is wrong with you right now? "I think under the windows? a boarder around the house will bring it all together."

you gesture to the part of the house where the brown cookie meets the flimsy plastic base, which is only covered in icing and is severely lacking decor.

vince hums. "really? I feel like the roof is the only thing that looks incomplete. I think the gumdrops will look better there." he runs one of his fingers on the ridge where the two pieces of cookie meet, mimicking the point of a roof.

"what?" you screech slightly, gaze flickering between the cookie creation and vince. "I think the roof looks cute how it is - with the peppermint swirls"

"yes but look at logan and sammy's -" you do as he says and let yourself finally look at your friends gingerbread house. you can tell logan has had absolutely no say in the design of the house, and it's clearly the cause of a sammy dictation. vince continues, "all they've got on the roof is peppermint swirls. adding the gumdrops to our house will make it stand out. you want to win right?"

you look back at vince and nod definitively. "yes, I want to win."

he smiles. "atta girl, wanna put them on?"

you flush a deep red at his words. "no, you do it. If I do it you'll end up moving them anyways."

your teasing doesn't go unnoticed by vince, and he clicks his tongue in a playful manner, "yeah because you probably wouldn't of done it right."

the wine you've been sipping all afternoon and into the evening is definitely tinkering with your emotions - vince the same. it would explain how the evening between you is flowing so smoothly, and any teasing dig is met with laughter instead of anger. you giggle quietly, "you're so annoying."

vince ducks his head to keep your eye contact once you begin to smile downwards into your chest. his smirk doesn't dissolve, and if anything, it changes into a more sultry one. "I know you love it y/n/n, you can't deny it." he licks his bottom lip, wetting the pink skin so it glistens. vince chuckles, "now move your hand...unless you want to be covered in gum drops."

he then proceeds to add a single file line of gumdrops on the roof, sticking the widest part of the gummy candy into the dewy icing that holds the pieces in place. in the most obnoxious and high pitched voice you can manage, you repeat vince's words back to him. you watch as vince smiles and a few laughs bubble up his chest at your teasing - he doesn't look away from the task at hand and continues decorating your gingerbread house.

you feel like you're in freshman year again, stealing secretive glances at your best friends older brother while he wasn't paying attention. vince looks almost the same as he did when you were younger, but his teenage features have chiseled out, leaving him with the most sculpted and attractive profile. god this wine is really changing you - your fluttering heart and butterfly filled stomach are really a recipe for disaster.

"okay kids one more minute left for your houses, then dad and I will come in and judge them." tracy tells you all from around the corner, not quite yet coming fully into the kitchen to avoid spoiling the houses for herself. you hear sammy curse from her moms warning, and she starts frantically looking for the mini snowflakes to icing glue onto the window sills of her and logan's gingerbread house.

vince looks back towards you, and once he catches your gaze already on him, his smirk slinks back upwards. "any finishing touches?"

you're not even embarrassed at being caught, and you don't mind how smug vince looks at the sight of your clear attraction. you shake your head, "no...it's perfect."

vince can't help his eyes from flickering down to your lips, lingering on your wine painted flesh for a few moments before dragging his eyes back up your face. his brow quirks curiously, but the smile he's wearing never wavers. "I agree."

tracy and john come in after you've all cleaned up the area and presented your respective gingerbread houses in a viewing manner - displaying them proudly on the kitchen island. it doesn't take long for them to decide their winner, and when the dunn couple gestures to your amd vince's candy land themed house, you cheer. vince squeezes around your waist, pulling you into his side, exclaiming that he knew you could beat sammy.

that has her scoffing, "you two are so annoying." she's not being serious - the tiny smile on her face giving it away. logan kisses her temple reassuringly, promising that her gingerbread house is his favourite.

"don't be a sore loser." vince laughs, eyeing his sister victoriously.

"now, vince you're not one to talk." tracy corrects him, and a small smile pops on her face. she tries to hide it behind her hand as she continues. "you used to get so upset when you were little if we picked sammy's house. you'd cry like a baby and beg for us-"

"alright mom." vince stops her with laughter.

"oh my god, so you've always been a big baby?” you look up at him teasingly, a challenging lift to your eyebrows.

"oh, always." you laugh at that, allowing yourself to further lean into vince's side. he smells like grape wine and cinnamon, completed with a hint of store bought icing - an interesting combination by somehow its smells exactly like him.

it's an odd place to be - next to vince and so willingly giving in to the urges you've been suppressing for years. allowing yourself to be wrapped up in his presence and the comfort of all things vince - his almost always flirtatious smirk, the spicy scent he's always bathed in and the way his gaze always seems to linger.

you don't hate vince dunn - you never have. even when he broke you heart in freshman year and left you to cry silently beside his sister in bed, you didn't hate him, you just hated how he made you feel. you had a hard time accepting that vince didn't like you back - whether it was because you were too young or because he simply didn't feel that way for you, you struggled with that fact, which lead to your own feelings converting into a more harsh and negative outlook towards vince.

you realize now, even after 4 or 5 hefty glasses of warm wine, that you were wrong in the way of dealing with your feelings - and by no means does that excuse the way vince has behaved, but you are willing to hear him out....that is if he wants to talk about it. perhaps when you're both a bit more sober tomorrow - your brain reminds you quickly.

after a few classic movies - the grinch being sammy's pick and christmas vacation being johns - tracy had mentioned that santa won't come unless you're all in bed. her sing song tone has everyone giggling in the dim family room, only illuminated by the twinkling christmas tree in the corner, the laughter coming easy with your stomachs full of honey ham and wine.

it's not long after that, and a few more minutes of meaningless conversation, you all slowly head to bed. there's a good 5 minutes that sammy makes you lay face down in her bed while she wraps her secret santa gift (the queen of last minute). anytime she curses and you can hear the wrapping paper tear, it has you giggling into the pillow - which then leads to sammy trying to scold you but her giggles vito any kind of rebuke.

you're still not ready for bed by the time sammy finishes gift wrapping - which ended up being way longer than 5 measly minutes. as soon as she allows you to get off her bed, you're instantly calling dibs on the bathroom and you quickly grab your snowflake patterned toiletry bag and slip out of the room.

the bathroom is steamy, and the mirror along with the damp floor mat indicates somebody is not long out of the shower - presumably vince since he's the only other one on the upstairs floor.

you wipe the condensation off the mirror with the palm of your hand, cleaning the glass so you are able to properly see yourself while you unwind for the night. you begin going through your skin-care routine, granted with the alcohol pumping through your bloodstream, it isn't as skillful or in depth as it normally would be - when you wipe your face with the towel, there's black marks of mascara left behind.

you dig for your toothbrush in the clutter of your toiletry bag, excited for the last step in your night routine before you're able to get back in bed. you locate it and let out a triumphant breath - taking the tube of toothpaste out of the holder as you do so.

a knock on the open bathroom door stops you, and through the mirror you look up and see vince. you were correct in assuming it was him in the shower as he stands there now with damp hair, and fresh cologne scented skin - you're pretty sure there's still a few drops of water sliding down his pecks, because of course he's only got pyjamas bottoms on right now, leaving his torso completely bare.

"I forgot to brush my teeth." he says warmly. vince holds your eye contact through the mirror, watching the way you blink at him all flirtatiously - god this wine is really doing a number on your suppressed feelings.

you glance over your shoulder. "I don't mind company."

vince walks further into the dewy bathroom, rounding to the other side of you. he quirks a brow in your direction. "even mine?"

you watch him pick up his own toothbrush, gliding a dollop of toothpaste over the blue bristles. you put your own minty toothbrush in your mouth, holding it in your cheek momentarily. "even yours."

vince's smirk can't even be hidden by his toothbrush, which he shoves in his mouth - brushing his perfect teeth around his undeniable amused grin. his firm brushing movements, combined with his lack of shirt give you the perfect view to watch his muscles as they shift and flex beneath his soft skin, creating a much unexpected sensation to run through you.

vince catches your stare, the movements of his toothbrush coming to a slow pause as he looks back at you. you don't feel the need to shy away from his sensual gaze like you normally would find yourself doing, but instead you hold the eye contact - your own smile forming around the handle of the toothbrush.

you lean forward to spit into the sink, rinsing your mouth with some running water from the tap before rising back to your full height.

vince follows suit, spitting his excess foamy toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash away any remnants down the drain. you put your toothbrush back into its respective holder and shove it back in your toiletry bag. you tuck your bag under your arm just as vince stands back up, wiping his mouth of any leftover water.

there's a moment then where you're just looking at one another through the foggy bathroom - your eyes locked together say enough than your mouths could ever. regret, apologies, uncertainty, teasing, flirting, the unkown...the gaze you're locked in says it all.

your belly swoops, and this time you know it's because of vince - it's always been because of vince. "goodnight vincent." the use of his full name is only used as a playful and amorous parting, and you blink towards him slowly and innocently. you turn away from him just as slow as your fluttering eyes.

his bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he watches you - vince knows that you know exactly what you're doing and it has him acting before his brain can even comprehend itself.

he grabs your wrist and spins you back around before you even step foot outside the bathroom. your bag falls to the floor from the sudden movement, and you know you didn't zip it properly, so you're not looking forward to dealing with that mess - but the way vince grabs your face roughly and kisses you has you forgetting all about it.

the kiss is immediately rough and fast - a mixture of longing and desire stemming from many years of doubt and fear, crumpled into one explosive kiss. you're both instantly grabbing at one another, desperate to feel one another to a greater extent. vince's hands are all over your body, like he can't decide where he wants to touch you most. he's running his fingers through your hair, gently tugging the roots at the base of your neck in a way that has you groaning into his mouth. his hands glide over your body, paying attention to every curve and dip as he holds and grabs you.

you’re no better with your hands frantically running over his toned exposed skin. your nails gently rake over his abs, and you can feel the affect the feeling has on vince as goosebumps form right under your fingertips. you're holding the budge of his biceps, keeping him close to you as you both continue the electric kiss. the room suddenly seams as steamy as ever, the thick and hot air surprising you, further contributing to the hurried movements and messy tangle of lips.

vince spins you around once again, so your back is towards the vanity mirror. your lower back bumps the edge of the ceramic countertop, and not even the bruising sting can register in your mind over the way vince is kissing and touching all over your skin. smoothly as ever, vince's lips pull away from yours, giving you the time and space to collect your laboured breath. his kisses move down from the corner of your mouth and across your warm jawline. you gasp and wither against him, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation of his sloppy kisses move towards your neck.

vince reaches the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he wastes no time in suckling the soft and flushed skin. without pulling away from you, he uses his foot to shut the bathroom door and the gentle thud echos throughout the hallway.

"is this okay?" he speaks against your skin, his mouth detaching from the blossoming hickey he'd been working on. vince fully pulls away from you, much to your dismay, and meets your gaze - a questioning haze in his eyes, reflecting his question.

you sigh, "yes. more than okay."

this time, you're the one to reach for him, and you pull his head down so you're able to meet for another heavy kiss. vince's tongue swipes against your bottom lip quickly, asking for entrance to further explore to kiss once again. you let him, again, letting your tongues glide and slip around one another in the midst of your make out.

vince uses his leg to gently prod your thighs apart, which you had previously been desperately clenching together in search of the tiniest bit of friction. as soon as vince's chiseled, defined leg muscle settles between your legs, providing a deliciously sharp and satisfying touch to your fluttering core, you're moaning.

instinctively, your hips begin to move against him, searching for that release. one of vince's hands leave its spot from where it was previously holding around your neck, and slinks down your body until he's landing on your ass. with a guiding hand, he firmly grabs ahold of one asscheek and begins to pull and push you over his thigh - helping your grind against him.

you pull away from his mouth as you become too built up with the empending release that is on the horizon. you breath heavily, and your eyes are screwed shut as vince continues to drag your clothed core against his covered thigh. you're sure your thin candy cane printed pyjama shorts are drenched in your own arousal, leaking onto the plaid material of vince's pants - but you don't even care or feel embarrassed...if anything it's turning you on further, and from the hard bulge pressing against your leg, it seems to be doing the same for vince.

vince's forehead falls against yours, bringing you back to the reality of the situation. through your lashes, you look up at him, only to find he's already watching you - watching every single twitch of a reaction on your flushed face. "I'm close." your sighed words are quickly morphed into a moan as vince's grip tightens on your ass.

"fuck. wanna come like this?" he questions quickly, continuing to move your hips forward and backwards against him.

you mewl slightly, and if you don't stop soon you will end up further soaking his pyjamas bottoms as you cum. "I want you to be inside of me."

"yeah?" vince breathes out, his guiding movements coming to a slow stop at your words. you nod against him, and your hips continue to jut over him at just the mere thought of vince filling you up. "fuck okay, let's turn around yeah?"

you let him handle you easily, vince spinning your body until your belly is pushing against the counter top. with a firm hand he pushes on the middle of your spine until you’re naturally lying flat on the counter, and your legs spread automatically.

vince is immediately pulling down your shorts and you moan out at the feeling of the material sticking to your seeping core, no doubt dripping with your edging release. the bathroom is burning hot, and the mirror has gone completely opaque from the steam caused by your and vince's interlocking lips and steamy touches. it has everything feeling much more sensual and sexy - and the tension of your impending release is becoming almost painful.

you wiggle your hips around, pushing as far back as you can with the limited space in search of vince's hips. "be paintent." vince tuts his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and then you feel the press of his torso against your back. he presses a kiss to your exposed shoulder from where your oversized shirt has slipped down. "I was admiring the view." to further accentuate his words, two of his fingers slide through your wet folds, moving to collect your arousal.

you bite your lip, sighing pleasantly at the feeling of pressure from vince's fingers prodding your entrance, moving up to flutter over your throbbing clit. "you can admire the view another time, vince - please fuck me."

vince's large palm comes down and smacks the round of your ass. you let out a breathy laugh, the sound almost resembling a squeal at the feeling. it has vince smirking as he soothes the sting by rubbing over your reddening ass.

your laughter quickly shifts into a deep mewl as vince's head prods your entrance, almost immediately slipping into your opening from the dripping arousal. you push your hips backwards and he fully slides into you, filling you completely. your ass brushes against vince's hipbones, taking the length of his dick completely.

"shit." he curses, twitching inside you. vince grabs ahold of your hips, and immediately starts to pull out of you. just before his head has a chance of leaving your tight entrance, vince pushes his length back into you fully, igniting another round of moans from you both.

"keep doing that." you are practically begging him as you try and look over your shoulder and attempt to catch the sight of his length plummeting in and out of your pussy. you bite your lip, trying to hold onto some of the moans you're desperately wanting to let out. "fuck i'm not going to last long - you feel too good."

vince moans, and his eyes flicker away from where your bodies are frantically moving and connecting together in favour of meeting your eyes. "you're so hot, fuck the way you look at me - i'm trying really hard to not destroy you right now."

"you think you're hot stuff?" you challenge him, unable to resist the temptation of being playful with vince.

vince bites into his lips at your comment, holding onto his sultry smirk. without stopping his thrusts into you, he lets go of his grip on your hips and reaches up to your biceps. vince pulls your body off the counter, back until your flush against his warm chest. one of his hands wraps around your torso, keeping you in place, while his other reaches past you to wipe the sticky condensation off the mirror - giving you a hazy view of your intertwined bodies.

the sight of his dick nestled so far into your pussy is instantly making you moan, and you clench around his length automatically. vince curses at the feeling, and his hand that he used to wipe the mirror with now comes up around your shoulders and neck, wrapping around you to further keep you pressed to him. vince continues his forceful and steady thrusts into your entrance, and with the new angle of your bodies, they feel even deeper and better than before. "holy shit, vince - yes, just like that."

"can feel you squeezing me," he huffs into your neck, pressing a quick kiss to your salty skin. your shirt has slipped further down your arm, and has left your boob exposed, bouncing roughly against you as vince pounds into your pussy from behind.

it looks like something straight out of a porno in the bathroom mirror, and even through the fog that is building back over the mirror, you can see the way you're dripping onto the floor as your orgasm approaches.

your hand reaches up and grips vince's forearm, grounding yourself from his eye-rolling thrusts up into you. "you gunna cum, pretty girl? fuck you're making a mess on the floor."

"yes, yes, yes." you chant breathless, and your eyes begin to flutter shut as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. your head lolls backwards, falling against vince shoulder and as he continues his feverish pace into you, the band snaps and your orgasm comes to a hilt. "i'm cumming." you whine, your nails digging into the skin of vince's arm as you ride the high of bliss.

behind you, vince begins to chase his own approaching release. his hips smack against your ass at a frantic speed and he continues to thrust into your slippery, sopping pussy. his movements soon become less organized and in sync as he comes close. vince tilts you back down towards the counter, laying you down flat once more as he approaches his high. with only a few more rough pumps into you, vince pulls out of your warmth and blows his load onto your red ass, spewing up to your lower back and creating a sticky, hot, white mess on you. "holy shit."

"holy shit." you repeat.

a few beats pass until vince is cleaning his load off your body, delicately wiping away all traces of his cum with some tissue before immediately flushing the evidence down the toilet.

the bathroom is ridiculous hot and sticky, and no doubt your hair has turned into a frizzy and disgruntled mess. the thought of having to put your soaked pyjamas shorts back on is detrimental, and you're so worn out from vince taking you to pound town that you debate falling asleep on the counter - naked from the waist down and everything.

vince laughs gently at your lack of energy, and he lightly taps your ass cheek to grab your attention. he's pulled his pants back up, and there's a visible wet mark from your earlier grinding - but he doesn't mind one bit. "you need help getting up?"

"yeah." your muffled whine has him laughing further, but he doesn't ignore you. gently, vince helps you off the counter and into a standing position. your knees wobble slightly and vince's smirk grows. you eye him pointedly. "don't smirk - you did this to me."

"you asked for it." he reminds you gently. you scowl slightly, and that has vince's soft laughter continuing. you can't be upset when he helps you pull your pyjamas back on, letting you use his shoulder for balance as he makes you lift one foot at a time into the leg holes of your christmas jammies. "need help getting into bed?"

you walk slightly and although you're a bit shaky, you can still move somewhat normally. you look at vince, "no, i'll be okay." you look towards the mess on the floor caused by your spilled toiletry bag - various things of makeup and skincare scattered in the tiles. you don't think you have the capacity to bend down and pick that up right now.

as if he can read your mind, vince bends down and begins to gather your things. "I can clean this - it's the least I could do." he looks up at you from one knee and sends you a quick wink. for a second you have the dirty thought of vince on his knees in front of you, except of cleaning up your things he's got you pushed against a wall, your legs spread open as he attacks your pussy with his mouth - licking and kissing against your heat until you’re screaming.

unfortunately you don't think your trembling body could handle that right now - it can barley handle standing. so instead of that, you smirk down at him. "goodnight."

"goodnight," his smile widens.

after one more sultry glance, you hobble back down the hall and towards sammy's room. you gently open the door, trying your best to keep quiet. like you hoped it would be, the room is completely dark and the sound of sammy's light snoring alerts you to her sleeping state.

you celebrate internally, happy that you don't have to answer a line of questions about why you've been in the bathroom for 30 minutes when you should've only been gone for 10 max.

you slip into bed gently, allowing your racing heart to have a chance to finally return to its normal beating pattern. thoughts of vince and the activities you've just participated in together - in the childhood bathroom no less - running through your mind. as much as you enjoyed and loved the sex you just experienced with vince, the question about your relationship still remains.

you're not sure if the sex will change anything between you, negatively or positively, but you know the conversation needs to happen. as you're falling into a slumber, dread as well as excitement is flowing through your veins - the unknown of it all very much present.

december 25th

"we have arrived - merry christmas!" sammy's voice is rather cheerful considering the early morning, but it is christmas so that's definitely a factor to her tone. you follow behind her down the stairs as you both descend into the family room, both in your christmas pyjamas and slightly hungover - you in different pyjamas than the ones you ruined last night.

"merry christmas!" tracy cheers from the couch, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. she looks not long awake, with her eyes still squinty and smile still sleepy. it's only 8 o'clock , but the tradition in the dunn household on christmas morning was always an 8 a.m. wake up call, and that wasn't going to change this year.

it seems like you and sammy are the last ones downstairs with the sight of tracy on the couch and john beside her, his own steaming mug sitting on a santa face coaster on the coffee table. just then, vince emerges from the kitchen with two mugs in his hands. you can smell hot chocolate, so you can only assume that's the contents of the coffee mugs.

"oh vince, are those for us?" sammy is instantly bounding over to her brother. she leans in and sniffs the drink, and a bright smile grows on her face as she does so. she takes her gnome design mug out of his hands, and skips over to the couch with her hot chocolate - merely missing spilling the entire drink on the rug.

vince passes you the other mug wordlessly. it is hot chocolate, completed with mini marshmallows and tiny pieces of crushed candy canes - a christmas morning classic. you look up at him gently, and you can't help the bright smile that grows on your lips at just the sight of vince. "hey, thanks."

vince nods and...that's it. he walks passed you and around the reclining chair that lines the entrance of the family room. your face falls with disappointment, and you can't help but feel embarrassed regarding the hopes following your actions last night. it's fine if vince still doesn't want you in any way thay you've been wanting him, but not even a 'you're welcome' or a 'hello’ stings.

you take a seat beside sammy, who once you're seated , immediately starts pitching to her parents on why she should be the first to open her secret santa present. your best friends voice helps you stay distracted in not looking over at vince adjacent from you - sitting silently in the recliner.

the lights from the tree twinkle is your peripheral vision, a constant in your eyes as you try and focus on the present and not dwell on the unknown with vince. as tracy moves across the tree in retrieval for her daughters gift, you're blinking back into reality once again, the light pattern changing is what brings you back. once her mom passes her the santa wrapping paper covered box, sammy is immediately tearing it apart. you smile automatically, always pleased with how excitable sammy gets when it comes to holidays and opening presents.

she pulls out the lilac fuzzy robe and matching slippers that you'd wrapped between layers of tissue paper in the box, and she's immediately gasping out. "I love it - somebody clearly knows me well."

"okay, we'll save your guess until the end." tracy reminds her daughter, but she's looking between all of you as she says it. "don't want to ruin the surprise for anybody else." tracy ends up going next after john suggested it, and she ends up opening a beautiful set of holiday mugs filled with different teas, coffees and treats - cookies, candy canes and chocolates all stuffed into the mugs. she of course loves it, and instantly tells vince that his next trip into the kitchen she wants to try one of her new teas.

you're the next one to open a present, and a rather large box is sitting on your lap. it's wrapped in reflective silver wrapping paper, and a large red bow sits on the top corner of the present. curious about the gift inside the stunning and well done wrapping, you tear it open.

"you're not doing it fast enough - rip the damn paper cindy lou." sammy grunts beside you, obviously impatient. you giggle just as you finally unwrap the box. saving sammy and yourself from the curiosity of the contents of inside, you lift the lid off the box. at the sight of the gift, your face falters slightly. under a layer of red tissue paper, starring back at you in the christmas blanket from the boutique downtown.

the soft christmas blanket decorated with vintage homes and snowflakes that you had fallen in love with only two days ago. you know there's only one person who could've known about the blanket and that's the only person in this living room who was in that store. your eyes flicker towards vince. he's still not smiling - he's not even looking at you.

tracy gasps, "oh wow that's beautiful!" you feel your face heat up with a mixture of disappointment, disbelief and sadness. you feel overwhelmed and confused by the contradictory messages of vince's actions, and you feel like the room is shrinking as you continue to look between vince and the blanket in your lap. without wanting to make too much of a scene, you put the gift on the coffee table. "sorry, I just need to step away for a moment."

"oh, okay - are you alright?" tracy questions gently, her warm eyes following you as you walk through the family room and towards the stairs.

"yeah, of course. please continue, i'll be back soon." you quickly make your way back up the carpeted steps, trying your best to hold in all your confused thoughts and emotions until you're in a private space - to top everything off, your feel ridiculous and the guilt is starting to sink in that you’ve ruined christmas.

you step into sammy's open bedroom and place a hand to your burning forehead - an attempt at doing something to calm down. you let your eyes flutter to a close, and take a few deep breaths. you feel so uncertain and overwhelmed with this weird unknown tension lingering between you and vince, and you're scared having sex with him last night did the complete opposite of what you hoped for. you're scared that vince doesn't view you as anything more than just a stranger - a body he's been moving around for years and disregarding because he's got no real connection or feelings for.

with the sex last night, you had the impression that it would act as that changing factor you've been searching for for years. this christmas seemed to be the very top of the tall mountain you and vince have been chasing each other up for years, pushing at one another to see who would be the first to break that climb - but now you think you may have fallen backwards instead of coming down the other side with vince beside you.

"are you okay?" vince steps into the room, the floorboard that sits directly under the doorframe creaks from his weight. when you were younger you hated that floorboard, it made for sammy and you to sneak out very hard, and most of the time it was the reason you'd just stay home instead of going out and partying with the senior boys team back in high school.

"no, i'm not okay - what are we doing?" your hands fall, and the pure exhaustion of dealing with your own scrambled thoughts is seemingly catching up to you. you feel like complete jello, even more so than after last night - your nerves about this whole ordeal at an all time high. "why do you hate me, vince? what did I do to make you hate me?"

vince is confused, naturally. he walks further into sammy's bedroom, closer to you. "you think I actually hate you?"

a mixture between a disbelieving laugh and a scoff forms in the back of your throat. "you're not giving me many reasons which tell me that you like me, are you? and no, fucking me against the bathroom counter really doesn't count as a good reason, at all." maybe your latter comment was uncalled for, sure, but your head is still reeling with a jumbled collection of thoughts and insecurities, that you really don't care.

vince runs a hand through his hair, his fingers almost frantic like he's not sure what to do with them. he licks his bottom lip gently, and he slowly looks around your face. you feel yourself wanting to blush - needing to blush - under his intense gaze, but you don't allow yourself to get flustered. vince sighs gently, and his brows dip in disappointment. "I don't hate you, y/n - I could never hate you." vince is disappointed in himself for treating you so poorly to the extent of which you thought he hated you - that was never his intention.

"then why did you act like you did?" your bottom lip trembles with emotion, and you hate that feeling. you don't want to seem weak or affected by his behaviour, even if it has made you upset - especially if he's about to tell you that you mean nothing to him...again.

vince sighs gently, his large eyes swimming with a hundred different emotions of his own. "because i'm a dick...and I was confused and maybe even a little scared." he pauses, swallowing his nerves as they begin to creep up his throat. you still look unsure, so vince continues. "I would act a certain way around you because I didn't know how else to act - or what to do. anytime I was mean or rude or acted this nasty way towards you it wasn't because I didn't like you, it was because I liked you too much. every petty comment, look or action was a bad attempt at me stopping myself from kissing you."

you inhale sharply, "what?"

"back in high school I was confused by my feelings for you. god, y/n I was constantly thinking about you and everything you did- it was consuming me. I thought nothing could happen because you were my younger sister's best friend...so when I kissed you at that party and I felt my feelings intensify, I pushed you away because I was scared." he takes a step closer, now in arms reach from you. you watch him curiously, intently listening to vince's words.

“so I would be mean and act like that kiss meant nothing - that you meant nothing because I let my pride get in the way. I thought I couldn't get hurt if I was the one who was hurting you - that turned out to be bullshit. I hate what i've done to you and how I've acted towards you. this christmas was the first time I let myself love you the way I always have and - can you please say something here because i'm totally freaking out.”

you blink once....and then twice. you're sure your mouth is opening and closing like a fishes would, but you're not even focused on that right now. the shock confession from vince is the only thing you hear - the only thing you've ever wanted to hear from him and he just said it. you blink a third time, "why did it take so long for you to say that?"

"you had a boyfriend - you were dating my old friend and you seemed happy. I didn’t want to jeopardize your relationship by being selfish and telling you how I feel...even if seeing you with evan killed me."

you nod in understanding - it makes sense, it's starting to all makes sense. although, you still can't be too sure. if vince is telling the truth, which you're pretty positive he is just based on how distraught and flustered he looks standing here now and telling you this - but there is one lingering comment that hasn't left your mind since the christmas tree farm, one that you need clarification on. "what did you mean by the real me?"

vince sighs - not an irritated or angry sigh, but rather like he knew the question was coming. "the real you means before you needed to put your guard up around me - before I turned into a complete idiot and you turned into a stranger. I meant it in the most sincere and positive way, and the comment stemmed from my own guilt and actions...i'm so sorry, y/n. for everything."

"evan was right," you start quietly, your voice still timid. "all that hating each other stuff wasn't believable. vince i've loved you since you moved here and i've never stopped."

he exhales in visible relief at your confession and for the first time this christmas morning, vince touches you, gently taking ahold of your warm cheeks between his palms as he cradles you in his hands. his thumbs stroke your cheeks soothingly, a much needed comfort you've been needing from him. "seriously?"

you nod against him. "seriously...and i'm sorry too."

"you don't need to apologize to me." vince is interrupts you softly, the beginning stages of his usual smirk tugging at his lips. "you've never done anything wrong or unwarranted that makes me deserve your apology, okay?"

"okay." you sigh.

vince smiles and slowly, his thumb moves down your face until he's gliding over your bottom lip. it's swollen from you constantly biting it, as well it's bruised from the pressure of his kiss last night. he gently pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb and the he leans down towards you open mouth and kisses you.

your lips pops back into place as his thumb releases it, and it immediately morphs around vince's mouth to complete the perfect kiss. this kiss is different from the one last night - even from the one many years ago during 7 minutes in heaven. there's no rushing or uncertainty, and the way your lips mold together and pass over one another is nothing but magic.

you sigh pleasantly against his mouth, pulling him impossibly closer by his hoodie. you can feel vince smile against your lips, the feeling of you so desperate and pleased as you slip your hands under the bulk of his sweatshirt and run along his bare skin, is the best feeling vince has ever felt - you are the best thing vince has ever known.

"are you guys coming downstairs or what?" johns voice is teasing as he calls up the stairs, and you can practically hear the knowing smirk just through his tone.

"yeah, stop making out and lets open these damn gifts." sammy sounds farther away than her dad, like she's still sitting on the couch as she calls for you and her brother.

you and vince pull away from one another, slightly breathless but grinning. "she's your sister." you brush past him, gently poking him in the side as you pass by.

immediately, vince grabs a bowl of your wrist and pulls you back towards him. it has you squealing slightly, letting yourself be pulled back into his embrace effortlessly. "she's your best friend" vince brushes the tip of his nose along yours, giving you a soft eskimo kiss.

your face scrunches at the tickly sensation. "yeah well, your sister and my best friend is going to kill both of us if we don't go back downstairs."

vince groans and reluctantly releases you from his tight grip. after all, if sammy is irritated with you both for holding up the present opening, could you imagine how mad she'd be if vince fucked you on her bed. you giggle slightly at the thought, walking out of sammy's bedroom and back down the hallway.

just before you can make the descend back downstairs, vince pushes up behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he whispers in your ear. "I love you." to further his point, he kisses your cheek, sending butterflies loose through your entire body.

you will always love vince dunn.

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[conjcosby]

Stardate: 202312.4 ▫ He's making a list, he's checking it twice to see who's naughty or nice. 🎅🎄 #christmas #xmas #countdown #december #festive #season #yuletide #christmascountdown #xmascountdown #happy #happydecember #festiveseason #yuletideseason #christmas2023 #xmas2023 #december4 #december4th #21daystillchristmas #21daystilxmas #countingdowntochristmas #countingdowntoxmas #christmasmonth #xmasmonth #post #christmaspost #xmaspost #dailypost #postoftheday #potd #celebration

https://www.instagram.com/p/C0bCGNeMk3W/?igshid=OTU1ODAwZWUxYg==

[shadowisabean]

Day 20 Doggie Advent Calendar 🐶🗓️

[gurugirl]

Quiet Xmas Morning blurb | bfd!harry

⋆꙳•❅‧ ☃️‧❆ ₊⋆

Summary: Your heart is full and you have so much to be thankful for on Christmas.

A/n: I know it's not very long but there's a lot of new things in this one. If you haven't already, I'd suggest reading the previous part before you read this.

Word Count: 1,507

Warning: soft fluffy cuteness - no warnings!

best friend's dad!harry masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

The house was warm and quiet as you sat in the glider chair with your newborn in your arms. She was falling asleep slowly. She'd suckle and then her eyes would lull shut before she'd startle herself awake and start to pull at your nipple like a ravenous animal again. You smiled and smoothed your fingers over the soft hair on her head. It'd only been a week and a half since she was born but you already felt like she was your everything. It surprised you how deeply you already loved her.

Elara came a little early but you were ready for her. Harry said she wanted to make it in time for Christmas. She had to be monitored for a few extra days but she was healthy and she was perfect.

You saw the glow from the Christmas tree lights filtering into her room from downstairs and then heard a little rustling. Harry must have also been up. He was sleeping when you got up to feed the baby but he often would wake up when you'd get up. It was still something to get used to. You were more exhausted than you'd ever been in your life but maybe that explained why you were so deliriously in love with her.

Her suckling grew weak again, little eyes closed, and then… she was fast asleep. After waiting a few minutes, just in case, you carefully and gently got up from the chair and tiptoed to her crib to lower her down all without waking her.

She was perfect. Yes. That was true. But she was easy to wake and she'd cry for hours if she was woken up before she was ready.

Harry stood behind you and placed a hand on your shoulder as he looked down at your little creation with you. He knew better than to even whisper so you both just smiled at one another before quietly padding out of her room and closing the door behind you.

Your body was still sore. You knew it would take time to get back to feeling like yourself. Even walking downstairs felt like something was going to knock loose and fall out of your body. Harry held your hand.

"Merry Christmas, Mama," he kissed your lips softly when you got to the first floor.

The living room was dark except for the soft golden lights wrapped around the faux Christmas tree. You preferred a real one normally but it was too much work that year. Plus the smell bothered you when you and Harry had gone to check out the tree farm weeks earlier.

"Got your gift under the tree," he motioned.

You looked under the tree to see one small box with a bow. You hadn't wrapped any of Harry's and they were all tucked away, hidden in the closet in the basement.

"I didn't wrap yours. I'm sorry," you reached up to cup his face and he brought an arm around your back.

"You already gave me the best present I could ever ask for."

You grinned, "That I did. But you played a major role in that gift. So technically I could consider that a gift from you as well."

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, "I'd say my role was very minor. All I had to do was get off a few times. You did all the hard work. All the stuff that counts."

A laugh puffed from your lips, "Okay. That I agree with."

You smelled coffee suddenly and realized Harry was making a pot.

"Decaf." He raised his brows at you. You were staying away from caffeine since you were breastfeeding. The doctor said you could have a little bit every day but Elara was fussy enough as it was. The last thing you wanted was a grouchy, angry baby hocked up on traces of caffeine.

"My mouth is watering," you spoke with a smile.

"Why don't you sit down and I'll get your coffee. Then we can open up your Christmas present."

Harry frothed a little milk for you while he took his coffee black. Even he was drinking decaf when he could have just had regular. He walked back into the living quietly, two steaming mugs in hand before handing you yours and sitting his down on the coffee table.

You took a sip as he reached under the tree to pull out the small red box. It had a small golden ribbon tied around it.

"What is it?" You held your palm out as he placed the box down into your hand.

"Well, you have to open it up first."

Taking another quick sip of your coffee before you leaned forward to place the ceramic mug down you looked at Harry with a big grin. The glittering lights from the tree were twinkling off his eyes as he looked down at the box and then up at your face.

You pulled at the ribbon and then paused when he sat up, about to push himself off the cushion, "What are you doing?"

He swallowed and you noticed that he suddenly seemed nervous, anxious. He shook his head and shrugged, "Nothing. Was just getting comfortable is all."

You squinted at him as he looked down at your hand. Then it was your turn for the nerves to take over. You couldn't be sure what was in the box but something told you that it was going to change everything. You knew Harry very well and his sudden excitement had your heart pounding in your chest. And given the size of the box…

"Harry…" you blinked your eyes and placed your hand over the lid as you swallowed.

"Just open it, baby. See what it is." He was still sitting at the edge of the cushion, watching you as you pulled the lid off. Inside was another, smaller box—a jewelry box.

You inhaled and looked up at him. He wore a soft smile on his face as he tensed his arms, like he was about to spring from the couch.

The moment you placed your fingers on the velvet-hinged top to lift it, he pushed himself onto his knees and scooted in between your thighs as the beautiful little shining diamond glinted from inside the box. A ring. But not just any ring.

He waited for a beat, his eyes on yours as your jaw dropped and you covered your mouth before looking at him in surprise.

Harry took the ring out of the box and held it between his thumb and pointer finger, "I love you. I want forever with you, Y/n. I know we're not in a rush but I couldn't wait another moment to put a ring on your finger. Tell the whole world you're mine."

You gasped out a quiet sob and just as he was about to continue you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him hard. You never imagined that you'd cry when he finally proposed but of course, your hormones were all out of whack and you'd been finding yourself crying for the smallest things lately.

He laughed when you pecked kisses over his cheek, "Yes, Harry…"

"Baby, I didn't even finish th—"

You smushed your lips over his again, swallowing his words as he pulled you into his arms until you were in his lap on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.

"I love you, Harry…" You smeared your lips down to his jaw and he chuckled quietly.

"Gonna put it on?"

Pulling away from him, you looked down at his hand and spread your fingers out for him to slip the ring onto your finger. It was dainty and perfect—one small diamond at the top, set in white gold. You held your hand up, and you admired the way it looked on your hand for a moment.

Harry wrapped his big palm around yours and pulled your hand up to his mouth, "That's a yes? You'll marry me?"

You sputtered a laugh and nodded, "Of course I will."

He kissed your knuckles and grinned at you before you pulled your hand away and wrapped your arms around his neck to squeeze him tight. Harry tucked his face into your hair and put his arms around your back.

It was going to be the best Christmas day ever. Fae would be coming by for a couple of hours and then your parents later in the evening. Telling everyone you were finally engaged would be exciting but the best part was that you and Harry had the most precious gift lying upstairs sleeping already.

You placed your hand over his chest and ran your nose against his, "I'm so happy, Harry. I love you so much."

He shifted his legs and ran a big palm up your back, "That's all I want, for you to be happy, Y/n."

Harry got exactly what he wanted because you'd never been as happy as you were in that moment.

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[jungwnies]

ASKING YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND TO HELP YOU DECORATE THE HOUSE FOR XMAS 🎄

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : genre : fluff ୨ৎ : tws : light kissing, nothing heavy ୨ৎ : word count : 3094

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : it's finally xmas season & this one was so fun and cute to write i love it >.<

ʚ・max verstappen

it was a couple weeks before christmas, and you were sitting on the floor, a box of ornaments and tangled lights in front of you. max was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, looking entirely too relaxed for someone about to be recruited for decorating duty. you glance up at him, already preparing your argument.

“baby,” you say, dragging out his name a little.

he doesn’t even look up at first, just gives you a hum. “hmm?”

“i really want to decorate the house for christmas. the tree, the mantel… everything.”

that gets his attention. he finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “decorate? like, the whole house?”

you nod, trying not to laugh at his expression. “yes. it’s our first christmas here together, and it’ll be fun. please?”

he sighs like you’ve just asked him to do the impossible, setting his phone down and leaning back. “i’m going to be terrible at this,” he mutters, already standing up.

you grin and pat the spot next to you on the floor. “you’ll survive.”

turns out, he wasn’t exaggerating—max is hilariously bad at decorating. the lights are a disaster. he pulls them out of the box, only to end up with a massive tangle in his hands. “how does this even happen?” he grumbles, holding up the mess. “these things are worse than a bad strategy call.”

you laugh, reaching over to help. “just give them to me before you make it worse.”

then it’s the ornaments. he starts off just randomly putting them on the tree until he gets oddly picky about the placement. “you can’t put two gold ones right next to each other,” he says, moving one.

“since when do you care about ornament placement?” you tease.

“i don’t, but this looks wrong,” he says, smirking.

when it’s time for the star, he insists on lifting you so you can put it on top. “don’t fall,” he warns, steadying you with both hands.

“you’ve got me,” you reply, laughing.

later, as you both sit back and look at the finished tree, he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “it’s not terrible,” he says, but the small smile on his face tells you he’s secretly proud.

you let out a soft laugh and give him a kiss on the cheek, "it's perfect considering this is our first christmas together."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

it was a chilly december evening, and the house already smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine. you were standing in the living room, a box of decorations at your feet and the christmas tree still bare in the corner. lewis wandered in, his beanie still on from walking roscoe outside, and gave you a curious look.

“baby, you planning to do all that by yourself?” he asked, nodding toward the box.

“was kind of hoping you’d help,” you said, looking up at him with a playful grin.

he chuckled, stepping closer and taking off his beanie, his curls springing loose. “you know i’m terrible at this kind of thing, right?”

“you’ll be fine,” you said, pulling out a strand of lights. “besides, it’s about the effort, not perfection.”

he raised an eyebrow, a skeptical smile on his face. “you sound like you’re setting me up to fail.”

but, to his credit, lewis dove right in, untangling lights with the focus of someone preparing for a race. “these things are like tire warmers,” he muttered, holding up a hopeless knot.

“i don’t think pirelli makes christmas lights,” you teased, reaching over to help.

once the lights were on the tree—after much adjusting and a few laughs at lewis’ questionable wrapping technique—you moved on to the ornaments. he took his time with each one, carefully inspecting them like they were trophies, even asking about the stories behind a few.

“this one’s cute,” he said, holding up a small handmade ornament. “you make this?”

“when i was a kid,” you admitted, a little embarrassed.

he laughed gently as a slight smile spread onto his face. he help the ornament carefully, placing it near the middle of the tree. “it deserves a good spot.”

when it came time for the tree topper, lewis insisted on doing it himself. “gotta make up for my shocking lights performance,” he joked. he climbed onto a chair, carefully placing the star on top while you steadied him.

stepping back, the two of you admired the tree, the warm glow of the lights filling the room. lewis slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “not bad for a rookie decorator, huh?”

you leaned into him, smiling. “you did great.”

he kissed your temple, his voice soft. “it’s not really about the tree, you know. it’s about moments like this.”

and as roscoe wandered in, settling near the tree with a content sigh, you couldn’t help but think he was absolutely right.

ʚ・george russel

it was late afternoon, and you were sitting on the couch with george, boxes of christmas decorations scattered around the room. the tree stood bare in the corner, waiting for some life to be added to it. george leaned back, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch, watching you as you sorted through ornaments.

“are we actually going to decorate today, or are you just going to stare at the boxes?” you teased, holding up a tangled string of lights.

he smirked, pushing himself off the couch. “alright, alright, i’m coming. but you know i’m terrible with the lights. they’re always a mess.”

you handed him the string, grinning. “well, you’re in luck. you’re tall, so you can deal with the top of the tree.”

george rolled his eyes playfully, taking the lights from you. “great. the perks of being tall. you get stuck doing all the hard jobs.”

“you’re lucky i’m not asking you to string lights outside,” you joked, sorting through the ornaments. “now, don’t mess it up.”

he stepped up to the tree, carefully draping the lights over the branches. “don’t mess it up,” he repeated in a slightly mocking tone, turning back to flash you a cheeky grin. “you’ve got a lot of faith in me.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i do. just... don’t make it look like you threw them on blindfolded.”

george chuckled softly, finishing his work and stepping back to inspect it. “there. masterpiece. what do you think?”

you tilted your head, pretending to be deep in thought. “hmm... it’s not bad. i’d give it... seven out of ten.”

“seven?” he gasped, feigning offense. “love, that’s a solid nine at least.”

“if you say so,” you teased, holding up the star. “want to do the honors?”

he took it from you, carefully placing it on top of the tree. stepping back, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “there. now it’s perfect.”

you smiled up at him. “you know, you’re not so bad at this after all.”

“told you,” he said with a wink. “i’m a man of many talents.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

it was late afternoon, the golden light streaming through the windows as you wrestled with a tangled mess of christmas lights. carlos wandered into the living room, wearing his usual casual track pants, a hoodie, and that slight smirk he always seemed to carry.

“qué haces?” (what are you doing?) he asked, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you struggle.

you sighed dramatically, holding up the lights in defeat. “i’m trying to decorate the tree, but these lights have other plans.”

he chuckled, that low, warm laugh of his, and walked over to you. “ay, dios mío. you didn’t wait for me? i could’ve saved you from this mess.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “oh, so you’re an expert at christmas lights now?”

“of course,” he said, grabbing the tangled strand from your hands. “i am el rey de las luces, the king of the lights." he gave you a wink, but within seconds, he had the lights in just as much of a mess as you did. “eh… maybe not.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “great job, amor.”

“oye, oye, don’t laugh. i’ll fix it,” he insisted, his accent thick as he focused on untangling the lights. his brow furrowed in concentration, the same look he wore when analyzing data back at the paddock. eventually, he managed to untangle the mess, holding up the lights triumphantly. “see? easy.”

stringing the lights around the tree became a team effort—or, more accurately, a comedy routine. carlos kept stopping to adjust them, stepping back every few minutes and tilting his head. “no, no, this side needs more. it’s like setting up the car—balance is everything.”

“you’re overthinking it, amor,” you teased, mimicking his accent slightly, which earned you a playful glare.

“cariño...don’t start with me,” he warned, pointing a light strand at you. “you want a perfect tree or no?”

when it came to the ornaments, carlos became surprisingly sentimental, asking about each one. “this one—where is it from?” he asked, holding up a little wooden angel.

“a market in my hometown,” you said. “my family bought it years ago.”

he smiled, carefully placing it near the top. “then it goes somewhere special.”

finally, the star. carlos insisted on doing it himself, grabbing a chair and climbing up with dramatic flair. “el momento más importante,” (the most important moment) he said, grinning as he carefully positioned the star at the top.

when he climbed down, he stepped back beside you, hands on his hips as he admired the tree. “mira. perfect,” (look. perfect) he said, nodding with satisfaction.

you glanced at him, smiling. “not bad for el rey de las luces.” you tease.

he looked at you, pretending to be offended. “eh, don’t disrespect the king.” then his face softened, and he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “but seriously… it’s nice, no? makes the house feel… like home.”

and with the glow of the tree lights reflecting in his warm brown eyes, you couldn’t agree more.

ʚ・charles leclerc

it was the weekend before christmas, and the kitchen smelled like cinnamon and sugar. you were trying your best to bake cookies, but the dough was a bit more messy than you expected. charles had just returned from his morning run, his hair still damp from the sweat, a towel casually draped around his neck. when he saw you, there was that warm smile—always so soft, so fond.

“hey, mon amour,” he said, his voice low and a little breathless, his accent as soft as the morning light streaming through the window.

“my love,” you smiled back, rolling your eyes playfully as you looked at the mess you’d made. “i think i need help here.”

he crossed the room with the grace of someone who was always in control, always in the moment. stepping behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “bien sûr, anything for you,” he murmured in your ear, the words full of that effortless affection he always seemed to have for you.

“really?” you teased, glancing up at him. “because if you burn these cookies, you’re doing all the decorations this year, including the tree.”

charles chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “je vais pas brûler les cookies, don’t worry, i’m a professional.” (i won’t burn the cookies)

“uh-huh, and what if i don’t want a professional? what if i want my boyfriend making cookies with me?” you grinned, nudging him lightly.

his eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “tous les jours avec toi sont parfaits,” he whispered, as if it was the most natural thing to say. (every day with you is perfect.)

you felt your heart flutter, your smile growing. “you’re making me all mushy inside,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“c’est toi qui me rends comme ça,” he replied, his voice filled with a sweetness that made everything feel softer. (it’s you who makes me this way.) you didn't really know any french, but these sweet words he said repeatively were easy for you to pick up.

he kissed the top of your head, then took the mixing bowl from your hands, stirring the dough with a calm focus. “you know, i was never good at this... but with you, it’s different. everything feels easy.”

you watched him with affection, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at you. there was something so deeply sincere about him, as if every word, every touch, every moment together felt like a promise. “i feel the same way,” you said quietly, heart swelling with love.

he stopped for a moment, setting the bowl down and gently cupping your face, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “je t’aime tellement,” he whispered, his eyes locking with yours in that way that made everything else disappear. (i love you so much.)

“i love you too,” you replied, voice a little unsteady from how full your heart felt in that instant.

he kissed you then, slow and soft, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the kitchen, the cookies, even the christmas tree that waited in the corner of the room. it was just you and him, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten.

“i don’t know what i did to deserve you,” you whispered when he pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“c’est simple, mon amour,” he said with a tender smile, his voice full of that same quiet certainty. (it’s simple, my love.) “you’re everything i never knew i needed, and more.”

and in that moment, as the soft twinkle of the christmas lights reflected in his eyes, you knew—you were exactly where you were meant to be.

ʚ・lando norris

it was a chilly evening, and you and lando were driving home from christmas shopping, the car packed with bags and decorations. you were both exhausted, but there was that festive excitement in the air.

lando glanced over with a mischievous grin. “so, what’s the plan for tonight? we’ve got the tree to decorate and i might need to save you from messing it up.”

you rolled your eyes. “oh really? you think you’re the master decorator now?”

“obviously,” he replied, grinning. “i’ve got amazing taste. no one’s topping my skills this year.”

“right,” you laughed. “because last year you couldn’t even get the star on top of the tree.”

lando gasped dramatically. “hey, that was one time! and you were totally distracting me with your light-wrangling skills.”

“sure, sure,” you teased as he parked in the driveway. “let’s see how ‘amazing’ you really are this year.”

once inside, lando eagerly got the boxes of decorations, already talking about how tonight’s tree would be perfect. “first, we do the lights, then the tinsel, and finally the ornaments. it’s a science, really.”

“a science?” you grinned, grabbing a string of lights to untangle. “sounds like something you made up to sound more impressive.”

“maybe,” he laughed, “but trust me, i’ve got this. no tangles, no mess. just perfection.”

you set to work, and as you both decorated, lando made everything feel fun. his jokes and playful banter had you laughing the entire time.

“just don’t break any ornaments this year, alright?” you warned, glancing over at him as he placed a glass bauble on the tree.

“no promises,” he winked. “but trust me, it’ll look perfect when we’re done.”

you smiled, already knowing he was right. with lando, everything—even decorating a tree—was a little brighter and a lot more fun.

“you’re ridiculous,” you teased, admiring the tree.

“but i’m your ridiculous,” he said, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “and that’s all that matters.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

it was a warm evening, and you and oscar were sitting on the balcony, the australian summer air soft and easy. the christmas lights shimmered faintly in the dimming light, but something about it still felt a little off.

“you know, it’s just weird,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “christmas in summer. i keep waiting for snow, but it’s... hot.”

oscar glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he took a sip of his drink. “yeah, i get it,” he said quietly. “it’s different. but i think it’s kind of nice, you know? christmas in the heat, just feels... relaxed.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head. “i just can’t get used to it. christmas is supposed to be cold. cozy, with fireplaces and snow.”

“it’s still christmas,” oscar said, his tone calm and steady. “just... a little warmer, that’s all.”

you smiled, but still felt a bit out of place. “i can’t be the only one who thinks this is strange, though. there’s no snowball fights, no cold air... just heat.”

oscar chuckled lightly, leaning back and stretching out. “yeah, i guess. but, uh... christmas on the beach is pretty great too, you know? different, but good.”

you gave him a sideways glance, still skeptical. “how do you just... accept this? i feel like i should be wearing gloves and snow boots.”

he shrugged, his gaze soft but sure. “it’s just how we do it here. doesn’t make it any less christmas. you’ll get used to it.”

you looked at him, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “maybe... but i’ll probably be dreaming of a white christmas while i’m sweating in this jumper.”

oscar’s smile widened slightly, his hand reaching over to squeeze yours. “if you want, we can just have our own little cozy corner. christmas is about whatever makes it feel right, yeah?”

you leaned against him, feeling more at ease. “yeah... i guess so. still feels a bit weird though.”

“you’ll get there,” he said with a calm smile. “just gotta give it time. but hey, at least we’re together, right?”

you smiled, your heart warming in the quiet evening. “yeah, you're right. it’s still perfect with you.”

“and, if it helps,” oscar added, his eyes twinkling slightly, “we can make the house feel a bit more christmasy—like, wintery christmas, if you want. i’ll help you set up whatever you need.”

your face lit up at the idea. “you’d do that? really?”

“yeah, we can hang fake snowflakes, maybe throw some fairy lights everywhere... i’ll even wear an ugly christmas sweater if it makes you feel better,” he teased, his smile soft but sincere.

“that sounds perfect,” you said, feeling the warmth of christmas already starting to settle in. with oscar by your side, maybe this summer christmas wasn’t so strange after all.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[junkissed]

taste like gold

★ | member — bf!mingyu x bf!woozi x f reader ★ | genre — smut, established poly relationship ★ | word count — 2.8k

★ | synopsis — jihoon's favorite way to unwind? a shower. mingyu's favorite way? a shower with jihoon.

★ | warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, dom!jihoon, sub!mingyu, sorta sub!reader. shower sex (no piv), blowjob (m), masturbation (m), edging (m), kissing (reader x gyu), cum in mouth/on face, some praise, nicknames (gyu: puppy, boyfriend, baby / reader: darling, girlfriend, baby). this is a poly fic so all three of them are in a relationship ★ | notes — a very late birthday/very early xmas present for my wonderful @onlymingyus ! i've been teasing her with this for a while so i hope you like it <3 if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a poly mingyu bathroom smut fic for mars i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but weird that it happened twice? this fic contains mxm themes. you are responsible for the content you consume: don't like, don't read. if you're not comfortable reading then this isn't for you. i wrote this for mars because she is poly; if you do like it, she writes a lot of poly fics so i highly recommend checking out her blog! as always: feedback, asks, and reblogs with comments are super super appreciated and help me keep writing :) merry yaoi-mas everybody

it’s been yet another long day for mingyu.

he spends his precious time running around, errand after errand, phone calls and emails and meetings, and he despises it all. he has a better place to be: at home, with the two people he loves more than anything in the world. he hates being away, because every second spent away from you and jihoon is a second wasted. 

every day it gets harder and harder to leave in the morning knowing he has another tiresome, monotonous schedule ahead, with the only reprieve the promise of returning home to both of you in the evening.

he tosses his coat over the back of the couch and flips on the kitchen light, the warm yellow glow spilling into the hallway. it’s been a longer day than usual, so he’s not surprised that dinner was eaten without him. without even having to check the refrigerator he already knows you’ve saved him the leftovers: the same worn red tupperware container and a sticky note on top with a sweet message, because that’s what you always do for him. he makes a mental note to update the calendar on the fridge with his dinner reservation for three this weekend, because that’s what he always does for you.

the next things he notices are the bedroom light on, the glow coming from the crack in the doorway, and then the hum of the shower running. he know better by now than to think he’d come home to a quiet house. no matter how many times he tells you not to, even after he protests and pouts because he wants his wonderful boyfriend and girlfriend to get their beauty sleep, he always find at least one of you still awake, patiently waiting for him to join you in bed.

he wanders down the hall, gently tapping on the bedroom door before he creaks it open. you look up from your laptop in bed, and your smile when you see him lights up the room far more than the lamp in the corner.

“jihoon’s in the shower,” you let him know, and he bites his lip, leaning against the doorframe. he doesn’t miss the way your eyes wander over his body, the tight black t-shirt he always wears when he wants your attention, the one he knows makes you jealous even though you swear it doesn’t.

“should we join him?”

jihoon runs his hands through his hair, pushing the long blond strands of his bangs backwards out of his face. his shower at the end of every day is what he looks forward to most, a time to de-stress and prepare himself for another busy day. he’s never been the type of person to enjoy morning showers, but he can’t lie and say that’s the only reason he takes them at night; at night, there’s a better chance that you or mingyu will be home. and although he loves the time alone to think, company never makes it worse.

steam fills the room, surrounding his body in heat and fogging up the mirror. it’s been too long since he’s had you and mingyu all to himself, and the bathroom feels too quiet. it’s hard to coordinate schedules, but he misses the warmth of your voice filling his ears and the bubbly tone of mingyu’s giggles. he needs more than the cold, apathetic sound of water hitting tile.

but then, as if he’d conjured you from a dream, the door suddenly opens and he lifts his head at the noise. his dark eyes settle on your figure as you stand next to mingyu, dwarfed by his larger one.

droplets of water collect in jihoon’s eyelashes as he stares at you, his expression kept neutral as he tries to hold back a smirk. he knew mingyu was working later than usual tonight, so like every other night he wasn’t expecting much. but the sight of you both standing there is a welcome surprise, one that he will never turn down, and he can tell exactly what you’re asking without saying a word.

it’s silent for several seconds as his gaze locks with yours and mingyu’s, as if he’s tempting you to break the eye contact and walk away, to wait for him to cuddle you to sleep like he always does. neither of you do.

“coming?” he finally addresses you both, unable to hold back a grin in anticipation. the look on your faces is almost adorable, how blatantly eager you both are.

you’re the first to respond. you slip off your clothes and let them fall, collecting in a pile on the floor as jihoon slides back the glass door to welcome you in. your movement spurs mingyu into action, and his clothes join yours piece by piece as he strips bare, nearly stumbling over himself in his eagerness to follow you into the shower.

jihoon moves out of the way so mingyu can stand under the stream of water, sandwiching you in between them. your heart races as mingyu draws you in, rivulets of water trickling down his toned chest as his eyes silently roam over your body, and you can’t help but study him in return. 

your gaze drifts again to jihoon, who’s now standing in the corner of the shower looking pleased. you can see the flash of lust in his eyes as mingyu grips you tightly, pulling you closer until you’re standing flush against his body, and the proximity sends a shiver of desire down your spine at the knowledge that jihoon is watching.

“why don’t you take care of him, baby? i’m sure he’s had such a long day.” his tone is low and smooth as he turns his attention to mingyu, who’s been awkwardly pouring soap on a loofah but freezes at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice. jihoon’s head is tilted downwards, his eyes lifted to look up at him through his eyelashes, and even though it’s not directed at you it still makes you shiver with how powerful the look is. “haven’t you, gyu?”

mingyu whimpers at the attention, unable to find the words to responds, and it only confirms in jihoon’s mind how badly he needs this. he glances back at you, your eyes so focused on mingyu that it almost makes jihoon laugh— you need this, too, just as much if not more.

you feel jihoon’s gaze on you, and you manage to pull yourself away from staring at mingyu long enough to catch his nod. you start to reach for him, your hand trailing down the defined muscles of his abdomen, but jihoon tsks out a disapproving noise before your hand can find mingyu’s cock, holding in a bated breath as you wait for instructions.

“you can do better than that, darling. don’t be shy. let him use your mouth.”

you look up at mingyu for confirmation as he nods quickly, unafraid to let his eagerness show, and without another word you drop to your knees in front of him. his eyes widen a little bit in excitement as you position yourself on the floor of the shower. his body blocks the stream of water from the shower, keeping you mostly dry as you watch trails of water race down his thighs.

mingyu reaches down in front of you and uses his hand to pump his cock to full hardness, although he was more than half hard already. jihoon just continues to smile from his spot at the other end of the shower, letting you get situated the way you like.

“go on,” he says once you’re both finally ready, two needy sets of eyes pleading at him and waiting patiently. “make yourself useful, baby. show him how much you love him.”

you turn your gaze back to mingyu with a grin, taking him in your hand as you begin to guide him into your mouth. his cock is thick, so much that you can barely wrap your hand around him, and you have to open your jaw wide to fit his tip inside your mouth. gently, gradually, you sink down further and further on his length, pausing every few seconds to inhale shakily through your nose.

you haven’t even started moving yet but mingyu’s already panting, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists as he struggles to adjust to the warm, tight feeling of your throat around his cock. after a second of turmoil he puts one hand on your head, tangling his fingers in your wet hair with a gentleness that seems out of place compared to his size. he’s always gentle with you, sometimes a little too gentle, but it only takes a word from jihoon to have him roughing you up the way you love.

behind you jihoon lets out a sigh, his gaze fixed on the scene in front of him. he takes his own cock into his hand, his fingers loosely gripping his length as you bob your head over and over again down his boyfriend’s shaft. as much as he likes to actively participate, he’s also content to just watching the two of you please each other, going round after round while he keeps control, relishing in the way both of you hang on his every word. 

you’re both so good to him, and he tightens his hand as he watches you gag around mingyu’s cock, half pretending that it’s your mouth on him instead. but he doesn’t need this as much as mingyu seems to, and to him, watching is more than half the fun. besides, there’s plenty of time for himself later, after you’ve taken care of gyu. next time, maybe he’ll bury himself deep in your pussy and make mingyu watch instead. or maybe he’ll let him take you too, because your moans always sound so much sweeter when both your boyfriends are inside of you at once.

mingyu thrusts his hips once, shallowly, experimentally, and you open your mouth wider to let him slide between your lips with ease. you reach up to put your hands on his thigh and squeeze a little, giving him a signal to continue. the veins in his biceps bulge as he squeezes his fingers around your hair, a constant stream of whines pouring from his lips like the shower water that pours down his back. 

“look at him,” jihoon commands, almost in amusement, and you swallow and crane your neck up so you can lift your eyes. the image above you is truly a sight to see, and you can’t help but preen at the sight of mingyu's fucked out expression, his eyes closed and his brows furrowed deeply in concentration as he bucks his hips into you faster.

“he loves your sweet little mouth, doesn’t he?” jihoon urges you on. your fingers dig into mingyu's thick thighs harder in an attempt to stop him from moving so much, but you're useless against him. he's practically fucking your throat, panting out breaths with both hands firmly tangled in your hair to hold your head in place. “whose mouth do you think is better, puppy? mine, or hers?”

“fuck—” mingyu stutters, and you feel his grip on your hair tighten as he struggles to concentrate enough to organize his thoughts. “both. fucking love this mouth, god… hoonie, please—”

“please what?” jihoon says, his voice dominant yet still calm as he watches. “tell her what you want, baby. use that pretty head of yours, hm? use your words, you can do it.”

mingyu groans and scrunches his nose, trying to focus. “wanna— ah, please can i cum? can i cum in your mouth? shit, baby, i'm so close…”

you hum out a sound of acknowledgement around his cock as you glance up at jihoon, but it only makes mingyu groan louder as he feels the vibrations from your throat surrounding his sensitive, aching length. he loves the way you’re both so obedient for him, always asking permission, always being so well-behaved when he’s in charge.

jihoon stays quiet for as long as possible, drawing out the moment until mingyu looks like he's about to cry from the effort of holding back, but he finally breaks and nods. “go ahead, puppy, fill up her mouth. you've earned it. you've been such a good boy for us, love.”

at his words you let out a moan simultaneously as mingyu does, snapping his hips into your mouth a few more times as he chases the high. you try to swallow the spit that’s pooled in your mouth, but the sudden tightening of your throat is what finally sends mingyu over the edge. he pushes his cock as deep into your mouth as he can, gasping and groaning and grunting praises scattered in between cries of your name and jihoon’s.

you can feel his tip throbbing on your tongue with each rope he releases down your throat, filling your mouth until you’re forced to pull away to breathe. the rest of his cum ends up on your face as you lick your lips and swallow the thick substance in your mouth, letting out a gasp of your own as you finally inhale a full breath.

mingyu’s hands in your hair tighten for just a second before he releases you to let you sit back, bracing himself with one large palm flat against the shower wall and the other gripping your shoulder. his neck rolls backwards as he stares up at the ceiling, letting out a whine that reverberates off the tiled walls of the shower and fills the room.

as he leans to the side his body moves from the shower spray, and you shiver as the warm water hits your lower half. drops of water trickle down your neck and between the valley of your breasts, but it’s hard to tell if it’s only from the shower or if it’s sweat.

jihoon releases his length with a wince, letting out a shaky exhale as he offers you his hand. his cock twitches in sensitivity, still fully hard and now aching at the release he denied himself. but he knows you’re not done, and he knows it’ll be well worth it later. mingyu pulls you the rest of the way up, helping you balance against him after kneeling on the hard shower floor for so long.

with barely a second to let you breathe, mingyu leans forward to capture your lips, his deep voice groaning out your name as his arms slide down to sit firmly around your waist. you melt into him, automatically moaning into the kiss, and he greedily swallows your noises until it feels like he’s going to suck the breath right out of your lungs.

he kisses you harder, one hand falling to your hip while the other reaches up to cup your jaw and guide your mouth further into him, his tongue prodding between your lips in a way that makes you feel warm from the inside out. he can taste the remnants of salty bitterness on your tongue, and it only makes him whimper into your mouth in delight.

his eyes are hazy when you finally pull away from the kiss. he pulls you into his chest and holds you tight, your cheek pressed against his warm skin as you feel his heart pounding. his arms are strong around you, his thick muscles sliding around you easily from the water and sweat, one hand holding the back of your head to keep you against him.

mingyu waves his arm and then you feel jihoon behind you, brushing your wet hair off your back so he can leave kisses across your shoulder before moving in closer. jihoon’s hands glide between your bodies, cupping your breasts as he holds you between him and mingyu.

you can feel how hard he still is pressed against your ass, but before you have a chance to say anything, jihoon reaches to flip the water off with a flick of his wrist. the temperature in the bathroom instantly falls at the loss of the hot water, but with the two men around you it’s barely even noticeable.

jihoon is the first to let go, sliding back the glass door and stepping onto the bath mat to start handing out towels, and mingyu is suddenly very, very grateful that he doesn’t have work tomorrow because it’s clear that none of you will be getting any sleep until dawn. but there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be right now, clean and comfortable and happy with the two people he loves more than anything.

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[aleskie]

TAKE A PIC, IT'LL LAST LONGER (ft. Quinn Hughes)

SUMMARY: You gift Quinn an early Christmas Present in the form of an...interesting photo shoot. Spoiler: He loves it.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: spicy but nothing happens, they make out

“Babe, wait!” You dart toward Quinn, catching him just as he’s about to step out of the front door to you guys’ apartment. In your hands is a small envelope, its edges slightly worn from your earlier fidgeting. “This is for you,” you say, your eyes sparkling with a playful, mischievous glint.

“What’s this?” he asks, a mix of amusement and curiosity dancing across his face as he takes the envelope. He holds it up to the light, tilting his head as if the paper might betray its secrets.

“It’s your early Christmas gift,” you reply, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Quinn had a packed schedule—games back-to-back, both in and out of town—all happening until a few days before Christmas. This meant no cozy nights on the couch, no late-night pillow talks, and no small, stolen moments for the two of you until at least the 24th of December. When he told you about this realization, his brow was knitted in frustration, his signature pout firmly in place. And you, always determined to ease his worries, had come up with the perfect little gesture. A bit of Christmas motivation to keep him smiling during the long stretches apart.

“Quinny, my love,” you say, drawing out the words with a teasing pout of your own as you watch him turn the envelope over in his hands, eager to try and figure out what was inside, “You can’t open it until you’re at the hotel and you really miss me.”

He looks at you and raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “This is either going to be really good or really bad, isn’t it?”

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out,” you tease, brushing your fingers against his as he tucks the envelope into his bag and kisses you goodbye.

Alone in his hotel room, Quinn sits on the edge of the bed, staring out at the dark cityscape framed by the wide window. The sting of the loss sits heavy on his chest, an unrelenting weight that refuses to lift. Missed opportunities play on a loop in his mind, each one more agonizing than the last.

He tries to shake it off—pacing the room, taking a long, hot shower—but the frustration clings to him like a second skin. What he really wants is to hear your voice, to have you whisper the words that always seem to fit just right. The ones that soothe him, make him believe everything will be okay, that everything will eventually fall into place.

But it’s late. You’re probably asleep, and he knows you have work in the morning. He can’t bring himself to bother you, no matter how much he aches to hear you.

Instead, he grabs the book from his bag—the memoir you’d teased him about, calling it his latest obsession. He tries to dive into its pages, to let someone else’s story take him away from his own. But the words blur together, the sentences sliding out of focus as his mind drifts. He flips pages aimlessly, knowing he’ll have to start over later.

And then it hits him.

The envelope.

His gaze flicks across the room to his bag, the memory of your mischievous smile and sing-song instructions rushing back. You can’t open it until you’re at the hotel and you really miss me.

Well, he’s at the hotel. And God, does he miss you. That counts, right?

Rising to his feet, he retrieves the envelope and sits back down on the bed, holding it carefully as though it might shatter. He studies it for a moment, tracing his finger along the edge of the flap before peeling it open with deliberate care.

As the contents slip into his hand, he freezes.

Whatever he’d been expecting—a heartfelt note, a sweetly scrawled letter—it wasn’t this.

Polaroid photos of you, scantily clad in nothing but a pair of angel wings and that white lingerie set he knows drives him wild. The bra perfectly accentuates your curves, and the panty with lace so sheer and delicate that it leaves nothing to the imagination.

In the photo he’s holding, you’re wearing a playful smirk on your lips, eyes glinting at the camera like you know exactly what you were doing to him. Your hair falls just right, framing your face perfectly, reminding him of just how beautiful you looked. And your pose? Back arched and on all fours, as if crawling toward the camera, arms strategically pushing your breasts together.

The photos only get bolder from there—features of you on your back, on your side, even from behind. But his favorite has to be the one where you’re biting your lips, lipstick smudged and messy. A groan escapes his lips as he instinctively reaches to palm himself through his sweatpants, memories rushing of the nights when it was him who messed up your lipstick, when he was the reason you looked so deliciously disheveled.

A handwritten note accompanied the photos, teasingly scrawled in your unmistakable script: "Merry Early Christmas! Waiting for you to come home so I can spread more than just my wings ;)” 

Amid the mix of lust and longing, he can’t help but chuckle, his cheeks warming as he imagines you, that same playful glint in your eye, right in front of him, asking him if he’d liked his gift. And then, he pictures how you’d look when he fucks that smug attitude right out of you.

The urge to call you is almost overwhelming; his fingers twitch with the need to dial your number, to tell you exactly what he wants to do to you when he gets home. But he holds back, deciding to savor the anticipation brought by your little surprise. 

It’s the middle of the night when Quinn finally gets home. You’re getting ready for bed, the quiet hum of the apartment broken by the thud of his bags hitting the floor in the entryway. The sound of his footsteps follows, steady and purposeful as they make their way toward the bedroom.

When he steps inside, the first thing you notice is his eyes—how they lock onto you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. There’s a hunger in them, raw and unspoken, as though he’s been waiting for this moment, this sight of you, for far too long.

You’re sitting up in bed, the soft glow of your bedside lamp pooling around you. A book rests open in your hands, though you’ve barely read a word since hearing the telltale signs of his arrival. His presence fills the room, and you close the book slowly, your gaze meeting his.

“Hi honey,” you say softly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips, “How was the stretch out of town?”

He doesn’t reply right away, still standing in the doorway, his eyes taking you in as though committing every detail to memory. Without a word, he crosses the room, his movements deliberate and unhurried, the weight of the past few days melting away with each step closer to you.

He takes the book from your hands and sets it aside on the table before settling between your legs. His head finds a cozy spot in the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses that trail all the way to your jaw. His hands roam, gently thumbing along the curve of your waist, sliding up and down your sides, savoring the contrast of your smooth skin against his rough palms.

You lean into him, draping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. The warmth radiating from him seeps into you, only getting stronger as he trails kisses down towards your chest, right above your heart. You can feel his heat, his longing—like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. It’s intoxicating, his hands exploring your body, his lips playfully nipping at your collarbone.

“Missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, sending a delicious shiver down your spine, “Loved your gift.”

You hum in response, savoring the closeness and the affection that wraps around you like a warm blanket.

His lips find yours in the most casual way, gentle as he cups your face and kisses you. It’s soft at first, teasing—like he was getting you ready for something more. And then he goes deeper, playfully nipping at your bottom lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. It’s a delicious whirl of warmth and movement as you tangle your fingers in his hair, clinging to him like you’re scared he might pull away.

You feel the way his hands grip your waist tightly, as if he’s trying to anchor himself to you, grounding you both into the moment that’s hot and sweet and perfect. The world fades away, and it’s just the two of you lost in each other.

The whine that escapes your lips when he pulls away is almost pathetic, but the sight of him kneeling above you more than makes up for it. You watch as he practically tears the buttons off his dress shirt, eagerly reaching a hand out to touch his bare chest, admiring the fresh bruises from the last few games he’s played.

As he moves to slide your pajama shorts off, you lift your hips to help, leaving you in just your panties.

“God, you’re an angel,” he smirks, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you looking utterly debauched—hair tousled, lips swollen from kissing, love bites dotting your neck and collarbone. He rests his hands on your knees, spreading your legs apart and exposing even more of you to his hungry gaze.

“So, what was that you said about spreading more than just your wings?”

You smirk. 

Safe to say he thoroughly enjoyed your little gift. And if you got something out of it too? Well, that’s just a bonus—definitely worth the two days of not walking.