#you will be christmas tree and you will like it /silly

[street-smarts00]

Santa Doesn't Know You Like I Do

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Your first Christmas with Spencer and you get his name for secret Santa. 

WC: 1.8k

Tags: Fluff, Secret Santa, friends to lovers, one use of Y/N I think A/N: Sorry I went MIA :( I got busy with school. I hope to push out many ideas while I’m on break tho. Here’s something cheesy and festive for the holiday season I hope you enjoy! (not beta read don't kill me)

Nothing was right. Nothing you found was the right present. 

This was your first secret Santa with the BAU and you picked Spencer's name out of penelope’s mug. At first you thought it would be easy to buy a present for him because you knew him so well. In almost a year of being with the BAU you grew the closest with Spencer. 

What you didn’t expect was your present ideas to not live up to your own expectations. Nothing you came up with could live up to your own standards. Of course your “slight” feelings for him definitely affected this, but you tried to tell yourself that wasn’t true. 

You ran through dozens of ideas. Clothing, a new scarf, tickets for a play, special edition of a book he loved. But nothing felt like the right present. 

You almost gave up in your search for the perfect present for him. The gift exchange was in less than a week and you still had nothing. Sitting at your desk in the bullpen you considered settling with one of your first ideas. 

While getting up to refill your coffee mug you noticed Spencer’s attention was focused on his computer. He sat there deep in thought with his brows furrowed and lips in a fine line. When you walked by his desk you saw he was playing an online chess game. 

“Working hard or hardly working?” you joked. 

He popped out of his focus from your presence. “I finished my files a little early,” he responded bashfully. 

“Are you at least winning?” 

He smirked, “I’ve won four times. But that’s not even the fun part. The fun is doing different plays every time and seeing what the computer comes up with as the best response.” 

That’s when it hit you. An idea for Spencer’s gift. 

Finally something that felt like a good gift for him. At the end of the day you rushed out of work to go to the craft store and get your supplies. You worked on the gift everyday after work. 

Soon the weekend rolled around and you found yourself at Rossi’s. His living room had the biggest Christmas tree you’d ever seen. Everyone’s gifts sat there for the evening. After dinner you all sat down to exchange gifts. 

“I want to go first!” Garcia exclaimed. She jumped up from the couch and hurried to the tree to grab her gift for JJ. 

JJ excitedly opened the gift bag to find a small black and grey purse with a colorful crochet keychain. The idea that Garcia also handmade part of her gift gave you a sense of relief. 

“Oh this is so pretty. Thank you so much,” she beamed, admiring the bag and twirling the keychain. Garcia squealed in happiness before JJ offered a hug to her. 

JJ then handed over her gift to Rossi, a bottle of scotch. He smiled and thanked her for the bottle saying how his collection needed a new addition. 

He stood up and brought his hands together looking at the tree. “My turn.” He grabbed a thin box wrapped in silver sparkly wrapping paper and walked over to you. 

“For you, my dear,” he handed you the box. 

Your eyes widened and lips perked up at the gift. It may be a little silly but, part of you wished that you were Spencer’s secret santa. You reminded yourself that the possibility of you both picking each other's names was unlikely. The possibility of some things being the same between the two of you was … unlikely. 

You ripped back the paper to reveal a large eyeshadow pallet. Upon opening it, you saw an array of beautiful shades you couldn’t wait to try out. 

“Rossi, this is so sweet. I love it,” You thanked with a bright smile. 

Now it was your turn. Everyone’s eyes only made the moment more stressful. You got up and grabbed the box with a nervous hand. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought it was too cheesy or corny? What if he thought it was useless as he already owned two of them?

You tried to quiet your thoughts as you handed him the box, but they had no intention of leaving.

“Merry Christmas Spence,” you said softly.

When you turned and walked back to your seat you neglected to see the rising blush on his face. 

Spencer glanced down at the white and red striped paper. He carefully peeled it off and opened the lid to reveal a chess set nestled in between red tissue paper. The board spaces were off-white and royal purple with corresponding chess pieces the same colors. When he picked up the wooden pieces and saw small leaves and flowers painted on them. The King and Queen specifically had crowns in a shimmering gold. 

“Wow look at that,” Emily admired.

Upon further inspection he noticed the small human imperfections in the details. The way not one leaf or flower looked exactly the same. Or how the clear coating over the paint was slightly streaky in some spots. 

“Did you paint this?” He asked.

You nodded your head and answered , “Yeah I did.” 

A faint “awe” could be heard across the room from Garcia. 

“Y/N,” Spencer started, his voice full of admiration. “This is … beautiful.” 

The butterflies in your stomach were getting restless. 

“Really?” you asked, not able to hide the smile spreading on your face. 

“Yes! It’s Perfect,” his eyes sparkled at you. “I love it. Nobody’s ever given me something like this.” He beamed at you with a smile that made you love sick. 

The realization that you both were not alone set in and Spencer cleared his throat before closing the box. The gift exchange continued as Spencer handed over a present to Morgan. 

The rest of the night was filled with catching glances and far away looks between you and Spencer. He seemed to feel more relaxed in a way after receiving your gift. Not that he was acting any differently. He just seemed more open. With the group and with you. 

You lived off that feeling the whole evening. The idea that you made him happy. You helped him see he was appreciated and loved. 

Not that he had to know you loved him. 

He didn’t know that. Right? 

As the hands on the clock passed you announced your departure and said your goodbyes. You stepped outside and felt a chill against your skin. 

You held tight onto your keys as you walked to your car. The snow had just started to fall. Occasional little flurries fell down from the sky. 

“Wait!” Someone yelled from behind. 

You turned to find Spencer trying his best to run but not slip on the icy parts of the driveway. When he got closer you noticed his cheeks and the tip of his nose were pink. Probably from the cold weather you thought.

“I wanted to formally say thank you for the chess set,” he explained. 

“You’re welcome,” you replied with a smile. You stuffed your hands in your pockets away from the cold. “I’m glad you like it. I was worried you’d find it cheesy.” 

He looked confused. “Why would I find it cheesy?” 

You shrugged, “because I hand painted it.”

“But that’s what makes it perfect,” he reassured. His voice is sincere and soft. “It’s personal and shows you care.”

His eyes widened. “Oh um-“ 

He suddenly remembered why he rushed outside and scrambled for something in his jacket pocket. It was a small cube shaped box wrapped in paper covered in snowflakes. Quite fitting for the weather.

“I know I technically wasn’t your secret Santa but I still wanted to get you something.”

You took the gift from him with a slack jaw. “Spence-“

“This isn’t because you were my secret Santa. I still wanted to get you a gift regardless,” he reassured. 

“I- Thank you,” you started unwrapping the gift. 

“It’s not homemade like yours but I hope you still like it.”

”It doesn’t have to be homemade for me to-“ the wind was stolen out of your lungs.  

The gift was a small gold and white music box you immediately recognized. You opened the lid to reveal a ballerina in a pink tutu spinning as Sleeping Beauty Waltz played. Your heart ached as you admired the tiny dancer.

”Is this the music box from that antique shop in Seattle?” 

While on a case in Seattle, you and Spencer went to an antique shop to ask the owner about evidence found at the crime scene that was purchased there. You fell in love with a beautiful music box in one of the aisles. 

“It is. I saw how you looked at it in the store and in the car you said it reminded you of when you used to do ballet. So before we left Seattle I went back to the store to get it for you. I thought it would make a great Christmas present.”

“But, that was three months ago.”

He sheepishly smiled and his cheeks only got more red. “Yeah, I had to keep it a secret for a while.”

Your heart rate started to pick up as the butterflies returned. “I can't believe you went back and bought this for me,” you muttered in disbelief. 

“Of course I would. You mean a lot to me and I knew this was something that would make you happy.” 

You admired the music box before carefully placing it in your purse. “Thank you so much. I love it.” 

His smile grew and reached his eyes. His eyes looked beautiful in this lighting. The Christmas lights from the house made them look practically golden. Even in the freezing cold you could melt from his eyes.

He shifted his weight and licked his lips. He seemed wrapped around the words in his head. “I also wanted to ask if maybe you’d want to go see The Nutcracker with me.” 

Your heart damn near stopped. 

“It’s playing at the theater downtown. I was thinking if we don’t get a case then we could go see the show on Friday. Maybe, if you want to, that is,” he rambled in nervousness. 

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

His face brightened at your eagerness, but his nerves were still present. “But not as friends. As a date?” 

You chuckled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. I think the nutcracker is a perfect first date.”

“Great,” he said with relief. “And maybe afterwards we might have time for a game of chess with my new board.” 

God he was cute. 

“That sounds great.”

[jifloulette]

when bachira was a child, he and his mom would create diy advent calendars with each other filled with things that they'd think that the other likes! his mom would put soccer related things in his, be it magazines, jerseys, and keychains. bachira's calendar would be filled with painting materials (some of it he stole off of his mom's own painting supplies), and some stones and pebbles he saw besides their house that he thought looked pretty!

now a few years later, he's now doing it with another person he deeply adores.. you! the two of you only continued the tradition when you went to his house and saw two advent calendars displayed on a table right next to a pretty christmas tree. bachira's eyes lightened up the second you asked him what those were and why they were doing it. he was rambling and rambling about how this traditon started, what were the gifts and trinkets he bought for his mom, and some tips on how to make the calendar look prettier while you were there staring and listening to him with a lovestruck gaze! bachira kind of noticed how quiet you were and that he was talking "wayyy too much" so he apologized. you were caught off guard a bit and gave him quick kiss before asking him if the two of you could do it for this christmas. oh BOY was he happy!!!! he was squealing and screaming like a teenage girl, not too forget he was hugging you tightly!

that same afternoon, you both went to the mall and bought each other the gifts and trinkets you were going to put in the other's calendar. you bought bachira soccer-related trinkets, his favorite sanrio character's merch, chocolates, a new black shirt, and an ugly christmas sweater! bachira on the otherhand bought you all sorts of things. at first, he's buying you blind boxes, the next, he's buying you an obnoxiously expensive jellycat. don't forget the trinkets too! on the way back to the car, he saw this really pretty white rock so he picked it up! but unfortunately for him, bachira tripped and the rock fell on the ground and cracked open. when he went to pick it up, his face was the embodiment of "😮" because the rock turned out to be a geode of some sort!

bachira was rather working hard for this advent calendar, he wanted this one to be special. all just because of you. he wanted you to be so happy with what he bought that you'd want to continue this tradition for the next years he'll be with you! you on the otherhand were rather stumped on how you were going to make the overall presentation of his calendar, then you recalled what he was rambling about earlier and BOOM. an idea popped into your head! and before the two of you knew it, it was already past midnight. you were both working hard to create a memorable advent calendar for each other and it really showed once the two of you started to open day 13!

bachira opened his first to find out that you got him a... pompompurin keychain! it was the first time he's ever gotten something like that so as his way of saying thank you, he hugged you ever so tightly while peppering your face with kisses. now it was your turn, bachira started to become anxious because the gift he had put in for this day didn't seem as amazing as yours. though all his worries faded away like smoke when you squealed the same way he did, you had gotten a crystal geode! a gorgeous, sparkly one to be specific. when you asked him why he'd gotten you this, he explained the silly incident that happened yesterday. you both shared some laughs and kisses after, clearly happy with the presents received from one another.

bachira was excited for the days to come, not because he was going to get gifts but because of you. your expression, your squeals, your beaming smile, and your shining eyes were the best gift he could ever receive. no amount of money could do that to him, no other person could do that him, only you did.

note ; this stayed in my drafts for so long i swear fungi started to form...

[candycandy00]

Welcome to Christmas Island! - A Sanji x Reader Fanfic

You work on Christmas Island, where every day is Christmas! All guests get to make a wish to Santa and have it granted. When the Straw Hat pirates show up, you decide to grant the wish of their handsome blonde cook. 

Smut. 18+. Sanji x Fem Reader. Implied that Sanji is a virgin. Oral sex. Cream pie. I haven’t written Sanji in 20 years so I hope I got him right!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

You’ve lived and worked on Christmas Island for the past few years, but you still get excited each time new guests arrive, especially when they’re famous. 

It was only a matter of time before the Straw Hat pirates landed on this little island, and all your coworkers were equally hyped up to meet them. You’ve all followed their exploits in the newspapers for months, becoming fans along the way. Even the owner of the island, “Santa”, admires them! 

You’ve looked at all their wanted posters countless times, but one of them stood out to you: a silly looking blonde man named Sanji. While your friends were more interested in the more “cool looking” pirates, you found Sanji charming. You know it’s a silly picture, so you’re interested in finding out what he actually looks like. 

Your chance comes when the Straw Hats arrive and check into the enormous resort that takes up the entire island. They walk in, most of them gawking at the huge lobby full of Christmas trees and twinkling lights. They’re chatting and laughing amongst themselves, and their reputation for being fun-loving seems to be accurate.

Taming your excitement, you hurry over to greet them in your candy cane striped dress. 

“Welcome to Christmas Island!” you say in your cheeriest voice. “Please come in and sit down. I’ll explain how things work here.”

They begin taking seats in the plush red sofas positioned in the middle of the room. You do a mental headcount as you watch them, trying not to seem like an overly eager fan. 

Sanji spots you before you spot him. He steps up beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Such a lovely lady here to welcome us!” he says, placing a quick kiss on the top of your hand. “This island is a dream already!”

When he raises his face to look at you, a breath catches in your throat. He’s way more handsome than you expected! His wanted poster barely resembles him, but the blonde hair and curly eyebrow are unmistakable. 

He smiles at you and takes his seat. You give the group a moment to settle down and get quiet before you begin. 

“On Christmas Island, every day is Christmas! At this resort, you’ll each write a letter to “Santa” asking for a Christmas present. You’ll receive that gift during your stay. Keep in mind we can only grant wishes for material goods or services. We can’t give you impossible things. For example, you can’t ask us to withdraw bounties or give you skills that can’t be learned while you’re here.”

They seem to understand, a few of them nodding. You pass out fancy notecards for them to write their Christmas wishes on, along with red envelopes for them to seal the “letters to Santa” in. 

A woman you recognize as Nami looks a bit skeptical as she eyes the notecard. “How much does this cost?”

Some of the others look at you, curious about the answer. 

You smile and shake your head. “No cost at all! There’s normally a fee, but since we’re all fans of the Straw Hat pirates, even Santa said to give you all the VIP treatment at no charge!”

The group seems happy to hear that, a couple of them actually cheering. Then they all begin writing on their notecards. Once they’re finished, you retrieve them and another employee shows the guests to their rooms. They’re all given private rooms, each one beautifully decorated with festive trees and lights. 

Later, you and two coworkers are reading the notecards to begin processing the wishes. 

“Look,” your friend says, giggling as she holds one out. “The captain just wrote one word: Meat!”

You laugh as you glance at a card in your own hand that says, “A year’s supply of cola”. 

Most of the requests are fairly reasonable and fit the crew members’ reputations. But at the bottom of the stack is one that stands out to you. 

“A sweet lady who wants to spend time with me.”

Your heart nearly skips a beat. You expected something perverted from the famously horny cook of the Straw Hat pirates, but Sanji’s request is surprisingly cute. 

“Can I take this one?” you ask, a little worried that one of your coworkers might have their eye on him. 

The two women look at each other and shrug. “It’s yours if you want it,” one of them says. The other nods in agreement. 

Thank goodness! You didn’t want there to be any awkwardness with your friends, but you were prepared to argue for this. Thankfully you don’t have to. 

One of them leans toward you conspiratorially. “What if he just wrote that as a nice way of saying he wants someone to fuck him?”

You grin at her. “Actually, I’m kind of hoping that’s the case!”

The others squeal in delight and cheer you on. “You get it, girl!”

You return to your own quarters to freshen up and change into your cutest red dress, then you head down the guest hall to find Sanji’s room. You only have to knock once before he opens it. Was he waiting by the door for his “present”?

He blinks as he looks at you, then smiles. “Oh, you’re the one who welcomed us!”

You return his smile. “I’m surprised you recognized me.” There are lots of women working here who wear the same dress you had on earlier. It’s basically the uniform. 

He steps aside, opening the door wider and gesturing for you to come in. “I never forget a beautiful lady’s face,” he tells you as you walk into his room. 

The comment makes you blush, but you giggle nervously and change the subject. “Are you settled in okay? Do you need anything?”

Looking around the room, you can see the closet door slightly open, and a few dress shirts neatly hanging inside. The bed doesn’t appear to be messed up at all, and everything is in its place. On a small table with two chairs, there’s a glass ash tray that’s nearly full. 

“I don’t need anything at all,” he says as he pulls out one of the chairs for you. “But can I offer you something to drink? I’m sure you know what the options are.”

You do. There’s a small variety of alcoholic drinks in the mini fridge, plus a hot water machine with various teas and coffees. 

As you sit in the offered chair, you accept his offer, taking a cup of tea. In all honesty, you just want to watch him prepare something. His skills are quite well known.  

You watch him fix your tea, his hands moving expertly to prepare it in the perfect manner. Then he sits the steaming cup in front of you and takes the seat on the other side of the table. 

The tea is delicious of course, leaving you wondering what you’ve been doing when you make it for yourself. He seems to like watching you enjoy it, a smile practically glued to his face. 

“It’s wonderful! I can’t believe it’s from the same tea we use!” 

After a few minutes of friendly chatting, you sit down your empty cup and get down to business. “Regarding your wish…”

His smile falters, a blush creeps over his face. “It’s okay if it can’t be granted!” he says quickly. “I’ll just take some new utensils, or maybe some rare spices if you have them here.”

Does he not realize you’re his present? He seems to have the wrong idea about your visit. Just how many times has this poor guy been rejected? 

You reach across the table and put one hand on his arm. “We can easily grant your wish,” you say. “In fact, that’s what I’m here for.”

He freezes, staring at you. His stunned eyes shift down to your hand, then back to your face. “You… want to spend time with me?”

“I’d love to!”

He still seems to be in shock. “Are you sure?”

You reach into the pocket if your dress and pull out a folded paper. You smooth it out on the table and slide it over to him. It’s his wanted poster. 

He blanches when he sees it, but before he can say anything, you blurt out, “I’m a fan of yours!”

“Huh?”

Now it’s your turn to blush again. “I mentioned before that all of us here are fans of the Straw Hat pirates, but we each have our favorites. You happen to be mine.”

He’s rapidly turning red. “Really?”

You nod. “I even keep your wanted poster in my pocket at all times.”

He glances at the poster. “But it’s such an unflattering picture of me…”

“You look fun! You look like someone I’d like to hang out with. And yes, you’re way more handsome in person.”

If this were a cartoon, steam would be shooting out of his ears. He almost seems to melt into his chair. “You think I’m handsome?!”

“Of course! I was so excited to meet you, so I happily volunteered to grant your wish!”

He has tears in his eyes as he takes both your hands in his across the table. “This place really is like a dream!”

And so the two of you laugh and talk and enjoy more tea for the next hour. He tells you funny stories about their travels and you tell him about some of the craziest wishes you’ve received. 

At some point, perhaps growing bold from the friendly atmosphere, you say, “To be honest, I wondered if maybe ‘spend time with you’ was code for something else.”

He seems genuinely confused, which is adorable. “Something else?”

You lean forward, subtly showing off your cleavage. “Something more… intimate.”

It seems like a shiver runs through his body, but then he composes himself and says, “I didn’t want anyone to feel obligated to do that.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” you say, looking as disappointed as you can, “because I was hoping it was code.”

His mouth falls open, the cigarette slipping from his lips. You can almost see hearts in his eyes. He seems to be trying to form words for a reply, but failing. 

You stand up and walk around the table to be closer to him. “I’m your present tonight, so you can do whatever you want with me.”

He swallows, looking up at you as if you’re a goddess that has come down to him from heaven. “Whatever I want?”

“Anything.”

His eyes dart about the room, as if he’s worried this might be some prank and someone else is waiting to rush out and tell him so. After a moment, he looks back at you. “Can I k-kiss you?”

You nod. “I’d like that.”

He stands up from the chair and steps right up to you. He slowly places his hands on your shoulders. So gentle! He’s treating you like a delicate little creature that will flee if he’s not careful. 

As he leans down, his eyes flutter closed, and you can see the blush across his cheeks. You feel the tips of his golden hair first, then his lips softly press against yours. It’s a chaste kiss, his hands lightly trembling on your shoulders. 

You’ve heard so many conflicting rumors about him. Some say he’s a totally lecherous horndog who fucks anything that moves. Others say he’s a sophisticated gentleman who respects women. Still others say he’s a pathetic virgin who can’t get laid to save his life. You’re beginning to suspect the truth is some strange mix of all three. 

You reach up and put your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss. His tongue finally slips into your mouth, and he tastes like cigarettes and the tea you’ve both been drinking. 

When the kiss breaks, he looks positively lovestruck. But his arms are around your waist, holding you closer to him. You can feel the bulge in his pants, and you lightly grind yourself against it. “What else would you like to do?” you ask playfully. 

“Lady’s choice,” he says, the smooth gentleman peeking out again. “I’d love to know what youwant to do.”

You grin mischievously at him and say, “Sit down and I’ll show you.”

He moves back to sit in the chair so fast, your eyes could barely follow him. You giggle at his eagerness as he stares at you. You take a moment to pull up the edge of your red dress on one side, up to your hip. It’s enough to show him you’re not wearing panties without revealing the whole present. 

His eyes bulge, and you’re guessing something else is bulging even more now. You prance over and then lower yourself to your knees before reaching out and unbuckling his belt. You hear him breathe in through his teeth, and you look up to see his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breaths. You smile as you open his pants and slide one hand in, using it to pull out the prize you’ve been seeking. 

He’s bigger than you expected, and elegantly shaped. It’s such a nice cock, such a waste that it’s been neglected for so long. You can fix that. 

Your hand wraps around it and you slide it up and down the shaft. You can hear him breathing heavily as he watches, stunned. When you lean forward and give the tip a little lick, his hands suddenly grip the arm rests of the chair. You can hear the wood creaking under the force. 

Smiling to yourself over the fact that you can reduce a powerful, famous pirate to this state with one lick, you wrap your lips around him and take his twitching cock into your mouth. 

He groans, his head falling back and his eyes closing again as you begin bobbing your head back and forth, your lips gliding along his length. Your tongue swirls his tip, your throat tightens around him when he’s deep enough, and his panting above you makes such sweet music in your ears. 

Finally he places his hand on your shoulder and says in a strained voice, “I’m… I’m about to…”

You pull back and grin. “Please cum in my mouth.” Then your lips are around him again, sucking lightly and lapping at his tip. 

He looks torn between desire and being a gentleman, but desire wins out. With a moan he releases his load onto your tongue, and you drink it down eagerly. 

After a moment, you stand up, licking your lips. You stand nearby while his breathing slows to a normal pace. Then he looks at you. “That was incredible… you’re an angel!”

You laugh and take one of his hands, placing it atop your head as you lean toward him. “You’re supposed to pat my head and call me a good girl.”

His face turns scarlet, but he does as you wish, lightly patting your head and saying, “Such a good girl!”

You giggle at that, then look down between his legs. He’s beginning to get hard again, which is exactly what you’re waiting for. 

“So? What would you like me to do next?” you ask. 

He looks a little shy and awkward as he says, “Can we… have sex?”

You reach down and pull your dress up, all the way to your waist this time, giving him an eye full. His cock instantly becomes fully hard, his eyes seeming to turn to hearts again. “I thought you’d never ask,” you tell him as you step closer and straddle his lap, letting his lovely cock rest against your slickened pussy. That alone makes his entire body quiver. 

When you rise up and position his tip at your entrance, then sink down onto him, a gasp escapes him. His arms wrap around your body, holding you firmly but gently. You have to wiggle a bit to get free enough to begin riding him, your hips swiveling. 

Sanji groans as his own hips buck from the chair, pushing deeper inside you. Then he pauses, a worried expression on his face, and says, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you?”

You smile, pushing your own body down to take him even deeper. “It feels good when you go deep,” you say, and his breath hitches, his eyes widening before he starts fucking up into you, slowly and deeply. One of his hands is on your waist now, the other buried in your hair. 

As you grind down onto him, his taut skin rubs against your clit, making your own breaths shallow and quick. His tip hits your cervix, and a shudder ripples through you. When you moan out his name, his cock throbs inside you, making you arch your back in pleasure. When you do, he buries his face in your chest, his tongue peeking out to lap at one pert nipple. 

He raises his face to look you in the eyes. “I’m in love with you!” he exclaims, his hands tightening their grip on you slightly. 

You smile, but don’t reply. Men always say that while they’re inside a woman, but you have no expectations. In a few days Sanji will sail away from here and you’ll never hear from him again. But you’ll treasure these memories of being with him for the rest of your life. 

He feels so good inside you, your clit is practically pulsing. He kisses you again, so sweetly. It’s a romantic kiss, the kind shared by people in love, and his hand slides down from your hair to rest softly on your neck. 

It’s all enough to push you over the edge, and you cum while still riding him, your body trembling in his arms. 

Watching you cum seems to push him to climax as well, and he suddenly pulls you tightly against him as he shoots his load into your core. 

The two of you remain intertwined for a while, both of you breathing hard, then his arms loosen around you and you slide off him, your legs partially numb. 

“I’m all yours while you’re on Christmas Island,�� you say as you pull your dress back down. “Just call for me whenever you want.”

He looks at you for a long moment, then says, “Why don’t you come with us?”

You freeze. “What?”

He stands up and buttons his pants, then pulls out a fresh cigarette. “I can talk to Luffy. He’s pretty easy going about these things. You could join our crew and sail around with us. We get into a lot of dangerous situations, but we always pull through, and I can protect you.”’

You, joining the Straw Hat pirates? You’ve never even considered something like that before. But it sounds like a dream. You smile broadly at him. “I’d love that!”

He smiles back. “It really is Christmas every day here. I got more than I could even hope for!”

[byte-your-tongue]

How They Wrap Your Presents Pt. 1 (Obey Me! SWD Brothers)

(Platonic, GN Reader)

AN: Recently got access to my old obswd account after over two years of not being able to play!! ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ im excited about that + the holidays so here yall go take some sill lil hcs. these are pretty christmas focused but if anyone wants an edited version where i remove that and make it more generic what holiday is being talked about just let me know! part two with the other characters will hopefully be up soon!

Lucifer:

His presents look neat but maybe a little bit boring compared to some of the others on this list

They are tastefully wrapped in a simple solid color metallic wrapping paper with no ribbon.

He wouldn't pick out a wrapping paper with a pattern because he thinks it looks sort of silly or childish or "too much"

He doesn't use sticker labels, instead attaching a small piece of paper or card with his elegant cursive handwriting on it addressing it to you from him.

He will leave your present under the tree in the HOL and look on with pride when you open it christmas day.

He may get onto you if you try to shake it to figure out what it is early, telling you to be patient and that it will be worth the wait.

Mammon:

He could have taken the easy way out and put your presents in a bag but he wants to wrap them himself.

This of course leads to a disaster with wrapping paper scraps everywhere and him covered in tape. He probably also somehow manages to cut himself with the scissors at one point.

Your present may look like a disaster but it's wrapped with love.

Sure he could have asked someone like Asmo to help him out but he selfishly wanted the present to be only from him alone, with no one else helping him.

He would probably pick out a very basic pattern like snowflakes or something.

He doesn't put a tag on it (which is probably for the best, his handwriting is atrocious)

He's sort of embarrassed of how it turned out and doesn't put it under the tree before christmas, choosing instead to hand it to you directly on christmas morning.

If you tell him you like the wrapping despite how it looks he will be over the moon and blushing like a tomato.

Mammon is overjoyed to see you so happy because of him, and commits this moment to memory forever.

Leviathan:

I don't think he would be very confident in his wrapping skills, instead choosing to give you a gift bag instead.

Plus it's just easier that way! No fiddling with wrapping paper and tape.

It's not like a gift bag is an any way less good than a wrapped present, but after seeing Asmo's gorgeous gift to you sitting under the tree he gets worried you won't like his.

So he decides to customize the bag for you, drawing your favorite character on it.

He puts your gift inside, adds some simple tissue paper, and adds it to the small pile of gifts already under the tree.

On christmas day when you finally open his gift he's anxious you won't like it. When you beam at him and tell him you love it and compliment the drawing on the bag he feels like he could pass out from joy.

Satan:

Satan for sure is going to make your gift look good.

He is careful and meticulous with the wrapping, not an inch out of place with perfect folds.

He might pick out a simple pattern that just has holiday colors on it. Nothing too intense but still festive.

He is the first one i've talked about so far who would add a ribbon. Something thin and shiny wrapped across both axis of the present and tied up with perfect curls.

He adds a simple tag that has your and his names on it in neat print.

He will add his present to the pile, admiring the other ones already there.

When you finally get his present you almost don't want to open it, admiring how it looks.

He will be happy if you like his gift, smiling warmly at you.

Asmodeus:

You KNOW Asmo is going all out on wrapping your presents.

Your present is wrapped in the most adorable sparkly paper he could find and topped with a big bow and ribbons.

Your presents from him are very cute without being over the top.

He is very excited for the holidays, picking out your presents and wrapping them before anyone else had even found anything for you.

He spends a lot of time wrapping your presents perfectly and making sure not a single piece of ribbon is out of place.

Beelzebub:

He doesn't really know what do so he goes to Asmo for help. Beel is one of the only people here who doesn't mind asking for help, and he knows Asmo would be perfect for this.

Beel picks out the paper and gets Asmo to help him wrap it so of course it comes out cute looking.

The first paper Beel wanted to use had a cute little pattern with gingerbread men on it, but he did in fact eat some of the paper while Asmo was trying to wrap.

After that the two of them decided another choice of wrapping paper might be better if they want your gift to survive.

Beel adds a sticker to it that addresses the gift to you from him and places it under the tree.

Belphegor:

Belphie is NOT wrapping your present.

He's not even putting in in a gift bag.

The bare minimum he would do is slap a simple bow on it and calls it done.

Since your present isn't wrapped he doesn't put it under the tree, instead waiting till christmas and giving it to you directly.

He may not have put a lot of thought into the wrapping, but he did put a lot of time and effort into picking out your present so he really hopes you like it.

[santaasi]

santa doesn’t know you like i do

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in the warmth of christmas, amidst love, healing, and a new beginning, jj and you find your imperfect paradise, where home is wherever you're together

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, establish relationship, talking about kids, no use of y/n, jj calls reader angel, english isn’t my first language

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's kinda part two to die with the smile. but I think you can read it as a stand alone. requested by this ask. thank u for request, love <з.

ᯓ★ now playing…

sabrina carpenter – santa doesn't know you like I do

Santa Doesn't know you like I do I've been there through the good and bad Know how to make you laugh Kiss all your tears away, babe Ooh, only I can do that

JJ MAYBANK ALWAYS LOVED CHRISTMAS. It was, perhaps, the only holiday that truly felt magical to him. The colorful lights that danced against the dark winter nights, the shop windows adorned with glittering displays, the endless loop of silly Christmas songs filling the air — each element wove a comforting cocoon of warmth around him. Christmas had a way of making the world seem softer, more forgiving, and in those moments, JJ could almost believe in something like peace.

But it hadn’t always been this way.

In the broken Maybank household, Christmas was just another day — unmarked, unnoticed, and devoid of joy. The house sat like an unlit beacon in a sea of festivity, its cold walls and empty halls an unspoken testament to everything JJ lacked. There were no strings of lights, no wreaths on the door, not even the faintest scent of pine. It was an iceberg of indifference, floating through a season of cheer.

His father rarely even bothered to come home during Christmas. Sometimes he was locked away, serving another term; other times, he was lost in some forgotten corner of a bar, drowning his bitterness in cheap whiskey, unaware — or perhaps unconcerned — that his son was alone.

Yet, despite it all, every Christmas morning, there was always something waiting for JJ. Beneath the sad excuse for a tree — a cactus he’d once rescued from the roadside and jokingly dubbed "the Maybank pine" — he’d find a small gift and a postcard. The presents were modest: a toy car from a roadside stall or a bag of store-brand candy. The cards bore messages scribbled in rushed handwriting, sometimes just his name. But to JJ, they were everything. Those tiny, clumsy gestures felt like a fragile thread connecting him to something hopeful, something magical.

Even in the coldest, loneliest moments of his childhood, Christmas held onto him. It was his reminder that even in a life as messy and cruel as his, there could still be flickers of wonder.

But as the years passed, the childish magic of Christmas began to fade. JJ found himself watching from the sidelines as families like John B’s, Pope’s, and Kiara’s gathered around large tables, their homes alive with laughter, love, and the glow of holiday cheer. He watched them string lights and hang delicate ornaments on real Christmas trees — the kind that had once mesmerized him through storefront windows. And as much as he tried to bury it, a quiet ache settled deep in his chest.

It wasn’t just envy. It was the sharp sting of absence, a longing for something he’d never truly had. JJ had never known the comfort of a family coming together, the warmth of being part of something whole. He’d never sat at a big table on Christmas Eve, hands joined in prayer, giving thanks for love and blessings. He’d never felt the security of being surrounded by people who cared for him simply because he existed. And though he masked the pain behind his signature grin and easy bravado, it festered inside him — a quiet storm of hurt and resentment.

He wanted what they had. He wanted it desperately. But instead, his Christmases were spent alone. A pack of chips served as his feast, the flickering light of a static-filled TV his only companion. Lying on his bed, he would flip through the sparse free channels, hoping for some distraction, some escape. And always, in the back of his mind, he clung to the faintest hope that come morning, he’d find a small gift beneath the cactus — his father’s feeble, unspoken attempt at connection.

For years, this was his Christmas: quiet, lonely, and hollow.

But then, one year, everything changed.

JJ was fourteen when his father was imprisoned for the first time for an extended period, leaving him utterly alone. John B. and his father did what they could to help, but JJ bristled at the idea of being anyone’s charity case. The weight of feeling indebted was too much for him to bear. That summer, he decided to fend for himself, searching for his first job.

It wasn’t easy. JJ quickly discovered that no one wanted to hire a scrappy, imperfect Pogue with a tarnished family name. The shadow of his father’s reputation loomed large over the island, and people assumed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He could still recall the sting of rejection, the way doors closed in his face, and the cold, judgmental eyes that dismissed him before he even had a chance to speak. With each failure, his hope dwindled, until desperation weighed heavy on his young shoulders.

And then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, your father entered his life.

JJ often saw him at the docks, heading out for early-morning fishing trips. A few times, when the catch was plentiful, your father had even handed JJ a couple of fish — no questions asked, no pity in his eyes. Your family wasn’t wealthy like the Camerons, but you weren’t struggling at the bottom of the Cut either. You lived modestly, running a small fishmonger’s shop that was well-loved by locals for its unmatched quality.

That day, as JJ sat dejectedly on the pier, contemplating yet another fruitless search, your father approached him. With a kind smile and no hesitation, he offered JJ a job. Weekend mornings spent fishing, helping with traps and unloading — the kind of honest work JJ had been searching for. It felt like a lifeline, a stroke of fortune for a fourteen-year-old boy who had nearly given up.

From that moment, your father became more than an employer. He became a steady presence in JJ’s life, someone who saw the good in him when others refused to look past the Maybank name. In time, he even became a friend — a surrogate father in ways JJ hadn’t realized he desperately needed.

Your family’s kindness extended beyond the job. Your father often invited JJ to join your family dinners, but JJ rarely accepted. The idea of intruding on something so warm and whole made him uncomfortable. He already felt like he owed your father too much, and the last thing he wanted was to overstep. Still, on the rare occasions when your mother’s insistence won out, JJ would find himself sitting at your table, silently marveling at the life you lived.

And then there was you.

At every dinner, JJ’s eyes inevitably found you. You were radiant, an unapproachable beauty that reminded him of the star atop a Christmas tree — brilliant and captivating, yet forever out of reach. The two of you didn’t talk much, just polite exchanges and fleeting smiles, but it was enough. For JJ, it was more than enough.

He fell for you quietly, deeply, and without reservation. To him, you were a dream — a glimpse of something he could never quite have but couldn’t help but long for.

But one day, everything changed — and with it, JJ’s love for Christmas was born.

It was the same year, during the heart of winter. JJ wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets of Kildare, his hands buried deep in his pockets as the howling sea wind tugged at his threadbare jacket. Shop windows, darkened in honor of the holiday, glimmered faintly with leftover lights, their cheerful displays feeling like a world apart from his reality. Everyone else was inside, basking in the warmth of family and celebration. His friends were home — John B. spending the day with his father, Pope and Kiara with their own families — while JJ walked the streets, searching for something he couldn’t name, a place where he belonged.

His own house was cold and hollow, a silent reminder of all he didn’t have. John B. had invited him over, but JJ declined, unwilling to intrude on his friend’s rare moments of peace with his dad. So, he drifted through the morning, each step pulling him deeper into an abyss of loneliness.

A sudden chime shattered his thoughts — the soft jingle of a shop bell as its door swung open. JJ looked up, his breath catching as the sound of laughter echoed down the street.

It was you.

You stepped out of the grocery store with your dad, your voice lilting with a joy that made the bleak morning feel brighter. A red knit hat perched on your head, mirroring the one your father wore, and you both sported matching festive pajama sets. The sight was almost absurdly charming, but to JJ, you looked radiant — more beautiful than ever. The soft sunlight seemed to halo around you, making you seem like an angel come to life.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned toward him and waved, your smile lighting up the frosty morning. JJ’s heart stuttered, and before he could fully process it, you were already standing in front of him, your breath visible in the chill air, your cheeks flushed pink.

“Merry Christmas, Jay,” you said warmly, tilting your head slightly. A strand of hair escaped from beneath your hat, brushing your face. JJ had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out, to tuck it back behind your ear.

“Merry Christmas, angel,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was only when he saw the faint blush dust your cheeks, your gaze darting downward with a shy smile, that he realized what he’d called you.

“We... my dad and I were thinking,” you began hesitantly, your voice a little rushed, “do you want to spend Christmas with us?”

JJ blinked, caught off guard.

You bit your lip nervously, shifting your weight. “We haven’t opened presents yet, and Mom made that cherry pudding you love, and we always watch a movie after that and-”

You were rambling, your nose wrinkling slightly as you spoke, and JJ couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to accept and risk feeling like a burden. But the nervous hope in your voice, the way you avoided his eyes as though bracing for rejection, made it impossible to refuse.

“Thank you. With pleasure,” he interrupted softly, his smile widening.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, wide with surprise, and then they lit up with excitement. Before JJ could react, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the car with a burst of enthusiasm. “He said yes, Dad!” you called out, beaming.

That Christmas was the best of JJ’s life.

The warmth of the fireplace, the soft glow of the Christmas tree, the unexpected gifts waiting under its branches — all of it was magical. But none of it compared to the feeling of being part of something he’d always longed for. Sitting with your family, sharing laughter and stories, tasting your mom’s cherry pudding, JJ felt something he hadn’t dared to dream of: belonging.

And then there was you.

You, who had reached out when no one else had. You, who had brought him in from the cold, both outside and within. You, who had become his Christmas angel, saving him with your kindness and warmth. That day, you didn’t just give JJ a happy holiday — you gave him a family.

You became his home.

And now, JJ sat on the bed in the bedroom you shared, in the house you’d built together — not the grand mansion with big windows and a sprawling garden he had once promised you under a starlit sky, but a modest, white, slightly weathered two-story home. It had a cozy front yard with space for flowers yet to be planted and a back door that opened onto the soft sands of the beach. It wasn’t the picture-perfect dream you once painted together, but it was real. It was yours.

This house had become his sanctuary. Each day, he came home to your arms, finding solace in your laughter and warmth. Each morning, he woke beside you, basking in the light of a love that grounded him. And tonight, you would celebrate your first Christmas in the home you’d built — not just of wood and stone, but of trust and shared dreams. It wasn’t perfect. Neither were you. But it was home.

For JJ, it was more than he had ever thought he could have. The boy who once wandered lonely streets at Christmas, who stared longingly at shop windows and dreamed of belonging, had found it here — with you. The memory of those cold, empty nights and his childhood filled with longing still lingered at the edges of his mind, but they no longer haunted him. You had rewritten his story, replacing loneliness with joy and pain with purpose.

He glanced toward the living room and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you bustle back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. You were radiant, your hair cascading down your back in soft waves as the skirt of your red dress shimmered with each step. A familiar Santa hat perched on your head, the same one you wore on the Christmas that changed everything—the one where you gave him the gift of belonging for the first time.

The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the turkey roasting in the oven, mingling with the faint, sweet scent of pine from the decorated tree in the corner. Your favorite Christmas playlist hummed in the background, and you hummed along softly as you worked, pausing to adjust the napkins on the table with a perfectionist’s touch. JJ’s lips curled into a smile. You were always like this, always striving to make things special for everyone else, pouring your heart into the smallest details.

He could see the excitement in your every movement — the way your cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation. It reminded him of the first time he saw you that Christmas morning years ago, standing on the icy street in your matching pajamas with your dad. Back then, you had invited him into your family, into your world, without hesitation. Now, here you were, creating that same magic, not just for him but for the friends you both cherished.

JJ felt his chest tighten with gratitude. He didn’t need the mansion or the grand promises anymore. He didn’t need a perfectly landscaped garden or the white picket fence. He already had everything he’d ever dreamed of — and more. You were his dream, his home, his Christmas angel.

Pushing off the doorframe, he walked toward you, his steps soft against the wooden floor. You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the final touches of the table. But when he slid his arms around your waist from behind, you let out a small gasp, laughing as you turned to look up at him.

“Jay,” you chided playfully, though your smile gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he breathed you in — the scent of cinnamon, the faint traces of your perfume, the essence of you. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, “you don’t have to do all this. It’s already perfect.”

You shook your head, a strand of hair falling into your face, which he gently tucked behind your ear. “I just want it to be special,” you said softly.

“It is,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “Because of you. Everything you touch becomes special.”

Your cheeks flushed deeper, and you bit your lip, momentarily speechless. JJ smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. The chaos of the kitchen faded, the playlist in the background becoming nothing more than a faint hum. In that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the home you’d built and the love that had carried you here.

As if jolted from a dream, you broke the kiss and stepped back slightly, your hands pressed firmly against JJ's chest. His heartbeat thrummed under your palms, steady and sure. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“JJ,” you scolded softly, your voice tinged with urgency. “This isn’t the time. The Pogues are gonna be here soon, and we’re not even close to ready!”

JJ’s lips curved into that infuriatingly smug grin of his, the one that made your heart race despite yourself. He leaned back as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his eyes flicking upward with deliberate mischief.

“Relax, angel,” he drawled, his voice warm as honey, smooth as the waves lapping the Cut. “It’s tradition. Had to honor it.”

Your gaze followed his, and you gasped. A cluster of mistletoe hung innocently above you, tied with a red ribbon that swayed gently in the air. You turned back to him, jaw dropping, and gave his chest a light shove.

“When the hell did you do that, Maybank?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

He shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re under it, so-” He grinned wider, tugging you back a step. “Less talking, more kissing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back your smile. “You’re impossible.”

Yet even as you said it, your lips met his again, soft and lingering. Kissing JJ was like freefalling into the ocean, exhilarating and all-consuming, like the scent of salt air in the morning or the taste of wild blackberries in summer. He was chaos wrapped in warmth, the kind of boy who made you believe in stars aligning and fates intertwining.

As his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, you felt the world tilt for a moment. It was easy to forget the chaos of the house, the mess still to be cleaned, the impending arrival of your friends. But you forced yourself to pull away just as he began to deepen the kiss.

“Uh-uh,” you teased, breathless but resolute. “Get busy, Maybank. We’ve got work to do.”

JJ groaned dramatically, his pout almost childlike as he tightened his grip on your waist. “I am busy. Busy kissing the prettiest girl in the Outer Banks,” he purred, his lips brushing against your cheek, then trailing to your neck.

“JJ,” you protested weakly, though your hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly at the golden strands.

Before he could retort, the sharp chime of the doorbell broke the spell.

You froze, your brows knitting together. “What the-” you murmured, glancing at the clock. It was still an hour before Sarah and John B. were supposed to show up. Kiara was stuck at the diner until late, and Pope and Cleo were busy helping out at the store.

Your eyes snapped to JJ, who was now grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“What did you do?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

His smile only widened, his blue eyes sparkling with a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, angel.”

It wasn’t good. Not one bit.

“Go on, angel. Open the door,” JJ said, his voice low and teasing as he let you slip from his arms, giving you a gentle nudge toward the entryway.

You turned back to him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. His smirk was maddening, and his ocean-blue eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew something you didn’t. “JJ…” you warned, taking slow, hesitant steps.

“Trust me, angel,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. The way he looked at you — like you were the only thing that mattered in the world — made your heart skip. His eyes always held that same soft, unspoken promise, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest.

Biting your lip, you reached for the doorknob, casting him one last skeptical glance before opening the door. The cool winter air rushed in, bringing with it the scent of pine and saltwater from the sea just down the road. At first, you saw nothing unusual — just the empty driveway, lined with snow that glimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the quiet stillness of the evening. But then, something shifted near your feet.

You froze. The soft sound of rustling paper followed by the creak of a box wobbled slightly on the porch. You jumped back with a startled squeal, your pulse racing. “JJ! JJ!” you called out, your voice a mix of fear and excitement. “There’s… something out here!”

Your eyes darted to the object on the porch — a large box tied with a perfect red bow. It didn’t move at first, but as you took a tentative step closer, the box wobbled again, and a muffled noise came from inside.

Behind you, JJ’s laugh rang out, low and warm, like he was thoroughly enjoying your reaction. “Relax, angel. It’s not gonna bite… much,” he teased, the grin on his face devilishly charming. You could almost hear the glint of mischief in his voice as it wrapped around you, tugging at your nerves.

You whipped around to glare at him, your arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “This is your doing, isn’t it? What is it, JJ?”

His grin widened. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Pretty sure Santa dropped off an early delivery for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical, but the curiosity was too strong to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees, inching closer to the box. Another sound came from inside — a soft, almost pleading whine that made your heart skip a beat. You shivered, but couldn't stop your hands from reaching for the bow. Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied it, the red ribbon falling away like the final barrier between you and whatever lay inside.

“JJ, if this thing jumps out and eats my face, I swear-”

“Just open it, angel,” he said, crouching beside you now, his voice soft and coaxing, like he was trying to keep you calm, though you knew he was just enjoying the show. You could feel his breath tickling the back of your neck, his presence so close that it made your skin heat up despite the cold night air.

With trembling fingers, you tugged the bow loose. The moment it fell away, the lid popped open with a gentle creak, and out came a tiny white muzzle, followed by two shiny black eyes that sparkled like polished onyx. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No way…” you whispered, your heart racing as the fluffy creature let out a tiny bark, its tail wagging furiously, causing the box to shake slightly.

JJ chuckled beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his laughter warm and full of pride. “Told you Santa came through this year.” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper there too — a tenderness that you didn’t always hear. It was the same tenderness that had drawn you to him all those years ago, when everything in his life had been so broken, but he had found a way to build something together with you. The soft thrum of your heart matched the beat of his, and it felt like time had stopped just for you two, here in this small moment of joy.

You turned to him, your eyes wide. “You said no dogs. You said the house wasn’t ready!”

JJ shrugged, completely unbothered, his grin stretching wider, a glint of mischievous pride dancing in his gaze. “Guess I lied. Couldn’t resist, angel. I mean, look at him.” He leaned forward, his finger brushing against the puppy’s tiny, soft ears. “He’s got ‘JJ Maybank’ written all over him.”

The puppy let out another excited yip, struggling to climb out of the box. Gently, you lifted him, his soft fur warm in your hands. His tiny paws pressed against your chest as he wiggled excitedly, licking your face with reckless abandon, causing you to giggle uncontrollably.

You laughed, the sound light and free, the way it hadn’t been in years, your heart so full it could’ve burst. “Oh my God, JJ. He’s perfect.”

JJ watched you with a lazy smile, leaning closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there just a moment longer than usual. “I think he’s already got a favorite human,” he teased, brushing your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made you feel as if the entire world had stopped just for you two.

You cradled the little ball of fluff in your arms, his tiny paws pressing against your chest as he snuggled closer, his warmth filling the empty spaces of your heart. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt whole — like all the pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. You looked back at JJ, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling as his smile deepened.

“Anything for you, angel,” he murmured, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned in to kiss you again. It wasn’t a kiss full of urgency or passion this time, but one that was slower, deeper �� full of a love that had built up over years of quiet moments, of shared dreams, of both the good and bad times that had shaped you. A kiss that spoke of promises made and promises kept.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along the back of your neck as the soft, playful puppy nestled in your lap. The warm weight of the small creature was a perfect contrast to the warmth of JJ’s body pressed against yours. He kissed the delicate curve of your neck, his lips lingering as if he could never get enough of you. He moved to your cheek, then your cheekbone, leaving a trail of tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned in his arms, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t filled with desperation — no, this kiss was full of everything you’d wanted, everything you had built, everything you had fought for. After everything that had happened in Morocco, the terror, the near loss of him, you never thought you'd find this peace, this quiet joy. But here you were, wrapped in his embrace, feeling more alive than ever.

After that incident, after the nightmare of nearly losing him, JJ had changed. He was different. More gentle, more mindful of your every need, and more focused on building a life with you. You had always known he loved you, always felt the weight of his affection even when he didn’t say it aloud, but now — now it was deeper, tenfold. His love was a constant, a steady presence that made you feel safe in a world that had once felt like it was falling apart. And it was enough. More than enough.

His lips met yours again, soft and slow, each kiss full of meaning, of promises he’d made to himself to make you the happiest woman in the world. And as he kissed you, he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with emotion.

“I love you,” he said, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You smiled, your chest swelling with love as you pulled him closer. The puppy, now content in its new home, wandered around the living room, sniffing at the new surroundings with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. You didn’t care that the front door was wide open or that you were making out on the living room floor, in full view of anyone who might pass by. There was no one else in the world but JJ and the life you were building together. You just wanted to show him, to remind him, how much you loved him. How much you appreciated him.

“What's the next step?” you teased, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. Your hands, without thinking, brushed a lock of blond hair away from his forehead, your heart fluttering as you took in the depth of his gaze. “A house, a dog... what's the next thing in our list?” You giggled, the sound light and free, like a melody you could listen to forever.

JJ’s smile deepened, and his voice softened, filled with a warmth that had once been so foreign to him. “Oh, that’s easy. A mini you or a mini me — or a mini us,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed you again, this time with a little more passion. You shivered at the thought of what he wanted — a family. Your family.

The idea of children, of a future together, made your heart race. It wasn’t a dream you had ever imagined for yourself. But now, with JJ, it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be.

“But first,” he continued, his voice playful as he broke the kiss, “we deal with this dog, because it seems to me he’s already gnawing on our pillow.”

You laughed, shaking your head, your heart full as you watched the puppy eagerly attack the pink pillow you had bought from the flea market, its fluffy stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The mess didn’t bother you, not at all. You were too caught up in the joy of the moment, in the warmth of JJ’s arms around your waist, in the paradise you had built.

It wasn’t perfect. The house was small, a little worn around the edges, but it was yours. Your home. A place where laughter and love filled the air, where memories were made, and where the future you dreamed of was slowly taking shape. It was paradise. Small, imperfect, but paradise all the same. And you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But then, something shifted. You smelled it before you saw it — the faint scent of something burning, sharp and sudden. Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes snapped open as the realization hit you.

“Damn, Jay, the turkey!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in panic as you bolted upright, the puppy’s ears perked up in alarm as you scrambled to your feet.

JJ laughed, deep and carefree, lying back on the floor as he watched you rush toward the kitchen. He felt like the happiest man on earth, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place. But as you disappeared into the kitchen, he let his mind wander for a moment, and he couldn’t help but think back to the time before all of this.

Back to the dark days when Morocco had nearly torn you apart, when you had held him in your arms, desperate, praying he would survive. You had nightmares for weeks after, haunted by the memory of him almost slipping away from you forever. The weight of that fear had lingered, thick and suffocating, even after you returned to Kildare, when everything should have felt safe again. But it hadn’t been easy. It had taken time. It had taken effort. It had taken healing.

You both had scars from that experience. You, from the sleepless nights and the anxiety that gripped your heart whenever you thought about the what-ifs. And JJ, from the deep, quiet trauma that you knew he didn’t always talk about. But despite all of that, you had found your way back to each other. You had found peace. Together.

Now, as he lay there on the floor, listening to the sound of your frantic steps in the kitchen, he smiled softly to himself. The memories of Morocco were still there, lingering in the background, but they no longer defined him. No longer defined you together. You had rebuilt your paradise, and no amount of darkness could take that away.

JJ Maybank had always been reckless, wild, untamed. But now, he was grounded. Not because the world had suddenly become perfect, but because you were his. Because he had found his anchor in you. You were his home. And no matter what happened, he knew you would always be there, side by side.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the present wash over him. There was no place he’d rather be. No place but here, with you. His family. His paradise.

And for Christmas, that was all he could ever ask for.

The smell of burning turkey wafted in from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe paradise wasn’t perfect, but damn, it was perfect for him.

thankx for reading <3

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

okay, this work my first kinda christmas special and I like it so much. also 'santa doesn't know you like I do' is such a beautiful song and maybe the meaning of the song is not connected to the whole vibe of this work but first lines is so jj and angel coded, idk.

but thank you again for reading my work and as usual you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

                                    – your santi 🪐

masterlist

[misshoneyimhome]

Since it’s Christmas season, Inexperienced reader felt like being a brat and wanted to test William’s patience with Alex living with them and family coming to visit she decided she wanted to be on the naughty list. She decided her to leave her panties and little pictures of herself and leave in his suite case, car, and his space in the locker room to remind him what’s he’s missing after she’s his good girl but sometimes she’s needs a reminder who’s in charge.

Happy holidays, love! 🥰

To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure how this piece would turn out, but I decided to just go with the flow 🙈🎄 Because, of course, Inexperienced!reader and Willy deserve both a loving and slightly naughty Christmas 😘💋

I hope you enjoy this little chapter, and once again, happy holidays to everyone! Sending you all lots of love ❤️

Tropes & warnings: 18+ smut, Inexperienced!reader x Willy, naughty photoshoot, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, sex toy (magic wand), unprotected sex (p in v), cum inside

Word count: 3.8K

➼｡ﾟ

A Nonsense Christmas I Inexperienced!reader x Willy

The sound of holiday classics drifted softly through the apartment as you straightened a sprig of mistletoe over the kitchen threshold. Outside, snow dusted the city, blanketing everything in a hush. Inside, fairy lights twinkled, gifts waited under the tree, and the scent of cinnamon and pine wafted through every room. It was Christmas season—cosy, lovely, and oh so warm. But beneath all that sugary sweetness, you’d decided to stir up something a little spicy.

You’d caught wind of his photoshoot—William’s—just last week. A sleek magazine spread had left your cheeks warm, your heart fluttering, cunt dripping, and a wicked little idea forming in your mind. After over a year together, this was your chance to be a holiday tease, to see what happened when you tested William’s patience in your own cheeky, festive way. You wanted to be his good girl, truly you did, but sometimes a holiday needed a little naughtiness to make it truly memorable.

The apartment you shared with William was a merry chaos this December. Family was due to arrive in a few days—parents, siblings, a few cousins—and Alex, his brother, was already living with you both for a while. The space was full of laughter, good food, and the comfortable bustle of the holidays. But it also meant privacy was scarce, and that made your plan all the more thrilling. If William wanted to stay calm and collected, well, you were about to see just how far you could push him.

You started small. The first surprise was a pair of delicate, lacy red panties, tucked subtly into his training bag before he left for practice. When he opened it to grab a spare hoodie, he’d find that little gift waiting, a silent, provocative message. You imagined his face—slightly flushed, brows raised, that crooked smirk tugging at his lips—wondering what you were up to.

Later that afternoon, while he was gone, you dressed up in a dark green satin robe trimmed with faux white fur at the collar—festive, yet undeniably sensual. Underneath, the lingerie set you’d chosen—a daring dark red number—hugged your curves. You adjusted your phone’s timer and took a few playful selfies in front of the Christmas tree: a suggestive tilt of your hips, a knowing smile, the twinkle of lights across your bare skin. These photos were just for him. The playlist on your phone danced through holiday tunes, and right then, “A Nonsense Christmas” hummed softly, the silly, flirtatious lyrics fuelling your courage. If William’s shoot had inspired you, your own was going to leave him speechless.

You picked the best snapshot, printed it out, and placed it in a tiny envelope adorned with a candy cane sticker. That evening, when you knew he’d head out to his car to pick up Alex from wherever he’d wandered off to, he’d find that photo carefully slipped inside the glove compartment, waiting like a secret treat.

And you didn’t stop there. The next morning, while humming under your breath and sipping cocoa, you snuck into the closet where his game day suit hung. His locker room routine was sacred and placing another little Polaroid—and a pair of black lace panties—tucked inside his jacket pocket would guarantee that when he got to the match, he’d have a reminder of exactly what he was missing at home. It was risky, but that was the point. You wanted him thinking about you while trying to keep a straight face around the guys. Would he blush? Would he grin? You could almost see him pressing his lips together to hide a smirk as he discovered your latest surprise.

By the time the evening rolled around, you’d delivered those three gifts—training bag, car, and suit jacket—and you knew William’s patience was fraying beautifully. His texts had become peppered with suggestive hints and thinly veiled threats like, “Just wait until we’re alone, älskling,” and, “You’re playing with fire.” And when he came home after the third discovery, you caught a glimpse of something dark and wanting in his gaze before Alex burst in from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious.

That night, after Alex yawned and went to his room, you found yourself finally alone with William in the dim glow of the Christmas tree’s lights in the living room. Your heart fluttered when he approached you, every step controlled, his eyes locked onto yours.

“What,” he asked softly, voice dripping with amusement and frustration, “do you think you’re doing?”

You batted your lashes, feigning innocence. “Spreading holiday cheer?” you offered sweetly. You were again in that festive robe, tied just loosely enough that he could see the barest hint of something lacy beneath. You watched his gaze drop there, then return to your face, a slow grin forming.

“You’re testing me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice low, his accent more pronounced than usual. “First my bag, then the car, and now… the game day suit, really?” His tone was incredulous, but also thrilled. He loved this side of you, the secret part of you that dared to be bold for him.

You shrugged, lips curving. “Just wanted you to remember who you’re coming home to. Maybe I wanted to make sure you keep your head in the game. Maybe I wanted to imagine how you’d look trying not to blush in front of your teammates.”

He stepped closer, catching your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. “You’ve been very naughty,” he murmured, and heat pooled in your belly. “Leaving your panties and pictures everywhere—did you think I wouldn’t take my time teaching you a lesson when we’re finally alone?”

Your breath caught, words momentarily failing you. This was exactly what you wanted: the push and pull, the playful tension, the promise of a delightful punishment for your mischief. You arched a brow, still holding onto that last shred of bravado. “Who says I don’t like lessons?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, and placed a firm hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “I guess we’ll find out.” His breath was warm against your neck as he leaned in, trailing the faintest of kisses along your jaw. “You know what happens to brats at Christmas, don’t you?”

Your heart pounded. “They get coal?” you teased, grinning.

A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “Oh, you’ll get something better than coal,” he promised softly. “I’m going to remind you exactly who’s in charge here.”

The surge of heat and excitement that washed over you was undeniable. You were craving this; the rush of his reaction, the tender but authoritative way he planned to show you your place in the best possible way. You had learned quickly how to push his buttons—and how gladly he would answer.

Slowly, he guided you further into the shadowed intimacy of the living room, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting flickering patterns across his face. The faint scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air, but all you could really focus on was him—his steady grip on your waist, his breath warm against your skin, the way he commanded the space without even trying.

“Better than coal, huh?” you murmured, trying to keep a hint of that playful confidence, your hands steadying yourself against his chest. Your voice sounded breathier than you intended, your pulse thrumming in your ears.

His fingers toyed with the edge of your robe’s sash, knuckles grazing your belly. “Oh, much better,” he assured you, words rolling out in that low, accented purr that made your toes curl. “You’ve been pushing me, älskling. Leaving me those little surprises—in front of my teammates…” His tone turned wry. “Do you know how hard it was to keep a straight face in front of the guys? Making sure they weren’t looking over my shoulder…”

A shiver danced along your spine as you imagined him discovering your naughty gifts, struggling to hide his reaction. The thrill of it surged inside you again. “I just wanted to keep you on your toes,” you said softly, tilting your head back as his body pressed closer.

He hummed, and the sound vibrated through you. “You wanted to fucking taunt me,” he murmured, slipping one finger under the robe’s tie, pulling it loose with languid precision. “To see what I’d do when you kept teasing, kept tempting, kept acting like a brat…” He paused, the robe falling open just enough to show the lacy lingerie underneath. His gaze darkened as it swept over what you’d chosen—something festive, black, so very sheer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, your breath catching as his fingers skimmed along the curve of your breast, just above the lace. “Maybe,” you whispered. “Depends on what you have planned.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending another rush of heat through your veins. “Such a brave little thing,” he said, tilting your chin up again so that your eyes met his. “Don’t worry. I won’t disappoint you.”

In that gentle light, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a slow, claiming kiss. His hand slipped lower, curling over your hip, drawing you against his body so you could feel exactly how much your antics had affected him. You gasped into his mouth when he pressed closer, the friction making your head spin, as your hands instinctively grabbed his shoulders.

“Since you wanted to show me what I’m missing,” he murmured between kisses, “it’s only fair I return the favour—show you just what happens when you push me too far.” His breath was hot against your ear now, his voice a low rumble that made your knees weaken. “We have all night. Which means I can take my time.” He let that sink in before trailing his lips along your jaw, down your neck, making you arch into him.

You were trembling, caught somewhere between daring him on and melting under his touch. Your bravado faltered as his hand trailed upward along your thigh, slipping beneath the silky robe to explore the lace edges of your lingerie. Every subtle shift of his body, every quiet hum of approval, reminded you that you were no longer in control—if you ever really had been. You’d handed over the reins the moment you decided to test his patience.

He coaxed your legs apart just enough so he could press closer, each subtle movement deliberate and sure. “So,” he said, voice low, “do you think you’ll be leaving little presents like that again without expecting payback?”

Your heart fluttered wildly as you remembered the naughty photos, the panties hidden away. You thought of his flushed cheeks when he found them, the way he must have scolded himself silently, waiting until the moment he could have you alone like this. “I—” You tried to form a witty comeback, but all that came out was a shaky breath and a quiet moan as he skimmed his fingers lightly against the lace covering your core.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction and something warmer—affection, pride, maybe even amusement at how easily he had unravelled you. “That’s what I thought,” he said softly. His thumb stroked over your hipbone, soothing and possessive all at once. “You’re mine tonight, älskling. All mine. And I’m going to make sure you remember exactly what that means.”

He claimed your mouth again, this time deeper, hungrier. The kiss tugged you into a haze of sensation, each slide of his tongue coaxing you away from any clever remark you might have made. A small shrug of his shoulder and your robe slipped free, floating to the floor. William’s soft, appreciating groan told you he enjoyed the view you’d curated just for him—festive, tempting, and just a touch bratty.

Without a word, he then hooked an arm under your thighs and another around your back, lifting you effortlessly. The room spun briefly as he carried you into the bedroom, and in the gentle glow of the holiday lights from down the hall, he tossed you onto the bed. The mattress dipped under your weight, springs sighing softly.

He surveyed you with hungry eyes, your chosen lingerie swiftly becoming a tattered memory scattered on the floor. The lace he’d just ripped away lay abandoned, and you could feel your pulse hammering at the base of your throat, both shocked and thrilled by his boldness. The way he’d smirked, the way he’d said “Oops” without an ounce of regret—it all sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He was completely unapologetic, and that made your stomach flip with excitement.

“Don’t worry, I’ll replace it,” he promised, voice rich and low, like he was thinking of all the ways he could compensate you—maybe with something even skimpier, more luxurious.

Your cheeks warmed at the thought, heart racing as you realised, he was already plotting future moments like this one. His fingers slid over your exposed skin, his touch deliberate and slow, a calculated assault on your senses. His knuckles grazed over your stomach, then dipped along your ribs, brushing the underside of your breast so lightly it made you arch for more. He never rushed, never forced, but he knew exactly where and how to touch you until you were squirming, trying to keep quiet with Alex asleep just down the hall.

The tension of maintaining silence only heightened your arousal. Every time you let out a stifled moan, William’s smirk deepened, satisfied with your struggle. He was taking pleasure in this secret game—knowing he had you at his mercy, that you had no choice but to stifle your cries into the pillows. The illicit thrill of it all tingled through your veins.

When his kisses trailed down your abdomen, each press of his lips and rasp of stubble sending sparks skittering along your nerves, you struggled to keep your breathing steady. He paused at your hipbone, letting his warm breath fan over that sensitive spot, before moving lower. The anticipation tightened in your chest, and when his mouth finally found the slick, heated place between your thighs, you nearly bit through your bottom lip.

He was merciless in the best way—gentle yet relentless, circling your clit with agonizing precision, his tongue working in tandem with a deft finger that simultaneously curled inside you. Your entire body sang with tension, thighs trembling as you tried desperately not to cry out. He played you like an instrument, each lick and stroke tuned to your soft gasps and whimpers. The orgasm built so quickly it shocked you, pleasure cresting like a sudden, rolling wave you couldn’t outrun. You pulled the pillow to cover your face, burying yourself into it and muffling the sharp, desperate sound that escaped as you came. William groaned appreciatively, the vibration making you shudder as you rode out the pulses of ecstasy, gripping the sheets for some sense of grounding.

When he pulled away, your thighs still shook, your breath choppy. A soft whimper of protest escaped you at the loss, and he just chuckled under his breath. It was a dark, amused sound, as if he’d barely begun to play with you and had so much more in store.

So, naturally, he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving something you hadn’t expected tonight—the good old magic wand. Your eyes went wide at the sight of it, fear and excitement tangling in your chest as you realised how easily he could push you over the edge again. Your mouth opened, a little plea escaping before you could stop it.

And he answered you only by pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, an almost tender gesture, before turning on the toy. The soft hum filled your ears, as he moved it to your swollen, sensitive clit. You jerked at the contact; the wand’s vibrations already too intense after your first orgasm.

William kept going, though, eyes fixed on your face as you buried it into the pillow again, desperate to stay quiet. The sensation soared through you at dizzying speed, and in what felt like seconds, another release claimed you—this one sharper, more demanding. You clenched around nothing, toes curling tight, a muffled cry caught in your throat as you came once more. The sheets beneath you were soaked, and you knew it only spurred William on.

As you breathed out heavily, William finally set the wand aside, looking smug as ever, while you tried to catch your breath. Your body hummed with aftershocks, limbs heavy and pliant.

Now it was his turn. As he practically tore and tossed his own clothes aside, your eyes followed down to the bulge straining against his boxers, his desire evident. He stood at the foot of the bed and shed the last bit of fabric in one fluid motion, his cock standing hard and flushed, ready for you. But you knew he wouldn’t just hand it over. He wanted you to work for it—wanted to see that you were just as eager to please him as he was to break your composure.

“Come here,” he said softly, voice holding that firm edge that made your stomach tighten. Still trembling, you moved onto all fours, grateful your arms held you steady after those two overwhelming climaxes. He guided you with a gentle hand in your hair, bringing you close to him.

And instinctively, you opened, hollowed your cheeks and welcomed him into your mouth, determined to make him lose some of that smug control. He groaned low in his throat when you swirled your tongue just right, and you felt a surge of pride at the sound. Each muffled hiss of pleasure was a victory, proof that you could unravel him too.

“Good girl,” he praised, voice roughened by pleasure. That phrase sent warmth spilling through you, made your heart flutter. You knew he loved having you like this, compliant and dedicated, yet still carrying that spark of mischief that had started this whole game.

But then, with a gentle push, he instructed you to turn around, urging you to press your cheek into the pillow, your knees sinking into the mattress as you raised your ass for him. The anticipation was maddening. He knelt behind you, one large hand on your hip, the other skimming down your spine. You let out a quiet gasp when he brushed his thumb over you other entrance, just a hint of pressure that made you whimper. He didn’t push further, only reminding you who held all the cards.

Then, finally, he filled you up with a powerful thrust, claiming you with a sure, steady movement. The fullness made you moan softly, muffled by the pillow. He set a slow rhythm; each inward push followed by a careful withdrawal that left you aching for more. With each roll of his hips, he angled himself just right, brushing sensitive spots that made your vision blur.

Occasionally, he applied a hint more pressure with his thumb against that other, tighter place, not entering. It sent electricity through your nerves, reminding you just how easily he could control your pleasure.

Your muffled cries and soft whimpers were a soundtrack he savoured. He leaned over you, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder blades, murmuring your name like a prayer. The bed creaked softly beneath you, the scent of sex and the faint pine of the Christmas tree drifting through the apartment. You were both keenly aware that Alex slept down the hall—that, in the morning, family would fill this space with laughter and cheer. But right now, it was just the two of you, lost in this secret, intimate world of desire and trust.

William pressed in deeper, his body trembling with the effort of keeping his pace steady. The world beyond the bedroom door seemed to recede, the faint glow of Christmas lights under the doorframe the only hint of the festive setting outside. In that moment, nothing mattered except the heat of his skin against yours, the glide of sweat at the small of your back, the sounds and scents that wrapped around you both like a secret.

Your cries, half-stifled by the pillow you bit into, were music to his ears. You arched under him, toes curling into the mattress, the duvet bunching beneath your knees. You could feel him shudder, could almost taste how desperately he wanted to let go.

“Fuck, baby,” he panted, voice tight, on the edge of control. His grip on your hips tightened, fingertips pressing into your flesh. He angled himself just right, each deep thrust fanning the flames inside you both. You answered with a choked moan, head turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to remain as silent as possible.

He whispered your name once more, voice cracking with need. “Mmm, I’m gonna fucking come,” he groaned, as if confessing a secret sin. You could hear the strain, feel the tension coiling in his muscles as he hovered at the brink. Each ragged breath he took warmed the skin of your back. The slick sound of your bodies meeting and the rich scent of sex filled your senses.

And when he finally surrendered, it was with a shudder that racked his entire frame. He buried himself as deep as he dared, spilling hot and thick inside you, voice reduced to a strangled gasp of relief and pleasure. The force of his climax echoed through you, every aftershock rippling against your quivering muscles. He stayed like that for a heartbeat longer, body slumped, forehead resting between your shoulder blades, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, too wrapped up in the haze of post-climax bliss. Your heart pounded, your limbs heavy, as you savoured the sensation of being utterly claimed. Then, as the urgency faded to a gentle hum, he withdrew carefully, easing you onto your side. The sudden coolness of the room’s air against your heated skin made you shiver, and he was quick to pull a cover over you both, sealing you together in warmth and comfort.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice a soft, affectionate murmur that contrasted with the raw desperation of moments before. Outside this room, the world waited; snow falling silently, Christmas approaching with all its family chaos and bright laughter. But for right now, in the lingering scent of sex, you were two souls bound by secrecy, pleasure, and trust.

A quiet chuckle escaped him, low and fond. He brushed damp hair from your face, fingers lingering in the curve of your jaw. “I love you so fucking much” he whispered, as if afraid to break the spell. “Thanks for all the little surprises.”

You turned, meeting his gaze, the corner of your mouth lifting in a lazy, sated smile. “I love you too, Willy. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

[engel-hageshii]

I finished the last touches for my christmas tree! Love how it turned out!

Huh? What's that?

A little jesters? How did he get there?!

@juukai 🍪⊂(￣▽￣)⊃🍪 here are your two cookies because it was PMH!Sunny!

I've been working on the silly guy for a couple of weeks now and this is how he turned out!!

I didn't sculpt the whole thing, just the face and rays. He was a little jester ornament I found in a flea market, he used to look like this:

And now LOOK AT HIM!

@pluck-heartstrings I've been wanting to do something of your boys for the longest, I hope you like it!

Happy holidays!!

[after-the-end-times]

Shaken, not Stirred

For @steddieholidaydrabbles Prompt: Formal 🤵🏻‍♂️ Rating: T 🤵🏻‍♀️ Words: 1000 Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive Language, Light D/s themes, Men's corsets should be more well known and popular, Steve and Eddie never leave their honeymoon phase, flirting through playing and teasing Ao3

“So, can you feel the upper middle class poshness creeping out of the shadows of your DNA? Dripping and oozing through your veins? Just waiting to take over? Go on, baby. Tell me to get off the lawn. You know you want to.” Eddie stands behind Steve, dragging his fingers down his arms as if following something spreading through his limbs.

Steve flashes him a flat look, lips quirking. “Why are you like this?”

Eddie gasps excitedly, “And there it is!”

Placing another spoon down on the extravagantly set table, Steve tries to keep his flat tone in the face of Eddie playing, “Hmm, as I recall, this party was your idea? Maybe I should make you set the table.” adding under his breath, “If only you knew where all the forks went.”

“Oh god, that’s the good stuff.” He collapses back into one of the chairs, his hand against his forehead like he’s feeling faint. Then, peeking up at Steve with an innocent and hopeful look, “How mad would you be if I swept this all to the ground so you can take me. Right here. Right now.”

Steve throws his head back, laughing. “Did you plan this fancy Christmas dinner just because you get off on me being mean? ‘Cause I think there’s easier ways we could’ve gotten there. Definitely less cooking involved at least.”

“Nope! This is just a side bonus.” He slaps his hands on his legs and rolls to his feet. “Welp! I’m gonna go get the food in the oven. Oh! Were you gonna show me how to make those napkin crowns?”

“I was thinking we’d just go with a basic tree. Crowns take time to perfect. Everyone’s showing up soon for cocktails and we still need to get dressed.” He places the final water glass with a flourish and turns in the sudden silence to see Eddie standing in the doorway, dramatic hand against his chest, eyes all big and shiny.

“Oh, don’t look so sad, baby.” He steps in to take Eddie’s hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, and says in a low, slow voice. “How ‘bout I make a napkin crown just for you and leave it somewhere private. How’s that sound, hm?”

“Hot.” He says, face slack, eyes blinking, processing when napkins became so arousing. “Confusing. But mostly hot.” Because no, it’s not the napkins, it’s Steve. Always Steve. And his competency. Oh god, playful and knowledgeable Steve is so hot.

Steve backs off, smiling, and goes to the check the bottles of alcohol on the side table, turning all the labels forward. “Tsk, if only I’d known, all those years ago, that table setting was all it took to get you all hot and bothered. Who needed all that getting to know you and learning about your interests and wooing.”

“Oooooh yeah, baby, talk etiquette to me.” he says mock seriously, stepping into the kitchen. He raises his voice to be heard over the sound of moving the prepared food from the fridge to the oven to warm. “If only you’d listed the proper course order of a menu that first time I came over. Might’ve saved us a ton of time.”

He hears Steve laughing in the next room and smiles himself. He can’t believe that the no-longer-kids Party don’t think Steve is silly, always teasing him for being so strict. One day soon, when they have kids of their own, he knows they’re going to come to some sudden realizations. But until then, he gets this Steve all to himself, in all his fun and sexy and silly glory.

He’s suddenly not sure how he’ll control himself seeing Steve in the formal wear they picked out. Oh, why did he think this fancy pants party was a good idea? Knowing how he is when he just sees Steve in a nice button down? But no, it’ll be fine with all their friends and family here as buffer. He’ll just have reign in his horn-

“What are you thinking about so hard in here?” Steve wraps his arms around his middle and Eddie suddenly realizes he’s been staring into the open fridge for who knows how long. He shuts the fridge and turns in Steve’s arms, wrapping his arms around Steve so they mirror each other.

“What else, but you, could hold my attention so assiduously?”

“Should I start listing now, so I might be done before everyone gets here?”

“Hey, I was being romantic.” He pouts at Steve’s amused smirk. “Also, I really was thinking of you. Was picturing you in that tux. How the jacket tapers and the shirt stretches and the pants-”

Steve laughs and cuts him off with a quick, hard kiss.

“Well, what about you?” He gasps against Eddie’s mouth. “I can’t believe you found a men’s corset and that it looks so fucking hot that I’ve spent the last month trying not to think about it.”

Eddie spins out of his arms and leans against the kitchen island, hands planted on the edge, eyes dark.

“Gonna ask again, what if we sweep all of this to the floor and you take me right here, right now. Hard.” He opens his eyes to the widest puppy dog eyes he has, “Please?”

With a laugh, Steve steps in close to brush a light kiss against his pouting lips.

“Such an enticing offer.” He walks off out of the kitchen and down the hall, Eddie unable to do anything, but follow. “If only Wayne wasn’t about to walk through that door and El wasn’t so excited to show off her fancy dress.”

Steve pauses outside their bedroom door, Eddie bouncing off his back. Steve turns to him and hooks a finger in his waist band, pulling him flush. “New Year’s, though. We’ll stay in, make dinner, put on our suits, and then tear them off as the clock strikes midnight. How’s that sound?”

Eddie gulps, face flushed. “Yeah. That. Let’s do that.”

[btskitty17]

The Yandere Doll Walks Free at Christmas 🪽 pt. 1

(Jungkook X Reader Series)

Pt. 1 :Wishlist

"I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” She really had had been too much of a good girl. But the last thing that she had expected was to actually end on the top of the Nice list on Christmas Eve and get exactly what she had asked for…or not. As she grows increasingly fond of his pattering presence in the background, she begins to ponder whether a present from Santa Claus is supposed to possess such a darkly dominant disposition, which only begins to expose itself bit by bit.

main masterlist

genre: slight humour, dark fantasy au ୨୧

🪽 ongoing (10-ish parts of 1-2k words throughout December 🎅🎄✩ ₊˚🦌⊹♡❆⛄)

warnings: jungkook x fem! reader (insert any name of your choice), yandere behaviour displayed by the male main character: possessive, controlling + clingy tendencies, eventual smut, seemingly chaste fantasy with a sinister twist

🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧ 🎄~ ୨୧

Even though ___ was swamped with work, she could not ignore that the air was scented with festivity.

The final rendition of her non-fiction manuscript was due right after the holidays, and it was the promise of a publishing deal from a prestigious academic think-tank that propelled her to work throughout her Christmas break and only see her family and friends at dinner parties. Her book was framed as a commentary on contemporary socio-political subcultures and consisted of the findings from her research work which spanned over four years. Was she going to be the next Joan Didion? Or perhaps, a likeness of Susan Sontag? Who’s to say, but she surely liked fantasising along these lines.

As snow settled on the windowpanes of her house and Christmas pop songs drifted from her neighbour’s balcony, ___ made herself a cozy setup with multiple blankets, and continued typing away at her laptop, occasionally sipping from her reindeer-themed coffee mug. Ever the workaholic, ___ was going to spend Christmas Eve shut into her apartment, and obsessively read and reread her research proposal, check the index sheet associated with her project and the revise statistics that she had painstakingly put together. Despite her best efforts, she could not find a flaw. And yet, it was too early to call it a night, so she scrolled through her social media as a Hallmark movie calmly played on her flatscreen, tapping hearts on the array of photographs of her friends’ holiday nighttime rituals of eggnog-drinking, reels of their party tricks, exorbitant decorations and their recent vacations to Cabo, to Mallorca and other seemingly exotic destinations, ___ could not bring herself to envy her friends’ international getaways: she was just far too busy to break free from her routine.

___ knew she that wanted more from life than just grading papers as a teaching assistant while working on her PhD; there was a certain kind of solace that a classroom full of sulky nineteen-year-olds in an eight-thirty morning lecture was not going to grant her so she started volunteering at a children’s shelter earlier in the year and as days went by, they looked forward to her interacting with them, helping them with their homework, bringing them crayons, stickers, and at times takeaway junk food, which brought the kids joy and her, some much needed contentment. She had assisted the children in adorning their Christmas trees with candy canes, giant toffees,  miniature bells, Santa Claus masks and faux snow-streaks and even joined in on the custom of writing a letter to Santa along with them; despite feeling a bit silly, and upon being assured that no one was going to read hers, she scribbled that she hoped to have a boyfriend and stuffed it hastily in the red-and-white striped, cartoonish post-box located in the party-room of the children’s home.

 ___’s apartment had been scrubbed clean with the utmost attention-to-detail and she had draped decorative red and green lights around the windowpanes. The Christmas tree standing tall in her living room, gleamed with trinkets like golden and silver baubles, clusters of ribbons, and large red bows; her favourite ornament was the decade-old mini-Edward Cullen figurine, a memento of her teenaged Twilight obsession, peeking from the canopy of the tree. She could be merry after all, despite everything on her to-do list. After a dinner of soup and butter-garlic sticks, __ drifted off to sleep nestled by her soft-pink quilt as Christmas carols wafted in the distance. 

The morning of Christmas was bitingly cold, catalysed by fresh snowfall; ___ shuddered upon waking up, as she pulled a woollen cardigan over her torso and decided that a mug of spiced coffee ought to be the perfect to start to her holiday and headed towards the kitchen.

The sight of her Christmas tree brought ___’s feet to an abrupt halt as an involuntary gasp left her lips. A giant box awaited her in the living room. “Doll,” the label on it seemed to say simply. A man, around her own age, seemed to be enclosed within it, staring at her, with an uncanny, unblinking gaze, ___ wanted to shriek and scream; there was a peculiar present in her living room, and a man she had never seen before, tied up all pretty with ribbons, delivered inside a cardboard gift box nonetheless, but she could not bring herself to either move or scream; ___  felt as if she could be dreaming, given that there was a handsome yet creepy being standing beneath the golden star placed atop her Christmas tree. Who was he and why was he in a box? And who let him have such a graceful, neat entrance into her house?

“What?” ___ finally managed to squeak out.

“It is your delivery from Santa Isle… I understand that you filled out a Toybox application form, requesting a boyfriend?” The man inside the box spoke up at last, sensing her disbelief.

“I did not order anything… Wait, wait, how did you get in?”

“There is an elaborate process that is followed; the gift delivery services of Santa Isle possess absolute accuracy and we have our own undisclosable ways of reaching the destination, which in this case, was your residence. I am certain an order has been placed for a boyfriend; I am meant for you, otherwise I never would have been sent to this part of the world.” his way of speaking was extremely lucid though his voice was a low droll of molten honey.

___ racked her brain to recollect when could she have possibly filled a form for a present like this and thought about the possibility of an ethereal landscape called Santa Isle, and the way this doll-box was magically inserted under her Christmas tree. She soon began to question her sanity.

“Not everyone is privileged to receive exactly what they have mentioned on the form… There are mechanisms through which we monitor’s the applicants’ good deeds, and you, have been awarded the top spot in your province; I have skimmed your file, it said that you have dedicated this year to children’s welfare endeavours, thereby creating a rightful place for yourself on the Nice list and thus, deserving of anything that you wish for on Christmas.”

“You all are collecting my data without my knowledge?”

“Isn’t everyone?” he snickered; his face came into focus after her initial haze of perplexity....

The so-called doll was clad rather gentlemanly in an immaculate two-piece tuxedo; his wide doe-eyed gaze and arched eyebrows made him seem perpetually amused at something and his facial features, albeit innocent, wore the armour of a mature expression, like a baby cosplaying a warrior; her questions remained unanswered despite the fact that he was so sure of the legitimacy of his presence in a gift-box under her Christmas tree.

“I realise that you might be bewildered but you were the only applicant who requested a human relationship… you wrote down that you desired to have a boyfriend, a wish that would now be fulfilled by me, a Santa Isle worker; the other people at the children’s shelter had wished for video games, comic book-sets, and so on…” he attempted to explain, observing the confused scowl cemented on her face. It was Christmas after all, she should not be frowning.

“Are you implying that the post-box at the children’s shelter named Little Smiles possesses a direct portal to Santa’s Isle? What are you even talking about… how is any of this real?”

“I can understand your disbelief but, there are many realms in this world that you might be unaware of. We have a radar that monitors needy children’s wish-lists and we leave them anonymous packages with the items that they have wished for around Christmas every year…Contrary to popular belief, there is a Santa and he is hard at work… you happened to insert your own list along with the children, and we here, at Santa Isle, fulfil each and every wish that we come across.”

“What do you mean? Is Santa your boss? I am having a hard time believing that I am not the centre of a prank-based reality television show…and even more shocked by your ability to get into the house…How did that happen? Another one of Santa’s miracles?”

“I am not a criminal, if that is what you are thinking. Could you please unbox me? That plate of cookies looks ever so delicious and I have been waiting for you to wake up since midnight so…”

___ stepped forward furtively, eyeing the doll-man, man-doll, overgrown doll? What was he, an adult toy? Wait that sounds wrong, ___ thought.

___ extended her hand to unfurl the pink ribbon garlanded around the giant, transparent toybox as he looked on with anticipatory eyes; as soon as the ribbon was undone, he began to step outside the box: turns out that the unboxing was a mere ceremonious activity, he could have been outside this whole time if he wanted to, but it was the recipient’s right to unwrap the present on Christmas morning.

“Jungkook Jeon.”

“Um?”

“My name is Jungkook and I am assigned to be your boyfriend. But there are some activities that have been listed on my agenda that have to be conducted with you before you can bestow that title on me,” Jungkook stated in the most placid of tones, as if he was there to carry out the simplest of tasks: doorstep boyfriend.

“What sort of activities are you insinuating? Listen I will ring up the apartment building’s security right now if you pull something funny, I swear I do not look like it but I am capable of kicking you back to --,” ___ rambled in an exasperated state, even more confused now.

“Activities like going to dinner and playing recreational games! Why are you suspecting me and threatening me with violence with each and every step that I take?” Jungkook’s voice was now raised a bit, flustered by this impossible customer, who was putting his reputation as the Santa Isle worker with the most golden stars (a token of appreciation) for his service-delivery, at risk.

___ scanned Jungkook from head to toe; he was glorious in his formal wear whilst she was yelling at him with a mismatched set of a tank top and floofy pyjamas on, secured by an ancient, lint-laden fraying cardigan: a clothing article that she only kept because of its sentimental value as it not did not do much to keep her warm, rendering her a quivering, blathering mess. Jungkook’s ocean-wide eyes were fastened on her being, watching out for further explosive reactions but he had worn her down, the girl just wanted her morning cup of coffee; she was tired of overanalysing the situation and questioning the existence of Santa Claus’ secret city. Or was it a factory? She will have to ask Jungkook.

Jungkook was not average-looking by any means; he was a doll, that was for certain, ___ she thought. The structure of his body was burly, his fairly large built was evident as he loomed several inches above her; ___ was surprised by his ability to fit into the box that now lay opened on the floor. His crisp white shirt clung to his well-formed biceps and broad shoulders, a contrast to the fabric cinched around his narrow, narrow waist. Nevertheless, this beautiful being was practically an alien for her.

“You are shivering,” Jungkook spread out his arms and drew ___ into his unexpected embrace.

“What are you doing?” ___’s twitching and thrashing was no match for Jungkook’s athletic arms.

“I would be a failure as a boyfriend if I let you shake like a leaf in the wind on my very first day here," Jungkook spoke with a gentle pout.

___ could feel Jungkook’s gaze cutting into her, as he enfolded her in the tightest hug he could possibly dole out.  ___ discerned the rhythmic thrum of his heart with her back against his strong chest and her senses were clouded by his scent, which was a concoction of dark chocolate and musk, a combination that she found brought her an immense and indescribable oceanic calm, as if all her anxieties were rolling into the sea-waves and away into a sunset; all her defences against him seemed to momentarily collapse. He was humming a pop-duet which was currently deemed a chartbuster, and his way of singing made it sound like a tranquil lullaby; his enormous palms were running circles around ___’s nearly bare shoulders as her cardigan slipped from her frame. Jungkook bore the warmth of a fireplace, it seemed, ___ could no longer tell that it was even snowing outside.  

___ was almost lulled to sleep, when she felt Jungkook lower his face and let his soft lips wander to nape of her neck: an action which broke the trance she was in and made her eyes snap open as she jerked her face away from Jungkook with indignance burning within her irises; this was inappropriate.

“How dare you? You are not my boyfriend!” she bellowed.

Jungkook was staggered by ___’s sudden shouting, and her denial of the very label which defines him at the moment: boyfriend, she was his, rightfully so; a pitch-black look overcame his otherwise innocent features, and the formal yet genial smile that he had been wearing till now also dissipated, leaving behind a cold stare which had now claimed ___ as its victim.

To be continued ⊹

(will update my main masterlist with newer parts as i write, thank you for reading 🎀)

DISCLAIMER  This is a work of fanfiction with the BTS members as characters; I do not claim ownership to the aforementioned characters. This fanfiction has been written solely for entertainment.

© @btskitty17 on tumblr 2024

~ ୨୧ ♡ · ₊

[sturniololuv08]

On The Seventh Day Of Nickmas...

Day 7 of Juno's 12 Days Of Nickmas (Day 6 does not exist)

Jared hardly texted Nick all day yesterday. He wanted to but he just wanted to get his work done so he didn't have anything creeping up on him closer to Christmas. Christmas was in four days, and he had everything done, so he was finally able to reach out, but he didn't. Something stopped him every time he had his phone in his hands. He saw Nick posting on Snapchat and even did a TikTok with his brothers. He watched the TikTok on a loop seeing how happy Nick looked. He didn't want to disturb his best friend's peace but wanted to see him, badly. He couldn't explain what the feeling was, but he felt it when he watched Nick being driven away in the cab two days ago. He felt it when he saw him dancing silly with Chris and Matt. He felt it every time he was about to send a simple 'hey' text. He felt it the night in the car when they were filming. It was in his chest. He noticed that he was looking at it too eagerly every time his phone binged with a notification.

Vvvmp.

He grabbed his phone, and instantly, his chest was pounding. It was Nick asking to hang out. Jared's thumbs were quick to type out an acceptance text. Nick started calling.

"Hey." Jared felt his lungs tightening as he answered.

"Hey, Matt is gonna pick you up in 10 minutes. Can you be ready?" Nick was being a little more assertive than usual.

"Ugh, fuck. Yeah." Jared started frantically looking for some shoes.

"Wear something for outside." Before Jared could ask why, the phone clicked off.

"Outside?" Jared contorted his face. He looked around and found a light jacket and some Doc Martin boots, with his jeans tucked in behind the laces. Matt arrived in precisely 10 minutes.

"Hey." He said, and Jared slid in.

"Any idea what -"

"Uh, uh. I'm not allowed to say nothing." Matt shook his head from side to side.

"Well, fuck you too, then." Jared and he chuckled as Matt started driving them to their place. As the buildings and trees blurred past outside, Jared just kept thinking about the Space Camp advertisement. He wondered what happened to those photos. Were they scrapped, or were they going to appear online somewhere? They pulled into the underground garage and stepped out. Jared went into their little house like it was his own and started up the stairs past Chris' bedroom door.

"I'm just saying you look weird." Jared heard Chris mumbled.

"Nick?" He made his presence known. Nick spun around, and Jared realized what Chris was talking about. Nick was wearing Timberlands, probably Matt's, black jeans with suspenders that ran up past a red and black plaid long sleeve. He looked warm in the face from being inside the house. "What -?" Jared halted his speech when he saw Nick holding a small axe.

"I wanted to surprise you." Nick smiled as his plan finally unfolded.

"By chopping my arm off?" Jared stood awkwardly in the kitchen.

"Told you," Chris yelled as he went down the stairs past Jared.

"We are going to go pick out a Christmas tree." Nick tossed the axe around carelessly.

"Woah. Careful with that." Matt said dramatically as he confiscated the semi-sharp object.

"Nick, we live in LA." Jared didn't want to ruin his plans, but LA wasn't exactly the place to host chop-your-own Christmas trees.

"I found a place!" Nick pulled out his phone. "It's a drive, but you can chop your own tree down." He walked over to show Jared his findings. Jared looked at the phone briefly and then at Nick. His eyes were swirling with excitement.

"Let's do it." Jared was used to being Nick's partner in crime.

"Yes." Nick held out the 's'.

"Is it just us?" Jared glanced over at Matt on the couch. He shrugged and tossed the glance toward Nick.

"We can all go." Nick was fine with making it a group trip. He wouldn't mind alone time with Jared, but cutting down a tree and carrying it wasn't the alone time he wanted. They were only apart for one day, and Nick went crazy when he wasn't kept busy. He re-watched the car video they created and came to the conclusion he wished the timer hadn't gone off. Laura emailed him a sneak peek of the photo shoot, and the ones with Jared were undoubtedly the best photos. One, because they were relaxed and natural, but two, because the chemistry was undeniable. To make sure he didn't constantly think about their shared moments over the past week, Nick sent snap chats to provoke fan reactions. He forced Matt and Chris to make TikToks with him. He even went as far as to clean his room just to keep pushing the thoughts down. It worked until Jared was standing here in front of him again. Everything was immediately back.

"I'll get Chris." Jared went back down the stairs to see if Chris was up for the adventure. As he descended, he heard Matt and Nick talking in hushed tones.

"It's not too much," Matt reassured.

"Okay. Good." Nick's voice was growing confident. Jared helped Chris pick out a quick outfit, and they went to the car. Matt was already in the driver's seat, waiting. Jared slipped into the back seat, with the middle space between him and Nick. "Here." Nick handed Matt his phone back with the directions pulled up.

"A fucking hour?" Matt turned around to look in the back seat.

"It was the closest one." Nick shrugged like it didn't matter.

"An hour for a tree is crazy, Nick." Chris turned back, too.

"It's not just a tree." Nick fought his case. "It's tradition." He whispered, evoking giggles from Chris and Matt. Given their shared talk, Jared knew this was for him, but he didn't understand why Nick was pushing so hard for it to happen.

"Okay. But you owe me gas money." Matt started reversing out of the garage. The hour-long drive to the tree farm wasn't horrible. They all just talked about random things and passed the aux chord around. Jared was the only person vibing to Nick's music, but Matt was the only person vibing to Chris' rap; it made it fair. Eventually, they drove past an old wooden sign that read 'Wickerd Farm.'

"This is so pretty." Jared saw all the green pines plotted in perfect rows.

"Don't you think it's kind of sad that they grow trees to slaughter them?" Chris asked monotone. Nick gasped.

"I wouldn't exactly call it slaughter." Matt laughed as he turned to park.

"Are you okay, Chris? Do you need to talk to someone?" Jared questioned jokingly.

"Think about it." He urged for everyone to see his point.

"I'm good." Matt declined.

After some silence, Jared broke it: "And then we decorate their corpses," he added to Chris' vision.

"Oh my God. Stop." Nick shivered, hating the thought. Jared grabbed his hand off of his chest and smiled at him. Once the car was fully stopped, Jared dropped Nick's hand to get out on the opposite side of the car.

"Where do we start?" Matt looked at his older brother for guidance on his plan. Nick had no idea.

"I don't know. We've never cut down our own tree in LA." Jared looked around and saw a little kiosk to pay at.

"This way." The pack followed him. After waiting behind a few families, it was their turn.

"Small, medium, or large?" The woman asked.

"Medium?" Nick hesitated.

"And a small one," Matt added. "What? I want one for my room." He shrugged with his hands in his pockets.

"Twenty-five dollars." Nick paid, and they all started walking through the green aisle.

"So what makes the perfect tree?" Chris asked, brushing his hand over the prickly pines.

"Mainly, it just depends on how many decorations you are trying to put on it." Jared was examining one roughly a foot taller than himself. The smell of wood and pine was floating around.

"Are we decorating it?" Chris was unaware that it was part of the plan that day.

"No, we don't have to." Nick started.

"What?" Jared looked disappointed.

"I mean, we can." Nick gave him an inquisitive look.

"What about this one?" Matt stole everyone's attention. He was wrapping his arms around a tree way taller than any of them.

"Would that even fit in the house?" Nick asked.

"Forget the house, what about the car?" Chris examined it further.

"Nick, come look at this one." Jared stole his friend from his brothers. Matt and Chris debate the large tree while Nick and Jared inspect his choice. The air was starting to become heavy in their lungs.

"Definitely a good size." He touched the bristles. "It feels nice. Kind of soft." He wasn't a fan of getting stabbed by a tree.

"I think it's perfect." Nick looked up to see Jared looking down at him.

"You think so?" Nick asked, standing up a little straighter.

"I know it is." Jared's hand absentmindedly played with a branch.

"Then we'll get this one," Nick nodded in approval. "Guys, we are getting this one," Nick hollered to Matt and Chris, who were still heavily debating the other tree. They walked over to see the tree they lacked a say in.

"It's okay." Matt scoffed. Nick smacked him in the chest.

"Jared picked it out. And this was Jared's surprise so he has final say." Nick handed Matt the saw they picked up out of the bin by the kiosk.

"Oh, I have to cut it down."

"I wasn't gonna do it." Nick folded his arms—not pouty but in an in-charge way. Matt rolled his eyes, and Chris lifted up the bottom branches so he could see where he was cutting. While they sawed the tree down, Jared and Nick stood chuckling and watching.

"All this for me?" Jared questioned softly.

"Yeah. I remember you saying you missed this. I'm sure this," he motioned to Chris and Matt, fumbling and bickering, "isn't like when you'd go with your family, but it's something." Nick felt like his surprise was a success. It wasn't like when Jared would go with his family. It was different and new but he loved that it was with his best friends.

"It's perfect." Jared looked down at Nick as he was watching his brothers having their dispute. As Jared watched Nick smiling, he couldn't help but notice how vulnerable the brown-haired boy was being with him. Once the tree was cut all the way through Nick opted to help carry it to the car. His excuse for finally wanting to help was that it would complete his look. Jared felt bad he didn't do anything other than choose the tree but no one seemed bothered by it. As Chris strapped the tree tightly to the roof of the car and Matt picked out his smaller tree by himself, Jared and Nick were in the backseat, trying to get warm. "Come here." He grabbed Nick's hands in his own and breathed on them.

"Germs," Nick said appalled.

"Shut up." Jared rolled his eyes and pulled Nick closer to him. "You are a pain in the ass, you know that?" He asked him. Nick situated himself to be leaning up on Jared a little more.

"So are you." Nick countered.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Fine, we both are." Jared let him win. Nick didn't respond. He was in his head, thinking about the next right thing to say. Jared took the opportunity and spoke again. "Thank you for all of this." Nick shifted to look at Jared.

"You are my best friend." Nick wanted to tell him everything he was feeling. This moment screamed perfect, but for fear of losing Jared as his best friend, he said nothing more than that.

Taglist: @trevorsgodmother @strnilolover @chrissbug333 @kirby0strombolli @abbilmao @ksturnz @thenickgirl (BESTIIEEE)

[akariarda]

Secret Santa

Ninjas, Misako, Garmadon and Wu play secret Santa. (At the end you have who got who if you want to watch it right away!!)

Request from ao3!

"This is a game where we all draw names from slips of paper, and then each person buys a small gift for the one they picked," Cole explained.

"And it's called Secret Santa!" Lloyd proudly completed the thought.

"Why?" Sensei Garmadon frowned.

"Like Santa Claus," Lloyd lamented.

"And you want Misako, Garmadon, and me to play this with you?" Wu looked at them in surprise.

"Yes!" Jay exclaimed.

"Isn't that a bit strange?" Misako asked, but Jay interrupted her.

"But it's fun! The more people, the better."

"No one is allowed to reveal who they drew, Nya pointed out.

"Unless they need help, but that person can't know," Lloyd corrected her.

"And no swapping," Nya added.

"If we all understand, let's start drawing names," Pixal announced as she stood up, took the box, and handed it to everyone to draw. For a while, they stood in silence as everyone drew their slips of paper.

"So, do we put these under the christmas tree?" Misako asked.

"I propose we exchange them before Christmas dinner," Nya suggested, and everyone nodded in agreement.

~~~~~~

"Misako, who did you get?" Sensei Garmadon asked her when they entered the living room.

"I can't tell you..." Misako smiled softly.

"You must!" Sensei Garmadon insisted.

"But the rules..." Misako reminded him.

"I need help," Garmadon said desperately. "I got Nya, and I have no idea what to get a teenager girl... Please, can we switch?"

Misako contemplated this and nodded. "Then you take Wu, and I'll take Nya."

"Wu!" Sensei Garmadon sighed with relief and suddenly hugged Misako. "Thank you, thank you, this will be perfect!"

~~~~~~

"Ughg..." Kai muttered to himself, frowning.

"What’s wrong?" Zane asked curiously.

"I got someone I least wanted..."

"Garmadon?" Zane immediately guessed.

"Maybe you should ask Lloyd for advice..."

"It feels silly that so many people know, but I’ll have to," Kai sighed. "Who did you get?"

"I don’t want to tell you," Zane winked at him. "Such are the rules."

~~~~~~

Wu was sweating as he walked around the room. "I don’t know, I don’t know..." He did know what to buy, but he was reluctant. "I don’t want to support that kind of behavior!"

~~~~~~

The evening before Christmas had arrived.

"Dad?" Lloyd called as he walked into the living room. "I thought Mom was wrapping the gifts..."

"You didn’t think your father could wrap gifts?" Sensei Garmadon smiled at Lloyd's expression.

"It’s his secret talent." Misako came in from the living room.

"He thinks we’re teasing him!" Sensei Garmadon laughed as he looked at Lloyd. "Let me wrap a gift for you, and you’ll see."

"Okay," Lloyd said, handing over his present.

"Here you go!" Sensei Garmadon beamed as he wrapped it.

"You’re really good at this!" Lloyd noted with enthusiasm.

~~~~~~

"It’s time for presents!" Nya officially announced as she approached the area where the gifts were.

"Who should we start with?"

"You go first," Lloyd suggested, and Nya went to find the gift with her name on it.

"This is really beautifully wrapped," she noted. When she opened it, she found several pieces she was missing for her Samurai X suit to upgrade it.

She was puzzled because she couldn’t figure out who had gotten this for her... She had talked about it with a few people...

"Now it’s my turn," Kai said as he went to his present. "Let’s see..." He smiled and was astonished when he opened it.

Inside was a plush mouse and a training strap with the message: "May your hair no longer get in your eyes as it used to."

"Who did this?!" Kai exclaimed angrily, looking at everyone in turn.

"It’s okay, Kai..." Lloyd tried to calm him, but Kai shot a glare at Jay.

"You... I’ll get you back."

"Enough!" Nya interjected. "Kai, this is a joke, and the plush mouse is really soft."

"I didn’t mean to sound so annoyed..." Jay defended himself.

"In the end, Jay, I’m sorry." Kai said as he sat down.

Next, Jay went and found a gaming console. "Woohoo!" he exclaimed, then read the note.

"Don’t get addicted to this, and let this gift not encourage your laziness!"

"Haha, that’s you, Sensei Wu," Jay smiled.

Cole followed behind him.

"Hmm..." he mumbled as he couldn’t quite figure out what he was holding.

"Need help?" "Press the button in the middle," Pixal suggested, and Cole opened it to reveal a hiking backpack that could hold many things.

"Awesome, thanks, Pixal!"

"Haha, this isn’t really Secret Santa," Lloyd chuckled. Zane went next and found a cookbook and a chess set.

"Someone who knows me well must have gotten this..."

"More or less everyone in this room, Zane," Kai said, and everyone began to laugh.

"Lloyd, it’s your turn now," Cole prompted. Lloyd approached and found a pile of comics. Honestly, he was a bit disappointed.

"But I don’t read comics anymore..."

"These are adult comics; give them a try, and you’ll like them. I promise," Cole said, and Lloyd looked at him in surprise. "You said you drew Zane!"

"I tricked you, didn’t I?"Cole laughed at that.

Pixal went next and found many tools. "This is really useful!"

"You don’t have to sound that surprised," Wu chuckled. "So far, all the gifts have been more or less useful."

"Master, now it’s your turn!" Kai said tensely. Sensei Wu approached his present. It was so beautifully wrapped that he immediately knew Garmadon had done it.

"So, Lloyd, Misako, or Garmadon?"

"Hand it over, Sensei!" Cole said as Wu opened the gift. Inside were his favorite teas and a mug with his embarrassing picture on it, where he was wearing curlers in his beard.

"Brother!" Wu immediately recognized it.

"Admit it, the teas are spot on!" Sensei Garmadon smirked.

"When we swapped, you promised you wouldn’t buy anything silly!" Misako looked at Sensei Garmadon in surprise.

"Swapped?" Everyone glared at them.

"I got Nya and had no idea what to get a teenager girl!" Sensei Garmadon defended himself.

"Misako, you buyed me..." Nya suddenly said.

"Come on, you two!" Kai interrupted.

"Let’s go!" Misako said, playfully patting him on the back.

"Alright." Sensei Garmadon stood up and opened the gift. Inside was a purple blanket covered in blue bunnies.

"Haha." Sensei Garmadon laughed at that.

"When I suggested a blanket, I didn’t mean this!" Lloyd glared at Kai.

Misako was the last to come and opened her gift. "These are some codes?" Misako looked at the book curiously.

"I thought you’d enjoy solving them," Zane said.

"Since this wasn’t exactly Secret Santa, maybe it’s best if we all say who we got!" Sensei Garmadon began, putting his arm around Misako's shoulder.

"I like that idea," Kai said. "Then I got Garmadon..."

"I got Pixal," Lloyd said, and Pixal looked at him in astonishment.

"How did you know?"

"Zane helped me," Lloyd smiled. "Who else doesn’t know who they got?"

"I think that’s everyone," Zane said.

"Then I’ll go get something else," Misako said and went to get a tray, bringing back hot chocolates and teas.

"Merry Christmas, everyone!" Jay cheerfully said once more, and they all settled in to chat and enjoy.

SECRET SANTA

Misako-Nya(Wu), Garmadon-Wu(Nya)

Zane-Misako, Nya-Zane

Lloyd-Pixal, Pixal-Cole

Cole-Lloyd, Kai-Garmadon

Wu-Jay, Jay-Kai

[babygirlificationn]

Sometimes I remember that I can literally draw whatever I want and then I get drunk with power.

Extremely silly comic under the read more. You have been warned.

The Christmas spirit possessed me to draw this.

[the-hawks-rye]

Every December for a few years now I feel conflict over whether I should post about the officially liscenced Star Wars Christmas-themed short story collection in order to express how it is actually good stuff despite coming from the Disney's Cash Cow era and random shit with "Christmas" slapped on it being an old & very basic marketing technique. But like it's genuinely so good and steadfastly on the themes of Star Wars throughout. That "defiantly hopeful & optimistic" is the glue holding the whole collection together. How under the jolly red-and-green cover it's a genuine exploration of trauma & loss & inequality. That it not even for a second trivializes the struggles of its characters due to those things. That the only thing that kept me from sobbing reading it was because it takes nothing less than 3 days of heavy stress for me to cry. That I was still 35% of the way to crying. From the Disney's Star Wars Christmas short story collection, that I read a free digital copy of with expectations below the floor for because of the marketing gimmick red flags. But is actually genuinely so good.

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I READ THE TREE MESSAGES AND YOU GUYS..

/POS OF COURSE

[mayisgoingnuts]

🎄🔥

it’s that time of the year. happy december!!