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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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brunchable · 1 month ago

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Secret Santa | S. R.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x F!Reader Themes: Ex-lovers. Petty Revenge but Steve is just sweet ;_; Summary: You and Steve are forced to participate in your friend group Secret Santa gift exchange, and of course, you end up assigned to each other. You're determined to give him the worst gift possible, but his surprisingly thoughtful present throws you off—and leaves you questioning your assumptions about him. A/N: This oneshot is a part of my 4K follower Christmas Celebration. Also this one will be connected to Santa Baby that will be released next week. dividers by @saradika-graphics

It wasn’t your idea to do Secret Santa. You’d never suggest something so contrived, so obviously destined for disaster. No, this brilliant plan came courtesy of Nat, whose mischievous smirk while handing out the hat of names told you she knew exactly what she was doing.

The moment you unfolded the slip of paper and saw his name, you felt the universe mocking you. Steve Rogers. Captain Perfect. Your ex.

You stared at the paper as though sheer willpower might summon a new name. It didn’t. Across the room, Steve raised his eyebrows as he read his own slip, the corner of his mouth twitching. You had a sinking suspicion the universe had played a cruel joke on him, too.

“What are the odds?” Nat said, sidling up next to you with a glass of wine.

“Oh, I don’t know. Rigged?” you hissed back, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Steve Rogers had a habit of ruining things. Like relationships. Or, in this case, your plans to breeze through the gift exchange with a generic mug or a gift card. No, this was war. You were going to find the most obnoxious, useless gift imaginable. The kind of thing that screamed, I know exactly what you hate, and I’m leaning into it.

You weren’t just shopping for a gift. You were shopping for revenge.

The mall was an absolute hellscape of holiday cheer—children screaming, Mariah Carey’s All I Want for Christmas Is You blasting on loop, and couples holding hands like it wasn’t a battlefield. You were on a mission, weaving through the chaos, hunting for something so heinous that it would make Steve Rogers cringe.

The first store you entered was a pop-culture knick-knack shop. It was overflowing with mugs that said, “Live, Laugh, Love,” and socks decorated with pizza slices. You rolled your eyes. Too tame. Too basic. No, you needed something with bite. Something so wrong that Steve would open it and instantly regret ever existing.

That’s when you saw it. A coffee mug. But not just any coffee mug.

It was massive, comically oversized, the kind of mug that could double as a soup bowl. Bright red, with bold, white text plastered across the front:

“WORLD’S OKAYEST LOVER.”

You snorted so loudly a nearby teenager gave you a dirty look. But it wasn’t enough. Oh no. You needed more.

Two hours later, you stumbled into the most chaotic store in the mall: an unhinged combination of novelty items, offensive gag gifts, and borderline illegal paraphernalia. The walls were lined with things like glow-in-the-dark shot glasses shaped like butts and calendars full of “inspirational” quotes… all of which were expletives. And there, under a flashing neon sign that screamed, BEST GIFT IDEAS EVER, you found it.

The pièce de résistance.

A calendar. Not just any calendar, though. It was titled:

“12 Months of Aggressive Affirmations.”

The cover featured a cartoon bunny flipping the bird. Each month was worse than the last—January read: “GET UP AND FUCKING WIN,” February shouted, “STOP BEING A SAD LITTLE BITCH,” and March simply screamed, “YOU’RE NOT THE PROBLEM, EVERYONE ELSE IS JUST DUMB AS SHIT.”

You couldn’t breathe. You were doubled over, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the calendar. It was perfect. Aggressive. Vulgar. Completely unnecessary. And most importantly? It would absolutely short-circuit Steve Rogers’ clean-cut, wholesome brain.

You slapped it down on the counter, ignoring the cashier’s judgmental look as they scanned it.

“You okay?” they asked, clearly unnerved by the manic grin plastered across your face.

“Oh, I’m great,” you said, pulling out your card. “This is going to make someone very uncomfortable.”

————

On the day of the exchange, you could hardly contain your excitement. The calendar was wrapped in gaudy, glittery paper that shed sparkles everywhere—another little insult aimed directly at Steve. When he finally picked it up, his brow furrowed at the excessive tape you’d used to ensure he’d struggle opening it.

Everyone watched as he peeled away the layers, muttering something about how you always made things difficult. But when the calendar came into view, his face went completely blank.

“‘Aggressive Affirmations,’” he read aloud, flipping to January. “‘GET UP AND FUCKING WIN.’” His lips twitched, but he refused to give you the satisfaction of a laugh. Instead, he held it up, deadpan. “Wow. You really went for it.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, smirking.

Nat practically fell off the couch laughing. “This is… incredible.”

“Yeah, this’ll look great in his bedroom,” Bucky added, snatching it to flip through the months. “Oh, man, look at June. ‘YOU’RE HOTTER THAN A FUCKING FOREST FIRE.’ Steve, this is the kind of energy you need.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate all of you.”

But when you caught his eye, you saw it—a flicker of amusement, quickly smothered by exasperation.

“This is going in my gym. Where no one else can see it.” He put the calendar down carefully, shaking his head.

“Oh no,” you said, grinning wickedly. “It’s going on your fridge. Front and center. So every morning, you can start your day with a dose of aggressive self-love.”

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know whether to be mad or impressed.”

“Oh, be impressed,” you said, raising your glass. “It’s the best gift you’ll ever get.”

And when he smiled—small, reluctant, but genuine.

Steve wasn’t good at gifts. Not because he didn’t try, but because he overthought everything. For him, giving a gift wasn’t just about handing someone an object; it was a gesture, a piece of himself. And when it came to you—well, he hadn’t earned the right to give you anything, had he?

The relationship ended because of him. That much was clear. He’d been the one who pulled away, too overwhelmed by his own insecurities and the shadow of the life he thought he couldn’t offer you. And yet, here he was, standing in front of a boutique window, staring at the dress he knew you’d wanted for months.

He remembered the first time he saw you touch it. You weren’t even shopping for yourself. You’d dragged him into the boutique while looking for a birthday gift for Natasha, weaving through the racks with easy confidence. But then, you stopped.

Just for a moment.

The dress was simple—red silk, with delicate straps and a neckline that dipped just enough to make you bite your lip in that nervous way he loved. Your fingers brushed over the fabric, and you sighed, soft and wistful.

“Beautiful,” you’d murmured, almost to yourself.

Steve had stood a few steps behind, pretending to check his phone. He remembered how quickly you moved on, like you didn’t want to linger too long. You probably thought he hadn’t noticed. But he did. He always noticed.

Now, months later, Steve stood in the same boutique, heart pounding like he was about to charge into battle. The sales associate greeted him with a warm smile, clearly trying not to gawk at the former Captain America standing awkwardly among racks of designer dresses.

“I’m looking for a gift,” he said, clearing his throat.

“For someone special?”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “Yeah. She’s, uh... she’s special.”

The associate nodded knowingly and led him straight to the dress. “This one’s a favorite. Classic, elegant.”

Steve reached out, fingers grazing the fabric just as yours had. It felt like silk against his calloused palms—soft, delicate, everything he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch.

“She looked at this one,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “A while ago. I don’t think she thought I noticed.”

The associate smiled gently. “Well, you noticed. That’s what matters.”

He bought it without hesitation, ignoring the price tag. The dress came in a sleek black box tied with a ribbon, and Steve carried it home like it was the most precious thing in the world.

————

That night, Steve sat at his kitchen table with the box in front of him, a pen poised over a blank card. Words had never been his strong suit, but he needed you to know this wasn’t just a gift—it was an apology, a hope, a quiet confession.

After a long moment, he began to write:

Y/N,

I’m not great at words, but you always told me it’s the thought that counts. I saw you look at this dress once, and I don’t know if you even remember, but I do. You should have something beautiful because you deserve everything beautiful in the world. I know I’m the last person who should be saying that. But maybe this can say what I haven’t been able to.

—Steve

He stared at the card for a long time before tucking it into the box.

On the day of the gift exchange, Steve handed you the box without a word. Your name was scrawled on the tag in his careful handwriting. You hesitated, eyeing him warily, but curiosity got the better of you.

As you untied the ribbon and opened the lid, your breath caught.

The dress.

The room felt smaller somehow, the chatter of your friends fading into the background. You didn’t know what to say, and Steve didn’t push. He just stood there, watching you with that quiet, earnest expression that used to make your heart ache.

Your fingers brushed over the fabric, just as they had that day in the boutique. For a moment, you couldn’t speak.

“You remembered?” you finally whispered, looking up at him.

Steve shrugged, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I always remember.”

You froze at his words, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. It wasn’t just the dress—it was everything. All the times he’d been paying attention when you thought he wasn’t. All the moments you’d convinced yourself he didn’t care.

Your throat tightened as guilt began to creep in, sharp and relentless.

“I—” You stopped, fingers curling into the fabric. The silk felt too soft, too expensive, too meaningful in your hands. “Steve, I don’t... I don’t deserve this.”

His brow furrowed, and he took a small step closer. “Why would you say that?”

You laughed weakly, a bitter sound.

“Because I’ve spent weeks trying to think of the worst gift to give you. Something obnoxious. Something petty. And you...” You gestured at the dress, your voice breaking slightly. “You did this.”

His gaze softened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that. I get it. You’re angry at me. You have every right to be.”

You shook your head, the lump in your throat growing. “But I shouldn’t still be mad. It’s been months. You tried, Steve. You really tried, and I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he interrupted gently.

But that only made it worse. Because you did—not for being angry, but for the way you’d handled it. For not seeing how hard he was trying now.

“I just—” You exhaled shakily, holding the dress tighter against you. “I thought you weren’t paying attention. That I didn’t matter to you like that. And now... this.”

Steve’s jaw tensed, his hands fidgeting in his pockets.

“You mattered,” he said simply, the rawness in his tone cutting straight through you. “You always mattered. I just... didn’t know how to show it before.”

The room was suddenly too warm, too loud. You felt exposed, vulnerable under his gaze. His words clung to you like static, leaving no room to breathe.

You lowered your eyes, staring down at the dress in your hands. “This... it’s beautiful, Steve. It’s too much. I don’t deserve it after—”

“You do,” he interrupted, his voice firm this time. “You deserve something beautiful. Even if you hate me, Y/N.”

You glanced up sharply at that, seeing the way his eyes flickered with something like regret—or maybe hope.

“I'm sorry. I don’t—” You stopped yourself. Lying felt crueller than the truth. “I don’t hate you, Steve. I just... I don’t know what to do with all of this.”

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You don’t have to do anything. It’s a gift. No strings attached.”

And somehow, that made the guilt worse. Because he meant it. You could tell. And it left you wondering if maybe he’d always meant it, even when he didn’t know how to show it.

“Thank you,” you said softly, clutching the dress like a lifeline.

Steve nodded, his hands still buried in his pockets as he stepped back, giving you space. But his eyes lingered, and for the first time in months, you felt like you really saw him. Not the perfect soldier, not your ex—but the man who’d been paying attention all along.

Tags: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @strawberrybisou @alyana-luvs-u @rogersbarber @veronicapaula

@fynnwolff @bmyva1entine @thereoncewasagirlnamedjane @awaywithtime

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #captain america x you #captain america imagines #captain america x y/n #captain america x female reader #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic

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auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

Text

Now I pretty much missed the whole thing, but to be clear Barracks Bunny is a derogatory term which is why it's hot in the context of dark content? It's also very hot to imagine the likes of Soap actively claiming the term because he loves that it's a degrading way to call him a slut? Like you are interacting with darkfic, what's not clicking?

Anyway, Gaz gets Soap for secret santa and gets him a playboy bunny outfit as a gag gift only to be gagged when he swans in wearing it with no shame what so ever. This man has been slutting about and not one of his team has called him on it or teased him or said something horribly mean, what's a man gotta do to get some degradation around here? He's trying his fucking best to get one of them to say something mean and they're all just letting him live his life and being supporting? Christ he hopes the discomfort of the thong trying to bisect him and the time he took to make one of the bunny ears flop over just so isn't a waste and they actually take the damn bait for once.

#the way Ghost would absolutely humiliate this man and speak to him like he is dirt if he'd actually use his words and ask #because he is not going to just do it without consent and he needs that consent to be led by the other party #but Soap thinks he is being all coy and alluring

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peachhcs · 14 days ago

Note

oohhh that was adorable !!

what do samy and will get each other for christmas?

sweet, sweet gifts

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

part 2 to sweet, sweet memories where some pretty special gifts are exchanged!

wc: 2.4k

merry christmas to everyone who celebrates today! here is the part 2 to probably one of my favorite fics i've written for this au! i know a lotttt of people have done the tattoo initials before, but i really wanted to join the trend and can totally see samy + will doing this for one another:) but happy holidays!!

au masterlist

both families were gathered around the living room taking turns exchanging gifts after the extravagant wake up and cleaning up all the silly string. the hughes siblings started first with their sibling gift exchange where every year they would pick names out of a hat like secret santa. the parents and smiths watched in amusement as the four huddled in a circle together.

"alright, go ahead and pass," ellen smiled and the siblings quickly exchanged their gifts to who they got. samy passed hers over to jack, jack passed to luke, luke passed to quinn, and quinn passed to samy.

"i fucking knew you got me," jack mumbled in a small smirk as he admired his sister's signature reindeer wrapping paper.

"what? you make luke tell you who he got so you could do process of elimination?" samy giggled.

"hey, it's hard when we live together," the middle brother defended himself and samy just rolled her eyes.

"okay, youngest opens first. open your gift," quinn poked her knee and the girl grinned. she quickly tore through quinn's vancouver blue wrapping paper. it was a rather big box so she wondered what he got her that could be so big.

when she got down to the cardboard box she grew even more curious, reaching for the scissors to cut into the heavy cardboard. finally, she got to the bottom where a white frame facing down revealed itself. the girl carefully lifted it from the box, flipping it over while jack and luke leaned forward to see what it was. quinn sat beside her nervously awaiting her reaction to what became a very sentimental gift.

"oh my god. is this all of my state wins and my recent win?" samy examined each of her game winning photo reactions collaged together into one big picture frame.

"yup, i asked mom for the pictures. i figured you'd want a huge photo of them all together," quinn explained and samy reached over to embrace him in a hug.

"thanks, quinny. i love it. it's so sentimental," the girl hummed and flipped it around so everyone could see better.

"wow, what a gift, quinn," jim nodded.

"it came out so well, i'm so glad," ellen grinned.

"good luck getting that back on the plane," luke snickered and quickly tore into his gift next. the others watched as he shredded the devils red wrapping paper—each sibling seemingly matching their wrapping paper to their team colors this year. jack had a big grin on his face which could only mean so many things from him because he was the master at gag gifts.

out came a little box and luke's eyes widened when he realized what it was. the other siblings leaned in to see, "holy shit, it's me!" the second youngest exclaimed.

he flipped it around so everyone could see him as a little funk pop dressed in his new jersey devils uniform holding his hockey stick. "oh my god! that's adorable!" ellen gushed.

"how'd you even do that?" samy wondered and admired her brother in a box.

"a few emails back and forth with the company. they were more than happy to do it," jack explained.

"this is actually sick, rowdy. thanks," luke patted his brother's back where they exchanged a small hug.

"his frontal lobe must be developing if he didn't get a gag gift this year," samy teased making her brother roll his eyes.

"okay you next," luke nudged jack and the boy quickly tore into the wrapping paper.

samy watched with a smile, hoping jack would like his gift. the reindeer wrapping paper went flying as the middle brother tore through it and luke caught a glimpse of the gift first, his eyes widening.

"no fucking way," jack said when he saw what it was. he pulled it out further so everyone could see the two water guns and now everyone's eyes widened.

"you always say how you want more water guns, so i went ahead and got some for you. you can use them on luke back in jersey or at the lake house," the girl explained.

"no, not at me. save that for the summer," luke quickly shook his head making everyone else laugh.

"this is fucking sick, thanks pop," jack reached over to hug her.

"glad you like them. i know yours wasn't really a gag gift, but i wanted to gag gift you back," everyone shared a laugh and finally, it was quinn's turn.

the oldest hughes was a pretty simple guy and never wanted much, so he looked surprised when luke pulled out a rather large gift for him. because he was such a simple guy, sometimes the siblings struggled what to get him because he never wanted much.

"now, technically i did get you, but we all kind of put thought into this," luke explained making the older boy raise his eyebrow. he glanced at his parents who only shrugged because they had no idea.

they watched in anticipation as quinn carefully opened his gift. it looked similar to samy's with the big white picture frame, but when he flipped it over, the older boy was pleasantly surprised with what he saw.

at the top of the frame was a picture of all of them together at the game quinn was officially named captain of the canucks. beneath the picture was one of his jersey's where the C was proudly displayed on the top right corner. all around the picture were hand written notes from all of his siblings telling him how proud they were of him. quinn's eyes quickly watered, not expecting such sweet gift. the others nervously watched his reaction.

"q, that's so sweet," ellen broke the silence first as she also examined the picture from over his shoulder.

"wee wanted to memorialize such a special moment for you so you'd have it forever and you know how much you mean to us," luke said.

"he's crying, i knew we'd make him cry," jack chuckled and reached over to rub his older brother's shoulder.

"this is the best thing i've ever gotten. i have no words," the older boy quickly wiped his tears to bring his three younger siblings into a hug.

ellen quickly pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the sweet moment.

once the sibling gift exchange was over, it was now time for everything else. colleen and bill handed out their gifts, ellen and jim distributed theirs, and there were a few extra gifts exchanged a long the way that the siblings got one another and between will and grace too. samy got her dyson air wrap as she predicted along with some more necessities she asked for like new mascara, lip gloss, face cream, and perfume.

after everything was opened, the dads worked to clean up the wrapping paper while the moms got to the kitchen to start brunch. samy and will shied away a bit from opening gifts from one another in front of their families, so they disappeared to his room for a second.

"i hope you like it, i literally talked with ryan and gabe about it for weeks," samy chuckled as she slid the two big boxes towards the blonde. he raised his eyebrow a little bit, his curiosity growing.

"hearing that makes me worried," will mumbled because they knew how much ryan and gabe also loved giving gag gifts.

samy watched as he dug into the first big one. the familiar white frame revealed itself which also seemed to be another running theme in the household with these sentimental picture collage gifts. will carefully flipped it over, wondering what would be on the other side.

"we know how much playing at boston meant to you, so gabe and ryan managed to pull a few strings to get your jersey. i printed the pictures and put them all together, so i guess it's sort of a joint gift from all of us? i was thinking you can hang it in your room to remember your time at boston and the legacy your family has to the school," the brunette explained the thought behind the gift and the boy was smiling again as he admired all of the photos of him on the ice or with his friends.

"wow, this is so sweet. i love it, thank you," will glanced up at her, a soft expression on his features which she quickly returned.

"i guess all of us were thinking alike this christmas, but once luke mentioned what he was getting quinn i wanted to do something similar for you," will leaned over to give her a tight hug.

"this is really special, thank you again. i love you," the hockey player hummed, kissing her cheek. he went to tear into the next box which was a bunch of clothes samy saw and figured will would like since he always told her how he watched to change up some of his style.

"hell yeah, i wanted this," the boy said when he saw the abercrombie and fitch sweatshirt and matching jeans.

"i hope they fit. i like kind of knew your size, but not really. i have all the receipts if you need to exchange," samy giggled.

"they're perfect, thank you," he kissed her cheek again. he began passing his gifts over to her until the youngest hughes stopped him. this last gift she was a bit nervous for because it was something she did on a complete whim and didn't know if will would like it or not. he raised his eyebrow when she stopped him for a second.

"i do have one more thing," she began which made the blonde glance at her in confusion. "hopefully you won't think it's stupid or cringey, but i've been thinking about doing it for awhile and i finally did it a few days after i saw you in san jose. it's just a little something..like..to remember you're always with me even when we're miles apart," she rambled a little and will just wondered in amusement what the last gift could possibly be.

when samy stood and began pulling her pajama waist band down, the boy's curiosity grew. was she about to show him her underwear or something? will definitely wouldn't complain if that was the case, but samy stopped about halfway down her hip. will looked closer and that's when he saw black ink marking her skin with 2 simple letters and a number. w.s. 2

his initials. his initials in her skin forever. his eyes widened in disbelief.

"holy shit, no way.." will reached out to gently brush his thumb across the somewhat fresh ink. he actually had zero words, yet it was the hottest thing he's ever seen.

"is it cringy? you can tell me if it is," the girl said nervously when all will did was stare at her upper hip bone. his fingers were delicate across her skin, so mesmerized with the way it looked.

"no way. i love it. i'm on you forever," he looked up at her, such a lovestruck expression on his features it made the girl blush.

"yeah, you are. it's like our own reminder that you're right here with me all the time," she ruffled her hand through his curls, a bit caught off guard when will leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to the area.

"god, i love you," he mumbled.

"i love you," samy grinned.

"you know, i really do think we think the same because i also have a surprise for you," will said and stood up too. the brunette watched as he pulled down his own waist band where on the same exact side as hers was will's own tattoo on his hip except it was her own initials and #6.

samy's eyes widened seeing her boyfriend's hip. "no fucking way," she mumbled.

"i also got mine done a few days after you left san jose. we were probably on the same brain wave length or something, but i've also been wanting to this for some time or at least get your number somewhere. i guess the 6 is a tribute to my time at boston college too," the blonde chuckled, watching as samy reached forward to brush her finger over her initials.

"i was thinking about getting a 6 too, but i'm glad i didn't. i can't believe we did the same thing, that's hilarious," samy looked back at her boyfriend who smiled.

"no matter where we are or how far apart we get, i'll always come back to you," will cupped her cheeks, pressing a kiss to her nose before going in to her lips.

"i love you," samy mumbled when they pulled apart again.

"i love you," will hummed and then went to grab the rest of samy's gifts. she carefully worked through them, mumbling how will didn't need to get her so much. he never listened though because his girl deserved nothing less.

she popped open a jewelry box that had small s and w pendants hanging off a little chain. "you keep bugging me how you wanted a necklace," will poked her side and the girl grinned.

"i did, thank you. i love it," she kissed his cheek. he also got her san jose clothes since she always stole his (not that will minded at all, but he wanted her to have her own too).

when they were done, the couple just sat on his bed admiring their gifts and taking in the moment together. "these were all so sweet, thank you," samy said again.

"of course. i hope you like everything," will said and she quickly nodded.

"i love it all. you're the best," she leaned forward to embrace him in a tight hug.

there was a sharp knock on the door making them pull apart in surprise even though they weren't even doing anything. luke poked his head in, "we're going out to the beach if you lovebirds aren't just."

"we'll be down in five," samy said and her brother nodded before disappearing.

"are you gonna join our polar plunging?" the girl got up from the bed to find her swimsuit.

"i think i'd like to not freeze, so i'll sit this one out," the blonde laughed.

"okay, suit yourself," samy giggled. she quickly changed, pulling pants and long sleeve shirt over for now so she didn't freeze too much.

her and will were downstairs a minute later.

"last one in loses!" jack exclaimed and rushed out the door. the others called after him, quickly following while the parents just laughed to themselves, opting to also stay inside away from the snowy day.

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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santa baby * ls2

it's never fun feeling like an outsider, so you'd sworn that nobody would ever feel the way you did all those years ago

pairings: logan sargeant x platonic!femdriver

notes: hi i know i took forever to write this but uh what r u gonna do? ik u love me B)

you hum, whirling around at the camera crew settling right by the front of the mercedes racing home. “ah, it’s that time of years again, isn’t it?”

“yes! are you excited?”

you nod with a smile as you see a box being pulled out of the cart they’ve been lugging around in the paddocks for the video. “have you seen the present? got any hints for me?”

“aw, we can’t do that,” she giggles. “where’s the fun in that?”

secret santa is the yearly affair that you find yourself looking forward to as the year progresses. it’s always the santa hat and the fun of guessing who’s gotten you what this year. what used to be a silly game of gag gifts when you first started out, is now an endearing event filled with thoughtful gifts that you keep on your shelf for years to come.

last year, max had gotten your name. he is very thoughtful with his presents. his present sits at the top of your shelf: a paper mache trophy he admitted that he made with penelope (you’ve met her and she loves you) deeming you his toughest competitor in 2022.

you’re curious to see who drew your name this year.

“oh! do i get to keep this one?” you giggle as she hands you a santa hat. you pull it over your head snuggly and clap your hands. “where is it?”

“here.”

a box is handed to you, wrapped neatly in a mercedes green paper. you squeal as you take it into your hands and carefully unwrap it. there is something about wrapping paper that is so incredibly delicate and worth keeping.

you carefully tear at the tape holding the seams and edges of the box.

“any guesses who it could be right off the bat?”

“it could be anyone at this point,” you sigh, shaking your head. “could it be max again? hopefully it’s not charles — who knows what he will give me.” you look up to the camera. “in secret santa terms, of course. he is actually a good gift giver.”

you tear off the wrapping paper, folding it up neatly before pinning it between your body and elbow. “okay. truth time.”

you pull the cover off the box and tilt your head at the array of presents sitting comfortably in mercedes’ coloured confetti.

“what did you get?”

“a ‘best mum’ mug?” you say, coming out in a slight question as you lift up the pastel green mug to the camera. “am i pregnant and somehow it’s passed me?”

you hear a chorus of laughter as you venture further, each of the presents somehow getting weirder by the second. “and a christmas card? seriously?”

you graze your fingers over the 3d design on the card with a small smile, reading ‘merry christmas!’ with a cute doodle of a christmas tree in the centre. “we’ve been instructed to tell you to read that after you get all the presents and guess him correctly.”

your eyes trail to the gold plate in the shape of a star.

“another trophy!” you shriek. you squint your eyes to read the inscription on the plate. you sigh and press your lips together into a thin line. you hold it up. “best grid mum. the spelling alone gives it away!”

you step forward and let the camera zoom into it, the inscription reading “best grid mom”. “logan’s my secret santa?”

“ah, rookie mistake with the spelling there, wasn’t it?” she laughs. “there’s one more gift. he told us to give it to you when you figure it out.”

somebody else reaches out with a frame in their hands. you take it into your hands and smile, a picture of you and logan sitting right outside the mercedes home together for lunch sits tightly behind the glass.

“this is so sweet!” you coo, one hand covering your red cheeks. “do you want me to read the card?” she nods. you open the folded card and read as you speak. “thanks for welcoming me this year to the grid. you’re the best ever. hope i get to race with you longer than just this season. love, your secret santa.”

you look up as tears well in your eyes, looking into the camera. “aw, you’re the sweetest, logan. don’t worry, i’ve already got a present for him this christmas.”

you point to the lens of the camera. “can i grab this thing real quick for dramatic effect?” he nods. you grab the frame of the lens and take a step forward. “james vowles, if you do not re-sign logan hunter sargeant, i know where to find you.”

@cashtons-wife

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke inthaf #logan sargeant platonic #disneyprincemuke 3k celly

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captain-hawks · 1 year ago

Text

THE LINE BETWEEN LUST & CONTEMPT

♡ — kento nanami x f!reader

As you glance down at the skimpy, khaki skirt and blue shirt that’s missing far too many buttons on the top end, topped off with a silky, patterned yellow tie and heels that may actually kill you, you find yourself wondering again who in their right mind let Gojo pitch Secret Santa-style costumes for the Halloween party.

18+ ONLY

wc — 5.5k

content — enemies to lovers speed run, protective Nanami, soft dom!Nanami vibes, "fucking it out", gagged with a tie, oral fixation, spit kink, spitting in mouth, fingering, squirting, handjob, choking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, washing machine sex, wall sex, praise kink, Nanami’s big dick

— AKA what if nobody went to Shibuya and everyone went to a Halloween party instead?

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“You’re joking, right?”

There’s a familiar chuckle that rings out over the phone, one that often signifies nothing good is to come when you’re on the receiving end of it.

“Does everything fit?” Gojo asks coyly, as if he’s incapable of hearing the thinly-veiled threat in your prior question. It wouldn’t be the first time.

You glare at your phone where it’s perched atop your dresser before returning your gaze to the mirror in front of you, readjusting the blue button down shirt once again in an attempt to keep your chest at least modestly covered—it’s a lost cause.

“Well, this shirt’s somehow missing half the buttons from the top,” you respond dryly, moving on to fix the silky, yellow tie with black spots that’s secured loosely around your neck.

This is a disaster waiting to happen.

“And?”

“And my ass is basically hanging out of this skirt,” you continue, roughly tugging the khaki-coloured material down in vain, as if that will persuade it to extend past its otherwise permanent resting place against your very upper thighs.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Kicking at the precariously tall pair of heels sitting on the floor waiting to wreck your feet, you grumble, “I can’t even walk in heels.”

“Shoko’s house is small. You’ll be fine.”

You walk over to your bed, eyeing the gift bag that Gojo had left sitting on your desk at the school earlier this morning. Something still remains neatly placed at the bottom—a lacy, red lingerie set.

“Should I ask why you bought me lingerie, too? I don’t see how that’s part of the costume. Unless Nanami likes wearing thongs on his days off.”

There’s that fucking chuckle again.

“Nanami-kun loves the color red, don’t you know?”

An unwelcome flash of heat flares white-hot in your gut at the implication behind his words, and you’re mortified. “You’re aware we hate each other, right? Have you been living under a rock? He’ll probably turn around and leave as soon as he walks in and sees me wearing this.”

Gojo’s chuckle turns into an outright laugh, and you can practically hear him shoving his stupid blindfold up to wipe away the tears of amusement prickling at the corners of his ridiculously blue eyes.

“Hate? Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Asshole.

You hang up on him.

–

You had the (dis)pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kento Nanami just over a year ago, shortly after Gojo roped him back into the world of jujutsu sorcery, despite his best efforts to avoid it during his stint as a salaryman. Given that Jujutsu High isn’t exactly brimming with a large roster of full-fledged sorcerers, the two of you have—naturally—been paired up on your fair share of cases.

To say that you don’t work well together is an understatement.

Nanami’s straightforward and calculated way of operating in the field is a direct contrast to your fast and loose approach, one that relies heavily on acting on your feelings in the heat of the moment, rather than calculating precise, measured ratios that guarantee a critical hit.

You’re too reckless.

Too emotional.

Too spontaneous.

Too sentimental.

You grate on him much in the way Gojo does, but whereas there are years of friendship that give Nanami the patience to put up with the strongest sorcerer’s antics, he has no reason to extend that same courtesy to you.

Needless to say, he’d outright balked when Gojo happily announced that you were a grade 1 sorcerer as well, something that never fails to ruffle his feathers as he watches you flirt with dangerous situations time and time again just for the thrill of it, saving your finishing blow of cursed energy for the last possible moment.

“I can’t work with someone who’s actively trying to get themselves killed,” you’d overheard him snapping at Gojo after your second mission together. “She’s worse than you.”

“She always gets the job done, doesn’t she?”

“At the cost of my sanity, I can’t say it’s worth it.”

Admittedly, you may or may not exacerbate the issue on occasion, exaggerating the aforementioned behavior that you know gets on his nerves just to further get a rise out of him in your attempts to try and dislodge the perpetual stick that’s lodged up his ass.

–

When Shoko opens the door to her apartment later that evening, the sounds of music and laughter spilling out onto her front step, she takes one look at your costume, eyes wide, and laughs, “Oh, Nanami is going to love this.”

You exhale dramatically through your nose, though the exasperated gesture is thrown off by the way you then proceed to shiver, your meager outfit doing little to protect you from the crisp October air. “Tell me again why we didn’t veto Gojo’s Secret Santa Halloween?”

She shrugs, stepping aside to let you in as she offers you a knowing glance. “I seem to remember you saying how fun it would be to surprise each other with costumes.”

“That was before he picked my name,” you lament, glancing down at the outfit that you’ve now begun to refer to as The Slutty Salaryman.

“Guess I’m lucky you picked me, then,” she winks, waving a hand to show off the far more modest and fun rendition of Principal Yaga that you’d put together for her, complete with a faux cursed corpse seated on her shoulder with large googly eyes glued to its little bear face. “If it makes you feel any better, someone with a sense of humor clearly got Gojo.”

Careful not to trip and fall to your death in the heels as you head through the entryway to the party beyond, which is bustling with a mixture of familiar faces and strangers alike, you scan the room for a tall head of white hair. True to Shoko’s words, you’re not at all disappointed when you catch sight of Gojo dressed as Gakuganji, looking completely ridiculous with fake facial hair, crudely drawn makeup to add decades to his appearance, and loose-fitting pants that are amusingly unflattering on his lean frame.

It’s not quite revenge, but it’ll do.

–

Two hours pass without a sign of the man you’re dressed as, and for a moment, you’re relieved at the thought that perhaps you’re off the hook. Every little smug, knowing grin Gojo’s been tossing your way will have been for naught.

But perhaps just to spite you, the front door swings open the moment you take a celebratory swig from the glass of wine in your hands, leaving Shoko to pound on your back while you start choking on the liquid at the goddamn sight standing before you.

Nanami’s dressed as Gojo.

Sort of.

His blonde hair can’t quite disobey the laws of gravity like the other sorcerer’s stark white locks, so it hangs soft and loose over the white blindfold on his face, which is lifted just enough over one eye so he can actually see. Rather than don Gojo’s typical uniform, Nanami’s in an all-black suit (save for the tie he never goes anywhere without), the well-fitting material leaving little to the imagination as it snugly hugs his muscled arms and thick thighs.

You’re too distracted to respond to the way Shoko’s snickering in your ear, and when Nanami turns around to talk to someone—thus offering you a view of the outfit from behind—you choke again.

Naturally, you spend the next hour doing everything in your power to avoid Nanami for reasons you’re not quite ready to examine, utilizing an excessive amount of mental gymnastics to justify the way you keep dipping out of conversations every time you catch a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. The confusing mixture of feelings you’re experiencing has sent your fight-or-flight response into overdrive.

Your concerted efforts take a nosedive when a far-too-observant Gojo manages to wrangle the two of you into a conversation before you can find an excuse to be somewhere else. It’s disastrous at best, Nanami offering a blunt, disinterested list of every poor decision he felt that you made when Gojo asks how your joint assignment the other day went.

And just when you’re about to lay into Nanami about how difficult he made that mission, Shoko grabs you by the hip, resting her head on your shoulder with a smile as she turns to him and asks in a calculating tone, “Nanami-kun, doesn’t her costume look great?”

He glances at you with a gaze full of disinterest before turning to Gojo with an unimpressed look. “I’d never wear such a cheap tie.”

Nanami walks away to get another drink before you can think of a good comeback, though admittedly, the tie is a terrible knock off.

—

“Shit, sorry!”

Cold beer splashes across your chest and soaks the front of your shirt as a man trips and stumbles in your direction, and you groan in annoyance at the feeling of the sticky liquid dripping down your skin. Despite the fact that you wave him off, heading toward the kitchen in search of paper towels, he follows you, spilling out a string of apologies as he himself scrambles for a pile of napkins.

It’s an awkward shuffle of you trying to clean your chest off without flashing him and the man getting entirely too close as he awkwardly makes an attempt to dab your shirt dry. To your relief, he doesn’t make it that far, the fingers now wrapped around his wrist halting his arm midair.

“She’s fine.”

Nanami.

The blindfold is long gone, leaving behind the rare sight of him with no glasses and soft, tousled hair. Internally, you scramble to rustle up the familiar feeling of annoyance that always weighs heavily in your gut at the sight of him. Instead, it’s all you can do to try and keep the hitch in your breath inaudible as you feel your stupid heart trip over itself.

“I’m just—”

“Do you need his help?” Nanami interrupts the man’s slightly slurred words, directing his steely gaze to you.

For all of the endless comebacks you can normally conjure up to hurl back at him between one breath and the next, you’re temporarily rendered speechless in confusion as to why he’s helping you. So instead, you just shake your head.

“She doesn’t need your help,” he repeats, nothing friendly in the way he says it.

The man apologizes again as he drops your arm and scurries from the kitchen, and you turn away from Nanami, leaning against the counter as you attempt to catch your breath and school your expression into something that doesn’t scream, “Why the fuck was that so hot?”

“Are you alright?” he asks carefully, the tinge of concern in his voice sinking into your bones.

Hand coming up short from the now-empty paper towel roll, you let out a sound of frustration, though it’s moreso due to the infuriating way your body’s been reacting all night to a man you normally can’t even be in the same room with without arguing about something.

“Like you said, I’m fine,” you tell him sarcastically, spinning around and pushing past him to grab napkins from the table instead. When all else fails, deflect.

Unfortunately, spinning in heels is arguably one of your worst decisions of the evening, because you instantly lose your balance on the smooth tile floor. When you try to right yourself mid-step, the room tilts as the heel on one shoe cracks under the pressure. Your hands fly up to break your inevitable fall, but it never comes, a pair of arms wrapping firmly around your body and catching you.

Body momentarily on an angle as Nanami holds you against his warm, solid frame, you look up at him with a dumbfounded expression. If he did this in the field, you’d have jumped out of his hold with a snarky remark about not needing his help.

But right now?

Right now, you don’t know what you want.

He stares down at you, nonplussed. “You can’t walk in heels,” he observes.

You blink.

“I can’t walk in heels,” you concede, for once not brimming with the fire to argue.

“And you’re still dripping wet.”

Nanami lifts you back into a standing position, napkins clutched in one hand as he stands on your side with the broken heel and wraps an arm around your waist, helping you to walk. You desperately try to ignore the way it feels to be tucked against him.

You hate him.

Right?

He has you facing the short hallway that you know leads to Shoko’s laundry room instead of the living room. “Should I ask where you’re taking me?”

He looks at you, sighing and shaking his head as he walks you toward another door, flicking on the light before he suddenly hoists you up without warning. You yelp at the feeling of something cold touching the backs of your thighs, short skirt and thin tights doing nothing to protect you from the metal surface you’re now sitting on. Glancing down, you realize he’s put you on top of the washer.

“Here,” he unceremoniously drops the pile of napkins into your lap. “I thought you might want to clean yourself up somewhere more private, given that you seem to be missing most of the buttons on your shirt.”

Is that fucking sarcasm in his voice?

He waves his hand in the direction of the damp blue button down, as if it’s not meant to be an imitation of his trademark outfit.

“And what are you going to d—”

You’re cut off by your own gasp at the feeling of Nanami’s hand wrapping around your ankle, the gentleness of the gesture a stark contrast to the way he’d nearly manhandled the stranger in the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow, holding up the broken-off heel in his other hand.

“Can’t have you limping around Shoko’s house the rest of the night, can we? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

You can’t bring yourself to argue, too mesmerized by the way he drags a hand through his blonde hair to push it out of his face, the stubborn locks fighting their way back across his forehead as his brows furrow together in concentration.

You want to card your own hands through it, to see what kind of expression his face will morph into.

No.

“I think they’re a lost cause,” you sigh, leaning forward to take them off and admit defeat. You’re sure Shoko has a pair of slippers somewhere.

You get a face full of Nanami’s hair instead as he beats you to the punch, his long, deft fingers making surprisingly quick work of the tiny buckles as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re now purposely inhaling the scent of his shampoo for whatever fucking reason has compelled your traitorous body to do so.

This entire night is a write off at this point.

Head elsewhere, you belatedly realize that your legs are spread far too wide for the microscopic length of your skirt, which may be why Nanami’s gaze has remained dutifully trained on your feet, rather than the bright red thong you know is staring him in the face. You try not to make it too obvious as you inch your thighs back together.

Putting your shoes on top of the dryer, Nanami goes to leave, turning his head to the side once he’s facing the door, “Do you want me to get Shoko?”

You should say yes.

You should say yes and watch him go back out to the party, letting the door swing shut on this strange, baffling detour in your contemptuous, stormy relationship.

You’ll go home and sleep off the tightening of your throat and the pressure in your chest, these hazy, confusing feelings sure to fade in the night, long gone after sunrise like the evaporation of morning dew.

But you’ve never been one to make things easy for yourself.

“So that’s it?”

Nanami turns around fully, eyes meeting yours. “What do you mean?” he asks carefully.

“You’re just going to go back out to the party?” You’re not sure why you’re pushing him.

He takes two slow steps back toward you, hip brushing against your knee when he comes to a stop. “Are you incapable of getting off of the washer without hurting yourself, too?”

There’s an unfamiliar, teasing lilt to the way he says it, and you shift in place, blood prickling hot beneath your skin. What’s wrong with you tonight?

“You really have nothing to say about my costume?” The words are out of your mouth faster than you can take back the idle thought that’s been nagging you since he walked in the door.

Since you caught him looking at you from across the room several times after his initial biting remark about the tie, his expression unreadable.

Nanami scoffs quietly, the scent of his cologne licking its way up your nostrils as he leans one hand atop the washer, just beside your thigh. Veins bulge against his forearm, and you find yourself wondering when he rolled his sleeves up.

Electricity shoots down your spine as a caress of hot breath tickles the shell of your ear. “What do you want me to say?”

You stare straight ahead, not turning to face him. “How much you hate it.”

The air in the small room is thick with the tension that hangs heavily in the scant space between your bodies. Nanami’s quiet for a moment.

“I do hate it.”

Why do you feel so disappointed by the response you knew you’d get?

Then, his dress shoes scuff against the floor, his right hand coming to rest on your other side as he slides over and cages you in entirely.

“I hate how badly it makes me want to fuck you,” he breathes out.

Suddenly, you feel far too hot and dizzy to be perched atop Shoko’s washer. “What?”

He chuckles darkly. “Don’t act stupid, princess.”

The air feels like it’s rattling in your chest as you inhale, your increased intake of oxygen doing nothing to clear your clouded brain. “You hate me,” you say dumbly.

His thumb twitches, brushing against the outside of your thigh where there’s a small run in your sheer stockings. The contact is so minimal, you barely feel it, but it leaves a burning hot brand echoing through your nervous system all the same.

Despite the fact that he has you caged atop the washing machine, he’s barely touching you, his body arched just enough to avoid the idle sway of your legs. His tie dangles in the space between your bodies, and you have to fight the urge to wrap your fingers around it and tug.

Nanami stares at you, an odd expression on his face. “I hate the way you make me feel,” he corrects you.

Oh.

“But you—”

“You’re reckless.”

“I’m—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Well—”

“You’re too fucking smart to be risking your life in jujutsu sorcery.”

“You’re one to tal—”

“Too talented—”

“Well that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever—”

“—you have no regard for your own life in the field.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“You infuriate me to no end—”

“Are you hitting on me or trying to hurt my feelings I really can’t te—”

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he rasps, chest heaving.

You stare at him, blinking slowly. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I can’t stand it.”

You can hardly hear the sounds of the party anymore.

“Then do something about it.”

Nanami’s lips come crashing into yours, and every flickering ember in your body flares to life.

There’s a dizzying precision to the way Nanami kisses, mouth claiming yours so thoroughly that a moan crawls its way up your throat before he’s even begun to skirt the seam of your lips with his tongue. Your lips part for him, and he deepens the kiss, one hand cupping the back of your head as his tongue slides over yours.

He explores your mouth like he wants to devour you, and you let him, already dangerously addicted to the taste of his saliva mixing with your own, keening when he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and bites down.

His hand drifts from your thigh to your shirt, and he grunts as he feels the still-damp material. Without hesitation, you begin to undo the few buttons Gojo hadn’t torn off before giving it to you, overcome with the need to feel the pressure of Nanami’s large, callused hands against your bare skin. He slips the loose tie over your head as you toss the soiled shirt aside, a groan escaping his mouth when he finally takes in the unhindered sight of your bright red bra.

While the straps are lace, the cups are thin and sheer, leaving your peaked nipples on display. You almost hadn’t worn it after realizing how little it left to the imagination.

But now, seeing the way Nanami’s jaw ticks as he stares down at you, fingers twitching where they’re resting against the tops of your thighs, you don’t regret it one bit.

Your breasts feel heavy and tender under his rapt attention, and the coil nestled in your gut tightens.

Nanami looks like he’s holding himself back, and you feel a surge of arousal drip between your legs as you watch him teeter at the knife’s edge of his restraint.

“You don’t need to be gentle with me,” you tell him, overcome with the need to feel exactly what it is that he wants to do to you.

He cradles the side of your face, fingers curling behind your ear as he slots his mouth against yours. The kiss is thorough but brief, and soon he’s dragging his lips along the curve of your jaw, mouth blazing a trail down the side of your neck, tongue exploring the dip of your collarbone.

While you know where he’s headed, your entire body still arches hard into him when he finally cups your breasts with both hands, leaning in to wetly mouth at one of them through the material of your bra. He licks and sucks, the sensation making you tremble, and you throw your head back and moan, one leg hooking around his waist to pull him in as you scoot closer to the edge of the washer.

You’re about to take off your bra, but Nanami beats you to the punch, fingers easily flicking open the hooks and allowing your supple breasts to spill out before him. He dives back in, groaning as his lips close around your bare nipple, tongue dancing along the sensitive skin that surrounds the hard bud. His mouth is hot, and slick saliva coats your breasts as he goes back and forth between the two, kneading and sucking.

With both of your legs now wrapped around his waist in the haze of your arousal, you inadvertently begin to rock into him, your short skirt hiked up around your hips and rendered useless. You moan at the feeling of the sizeable shaft that presses hard into the heat between your legs, his erection straining against the zipper of his slacks. Nanami groans as you start shamelessly dry humping him, and your panties dampen further at the feeling of the sound vibrating against your tits. He gazes one of your nipples with his teeth, teasing it a final time before he straightens, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

Nanami stares at you intently, thumb brushing over your bottom lip, eyes tracking the way your pupils dilate in turn. He does it again, and your tongue darts out, grazing the tip. Tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, he presses the tip of his thumb just past the entrance of your lips, eyes darkening as he watches how easily you welcome the intrusion. He drags his thumb down the side of your chin, pulling down your lower lip with his pointer finger, and your lips part.

A small, eager thrum flares in your gut as you take his finger into your mouth, tongue wrapping around it as you coat it with saliva. Your panties are slick with arousal as you continue to chase the friction of his cock, moaning when he puts another finger in your mouth. You begin to bob your head on the digits, sucking on them so eagerly that you can’t bring yourself to care about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans, wiping off the stray saliva with his other thumb and licking his finger clean.

He’s said the same thing time and time again before, but it’s far more preferable in this context.

You whimper in relief when he finally slides that hand down your body, bringing it to rest at the apex of your thighs. The sound is muffled by the fingers still shoved in your mouth, and a sound of amusement rumbles in his chest as he watches you desperately keen and writhe for him.

He drags a finger down the length of your wet pussy, though the contact is muted by your stockings. You begin to shift your hips, a plea for him to tear them off of you, but his impatience wins out as he outright tears them open to gain access to the plush, dripping warmth of your cunt.

“More red,” he murmurs in approval, running his fingers over the matching sheer material that covers your mound, one digit sliding up to firmly tug at the thick, lace waistband that sits high against your hip bones.

“You like red?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

But he surprises you, still. “I like you in red.”

Nanami uses his thumb to push your thong aside, steadily dragging his finger down your soaking wet slit now exposed to him. The digit slides right through your sensitive folds, and he smirks before sliding one long digit knuckle-deep into your tight hole.

You gasp, toes curling as you buck into his touch, already greedy for more. Greedy to be filled.

“More,” you pant out as he slowly pumps the finger in and out of your cunt.

“Open for me,” he tells you, voice low and rough.

You don’t hesitate, lips falling open, and your body radiates with tremors of pleasure as Nanami spits directly into your mouth. Swallowing it down, you moan, drunk on the feeling of submission as he slides in another digit and continues fucking you on his fingers.

“Good girl,” he breathes out heavily. “So pretty like this.”

You shudder under the weight of his praise, something unlocking inside of you as you begin to realize maybe you’ve wanted this from him all along. Needed this from him all along.

“Fuck me, Nanami. Please.”

“Kento,” he corrects you, hair tickling your neck as he leans in, licking and sucking at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Fuck me,” you moan, loosening his tie as your fingers trail their way down opening each button of his shirt. “Kento.”

He bites down hard at the sound of his first name on your lips, his gravelly voice like fire against your skin, “Come for me first.”

He picks up his pace, fingers squelching lewdly in your cunt. Your mouth falls open as you try to temper down the loud moans of pleasure you want to give him, aware that all that separates you from the partygoers is the closed door a few feet away.

Kento roughly spits into your mouth again at the same moment that he brings his free hand between your legs to tease your clit, the fingers buried inside of you curling as he strokes your sensitive, spongey wall. A choked out sob leaves you when you come, and he swallows it down with a messy kiss, meeting your muffled cries of pleasure with his own rough moan as he feels you squirt all over him, clear liquid spraying his shirt and pants.

“Fuck,” he groans, the wavering loss of his composure now evident in his voice as you ride out the last waves of your orgasm on his hand.

Overcome with the desire to feel the large erection tented painfully at the front of his pants, your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, a sigh of pleasure leaving you when you finally wrap your hands around his long, thick cock. Kento kisses you filthily, moaning into your mouth as you begin pumping his cock, thumb sliding over the precum dripping from the head.

His large hands grasp your thighs, pulling you as close to the edge of the washer as possible. Kento wraps his own hand around his dick, firmly dragging the head down your creamy slit. You rock forward, chest heaving, muscles clenched tight with desire and need, only to be met with a sharp burst of pleasure as he slaps his cock heavily against your pussy. You whimper for him.

Placing a finger over your lips, which have been far from quiet throughout this ordeal, Kento goes to grab the tie left discarded beside you. However, after his fingers close around the material, he raises a brow and shakes his head, letting it drop to the floor as he begins to loosen his own tie instead.

You make no effort to hide the shameless need on your face as he smirks at you, shaking his head before wrapping the tie around your mouth and gagging you with it.

“I like seeing you desperate,” he murmurs against your ear, before finally sheathing his thick cock inside of you.

His dick is so big, your tight pussy throbs from the stretch while he splits you open, flooding your body with an overwhelming wave of pleasure. Suit jacket already discarded somewhere along the way, your fingers tug off his unbuttoned dress shirt, leaving your hands free to explore the firm expanse of his abdomen.

The washing machine begins to shake loudly with each thrust, and Kento grunts, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifts you, choosing to fuck you up against the wall instead. The continuous push and drag of his fat cock through your slick channel leaves your mind begging for more.

Your lewd moans are quiet and muffled against the gag, but he can still hear it when you beg, “Harder.”

He obliges, the shelf leaning against the wall beside you trembling ever so slightly when he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your cunt. His cock relentless plunges in to the hilt, your pussy greedily taking every long, thick inch as he fucks you deep. One of his hands runs down the side of your neck, and you find yourself leaning into the pressure, whimpering against the wet material blocking your mouth.

“Should have known you’d like this,” he rasps, hand sliding to the front of your throat as he tightens his grip and starts to choke you. “Now come on my cock.”

The pleasure that erupts inside of you swipes every remaining bit of air from your lungs, a choked out sob crawling its way up your throat as you tremble and shake in Kento’s steady grip, cunt squelching wetly around his dick.

He looks down between your bodies, the sight of the creamy ring you’ve left around the base of his shaft drawing a rough, aroused noise of appreciation from him.

Kento goes to pull out, but you shake your head, a small whine slipping past the tie, and he groans heavily, forehead falling against yours as he slams his cock back in to the hilt. It only takes a few strokes before he’s coming, too, shaft pulsing and throbbing within the tight grip of your slick cunt as he dumps rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you to the brim.

When you’re finished, Kento sets you down carefully, his fingers tender as he undoes the gag and leans in, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss, tongue swiping along your lower lip.

“Are you alright?” He asks, thumb stroking your neck.

You don’t answer him for a beat, and his mouth curls downward in concern, meeting your gaze only to find the deceivingly innocent pout of your lips.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already?” you say.

You should be exhausted from how thoroughly he just fucked you, but instead, you’re already thinking about feeling the thick stretch of his cock inside of you again, and your cunt flutters and aches with a need that’s yet to be sated.

Kento laughs, the sound deep and rich, and you think you could get used to hearing it.

He pulls up your underwear, along with your now-ruined tights, lowering himself down on one knee before you as he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your cunt while his thick, sticky cum begins to soak into your panties. You exhale shakily, already far too close to undone just from the sight before you alone, and he smirks, standing back up.

Kento takes your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, teasing your bottom lip. “We’re not done, we’re just going to go somewhere where I don’t need to cover your pretty lips next time.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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mythicalninjas · 16 days ago

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@thedl2912 It's been years ago (literally) since you sent this prompt. I hope you're still interested to read what I've written and it is an ask of apologises 🥲 MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Rate/Warnings: SFW, holidays with family, celebration, boys with their crushes

Let's be honest: they’d cobble together a “tree” out of random sewer junk, decorate it with makeshift ornaments, and exchange gifts they made themselves. Splinter told them stories of Japanese winter traditions.

They embraced Christmas movies and made it a tradition to have a pizza feast while exchanging small but thoughtful gifts. As adults, the brothers celebrate with a mix of their old traditions and new ones involving friends.

The lair is decked out with real decorations (thanks to April!), and they exchange gifts in a Secret Santa style to make it fair for everyone. No one is left from their family celebration!

Leonardo

As the oldest, Leo took it upon himself to make Christmas feel special for everyone, even when resources were scarce. He’d create small paper ornaments for their "tree" (usually a pile of junk) and try to teach his brothers Christmas songs. His wish list was practical even as a kid—books, training equipment, or a sturdy toy sword;

He tried to uphold family traditions while dealing with his teenage angst. He secretly saved up to give meaningful gifts to his brothers, such as repairing Donnie’s gadgets or crafting a new weapon for Raph. His wish list expanded to include things like martial arts manuals, music that helped him focus, or items that symbolized his leadership (like a notebook or a decorative katana stand);

Leo organizes the festivities, ensuring everyone gets time to celebrate together. With his crush (you), in the mix, he’s more mindful of personal touches in gifts. He’d give you a thoughtful book, or and a beautiful handcrafted ornament. BUT of course, after the family celebration, he would take you to the Empire State Building to watch the sunrise;

For him, the most beautiful view is you;

His wish lis? The leader would likely include items related to meditation, strategy games, or maybe a simple but heartfelt gift from someone special;

Raphael

Oh, boy. His grumpy face wouldn't help;

"Why is Raph mad?" Casey asked to Mikey, both eating a plate of pizza slice and turkey on the other side of the main space while watching the red-clad turtle;

"Mad? That's his every-day face." Mikey answered naturally;

Baby Raph had a love-hate relationship with Christmas as a kid. He’d grumble about the lack of gifts but secretly made handmade "weapons" for his brothers out of scrap materials. His wish list was all about action—nunchucks, toy weapons, or something adventurous like a kite (even if it wouldn’t fly in the sewers).

As he grows up, our Raph leaned into the "too cool for Christmas" vibe but secretly loved the holiday. He’d participate in his brothers’ antics, like decorating or gift exchanges, while acting indifferent. His gifts were usually practical or funny—he might’ve given Donnie extra screws for his inventions or Mikey a gag gift. Wish list at older age? Leaned toward punching bags, workout gear, or rock band merch.

As an adult, he is still rough around the edges but shows more appreciation for the holiday. He’s likely to make something personal for his friends, like a DIY repair kit for Casey’s gear or a leather bracelet for his crush. Fitness-related items, cool motorcycle accessories, or something handmade by his loved ones.

You here? PERFECT. He might have an angry face, but it doesn't make you step away. And that blush on his big cheeks when you give him simples touches (HEHEHEHEHSJWISNSKSNSJDK) YOU LOVE THAT. Big teddy bear on ACTION;

Michelangelo

Everybody knows that Mikey is the most excited about Christmas, treating it as an excuse to have fun and spread cheer. He made lopsided decorations out of junk and insisted on singing carols, no matter how off-key.

He doesn't care about his age. Give this boy toys, comic books, art supplies, new flying skateboards, an update for his knuchakos (have no idea how to write his japanese weapon correctly) but, mainly among all of it, PIZZAS. BOXES OF PIZZAS. Anything what can make him feel GREAT! MIKEY happy, family happy!

Ngl Mikey was the one who turned Christmas into a party, convincing his brothers to play games, watch movies, and eat pizza. The family celebration wasn't that exciting before his happiness change everthing. He gave hilarious, heartfelt gifts like drawing portraits of his family or prank items for Raph. He ensures Christmas is a joyful celebration for everyone. He bakes cookies, organizes games, and makes handmade gifts like a scrapbook for April or a painted helmet for Casey. For his crush, he might craft a whimsical piece of art (of himself or of his crush. Maybe both together ;3). He is THE own Michelangelo reencarned!

Want a nice celebration? Call Mikey, the party maker! The only who can bring happiness to reallity!

"All I want for Christmas iiisss... youuuu" He sings, pointing at you.

You chuckled.

*The song beat starts*

The orange-clad turtle kept on: "I don't want a lot for Christmas. There ir one just thing I need-And Iiiiiiii"

"Don't care about the presents underneath Christmas tree. I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace (ah)"

You two dance a lot, soon Leo, April, Donnie, Casey and Vernon join.

"Why don't you join them, my son?" Master Splinter asks softly, looking up at Raphael.

He crossed his arms over his big chest. "Don' know. No mood."

Splinter only lifts an eyebrow

Raph sighs. "Okay. But ya will join too."

Splinter smiles.

Donatello

Your beloved nerd would have been fascinated by the lights and mechanics of Christmas. He spent most of his time trying to engineer blinking lights or tiny motors for ornaments (by Mikey's ideas). He would search for information about this special celebration date and tell every single of them to you.

Of course you are interested!

His wish list, since we was a boy, was full of tech: batteries, screwdrivers, or wires to tinker with. Tech guy, tech stuff! Oh, boy... He does love it!

As a teen, Donnie improved his skills becaming the family’s Christmas tech guru, rigging up makeshift string lights and mini projects to wow everyone. He loved gifting his brothers functional gadgets or tech-enhanced weapons. His wish list was predictable—parts for his inventions, rare tech manuals, or a new soldering iron.

He still brings the tech magic to Christmas. He might build a personalized gadget for April, a hockey puck tracker for Casey, or a thoughtful, techy gift for his crush. His wish list is the nerdiest of them all: microchips, rare circuit boards, or a subscription to a science magazine.

"Did you know that the red suit Santa Claus wears today has its origins in the work of several artists, including: Thomas Nast, Haddon Sundblom-"

You grinned "Clement Clarke Moore and Saint Nicholas Myra. But there are a few others, right?"

"Yeah! Like Norman Rockwell and J.C. Leyendecker. Also, did you know that before Coca-Cola's advertisements, Santa was depicted in a variety of ways, including as a gnome or in different colored suits?"

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #bayverse tmnt #tmnt 2016 #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt 2014 #tmnt raph 2016 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey x reader #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #april o'neil

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lou-struck · 14 days ago

Text

Mistletoe Mission

Rintaro Suna x reader

~ After receiving a strange gift for Secret Santa, Suna finds himself wondering what the mysterious second part could be.

W.C: 2.1k

~Ho ho ho Merry Christmas to the Lovely @ryomance from your Secret Santa! I had never written for Suna before, so I hope I did him justice.

Rintaro Suna thought that with his high school graduation, he would be free of the twins' antics, but now, he not only finds himself squeezed between them on the couch. But he is surrounded by the majority of his old teammates. Each one balances a Secret Santa present on their lap as they have done for years.

No one knows who came up with the idea for this Christmas party, but everyone tries to take credit for it. Either way it keeps that friendship and bond that these young men made with one another alive and well.

The halls of Aran's new home are decked out with holly and those other festive decorations that would be overkill if not for the massive party happening just after the Secret Santa Gift exchange.

"You first Captain," Kosaku gins, reaching across the lap of Shinsuke Kita to playfully poke at his gift bag.

"Thank you, I look forward to receiving my gift," the grey and black-haired man smiles fondly, looking around at the group, trying to catch the eye of his Secret Santa. He reaches into the bag gently, as if he is afraid of tearing the tissue paper, and pulls out his gift… a fuzzy pair of handcuffs.

His eyes go wide as the room erupts in laughter; it's not every day someone is able to rattle Mr. Perfect. "Well... I believe this is one of those gag gifts." Kita says, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. "Thank you for the laugh. I deeply appreciate it."

After the fuzzy handcuffs, the rest of the gift exchange went off smoothly; each former Inarizaki player opened their Secret SSanta gift, going around their makeshift circle until Suna found himself the only one still with a wrapped gift on his lap.

"Yer turn," Astumu grins; he's practically wiggling on his couch cushion in anticipation. His eyes on on the red bow-adorned box in the middle blocker's lap. Briefly, he wonders if it is going to explode. The twins have a tendency to go a bit overboard with their gag gifts. "Come on, open it."

"I thought this was supposed to be a Secret Santa," he mutters as he toys with the red ribbon on the box.

"Before ya open it, I just gotta tell ya that this is only a small part of yer gift. The other part will get here later at the party."

All eyes are on him as he opens the little box, peels back the tissue paper to unveil an expensive-looking chapstick tube and a packet of…breath mints.

What?

Suna stares down at his 'gift' with confusion and a bit of self-consciousness as he tries to make sense of it.

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Is this your way of telling me my breath stinks or something?"

Atsumu shakes his head and glances over to his brother, "Nah, jus makin sure ya had the necessities."

"Y-yea," the grey-haired twin agrees, "Ya never know when you'd need a mint and some…" He is cut off by the sound of the ringing doorbell.

"It looks like the other guests are arriving," Aren says, getting to his feet, effectively ending the awkwardness, and stepping out of the room.

With everyone else scattering about the house for the party Suna finds himself alone, still trying to figure out who would be bringing the second part of his gift to the holiday party. Atsumu's teammates will all be coming over, so it could be one of them, but it could be someone else entirely.

Popping open his breath mint package, he tosses one into his mouth and continues to mull over this question as the home begins to fill with familiar faces.

The party is now underway, and with the house filled to the brim with professional volleyball players, Suna, who is used to towering over crowds of people in his day to day now feels average…

The extroverted balls of energy taking up all the cold air in the living room became too much for him, and he finds himself hiding away in the much quieter kitchen, helping Aran bring in a few bags of ice for the punch bowl.

"We don't even need to keep them in the freezer," Suna remarks, passing by the window and catching a glimpse of the falling snow just beyond the frosting glass. "Just toss the other bags outside.

"I agree," Aran chuckles, "I'm surprised just how many people were able to make it tonight." As if on cue, the doorbell begins to ring. "Look at that, another guest. Do you mind getting that, my hands are still wet."

He nods silently and steps out into the hallway toward the door. As he walks, he realizes that he knows most, if not all, of the party's attendees. Everyone from his fellow Olympians to V- League sponsors are within these warm walls, so who else could be coming?"

A bit of static shoots up his arm when he makes contact with the doorknob, but as he twists it, he fights the wind to pull the heavy door toward him. He comes face to face with the one person he always hopes to see.

You…

His not-so-secret crush who looks so damn cute in your holiday sweater,

H-hey" he breathes, suddenly thankful he took a breath mint earlier. "I didn't realize you were coming~ I mean, I'm glad to see you."

"Hi," you say, the word turning into a cloud of condensation the moment it leaves your lips as you readjust your drip on the little appetizer plate you brought with you." I-it's good to see you,"

Your teeth chatter a bit as you smile up at the taller man. Suna takes a step back, ashamed that he kept you out in the cold for as long as he has. "Here, let me take that for you," he offers taking the tray from your chilly hands.

"Thanks," you breathe, stepping into the warm house and removing your snow-crusted boots at the door. "It's cold out there, you'd think it was the dead of winter or something."

Your little quip makes him snort in amusement, his hands fly to his mouth as he internally scolds himself for his incapability to keep it cool.

"let me show you where the other snacks are," he says, leading you through the house. Just out of the corner of his eye, he notices the Faux blonde head of Atsumu leering from behind a doorway. Locking eyes with his former classmate soon as shutters when the setter gives him a wink.

On instinct, his eyes narrow into a glare, the cold look getting your attention as you turn your head to figure out who the recipient is. Atsumu clearly is not as sneaky as he thinks he is because you definitely saw him disappearing behind the drywall.

. "Was that Atsumu?" you ask, but Suna just shrugs.

"Yeah, he's just being a little weird today." He says, not necessarily lying.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" You say changing the subject.

"Shoot."

"do you know everyone here?" there's something in your voice that his natural perception picks up on. Nervousness.

"mostly, yeah. a lot of these people work in sports. Other volleyball teams, marketing departments, and sponsors. Why? Do you see someone you recognize?"

"The opposite, aside from you and a few others I feel like I don't know anyone here. Would you be all right if I stuck with you for a little bit?" Your eyes are wide, full of hope. As you basically ask him to hang out with you all night, but little did you know Suna is over the moon.

It's almost like the two of you are here at the party together… are together.

He shakes that wonderful thought from his head as you walk by the staircase where the snack table is conveniently blocking the guests from going upstairs, (a recent addition from last year)

"Let's find some room for this," he says, looking down at the crowded table.

"Is there any room?" you ask, Staring down at the massive spread.

"Sure there is~" he trails off when he notices movement above you.

A bundle of mistletoe sways just inches above your head, attached to a thin brown string that dangles from the level above. His golden eyes follow the string leading up and up and…

Atsumu…

He is still wearing that shit-eating grin as he maneuvers the mistletoe over your head. And suddenly, everything makes sense…

The Mints

The chapstick.

That creepy, identical look of Mischief on the twins' faces as they chuckled under their breath with every ring of the doorbell.

Suna's Secret Santa present is getting to kiss you, his crush, under the mistletoe.

His eyes go wide as he looks over to you, thankful that you are still trying to figure out where to put your plate.

It's not that he doesn't want to kiss you because…God, look at you, but there are a million thoughts going through his head, and ninety-nine percent of them are negative.

What if you don't feel the same?

What if you were seeing someone and just never brought it up?

What if he kisses you, and you don't like it?

Clenching his fist, he decides to just ignore this golden opportunity. You still haven't noticed anything amiss yet, so he still has a chance not to embarrass himself or ruin anything.

"Wanna get a drink?" he says quickly. The punch bowl should be in the living room, far away from any kind of balcony or open space.

"Sure," you say, your smile making him weak in the knees as he takes your wrist and gently pulls you out of the mistletoe's range.

The living room is definitely the place to be, the two of you have been having a great time people-watching, and the best part is, as the two of you chat away, he can clearly see Atsumu on the other side of the room. Keeping him at an arm's length will be the only way he doesnt blow his chances with you before the new year.

Suna has always been a pretty perceptive guy, but even then, he barely notices the grey head of Osamu sneaking up to him, another bundle of mistletoe in his hand.

Ah, are they working together?" he mutters lowly, knowing that if Osamu makes it over to the two of them, there will be no way of getting out of this awkward situation.

"Sorry? Did you say something?" you ask, picking up on his annoyed muttering. With the mistletoe within an arm's length of him, he has to act now.

"Follow me," he says. His voice sounding much more urgent than he intended it to be, his hand flies to the small of your back to guide you away.

You let out a small noise of confusion but allow him to steer you to the much quieter kitchen to hide from the twins for just a bit longer. But you dig your heels in at the doorway and look up at him seriously. "What's wrong?"

Suna's mouth goes dry as he tries to find a half-decent answer for his behavior. "I- uh. Just thought maybe…"

Yeah… he's got nothing.

Your eyes scan his face with concern, but then they suddenly drift to something in the doorway above him. He follows your line of sight when he notices that there is another sprig of mistletoe taped securely to the wood.

"Oh, look at that," you say, your eyes flickering back to him. "Is that Mistletoe?"

An opening…

"I think so." he responds, still testing the waters. "What do you think?"

You nod and he makes his move, his hand reaches to your chin and tilts it ever so slightly in his direction. Before your eyes flutter shut, there is an eagerness reflecting in them that makes him wonder why he had been so worried about doing this earlier.

"Finally," you murmur against his lips, just before he captures them, stealing your breath as your knees threaten to give way under the massive weight of repressed mutual attraction breaking through to the surface.

Although Suna is unsure of just how long he lost himself with you, by the time he comes up for air, he notices Kita standing over the sink, diligently washing an empty plate. A satisfied smile on his lips as he mouthes the words 'You're welcome."

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network Thank you guys for organizing such a fun event!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna #suna x reader #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #x reader

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