Type: Christmas hoe fluff for my christmas kpop hoes
Length: 832 words
Summary: Fireplace + chanyeol + christmas colors
A/N: First of my Christmas hoe entires, this was originally a smut but all my nasty was left in the yoongi story yesterday, lmao, enjoy all my chanyeol stans, i lov my problematic son
“Y/n, get back from the fire.” Chanyeol deadpanned at you, your head perking up at his voice, his soft skin illuminated by the light of the Christmas tree behind you as you crouched on your knees, holding yourself against the wooden floor.
“I’m just looking at it Channie, it’s the first time we’ve used it since we’ve moved in.” You protested, crossing your arms where you sat as the slight flames of the fireplace danced a few inches away from you, your body warm from the heat it was giving off.
Sighing, chanyeol slid his book onto the stand next to the couch, his gaze flicking between you and the pine tree that filled the entire room up with a low glow, before he rolled his eyes and slid over next to you by the fire, your chest humming as he pulled you back from its flames and closer to his chest.
“There, better?” He mused, looking down with loving eyes as he watched your body settle into his, your back fitting into his hold perfectly as he held you against his sweater, your own tickling you as you leaned back.
“Much better.” You answered him, giggling lightly as his hand traced patterns on the exposed skin of your neck.
“You look so handsome.” You commented airily, watching in delight as a heat crept to his cheeks that wasn’t caused by the fire as you looked lovingly up towards him, his hands coming to interlock with yours around your tummy.
“Well… You look,-” he coughed, your eyes opening wide as you watched him again, amusement playing through them as you leaned deeper into his embrace. “Y-you look beautiful.”
“Thank you Channie.” You mumbled, your face now leaning into his sweater as you closed your eyes in content, his strong cologne lightly spritzed around him making you dizzy with happiness.
“You’re so comfy.” You giggled, feeling a small sleep surround you as the warmth from the fire and the plushness from chanyeols sweater lulled you In.
“Likewise.” He breathed, pulling you up closer after you has slouched down, and instead letting his fingers play at the skin of your jawline, hums coming from both of you as you leaned in and up, your lips pouting up at him causing chanyeol to let out a breathy laugh, before he placed his lips lightly on yours, the cinnamon gum he had been chewing still evident as it flavored his tongue with yours.
You could feel the fire raging on in front of you as one began to ignite slowly inside of your own stomach, as chanyeol’s soft hands moved from yours to play at the lower skin of your hips, your mouth curling into a smile as you kissed up into him.
“You taste like Christmas.” You mused, feeling Chanyeols forehead press against yours as you shimmied slightly forward, your body facing him as you both sat up on the carpet that coated the floor, your sweater you had draped over you slightly falling off your shoulders as chanyeol flicked his eyes between you and the exposed skin in the dim light.
“Let’s see what you taste like.” Chanyeol laughed, you’re cheeks feeling heat rush to them as you let your sweater fall off completely, pushing him backwards as you opened your mouth, playing upset as you crawled slowly on top of him, his hands coming up to smooth up your jeans as you both laid flat on the plush carpet.
“You’re getting coal in your stocking this year.” You chucked, positioning your hips on top of his as chanyeol watched with wide eyes as you smoothed your hands up and down his tacky Christmas sweater, the lush fabric wrapping around your fingers.
“And why is that?” He asked you, smiling as he saw you come down to place a small kiss behind the shell of his ear, the sounds of low Christmas music flowing through the air wrapping you up in the warmth and blow from the fire and tree.
“You’ve been a naughty boy.” You whispered lowly, feeling Chanyeol begin to vibrate beneath you as his cinnamon breath came out in little puffs against your (s/t) cheek.
“What?” You mumbled, still kissing up the shell of his ear as his hands grabbed at your belt loops, pulling you even deeper into his thighs as he wiggled, causing your heat to grow even further.
“I’ll show you how naughty I can be.” Chanyeol murmured, his body flipping you over lightly so you were laying on a pile of both your forgotten coats, snow beginning to fall and twinkle while the night stars glimmered between your curtains, the fire kissing your bodies as you exposed pieces of your skin, and the soft holiday music intermixing with your small moans and his soft groans as the subdued light of the Christmas tree illuminated your wet eyes as you looked at the other with pine scented candles pulling you both into each other’s embrace.
Oh my gosh today I’ve received so many birthday gifts (which yes I opened early sshh) and my grandmother sent me an entire package of crystals and cat books I can’t breathe (the ones pictured are quartz)
As all New York transplants to the great city of Los Angeles eventually learn, though some more quickly than others, it is a perfect place. Pete Campbell gets it immediately. There are oranges you pick right out of the tree. It’s 75 degrees and there is snow on the mountains. You can go to Canter’s and get coleslaw right inside your pastrami on rye and no one decries it as some kind of deli abomination; you’re in a place where even sandwiches can seek reinvention. There are pretty blonde real estate agents who will flirt with your better-looking coworkers, eventually sleeping with them in two or three episodes, as plot complications demand. There are sunglasses to perch atop your head and call attention to your receding hairline and lush sideburns, sweaters to drape over the shoulders of your polo shirt because you don’t need a sweater, silly, it’s 75 degrees. There are refugees of suburban failure, a continent away from their discarded families, strutting around in new plaid pants, trying to forget exactly what they lost on the East Coast. There are no bagels worth a damn.
It is a perfect place. Have an orange. Stay awhile.