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ellemj · 4 months

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Letters to Santa, Part 2: 12 Days of Smut #11

Bucky Barnes x Reader 2-Part Fic

Request/prompt courtesy of @stuckysbike. Read part 1 here.

Warnings: profanity, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: There is a scene in this that was wholly inspired by one of @littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty sketches, check out her blog and comment on the sketch that you think I used! This is a continuation of the request submitted by @stuckysbike, thank you again for submitting it and trusting me to give it a go! I've decided that day 12 will simply be the gift that comes tomorrow (today technically, in less than 24 hours): Needs & Wants Bonus Chapter.

You can’t deny that you look a little bit like a Christmas gift all wrapped up in your short little burgundy bathrobe. You’ve just finished showering and doing your skincare, and you’re flipping off the bathroom light switch when you hear the softest knock at your door. You stand still for a moment, wondering if you actually heard what you think you heard. The only person who ever comes to your door is one of the girls, and even then, they never knock, they simply let themselves in. You hear the knocking sound a second time and your feet begin carrying you away from the bathroom, across your room, and straight to the door. When you pull it open, Bucky stands before you, looking like he has a million things to say but very few words to utilize.

“Bucky?” You say his name like you aren’t even sure it’s him, but obviously it is. His eyes are quick to coast down your figure, taking in the sight of you in that little burgundy robe with the tie around your waist fashioned into a bow. You look like a fucking gift. Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. The first wish from the list in your dirty letter to Santa flashes through Bucky’s mind as he memorizes every detail about the way you look right now.

“How much did you have to drink tonight?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he finally focuses his gaze on your face. You scrunch up your cheeks and nose in annoyance. You can’t believe he’d have the audacity to knock on your door and ask you something like that.

“Why the hell are you here asking me that?”

“Because if you had a lot to drink, then your letter to Santa ending up underneath my bedroom door might’ve just been a momentary lapse in judgement. But if you didn’t then…” Bucky lets his voice trail off as he studies your expression, looking for any answer to the countless questions he has swirling around in his head.

“My letter? Under your door?” You ask incredulously. You immediately begin backtracking in your mind, remembering how you started cleaning up the kitchen and totally forgot about the letter you left sitting on the coffee table. One of the girls or Sam must’ve grabbed it and slid it under Bucky’s door as some stupid prank. Your face falls as you realize he very well could’ve opened it and read it. “Wait, you didn’t…” When your shocked eyes look into Bucky’s, he almost wishes he hadn’t read it.

“So, you didn’t slide it under my door.” Bucky confirms. Why is there a hint of disappointment in his tone? Are you imagining it? Was he hoping that you had? Wait, why the fuck did he decide to knock on your door? Just to ask how much you had to drink and to find out if you gave him the letter yourself? What would he have done if it really had been you? By the time you pull yourself out of your whirlwind of thoughts, you see Bucky giving you one last look before turning on his heel to head back to his own room. All inhibitions flee as you start moving without thinking. There isn’t one thought left in your mind when you reach out and grab Bucky by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He tenses up as soon as your hand meets the fabric of the sweatshirt that’s covering his flesh bicep, but he doesn’t pull away from you. Instead, he turns back to face you as your hand falls away from him.

“You read it.” You say softly, not quite sure where your mouth is about to take this unexpected conversation. Bucky nods, his eyes scanning yours for any sort of reaction. “It was a joke letter, just a stupid game Nat wanted us to play.” Bucky nods again, maintaining eye contact with you as you fiddle with the bow at the front of your robe.

“Right, I can’t imagine you’d actually want someone to cum down your chimney.” Your words written on a piece of paper were dirty, but somehow hearing them leave Bucky’s mouth makes them absolutely filthy. You can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks, turning them a soft shade of pink, as you stare up at the man with your lips slightly parted in surprise. A small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips. You don’t quite like how he’s enjoying your surprised reaction, so you decide to try and get a similar reaction out of him, just so you’ll be even.

“Why not? It was on my list, wasn’t it? I also asked for three orgasms in one night, if I remember correctly.” Now Bucky’s the one with the parted lips and a raised eyebrow. He probably would’ve even blushed if all of the blood in his body hadn’t rushed straight to his cock. “What was the other thing I asked for?” You can’t remember what else you’d written in the letter, but now you’re sure that Bucky does. Bucky stares at you for a moment, taking in your pink cheeks, your playful gaze, and the way your arms are currently crossed over your chest as you toy with him. He decides to take the leap.

Bucky slowly reaches out with his flesh hand, giving you every opportunity to either swat his hand away or step back and close the door on him, but you don’t. You follow his movement with your eyes, watching as his fingertips first brush over the fabric around the neck of your robe, and then begin to trail down the front of it lightly until he reaches the bow. He grabs one of the ends of the tie, his eyes flitting up to yours before he makes another move. You don’t say a word. You don’t move a muscle. You’re actually holding your breath. So, Bucky continues. He tugs on the end of the tie with just enough force to unravel the bow and loosen your bathrobe right there in the doorway of your bedroom. You’re still fully covered, but one move and the front of it may fall open and reveal your naked body to the man in front of you. Bucky reaches out with both hands now, as he takes one step forward, limiting the space between the two of you to just a few inches. He wraps his fingers around each side of the opening of your robe, holding them in place so nothing is bared to him, but wanting nothing more than to throw it open. His actions suddenly remind you of the forgotten wish on your list: someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Realization spreads across your face and Bucky gives you a soft smile as your eyes meet his.

“Is this what you asked for?” He questions, rubbing his thumbs over where he holds the fabric of the robe in between his fingertips. You swallow hard and nod slowly. “I know you can use your words, just like you did in the letter.”

Fuck.

“This is one thing.” You answer softly. Bucky could stop here. He could let go of your robe and let you shut the door on him. But the way you’re looking up at him, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you patiently wait for his next move, it makes it impossible for him to stop after only fulfilling one of your wishes. Besides, he hasn’t even fully unwrapped you. It wouldn’t be fair to you if he stopped now.

So, Bucky lets his instincts take over, throwing his rational mind out the window. He looks into your eyes one last time, and you can tell from the lilt in his brow and the serious expression painted on his face that he’s making sure he has your permission. The slight nod that you give him is all he needs. In one swift movement, he’s pulling you against his chest by the front of your robe. When you practically crash against him, he lets his vibranium hand rise to cup the side of your face. His eyes are the most mesmerizing blue, making it simultaneously hard to look into them yet hard to look away. Bucky can’t stop himself from placing his cool, vibranium thumb over your lips, and then dragging it down until it just barely sits between your parted lips. He wants to see how you’ll respond to his touch.

When you part your lips a little more, Bucky knows he’s done for. He won’t be going back to his room at all tonight, he fears. He watches you so closely as his thumb slides past your lips, slipping into your mouth and rubbing over the surface of your tongue as you wrap your lips around it and suck. Fuck. He wishes he’d done it with his flesh hand so he could feel your mouth. Or maybe it’s best that he used the vibranium hand, because if he felt what his vibranium thumb is experiencing right now, he might’ve ended up wanting you to suck him off, and he doesn’t remember seeing that on your Christmas list.

You let Bucky pull his finger out of your mouth with a soft pop of your lips, watching as lust floods into his gaze. In this exact moment, you just want to thank whoever it was that slipped your letter under his door. You have a feeling they did you the biggest favor.

Just a second after Bucky has removed his thumb from your mouth, you’re turning on your heel and heading back into your bedroom, trusting that he’ll follow you without a word. You hear the door click and then the sound of the lock turning just as you reach the foot of your bed. You’re just about to ask Bucky to finish unwrapping you when he’s suddenly right behind you, letting his hands slide over your hips to pull you against him as he leans down and presses his lips to the side of your neck. His mouth is so distracting that you don’t even notice what he’s doing until your robe begins falling off of your shoulders, coming to pool at your feet on the floor. In Bucky’s head, he’s mentally crossing off the first thing on your list.

“You’ll sit on my face.” Bucky says boldly, moving around you and climbing onto your bed like he’s done it a thousand times before. He positions himself on his back, with his head resting flat on your pillow, and his eyes flitting over to get a look at you. The way his gaze trails all over every inch of your naked body lights a fire inside of you, that you think may only be extinguished by riding an orgasm out on his face. So, you don’t question him or second-guess yourself. You do exactly as he wants, carefully positioning yourself to straddle his face. He was planning to take it slow, figure out what you like and what you don’t like, drag you up the hill to your first orgasm slowly. But as soon as he saw your glistening cunt, hovering mere inches above his face, he couldn’t keep himself from gripping your thighs and pulling you down hard. His tongue made contact with your entrance first, and he dove into it with a fiery passion, first dragging his tongue around it in circles, teasing you effortlessly. When you felt the first dip of his tongue inside you, your hands flew to the wooden headboard, holding onto it so tightly that you worried it might splinter.

“Bucky, oh my god.” You moan, letting your right hand float down to tangle in his hair as he licks a line from your entrance, through your folds, and straight to your clit. When he finally starts licking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves there, you know you won’t last long like this. Moans and whimpers start falling from your lips freely, spurring Bucky on and encouraging him to hold you in place as he works you closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum.”

Bucky almost laughs against your clit, but he controls himself and continues sucking and swirling his tongue right where you need it most. He almost laughed because of how fucking easy it was to get you on the verge of cumming for him. He knew he was good at this, but he didn’t know you’d be so ready and willing for him to please you. When you go tumbling over the edge, waves of pleasure rock through you so hard that you nearly put all of your weight on Bucky’s face. Truthfully, he would’ve welcomed it, but he also has other plans that he wants to carry out.

As you hover above Bucky, catching your breath and trying to calm your trembling thighs, Bucky places a soft kiss against your clit before sliding his hands up to your waist and helping you move to lay on your back next to him.

“That was number one.” He whispers, crawling over you and pressing his lips against your jawline. He lets the tip of his tongue slide over your cheek teasingly, and when he nears your lips, you can nearly taste yourself on him. He uses his knee to nudge your legs apart while continuing his ministrations along your jaw and neck, drawing soft exhales from you with ease.

“Let me catch my breath first.” You laugh lightly. Bucky’s fingers are already diving between your legs, gently slipping back and forth over your folds as he gathers your wetness and spreads it around.

“That wasn’t something you put on the list, catching your breath after any of the three orgasms.” Bucky points out, focusing the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your already overly-sensitive clit and applying a light pressure. “I think you can handle this.” He coos. Fuck. Your back is already arching, causing your tits to press against his still-clothed chest. You start to wonder why the hell he still has his clothes on, but your train of thought is immediately derailed when you feel his middle finger slip inside of you without a warning. It’s been so long since anyone has done this to you, and even since you’ve taken the time to do it to yourself, so the stretch that you feel gives you a stinging pain that causes you to draw in a sharp breath and tighten around his fingertip. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight. How are you going to be able to take my cock, huh baby?” You aren’t sure what gets the loudest moan out of you, his finger plunging into you as far as he can send it or his words. He plans to fuck you.

“I’ll take it.” You promise, not even thinking about what you’re promising. Bucky chuckles lowly before pulling his finger out of you and shoving it back in, beginning to fuck you with it over and over again.

“You’ll take it.” Bucky agrees, adding a second finger as he looks down into your eyes and watches the way your teeth once again sink into your bottom lip. “You’ll take it if you want that last thing on your list.”

Bucky Barnes promising to cum inside of you is the very last thing you expected to get for Christmas. It’s only a couple of minutes later when he’s thrusting his two fingers in and out of you in such a coordinated manner that you’re seconds from another orgasm. Bucky curling his fingers inside of you is what sends you careening over the edge, your second orgasm crashing in so hard that you reach down and grasp Bucky’s hand, holding it still as you roll your hips, riding your high out on his fingers yourself. He’s in awe of you. He’s in awe of every little movement, every little sound, everything you do as you cum for him.

“That’s number two.” Bucky whispers against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your smooth skin as you finally release his hand and let him slide his fingers out of you. As soon as your breathing begins to slow back to a normal rate, Bucky is pushing himself off of the bed and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the curve of his shoulders, the soft scars where vibranium meets skin, and the heaving of his chest. When he pushes off his sweats and boxers, letting his cock spring free from its confines and finally stand fully on display for you, your mouth falls open. “Remember, you said you’d take it.” Bucky reminds you, wrapping his hand around the impressive length and stroking it slowly as he crawls back over you on the bed. “Turn over.”

Once he has you laying on your stomach, he leans down over you, letting his warm chest press against your bare back. You feel his hard cock resting against your ass as he inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes and wondering to himself if you’ve always smelled this damn good. The next few seconds are both a blur and seemingly happening in slow motion as Bucky guides you to slide your knees underneath you and raise your ass up for him. Feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance has you seeing stars, not even from pleasure, but from anticipation and pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“Bucky, please.” You moan, pushing your ass against his length, begging for him to fuck you already. He chuckles lowly once again but obliges, rubbing the tip of his cock back and forth through the wetness coating your folds a few more times before finally slotting his cock into you. You feel every inch as it disappears inside you. You feel it move in the slightest every time Bucky so much as takes a breath. He buries himself to the hilt and then stills, his breath fanning across your neck as you bury your face in your pillow. The grunt that rumbles past his lips sends a rush of heat through your body, traveling straight to your cunt, which then flutters around his shaft.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” He groans out, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his cock out of you slowly. When he thrusts it back in a second later, he can’t bear to stop again. He starts fucking you so hard that you can’t do a damn thing besides moaning out his name and gripping the bedsheets with both hands. It’s a sight Bucky vows never to forget. “This is what you wanted for Christmas, huh? Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” He loves the way you sound when you’re at his mercy like this. He picks up the pace of the snapping of his hips, watching as your knuckles turn nearly as white as the sheets he’s fucking you on.

“That’s it, take my fucking cock just like that.” Never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up with a dirty talking Bucky Barnes. He’s filthy. He continues thrusting into you, over and over, relishing in the feeling of your pussy pulling him back in every time he tries to pull out. “You’re going to let me cum inside of you, aren’t you? That’s what you want for Christmas.”

“Yes, please. Fuck, don’t pull out.”

“Good girl, that’s it baby.” Just a few more thrusts from Bucky have you fighting to hold back your orgasm, and he can tell. “Don’t fucking keep it from me, let it go.” He demands, gripping your hips and pounding you into the mattress. Your third orgasm of the night begins with his cock fully seated inside of you. He fucks you through it, chasing his own high as he listens to the dirtiest sounds fall from your parted lips. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He says the words only half a second before he starts filling you up, fucking his cum in as deep as he possibly can.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky is still laying on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as you enjoy the warmth and closeness he offers.

“That was number three.” He whispers, letting his lips ghost over your skin.

“Thank you, Santa.”

TAG LIST:

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

1K notes · View notes

rookthorne · 4 months

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The 12 days of Christmas have never looked so good, and I am here to spoil us with the best miniature advent calendar in the form of my Bucky's!

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑺

― BUCKY BARNES ―

֎ Biker!Bucky Barnes — Brotherhood & Bullets ֎ Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes + Bodyguard!Winter Soldier — Staya Volkov ֎ Farmer!Bucky Barnes — Peaches 'n Cream Ranch ֎ Incubus!Bucky Barnes — Depths of Pleasure ֎ Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes — Sturdy Roots, Strong Hearts ֎ Mafia!Bucky Barnes — His Empire, Her Rules ֎ Artist!Bucky Barnes — The Queen's Masterpiece ֎ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes — His Girls ֎ Nurse!Bucky Barnes — A Hero ֎ Alpha!Mafia!Bucky Barnes — Ruling Instinct ֎ Paramedic!Bucky Barnes — Lights, Sirens and Sincerity ֎ Personal Trainer!Bucky Barnes — Progress, Not Perfection ֎ Pornstar!Bucky Barnes — Purity ֎ Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes — The Hunt ֎ Viking!Bucky Barnes — The Skógr

― STUCKY ―

֎ Firemen!Stucky — Built Differently ֎ Tattoo Artist!Stucky — Garden of Ink

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑭𝑰𝑪 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻

56,529

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑲𝑺

— The EVENT PLAYLIST can be found HERE. — The AO3 SERIES can be found HERE.

𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬𝑺

I would like to extend a massive thank you to @smutconnoisseur for helping me come up with prompts for this, and to @sebstanwhore for brainstorming for hours and hours with me!

𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── 𝐊𝐄𝐘 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

— 𝐀 = angst — 𝐖 = whump — 𝐈 = sick fic — 𝐃 = dark — 𝐃² = dead dove — 𝐏 = poly — 𝐊 = kid fic — 𝐅 = fluff — 𝐒 = smut

🌟 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐬

─── Bodyguard!Bucky x F!Reader x Bodyguard!Winter Soldier ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A trip downtown and into a haven for Christmas was meant to be a fun, uneventful day out — a chance to refresh your decorations and introduce James to the festive spirit. A low key and calm trip into the chaos. Only, Bucky had other ideas, and there was nothing that would get in the way of his dastardly deed.

🎄 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

─── Tattoo Artist!Stucky x Florist!F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The reveal of Bucky and Steve’s plans for the day took you by surprise, but you would only let shock and awe hold you for so long in its clutches. A job needed doing, and for damn sure were you going to do it with a flourish.

✨ 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬

─── Incubus!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

There weren’t many things that could surprise your Incubus — aeons old, with the wit and wisdom to match, but when it came to Christmas, it turned out the sex demon himself was a virgin in celebrating the festive season, before you.

🎁 𝐀 𝐏𝐚𝐰 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

─── Lumberjack!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A girl’s day out with Koda takes a surprising turn, and you were left with more questions than answers with Bucky’s strange, mysterious behaviour.

🎀 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬

─── Mechanic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

To turn the Grinches into Reindeer, you needed to work hard to win them all over — some were easier than others, but with your own Santa on your side, it made it all the easier.

🧸 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐬

─── Nurse!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Christmas shopping was a dangerous mistake, Bucky realised, and all he could do was hope that in the end, he could rein you in, and you wouldn’t go home with the whole entire store.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

✨ 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

─── Farmer!Husband!Bucky x Wife!F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

You knew very well that your husband was up to something ever since he woke up before the crack of dawn to sneak out of the bedroom, but he wasn’t alone — there were two trouble makers in on the mischief.

🎅🏻 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐚

─── Firemen!Stucky x F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A day at the station reveals more truth than you could have ever imagined — not in the presence of your boys and little ones, or how they were so gentle with the young ones in their joy for festivities.

🦌 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

─── Lumberjack!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

You were expecting it to be an ordinary day; prepare for the festivities with Koda and Sarge by your side, begging for treats and whatever else they set their eyes on. But what you did not expect, was to do so, with two reindeers in tow.

🌟 𝐃𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

─── Mafia!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Opulence was so readily and freely available to you in your lifestyle, and you had your love to thank for that. Of course, that meant you were going to find him the most dashing present, and spend a fortune on it, whether he liked the pop of colour, or not.

🎀 𝐎𝐡, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥

─── Alpha!Mafia!Bucky x Omega!F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The love that Bucky and you shared was unparalleled, unlike anything you had ever felt before. It was a joy to witness and be a part of the tender side of the otherwise ruthless and effective Mafia King. And on that day, it was no different — playing your cherished role had never been so fulfilling.

🎁 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫

─── Pornstar!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Christmas was a time for gifts and giving; of sharing with those you loved with all of your heart. Bucky was one of the lucky ones, and you had the most perfect gift for him.

🕯 𝐒𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚

─── Scare Actor!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The festive additions to Bucky’s Soldat costume had been a genius idea, you only had to work out the best way to bribe your boyfriend to go along with it, first.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

🌟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

─── Biker!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Miracles and surprises were never in short supply around Christmas, you had learned that during the last Christmas you spent with Bucky and the club; your own family. But, what if something came along, uprooting your certainty, and presenting all of the questions you were beyond nervous to find the answers for? You knew one thing was for certain, though. Your heart, while full of love and adoration for the man you called your own, maybe, just maybe, had room for another special someone.

🍪 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐲 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐧

─── Farmer!Husband!Bucky x Wife!F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky knew well enough that your venture to the Christmas market would not leave him unscathed, but still, as your loving husband, he trailed behind you loyally and almost complaint free — until you sprang a surprise on him.

🕯 𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞

─── Tattoo Artist!Stucky x Florist!F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

There was never, ever a dull moment when it came to the pair of troublemakers you had involved yourself with, and your Christmas market stall was not immune, either.

🎁 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

─── Artist!Bucky x Mafia!F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

To test the patience of a lioness; a predator that watched over a pup, it was to toy with danger. You would flash your teeth in warning, but the real threat lurked in the shadows behind you, and there was no way he would let harm befall all that you held dear.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

🌟 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

─── Bodyguard!Bucky x F!Reader x Bodyguard!Winter Soldier ── 𝐀 + 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Decorating the tree was a tradition you were determined to bring into their home, and you were just as stubborn as they were to make it stick. But when night fell, that all washed away, leaving room for the love that one of them needed to make it through the silent night.

🎀 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲

─── Tattoo Artist!Stucky x Florist!F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The holiday season was in full swing, and you were keen to make a head start for the coming days — each bouquet wouldn’t make itself, nor would the orders be filled if you stayed where it was warm and cosy. What you didn’t expect in your shop before the crack of dawn, however, was two men intent on sprucing up the space.

🕯 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

─── Incubus!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

It was not the first time you had made a deal with a devil, but at least, on this occasion, you could watch the way his eyes darkened, or how his tail swished in the air; perfectly in beat with the hammering of your heart. The night only just started, but you were determined to get all you could from this unorthodox agreement.

✨ 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

─── Lumberjack!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Christmas in the snow was something you adored about the festive season, and spending it with the ones you loved, both human and animal, would make it all the better. But Bucky had a surprise up his sleeve for you; the cards of his mischievous ways held close to his chest until the moment was right.

❤️ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

─── Mechanic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 + 𝐒 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The distractions of festivities irked Bucky like no other, especially when you were standing there as though you weren’t the woman of his dreams, innocently decorating the living room and the Christmas tree within it. You weren’t to know just how far he would push and prod, not until it was too late.

🎅🏻 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬

─── Nurse!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Organically, a hospital was a place where gloom spread faster than a wildfire — it was hard to picture the environment as joyful and festive. Until you appeared, Christmas tree and ornaments in hand, and with the determination of a stubborn reindeer for the task you set yourself: decorate the hell out of the place, and bring some cheer to those who needed it the most.

🎄 𝐏𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

─── Alpha!Mafia!Bucky x Omega!F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A new tradition you introduced to Bucky took a turn you should have, at the very least, expected, but it did not mean you wouldn’t milk it for all of its worth.

🧸 𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨'𝐬 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡

─── Paramedic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Your surprise arrival at the station brightens more than Bucky’s day, and you couldn’t be happier to witness the joy in all of their faces when you revealed that you came bearing gifts.

💛 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞

─── Pornstar!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky was a sweet talker; able to get every last thing he wanted if he just used the right words or tone with anyone. It was part of his charm. Though you thoroughly enjoyed it, he tended to weaponize it against you at the least convenient times; up a ladder and decorating the tree one of them.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

🦌 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

─── Lumberjack!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A few visitors to the cabin take both Bucky and you by surprise, and the sweet, kind creatures were as curious about you as you were of them.

🧸 𝐏𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

─── Nurse!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Sometimes even the hardest, most independent workers needed someone to lean on — whether they be of flesh and blood, or wool and stuffing.

✨ 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧

─── Paramedic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

The festivities of Christmas were often overlooked by Bucky in his job in favour of rushing off to save a life, but not this year — this year, you were there to bring joy to him, and to all of his team.

❤️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

─── Personal Trainer!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐀 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

With little else to do during the busy festive period, you made your way to Howlie’s Gym, the place you made a home away from home and where you know your best friend made your haven safe. What you did not expect to find, however, was him in the office with the brightest smile on his face — as though you hung the moon that shone down over the two of you.

💚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐫

─── Viking!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Thieves came in many different forms — from Loki to a simple villager, or to a horse with the mind of a trickster and a heart of gold.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

🌟 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫

─── Biker!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

As the President of his club, Bucky always made sure that he made it home, whether it be for his brother’s, or to just keep his legacy alive one more day. But it was not just that anymore, not after he had you as his guiding light — a beacon so bright that he knew he’d be a fool to act reckless, when he knew you were waiting for him back home.

🎀 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝

─── Mechanic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐒 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Surprises were not an unexpected occurrence when you come to think of it, not when you had Bucky Barnes as your boyfriend, though you had to give him credit where credit was due — he was a crafty, cunning man when it counted.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

❤️ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

─── Biker!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐀 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky was adept at making the best of a situation; a rain of bullets or his pain, it did not matter. A comedic, blasé brush off of whatever was wrong, and he was on his way. Though, that trick didn’t work on you. And you always saw straight through it.

🕯 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫; 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

─── Paramedic!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐀 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Battles were fought and won, ruthlessly bloody and heartbreakingly sorrowful, for all. Especially your own warrior, who put his all into the work needed on the front lines, and sometimes, he needed protection of his own.

🎅🏻 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧

─── Scare Actor!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Bucky had more than one way to scare the living daylights out of you — it wasn’t just in his job description; it was in his nature.

🎄 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥

─── Tattoo Artist!Stucky x Florist!F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

There was never a boring moment during the festive season with your two loves, and it was no different during one of their many visits to your shop. Only, this time, Bucky had a trick up his sleeve.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

✨ 𝐀 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐞

─── Biker!Bucky x F!Reader ── 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A battle raged and weapons clashed on that festive day, and only one of the two warriors would make it out alive. You were determined to make your opponent fall to his knees and beg for mercy — only then would you celebrate the victory. But first? Wade through the plight of the treacherous terrain and land that one hit.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

❤️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

─── Firemen!Stucky x F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

You knew with absolute certainty that you meant a lot to both Bucky and Steve — to them as themselves, and to their marriage, but you did not truly understand the depth of their devotion to you, not until a frosty, chilled morning where they revealed just how much they truly adored you.

🌟 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

─── Tattoo Artist!Stucky x Florist!F!Reader ── 𝐏 + 𝐅 ─ 𝐀𝐎𝟑

A long day led to a long week, snowballing into a long, long festive season. The boys — your knights in shining armour, residing in their castle of artistry — they knew long before you yourself did, and they had an idea of how to turn it around, to bring a smile to your lips and to restore your vitality.

— 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐩

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes event #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #rookthorne's works #MB

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minisugakoobies · 5 months

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BTS Holiday Fics

Tis the season… to reblog all of my holiday fics since I don't have any new ones this year 🙈 Thought it'd be better to put them all into one list rather than rb one by one. Happy holidays! 🎁

❄️ = fluff, 🍾 = smut

Kim Namjoon:

Christmas Confession - ❄️ 🍾, 2.9k - You’re Namjoon’s Secret Santa and you’ve got the perfect gift.

Happy Accidents - ❄️, 2.2k - Sometimes your clumsiness leads to a happy accident.

Kim Seokjin:

All I Don't Want for Christmas is You! - ❄️ 🍾, 23.7k - The holidays are here! But instead of celebrating, you’re trapped in a town called Christmas with your office nemesis, Seokjin Motherfucking Kim, and an unruly band of clients. Can you survive the trip and secure the promotion your boss has promised? Or will Jin take you down?

Min Yoongi:

I Wanna Hold Your Hand - ❄️, 1.4k - It’s hand-holding season, according to your roommate.

Party Vibes - 🍾, 5.8k - Yoongi’s hoping you can keep him entertained at this year’s office holiday party

Jung Hoseok:

After the Party - ❄️ 🍾, >1k - After the party, Hoseok’s not done celebrating you.

Third Time's the Charm - ❄️, 2.1k - After two close encounters with your brother’s best friend, Hoseok, you decide the third time’s the charm.

Park Jimin: see the 12 Lays of Kinkmas below

Kim Taehyung:

Next Christmas - ❄️, 1.1k - Taehyung’s trying to help you get ready for this Christmas, but you’re already thinking of the next.

Jeon Jungkook:

Mugs & Kisses - ❄️, 6k - Jungkook has something he’d like to tell you, but he can’t find the words. So he’s thought of another way.

New Year, New You - ❄️ 🍾, 1.8k - New year, new you. Except here you are, minutes after midnight, already falling back into old habits. You just can’t resist.

Multiple/OT7:

Teamwork - MYG, KTH - 🍾, 1.7k - It’s supposed to be a New Year’s Eve party, but your friends have turned it into an eligible bachelor contest. What are you supposed to do when you’re caught between two men?

12 Lays of Kinkmas - ❄️ 🍾 - 12 fics written based on individual smut prompts (each fic has its own pairings, genres, ratings, summaries & warnings)

Happy Hour - Hyung line - 🍾 (suggestive), 2.9k - You’re home for the holidays, hungover as fuck, and can’t remember what you did last night. Luckily, your little brother Jungkook and his friends Taehyung and Jimin are all too happy to remind you!

Happy Hour 2: The Hyungs Strike Back - Hyung line - 🍾 (suggestive), 4.4k - While back home for another holiday, your brother Jungkook and his friends convince you to go late night bowling with them. Surely this won’t end as badly as the last time you went out, right?

Main Masterlist

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut

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krirebr · 4 months

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I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: ~1k

Summary: Andy gives you an early Christmas present. Why aren't you happier about it?

Warnings: Dark elements, threats of punishment, implied punishment, it's dark fic but mostly by implication. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @the-slumberparty Naughty or Nice Challenge. The prompts I used, from the Naughty list, were 23. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” 12. “Smile pretty for me.” and 19. “No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.” Thank you for the fun challenge, Navy and Roo!

This was my first time writing for Andy, aside from his brief appearance in Don't Touch Me, I'm a Real Live Wire, the winner of this poll. Big thanks to @paperweight91 for helping me figure out my take on him. This is basically just a long drabble, but I hope you all enjoy it!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You sat stiffly on the loveseat as Andy rummaged around under the tree. You pulled at the hem of your black, sparkly cocktail dress. It was much shorter than you were comfortable with, but you were used to that now—your comfort not mattering.

He made a noise of triumph and stood up tall, coming back to sit next to you on the couch. He handed you a beautifully wrapped package. “I know it’s a bit early, but I wanted you to open this one before we go to the party. Merry Christmas!”

You’d been dreading his office’s holiday party all week. All those people judging you, all those opportunities to mess up. You took the package and quietly said, “Thank you.”

He chuckled, lightly. “You haven’t even opened it yet. Go on.”

As you carefully unwrapped the gift, your fingers trembled, uncovering a medium-sized square jewelry box. You took a deep breath, girding yourself before you opened it. Inside was a delicate silver chain with a pendant that spelled AB in elegant script. It took a moment for your brain to catch up, looking up at him as your confusion gave way to dawning horror.

“I want everyone to know who you belong to,” he said, so softly, so sweetly. It was almost like he hadn’t just given you his brand. “Now is when you say thank you, sweetheart.” His tone was still gentle, but his eyes had started to take on that hard glint you were so terrified of.

“Thank you, Andy,” you whispered.

He smiled, his eyes softening again. “You’re so welcome, honey. Now, turn around so I can put it on you,” he said as he took the box from you. You did as you were told and turned to face the other way. He draped the necklace across your chest and fastened it behind you. His hands ghosted over the back of your neck and you suppressed a shiver. “There. Turn back around now.” You did and he gave you an appraising look. “Smile pretty for me, baby.”

You gave what you were sure was a strained, brittle smile, but he still hummed in satisfaction.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” His hand moved up to brush your cheek and you couldn’t help but flinch away from him. You regretted it immediately, but no matter what you told yourself, how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop your body from being afraid of his touch.

He sighed, exasperated, and turned away from you. “I don’t understand why you insist on treating me like the bad guy,” he said, dejected.

Because you are the bad guy, you thought to yourself, but you were smart enough this time to not say it. You’d finally learned that lesson. “I’m sorry,” you said, reaching for his hand, but he pulled away.

“If you were sorry, you’d stop being so ungrateful! No one else is gonna take care of you like I do.”

You nodded quickly. You needed to placate him and do it now. “I know! You take such good care of me. I know that.”

He stood up and turned on you with his hands on his hips. “Do you know that? Because you don’t show it. It’s not how you act. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

The way he loomed over you made you want to cower, but you did your best to control your body. That would only make things worse. You had no idea how to respond. Another apology would only make him more angry.

He looked at you expectantly, but at your silence, he just sighed again, running a hand over his beard. “Maybe we need to continue this conversation downstairs.”

You sprang up at that and threw yourself at his feet. Not that. Anything but that. “Please, no, I’m sorry, I’ll be better. Please, no. We don’t need to go downstairs.”

He bent over to grab your arms and lift you off your knees. “That’s good,” he said softly, back to being gentle with you. “I don’t want to go down there, either. You know I don’t. I just want you to be good for me. Don’t you want this Christmas to be better than Thanksgiving?” It took everything in you not to grimace. You still felt the marks from what he’d done to you after Thanksgiving dinner. At the memory, you couldn’t help but go weak in his arms, letting him hold you, taking any comfort you could get. “I just want to have a perfect Christmas with you, sweetheart, show you how much I love you. I need you to stop resisting it.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words falling out of you, too scared to think of anything else. You blinked back your tears, not wanting to ruin your mascara or get his dress shirt wet. He wouldn’t take kindly to being late to the party after all this.

He rubbed a gentle hand down your back. “Shhh,” he cooed. “You’re ok, you’re fine.” After another moment, he pulled away from you, looking you up and down. “Now,” he said, “take a deep breath and get yourself together. We’re going to go to the party and have a nice time, aren’t we?” You nodded, hurriedly. “Then when we get home, you can show me exactly how sorry you are, how grateful you are. Good?”

“Yes, Andy,” you said, quietly. You couldn’t make your voice get any louder.

He stepped back into your space and wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. He kissed you slowly, languidly. You let him. You had to. You matched his movements with your lips as much as you could, but he never cared too much how passionate the kiss was on your end as long as you didn’t resist him. As long as he was in control. He pulled back and stroked his thumb down your cheek. This time you didn’t flinch away. “That’s right. There’s my good girl. Come on, go touch up your lipstick. We don’t want to be late.”

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling

#dark fic #dark andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x female reader #navy and roo's sleepover #defending jacob #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #andy barber #kris wrote something

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mrsjellymunson · 4 months

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S.A.N.T.A. BABY

[A.KA. Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-Related Activities]

A Festive 5+1 Eddie Munson Fic

Summary: 5+1. Five times reader embarrasses herself in front of Eddie, and one time she doesn’t.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

WC: ~10.5k (oops)

CW: 🔞 18+ MDNI!, SMUT, NSFW. Strangers to sort-of-enemies to lovers. Drinking, smoking, Eddie and reader call each other nicknames, loads of embarrassing situations, swearing, suggestive language, implied birth control, description of and discussion about a sex toy, flagrant and unnecessary use of the number 69, reader has a tattoo but it’s not essential to the story so you can ignore it if you want, bondage fantasy involving fairy lights, lap riding/dry humping, Eddie has tattoos and intimate piercings, fingering, unprotected p-in-v (always wrap it irl!), aftercare, fluff, the Upside Down hasn’t happened. I imagine reader & Eddie to be mid-late 20s and it might be the 90s, but hopefully I left it ambiguous enough that you can choose. I tried to keep reader’s appearance neutral, though I’m still new at this and I may have missed things - let me know if you spot anything (likewise typos or missed tags, etc). The elf outfit in the pic is for costume illustration only and does not indicate reader’s ethnicity or appearance.

A/N: Written for @bettyfrommars’ & @allthingsjoeq’s festive prompt party (thank you, guys!); I decided to smoosh five prompts 6, 8, 12, 14 & 15 together to create… whateverthehellthismutantthingis 😆 It’s my first 5+1, and my first festive fic, please let me know how I did! 🎄 I’ve taken artistic license with the format - if I’ve understood it, it’s way too long for a standard 5+1, and I don’t think they usually have 4+k of unnecessary smut at the end (‘What do you mean, Kittie? Smut is always necessary!’). I couldn’t bring myself to cut it because I’m a deviant and to paraphrase the song, it’s my fic and I’ll add what I want to 😂 Enjoy! 🥂🍷🎁

Christmas was never your favourite time of year. You suppose that your early Christmasses were probably happy, but once your parents split and family politics came into play, the season just became less enjoyable all round. These days your mom and stepdad tended to use the extended break to visit your brother in California, and this year will be the third in a row that you’ve been left to your own devices. Not that you couldn’t go with them, but you just felt a little out of place and in the way, him with his scrapbook-perfect family and kids, you with your alternative interests and a dress sense that your stepdad once described as, “Far too much black for a family dinner. We’re not the Addams Family, you know”.

This year, though, you were optimistic. It’s your first year away at college in Indianapolis, and your roommate, Robin, who you get on outrageously well with, has invited you to spend the holidays not too far away in her home town, Hawkins.

Plus, Robin has taken it upon herself to, in her words, ‘“Christmas Carol the shit out of you”, after you’d told her about your disdain for the holiday season and that Santa stood for ‘Stupid And Nasty Tinsel-related Activities’. She’d declared that this year you’d have the “Best. Christmas. EVERRR!”, and she’s making good on it, despite the promise being made months ago when you were both soaked in tequila at the end of orientation week.

It’s going fairly well so far. You’ve met a couple of Robin’s friends, a nice girl called Nancy and Robin’s ex Vickie, and together you’ve had a shopping trip, a lunch out and a girls’ night in. You’re optimistic that the rest of her friends will be just as friendly and welcoming. Next on the ‘Best Christmas Ever’ agenda? Seeing a local band at a local bar…

“Honestly, they’re, like, really, really good!”

“Really, Robs? This band that your friends started in high school are so good that they’re still playing dive bars in their home town?”

The bar is dingy and grubby, but it’s packed, Robin insisting it’s because the band is great, but you suspect it has more to do with the cheap beer prices.

You’re not averse to live entertainment, you just prefer places with a bit more space. More ambience, less… sweat? Ambiguous stickiness??

Half a beer in, you make the excuse that you need some air, not admitting you’re actually hoping to find someone to bum a cigarette off outside, feeling your most recent attempt at quitting is already on seriously shaky ground.

There’s already a couple of guys around the side of the building when you exit the front door, one in a torn flannel and another, his back to you, in a heavier-looking jacket.

You recognise Flannel as the bartender, a lanky, but not unattractive, somewhat worried-looking guy with a grungy haircut and ripped Clash t-shirt, who’s just finishing his cigarette and flicking it to the floor. As he leaves to go back inside he offers a cheery half-salute to his smoking partner and a, “See you inside, dude.” You assume the other guy must be a regular, and from the subtle glimpses you get as he flicks his ash, he’s about halfway through his cigarette.

Whilst he’s not looking you sneakily take in the view (your excuse being that you are a tourist here, after all). He’s tall, dressed all in black, with broad shoulders draped in worn-in black leather, long dark curls falling about them. You can’t determine the exact colour in the poor lighting of the bar’s neon sign, but they look shiny and well cared for, rather than lank and grimy like so many of your college buddies seem to think is the fashionable way to do it these days (ugh).

Trailing your eyes down his back, you see the hem of his jacket half-obscures a black leather belt that’s just visible sitting on his slim hips. It’s studded with silver rivets and adorned with a variety of draping silver chains that jingle at the slightest movement.

Well-fitting, dark black jeans cover his legs, and a scruffy pair of heavy black combat boots complete the look. They're unlaced at the top and casually flare out, his jeans crumpling, effortlessly stylishly, in the tops.

The belt chains catch your attention again as he shifts from one foot to the other, making them swing, drawing your eyes to the seat of his jeans and showcasing a cute, tight, rounded pair of butto-oh! He’s turning around! Shit, shit, okay, be cool, and definitely don’t look like you were just checking out his ass…

He looks at you with surprise, he obviously hadn’t heard you come out. He’s taken slightly aback, but manages to greet you with a quick, “Hey.”

You reply, eloquently, “Hey.”

Smooth.

Leather Jacket gets out his lighter.

“You, uh, smokin’?”

“I was kinda hoping to bum one, actually. I’m supposed to be quitting, but you know how it is when you get around bars and booze.”

You shrug a little, suddenly feeling sheepish, and more than a little selfish when you realise your presumption.

“Oh yeah, I sure do. Think I’ve tried quitting about, what, five times now?”

He chuckles a little, shaking a stick out of the packet he retrieves from inside his jacket, offering it to you.

“You need a light?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, thanks.”

He leans in to spark his lighter, and you’re briefly engulfed by the scent of him. Old leather, hints of a musky, spicy cologne, whiskey, clean sweat, and, of course, cigarette smoke. It feels like a warm hug, but something else too, something more primal, enticing.

You notice his hands as he holds his lighter close to your face. They’re big, strong-looking and veined, his fingers adorned with chunky silver rings that glint and twinkle in the faint neon glow.

It all catches you off guard. You pull back quickly once your cigarette is lit, not ready to explore that kind of sensation right now.

He’s turned sideways to you again, leaning his back against the side wall of the bar. He smirks in your direction, a dimple popping in the cheek nearest to you, and you feel a little heat rise up your neck.

His gaze flows over your form, taking you in from top to bottom. Is he checking you out?

“I, uh, I like your boots.” He nods down towards your feet, flicking a little ash from his cigarette off to the side furthest from you.

You automatically glance down, like some kind of idiot who didn’t dress themselves less than an hour ago.

Sheesh, way to make an impression on the locals…

“Oh, thanks!”

You smile, genuinely pleased. You’re wearing your favourite pair, laced and buckled black leather New Rocks with a chunky, steel-coloured metal heel. You know the style doesn’t have universal appeal, which is of course part of the reason you love them, but it’s nice to have your taste appreciated by someone as cu- erm, as friendly as he is.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. You new in town or sumthin’?”

“Yeah, kinda passing through, I guess. I’m just here for the holidays, hookin’ up with a friend.”

He nods in acknowledgment, curls bouncing softly around his face.

You continue, “Apparently I’ve been promised the ‘best Christmas ever’, and they think they’re going to achieve that by bringing me to this divey bar to see some schoolfriend in a lame-ass metal cover band. I mean, god, no offence, but this town is hardly Seattle. I can’t imagine they’re gonna be Nirvana-quality, right?”

The guy snorts through his nose and then genuinely laughs. “Yeah, they probably are shit. Towns like this are full of wannabe rockstars straight outta high school, y’know?” You don’t notice how his lips purse as he suppresses a grin, as he continues, “Singers are the worst, always such assholes. Second only to guitarists, of course.”

You answer with an enthusiastic, “I know, right?!”, thinking back to the musicians you’ve dated since high school and how they were all convinced they were destined to be the next Eddie Van Halen or Steven Tyler. Thinking of a couple of guys in particular as you take a drag of your cigarette, as you exhale you mutter, “Christ, guitarists really are the pits.”

He snorts, smiling again, then drops his finished cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the sole of his heavy boot. “At least with all their equipment and shit it makes them easy to spot.”

You gift him a smile and a small nod. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

“I’m heading back inside. Maybe I’ll see you later?” He quirks an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Yeah, maybe.” As he moves to open the door you add, ”Hey, thanks for the smoke!”

He turns back to you, his distractingly broad grin now fully on display, half-shouting back as he moves through the doorway into the bustling interior, “No problem, all you have to do is ask. I’ll see you later, Boots!”

You finish your smoke and get inside just in time to get to your seat, a tall stool opposite Robin around a high table, your back to the stage, as the band start up.

There’s a few complicated beats from the drums as the guy behind them warms up, and the bass and rhythm guitars thrum a few notes, garnering whistles and cheers from the crowd.

You wait for the cliché of the singer coming up to the mic and introducing the band, but what you actually hear is a low, self-assured, somewhat recognisable voice, that’s both commanding and sultry, that drawls, “You know who we are.”

Suddenly there’s a burst of impressive guitar work and drums, and the crowd erupts as the room is saturated with the opening chords to Black Sabbath’s ‘War Pigs’.

You’re impressed, and intrigued. This isn’t the ‘dodgy 80’s covers schoolkid band’ you were expecting. These guys sound… accomplished.

You turn on your stool, and notice a subtly familiar form at the mic. Less bulky as he’s no longer wearing the leather jacket, a ripped band tee now showing off his pale arms and clavicles, and black ink that you can’t make out adorning solid biceps and veined forearms. Guitar in hand, confident, brash, cute. Chains dangling from a studded belt, silver rings glinting, hair flying as he flicks his head, commanding the stage, readying himself to sing the first lines…

Oh shit…

The band’s cover of ‘War Pigs’ is faster than the original, and they give it their own twist, making it heavier and grittier. After the (irritatingly brilliant) guitar solo Leather Jacket Band Guy even throws in a few lines from Deck The Halls, the audience going wild, and joining in enthusiastically when the ‘Oh Lord yeah’ is replaced with a ‘Fa-la-la’.

The rest of their set is a mix of covers and originals, all in a similar, heavy style, and as they finish to a rapturous throng you realise, flustered, that you couldn’t tear your eyes from the stage the whole time. Robin totally notices. You even let her get in a cheery, “Told ya so!”, as you reluctantly admit they weren’t completely terrible.

You spot the frontman (singer and guitarist, cue internal facepalm) jump down off the low stage, and you feel a little uneasy as you see him start heading in your direction.

You’re at peak embarrassment and can’t bear the thought of having to face him after what you said outside. You hadn’t even heard them play and you dissed the fuck out of them, him specifically. What makes it worse is that they were actually really good. The last thing you need is to have that thrown back in your face, in front of Robin, by their cocky lead guy.

Suddenly you want Spontaneous Human Combustion to be a real thing, turn you to ash so your only presence would be scuffed up on those heavy, unlaced combat boots, going unnoticed and carried out on everyone’s soles into the chilly night. But science and physics are apparently not willing to defy themselves for you this evening. Bastards.

Quickly, you get off your stool, mumbling something about needing the bathroom, and head off in a random direction, in your haste to escape not even asking where it is.

You chance a glance over one shoulder. Oh god, he’s heading straight for you…

As you stumble about in the crowd, you notice a free seat next to a guy at the bar. You hardly register that his coiffed hair and polo shirt don’t quite fit the vibe of the place, so desperate are you to build an alternative narrative that doesn’t involve the guy whose band you just dissed coming to talk to you. You’d said you were visiting a friend, he’s not to know it wasn’t a boyfriend, right? If he sees you with someone he’ll back off and leave you alone, right?? Surely he wouldn’t confront you with a potential Defending Your Honour™️ fight on the table. Right???

So, that’s the plan.

A really good, foolproof one? Um, no. But Band Guy is moving through the crowd, and you’ve gotta do something, fast.

You reach the bar.

“Hey, could you do me a favour real quick? A creepy guy’s been hitting on me, and I need to give him the message that I’m not interested. If I buy you a drink, will you act like you’re my boyfriend for, like, the next 30 seconds?”

He turns to you, and you notice his features. Golden skin, chiselled jaw, stunning hazel eyes, hair to rival the hottest supermodels’, a scattering of moles that look like constellations. Goddamn, he’s pretty. What is it with this bar? Is everyone inside it cute? Why have you never been to Hawkins before??

You give him a pleading look, and tentatively hold out one hand towards where his is resting on his thigh, hoping he’ll take it.

“Well, for a sweet thing like you, how could I say no to that tempting double offer?”

He smiles then, full and beaming, and you almost slip off your stool. A warm palm comes to cup over yours, and you manage to blurt out an order to the barman, saying, “Two of whatever he’s having.”

Just then, Band Guy reaches you. You do your best to swoon at Polo Shirt as your drinks get delivered, lifting yours and clinking it against his with a, “Hey, sweetheart, thanks for bringing me here”.

“Oh, I didn’t realise you were here with someone tonight.”

“Yeah, this is the friend I was telling you about. We’re spending the holidays together. Isn’t that right, sweets?”

Band Guy purses his lips, you hope in consternation, but it’s whatever, you just want him to leave you alone to stew in your mortification.

He backs up half a step, saying, “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Success!

Just as you think your devious plan has worked, Band Guy turns to Polo Shirt, slaps his open palm against his shoulder a couple of times, and saunters off, with a, “Nice to see you, Steve-o. Just checkin’ you're wanting a lift back in the van with the guys, like usual?”

Oh. Oh god. They know each other?!

He turns away, smirking back briefly in your direction to fling a casual, “I’ll see you around, Boots”, before continuing his path to the other end of the bar. You see him greet Flannel with a high five followed by a bro handshake, the latter making exaggerated air guitar movements and clearly congratulating him on a great performance.

If cringing caused bodily trauma you’d be in the ER by now, most likely on life support. What are the chances of embarrassing yourself all to hell in front of a cute guy you’ve only just met, twice in one night?

Also, wait, you totally didn’t just admit that you find him cute. Nope. No siree. Nah. Niet. Definitely not.

Stupid Robin convinced you to take this stupid job in the stupid mall and now you’re stuck here smiling this stupid smile at all the stupid local kids in this stupid elf costume.

Stupid striped tights, stupid short skirt, stupid tight green tunic, stupid fluffy collar.

And yeah, okay, stupid self-induced hangover from stupid drinks last night thanks to stupid Robin’s stupid friends. Actually, they were all really nice, especially ‘Steve-o’ and the barman, Jonathon, neither of whom mentioned your embarrassing faux pas with Band Guy, which makes them total heroes in your book. Plus, Band Guy mercifully gave you a wide berth for the rest of the night by doing Band Stuff™️, so that was a win too.

At least the dress code for this gig stated ‘black footwear’, so you could wear your own boots. You’d never admit it out loud, but you think the combination of the red and white striped tights with your chunky, alternative boots actually looks kinda cute. It’s just as well, because you’d packed light (you and Robin joking that so long as you had your ”Pills and panties” you were good to go), and hadn’t brought any alternatives.

You’ve been at this for a couple of days already, beaming artificially at the kids as you try to corral them into some semblance of an organised line, and handing out stickers and treat bags for the ones who’ve seen Santa, putting your best singsong voice on as you ask for what feels like the millionth time, “So, what did you ask Santa for?”, and, “Have you been good this year?”

Your face has begun to ache with the effort of all the smiling, although the cheery mall Santa (a big, friendly guy called John? Jack?) takes up most of the slack, with a voice deep and gravelly enough to control even the worst-behaved little shits. You hope his day job uses it, it would be a shame for a voice like that to go to waste. He should probably be in sports, or acting, or law enforcement or something.

You can’t deny the money is coming in handy though. It’s reliably supporting your holiday booze habit, and you’ve even treated yourself to a couple of Christmas treats, some silver skull jewellery from a surprisingly well-stocked accessory shop, and something more, um, personal from the ‘specialist interest’ shop you’d found hidden away at the back of the mall’s upper level. The nice lady who worked there, Karen, even kindly offered to drop off your purchase at your staff locker later today.

You’re on the later shift, so Santa’s already here, and as you make your way out to the grotto area (which is essentially just a few old stage props surrounded by a few giant polystyrene candy canes; you surmise this might be one of the first years they’ve done this) you’re greeted by a predictable, “Ho ho ho!”. But today it’s a different voice than usual. Still deep, still booming, but not the one you’re used to.

As you round the glittery candy cane on the corner, the deep baritone gives way to a much higher, cheekier pitch.

“Ho, ho- hoooooly shiiit, I’d recognise those boots anywhere!”

Oh no… It can’t be…

“Heeey, Boots! I didn’t know you’d be one of my little helpers today!”

Even behind the fake beard you can see the smugness spread across his face.

You stop in your tracks, hands coming up to your face in a vain attempt to shield your embarrassed self from the impending, and, you’ll admit, completely justified, teasing.

Realising you can’t hide from it, you huff out a breath and amble over to him. He looks way too comfortable sitting on that ornate throne, like he’s used to such a position, somehow…

As you move closer you see that even beneath the tacky acrylic costuming, he still looks cute (damn him). He’s foregone the white wig and opted to display his own locks, chestnut curls cascading over his shoulders, and the white faux fur of his hat and beard create a subtle frame around his eyes. You observe their colour properly for the first time, and even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the mall they look like swirling pools of liquid cacao, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything quite like them before. They’re fixed on you as you walk to him.

You plonk down on a fabric-covered hay bale next to the throne. There’s no line of kids waiting as yet, and you’re relieved you can get this next part done without too much of an audience. Deep breath, pull off the bandaid, or whatever that stupid phrase is.

“Listen, about last night. I’m really sorry. I not only stole your smokes but also dissed your band before I’d even heard you, and that wasn’t cool. And that thing with Steve at the bar? God, you must think I’m such a loser. And, I know you probably couldn’t give two pebbly shits about what I think right now, but you guys are actually really good.”

He turns to you, looking down his nose and through his lashes at you.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, sweets. I did kinda bait you into that first part. And at the bar? That was… creative. I actually thought it was pretty funny.” Smirking, nodding and turning his face to the front again, he continues, “And for the record, we do play other places, not just this so-not-Seattle town.”

You risk a glance at him. The Santa suit is obviously too big for him, the collar wide enough to show off his pale throat for a moment before he turns back to you and the comically-fluffy beard obscures it again. You can see the outline of his taut, muscular thighs under the loose faux velvet of his pants, and his boots (those boots) are worn just like they were last night, unlaced at the top, casually stylish, the red fabric pooling around the calf and ankle. And to finish it off, there’s what appears to be a large throw cushion stuffed down his front.

It turns out he’s covering for (Jim!) Hopper, who’s apparently the local police chief (nailed it) and has been called out to check on some weird occurrences at an old research facility on the other side of town.

Band Guy Santa continues, sarcastically, “Pfft. Providing the town of Hawkins with security and safety instead of performing the frankly, essential, public service of dicking about in a Santa suit. Inconsiderate, right?”

“Yeah, totally”, you giggle.

“The organisers heard from Hop that I was somewhat… theatrical, so they asked me to fill in.”

You remember how theatrical he looked whilst on stage, and you feel your throat heat up, hoping he won’t notice you subtly pulling at your collar with a finger, or see the perspiration appearing on your décolletage.

“So, you may wreak your revenge now, sweetheart. I’m not exactly in a position to defend my sartorial choices right now, am I?”, he says as he gestures to himself, sweeping a palm up and down his garb. “Gimme your worst.”

You’d feel pretty bad if you laid into him now, not only considering your own current garb but especially with what you’d said last night outside the bar. However, he is giving you an opportunity to even the score for his manipulation, and it would be a shame not to take it. You decide upon a combination of cheekiness and diplomacy. (And not flirty. Definitely not flirty.)

“I dunno, that beard covers most of your face, which obviously does you some favours. But don’t do yourself down, you look… good in red.”

He swallows as you stand to move away from him, and you hardly realise that you’ve rendered him speechless, as you joke, poking at the obvious cushion by his middle,

“Although, I’m totally not buying this padding, you know,”

Suddenly a party of schoolchildren appears from nowhere, and before they get between you and you get too far away to hear, he stammers out, “Uh, I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You half-yell your own name back, adding with a smile,

“It’s nice to meet you. Have fun today, Santa.”

It’s late afternoon and Santa Eddie is on his regulation break. You’re doing your best to herd the over-sugared, post-school crowd into some kind of order, when Mrs Santa (a lovely lady called Claudia) calls your name and says you can go on your break now too, if you want, and to please tell Santa that he needs to get back here and start doling out Christmas wishes.

You jump at the chance for even just a few minutes away from the diminutive hoards (though you could listen to Erica, one kid you do like, diss commercialism and the ethics of lying to kids en masse all afternoon), and make your way to the locker room.

Eddie’s still there, sitting on the central bench, beard pulled down under his chin, and he appears to be holding a package in his hands, though from the look on his face you don’t think it was one he was expecting. As you move closer and peer into the box, you spy the contents, and a bright red, glittery shape becomes visible.

Oh god, no. No-no-noooo…

It’s the order you placed from the shop at the back of the mall, but Karen’s obviously dropped it off next to the wrong locker - Eddie’s is number 69 and yours is 96.

It’s a dildo (of course it is). A Christmas-themed, flexible, long, thick, glittery, red dildo, with a gold lamé ribbon tied artfully around the base.

Eddie’s face is a picture of surprise as he turns to look up at you, eyes and mouth wide and eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. He’s holding the packaging, your name visible on the wrapping, nixing any hope you’d had of feigning innocence and pretending you knew nothing about it.

“Uh, I think this is yours. I’m so sorry. I-it was left by my locker and I opened it assuming it was for me, and then I saw your name on it, but by then it was too late…”

He sees you slump down into the bench a few feet away from him, face in your hands. You don’t know him well, but you decide to let him get whatever he wants to say out of his system rather than potentially make everything worse by trying to get him to shut the hell up.

His tone is mocking, but not exactly mean, as he continues,

“It’s a pretty one, really. Y’know, festive. I admire your choice of aesthetics and commitment to the season.

But you know, Boots, if you wanted to feel special inside this Christmas, all you had to do was ask.

Wait, do you also have an Easter-themed one? Is it a rabbit?”

He’s turned to face you now, far too pleased with himself for that final quip. Arrogant bastard.

The tears come in a wave, and you fold in on yourself, trying to hide your face even more. The heat in your cheeks feels about the same temperature as the colour of that fucking dildo.

“Hey, hey. I was only kidding.” He scootches closer to you on the bench. ”Look, there’s nothing wrong with it. Everyone deserves pleasure, it’s healthy. And I get it, Boots, it can be hard for girls to find a guy who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing. And, maybe you don’t even want or need a guy, you just want some special time by yourself, right?”

There’s a short pause, like he could be considering his next choice of words.

“And anyway, I actually think it’s kinda hot…”

This surprises you. You’ve never met any guy who didn’t take the presence of your toy collection as a personal insult.

You risk a glance in his direction, hoping your wet and stinging eyes don’t look as red as they feel. “You really think so?”

“Oh yeah”, he responds, crossing his legs as subtly as he can, shielding his lap. “The one you chose? It’s… sophisticated. The glitter gives it a real nice touch. And,” he drops his voice a little, continuing in an almost-whisper, “I’d love to see what you do with it.” He clears his throat and looks away, finding a convenient patch of plain wall to focus his gaze upon.

Confused, upset, and unable to fathom exactly what’s going on (is this just banter? Or is he flirting? Wait, does he like you??) you grab the box from him and move to stuff it in your locker. Trying to hide the crack in your voice, you call over your shoulder, “Claudia says your break’s over and to get your jolly ass back out there, pronto.”

Oh shit… shitshitSHIT…

Stupid collar, stupid faux fur, stupid cheap zips! Goddammit!

You’re at your locker - the one that should’ve secretly contained your special Xmas gift to yourself - trying to get out of your stupid elf costume, but the zip won’t budge. The top of it is enmeshed amongst the stupid faux fur of your collar, and your frustrated, unsighted and fumbling ministrations appear to be making it worse.

You need help. An empathic soul to come to your aid and diligently untangle you from this costuming hell. But there’s only one other person here, and, even though your last encounter ended better than it could have, he’s still the last person you want to see right now.

Why tonight? Of all nights? How could this happen on the one night where the literal only person left in the entire fucking building is him??

You can only assume you’re on the real Santa’s shit list. Were you really that naughty this year?

Your brain rewards you with a brief, but telling, synopsis of your year so far: smoking blunts behind the library with Robin during study breaks, skinny dipping in a freezing lake on a dare, all that tequila, that brief foray in the back of a Camaro with that guy (Bobby? Billy?). Okay, you were no saint, but this? Come on…

Dejectedly, you drop your chin to your chest and let out a frustrated huff.

Looking miserable, and literally dragging your heels, you shuffle back out to the grotto, steeling yourself for whatever mocking banter Eddie will subject you to this time.

He’s leisurely rearranging the grotto area, and fiddling with the fairy lights behind.

“Hey, Boots. What’re you still doing here?”

Still not looking up, and flicking your eyes everywhere but in his direction, you mumble,

“I, uh, I need your help.”

“What is it? C’mon, you can tell me. We’re quite intimately acquainted now, wouldn’t you say?“

You can hear the smirk in his voice and you want to slap it right off his face. Your response comes out in a rush.

“MyzipisstuckandIcan’tgetoutofthisfuckingcostume, okay?”

“Well, honestly, if you want me to undress you, all you have to do is ask…”

There’s annoyance in your voice as you spit out, “For fuck’s sake Eddie, are you gonna help me or not?”

“Of course, Boots, I’m just messin’ with ya.” His voice drops to an almost-rumble as he instructs, “Turn around for me, yeah?”

His voice is commanding, yet soft and velvety. Parts of your brain turn to marshmallow, and you consider that you’d do almost anything he asked, if he asked you like that.

You do as he requests, your back facing him. You tilt your head down slightly, allowing him better access to the top of the zip, inadvertently also exposing the back of your neck.

He exhales (is it a bit shaky?), and you feel the heat of his breath on your nape, the sensation raising goosebumps along your spine and worrying your legs a little. It’s all you can do to not drop to your knees right there and then. You let out a tiny gasp and try to cover it with a deep swallow.

Eddie works gently on the collar of your garment, fiddling with the fur and disentangling what he can. As he works you continue to feel his breath on your neck, and you wonder if he has any idea what it’s doing to you.

Seemingly satisfied he won’t make it any worse than it already is, Eddie grasps the tag with his fingertips and places the palm of his other hand on your shoulder blade, the heat of it radiating through you so intensely that you have to scrunch your eyes closed and try to ground yourself.

With a quiet, “You ready?”, Eddie begins to slowly lower the zip.

It dislodges under his delicate touch, and although the zip is now completely free-moving he continues to pull it downwards ever so slowly. You feel another frisson of excitement, and even though you could at this stage probably quite easily take over and get out of the garment yourself, you don’t move away.

As the opening reaches your shoulder blades, you feel something else. It’s featherlight, barely there, but you think you can feel the knuckle of one of Eddie’s bent fingers brushing the skin of your back as he pulls the zipper slowly downwards.

Part of you thinks you should be freaked, after all an almost-complete stranger is touching you without your consent, but somehow it doesn’t feel weird. It feels… nice. Safe. Right.

The lower the zip goes the more of Eddie’s breath you feel on your back, and as the sides separate the edges of the colourful tattoo on your shoulder blade become visible.

Eddie's breath stutters at the sight, and as his knuckle passes over your bra strap and connects again with your lower spine you abruptly shake yourself out of your reverie.

Clutching the front of your tunic to your body, you move quickly away from him, stumbling back towards the locker room and mumbling, “I’ll take it from here. Thanks Eddie, you’re a lifesaver.”

Plonking yourself down on the bench in front of your open locker, you take a few deep breaths, trying to centre yourself before you get changed and wondering how on earth you’re going to be able to face him again tomorrow, the (yes, you’ll admit it now) hottest Santa you’ve ever seen...

Back in your own clothes (black, wide-gauge fishnets, an old tee from a punk band that no longer exists, and a flared black skirt - much better) you’re about to scurry out with your head down when you hear muffled grunts and groans from the main floor. What on earth is going on out there?

You amble back out to the grotto area, trying to appear nonchalant and like this is your usual route out of the building.

You see Eddie’s combat boots sticking out from behind a pile of fake snowballs. They seem to be twitching.

You move closer until you can see his entire form. He’s lying on his back, immobile, completely tangled in fairy lights. You can’t help but start to giggle, not least because for the first time since meeting him it’s he who’s the one in a compromising position.

He’s struggling, likely making it worse, and he starts as he sees you, barking out, “Oh god, Boots, you scared me! Well, laugh it up, fuzzball, I guess it’s your turn to rag on me now.”

“What on earth happened? Are you hurt?”

“I said I’d help rearrange these lights, so I was up that ladder, moving them around, when the rung gave way. The lights were the only thing I could grab for when I span, fell, and, well, here we are!”

He gives you a broad but sarcastic grin, realising the absurdity of his predicament, trying to spread out his palms in a jazz hands kind of illustration but only managing to do it with one, the other trapped at his belt line by a string of dazzling pink lights.

“Um, you need a hand?”

“Uh, yes please.”

You take a moment to appraise the situation. You see the broken ladder, the tangled piles of lights, scuffed-up fake grass and unruly piles of snowballs.

As for Eddie, he seems unharmed, if a little bruised in the ego (and, perhaps, the elbows). He’s still wearing the Santa suit. Well, most of it. He still has on the hat for some reason, and the trousers, but he’s discarded the beard and jacket, presumably for reasons of temperature regulation or ease of movement, and his ‘belly’ cushion is nowhere to be seen.

And his top half? Well, his top half is now adorned only in a tight, white tank top.

You swallow as you take in his torso. He looked good on stage that night at the bar, but you never really got to see him this close up. Or this well lit.

His skin is almost as pale as the fake snow that litters the area, but there’s a creaminess to it that just makes him look, well, edible is the only word you can think of. Apart from ’lickable’. Yep, that would work too…

He’s solid, well defined, but he’s not stocky. You imagine that years of carrying amps and band equipment around has toned his muscles rather than bulked them.

And the tattoos… Oh. God.

You’ve always had a thing for people with alternative tastes, but this guy takes the cake. Swirling black ink in a variety of designs and styles covers his pecs and biceps, with smaller but no less elaborate designs adorning his forearms.

You notice a subtle glint under the colourful strings of lights that enwrap him, and spot that one of his nipples is pierced, the ring of metal just barely visible through the taut fabric.

Your eyes drift to his hands (those same hands that entranced you that first night), and although there’s no rings tonight (you guess ‘Badass Santa’ wasn’t the version on the mall’s wish list) his hands are no less attractive, still strong-looking and veiny, and you spot a number of small finger tats that you hadn’t been aware of before.

His position and the fact that he’s still struggling mean his abs are tensed, with his forearms are in front of him, making them, and his shoulders, really pop.

Jeezus.

Your thighs clench and you feel a heat bloom in your core.

He notices you staring, and for a moment seems to revel in it, but eventually breaks you out of your trance, asking, “You gonna help me get out of this, or what?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, um, lemme just…”

You decide to start at his feet, reasoning that’s where the tangles are the least bad, and at least if his feet are free he’ll be able to sit up.

That decision has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that you’d like to see him sitting, bound, tied up for you, naked…

Shit. Fuck. Concentrate…

Eventually you free him from the majority of his confines, your fingertips and the backs of your hands brushing his skin and the fabric of his clothes occasionally. As he’s able to sit up, his hair tickles you as you work, his scent invades you all over again, and the two of you share glances and timid little chuckles as you move around him, both aware that you’re closer than you’ve been before.

Eventually he’s completely freed, and as he stands and steps out of the final loop of lights he flops exhaustedly backwards into his golden throne, eyeing the pile of entangled lights and running a hand over his face, mumbling, “Shit, there’s no hope for them tonight. I’ll deal with it all in the morning.”

You stand to the side of the throne, wanting to check he’s ok, and in a bold move that you weren’t expecting he lifts one arm and takes the tips of your first two fingers in his, gently raising your hand in a silent instruction to come closer.

Mirroring your earlier comment, he says, “Thanks, Boots. You’re a real lifesaver”, adding, with a hand against his forehead, “I would’ve been here all night, could’ve starved to death. They'd've found my mummified remains in the morning.”

You find yourself stepping towards him, and with your free hand try to give his pec a playful slap, murmuring, “You’re so dramatic. No, wait, theatrical!”

The slap fails though, as he rapidly brings his other hand up to the back of yours, trapping your palm against his chest. You can feel the heat of his skin, the slight sheen of sweat just noticeable as your fingertips breach the low neckline of his top, the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

You don’t realise how close you’ve become, and you gasp as your knees touch the side of his. He gently grabs the hand that’s on his chest and pulls it to his side, and to stop yourself from toppling forwards you have to step around him, ending up standing astride his legs.

Your eyes lock, and something changes. For a long moment neither of you move, and you feel your breathing rate speed up.

Not breaking eye contact, Eddie slowly moves your arm up to his shoulder, and you find yourself climbing onto the throne with him, straddling his thighs.

He breaks out that low, rumbling voice again, as he murmurs,

“That’s it, Boots, come sit on Santa’s lap.”

As you lower down onto him, you feel the heat of his thighs through your thin tights, and then the contrast of the chill of your metal-coated heels against the backs of yours.

You also feel something bloom in the pit of your stomach. And further down. A warmth, heat, need.

Eddie moves one hand to hold the back of your waist, pulling you gently, moving you further up his lap towards him.

You feel the unmistakable bulge of his arousal between your thighs, and as he moves you closer you gasp as you feel it nudge your mound.

You look at each other for another long moment, aware that this is very new territory. His eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, as he asks, quietly, “Is- is this okay?”

It’s all too much and simultaneously not enough. You definitely weren’t expecting any of this, but at the same time you find yourself desperately nodding, needing more of him, of Eddie.

You answer by slowly rolling your hips lightly against him, your lips parting slightly.

The few layers of fabric between you aren’t enough to dull the sensation of his cock pushing against your centre, and you feel it gradually pressing between your folds, your growing slick making the movements easier.

Suddenly, his bulge nudges your sensitive bud.

You gasp again at the sensation, making Eddie exhale a long low, warm breath over your torso, before he speaks again.

“Boots, can I kiss you?”

You take a breath, considering how this could all go. You could walk away now (albeit with shaky legs and damp thighs) and leave any possible awkwardness or complicated entanglement in favour of a simple, uncomplicated holiday with your friend.

But then you look into his eyes again, as his hips gently buck and nudge you once more, and your decision is made.

Breathing out, you reply,

“Fuck yeah, Santa.”

Wearing a soft, sly smile, he gently brings one hand to the back of your head, bringing you to him as he moves forwards, chocolate eyes roaming your face, scanning your eyes and lips.

Noses bumping and lips millimetres apart, he pauses for a moment before closing the gap, pressing his soft, plush lips to yours. They feel divine, soft and velvety, and this close you can smell everything him now, with the subtle addition of something faintly minty.

You kiss him back, and then you both press forward harder, parting your lips at the same moment, the tips of your tongues touching and dancing before sliding past each other and deepening the kiss, your teeth bumping gently and hot breaths mingling.

It’s wet, hot and needy, your hands grasping his shoulders, and his arms pulling you closer to him.

The rolling of your hips gradually becomes stronger and more forceful, and he bucks harder up into you. You need more. Breaking the kiss for air, you take a couple of lungfuls, toying with the drawstring on his red pants before asking, bold and more than a little cheeky,

“How are you feeling? Still entangled? Do you need a hand getting out of these, too?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m feeling very… entrapped, kinda claustrophobic. Might be in shock from such a traumatic experience. I might need to loosen my clothing a bit, y’know, for medical reasons.”

You give him a smirk, and untie the cords. Raising up on your knees slightly, you slide your thumbs hands into the waistband of those and his fitted, black boxers (fuck, is there anything about this guy that isn’t sexy?). He quickly takes the hint, lifting his hips off of the throne and allowing you to move his garments down to his thighs.

As you work his member gets caught on the elastic of his boxers, and as it releases from the fabric it springs back onto his abdomen with an audible slap. You can’t help but look, and you’re not disappointed. It’s pleasantly, but not overly, big, thick and veiny, curved slightly and with a large flared head. The tip is shiny and pinky-red, and as you stare it twitches away from his body and a tiny bead of precum leaks from the tip. You’re surprised, but also delighted, to spot a shining pair of steel balls decorating a frenum piercing, and that there’s a few pretty dot and line work tattoos near the base.

It’s beautiful. You want to tell him so, but he grabs you and pulls you in for another deep, passionate kiss, his length trapped between your bodies, hot and pulsing.

You melt into the kiss, tongues slipping and sliding, lips rubbing, noses smooshed against each other and enjoying it for as long as you can both do without air.

Needing another deep inhale, and also wanting to get your hands on his delightful cock, you sit up again, slipping one hand between you and grasping at his length. Eddie hisses, then moans,

“Oh, Boots, you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You enjoy the feeling of him in your hand for a few moments, relishing the heat and hardness, before you position the palm of your hand behind his cock and push your centre towards him again, trapping his length between your hand and belly.

More thrusts of his hips moves him between you, your slightly adjusted position now pressing him firmly between your clothed folds, his cock dragging the fabric across your clit. You can’t help but let out a high whine, and you feel his cock twitch again.

“Too much fabric. Wanna feel you.”

His voice is gruff, desperate, wanting.

You lean back a little, resting one hand on the arm of the throne, keeping your other hand wrapped around his cock. You’re not sure you ever want to let it go.

His hands move from your ass to your thighs, running over them and squeezing. When he reaches the part exposed by your lifted skirt he growls, feeling the skin of your hips and belly through the mesh of your tights.

Suddenly, his chin dips and he gives you an almost evil grin. His eyes remain connected with yours as the tip of his tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as he pushes some of his fingertips through the holes, grabs tightly and pulls.

You freeze as the sound of snapping fabric echoes around the grotto, cool air now gracing your belly and inner thighs. You gasp, not only at his actions but because you packed light and don’t have any other tights with you. But as Eddie’s thumbs trace up to the crease of your thighs, dangerously close to your heated core, all thoughts of packing and capsule wardrobes are erased. You want, no, need him to touch you.

With a smirk, you say, “Please touch me, Santa. I promise I’ve been such a good girl this year.”

His jaw goes slack and he looks at you in awe. You notice how black his eyes have become, the beautiful chocolate hues all but obscured.

He flicks his gaze to your core, black satin panties with lace edging fully on display. He runs one thumb pad up your very centre, feeling the smooth, silky fabric, your heat, the dampness that’s already apparent.

“Christ, baby, is this all for me?”

“All for you, Santa. I’m pretty sure you’ve been a bad boy this year, but you deserve a treat anyway.”

His eyes flick to yours again briefly, his lips curling into a lascivious smirk, before returning to the beautiful display between your legs. He hooks his thumb around one lace edge and, much more gently than he handled your tights, moves the soaked satin to one side.

With a tenderness and reverence that you’ve never experienced before, Eddie parts your folds with his thumb and runs it delicately from your wet lips all the way up to your clit. His eyes are fixed there, jaw slack, and you genuinely think he might drool.

As he connects with your sensitive bud you keen above him, eyes closing and head rolling back.

“That’s the spot, huh?”

You come back to look at him, and manage to breathe out, with a lilting giggle, “Fuck, yes.”

He moves his thumb in a small circle, and your mouth falls open in an O, your brows furrowing slightly.

“You want me to keep going, Boots? All you have to do is ask…”

You’re lost, gone, away in space, and you don’t have the capacity to chide him for his cheek. All you can manage is a breathy, “Please Eddie, please keep going.”

His thumb speeds up slightly and he gradually and gently increases the pressure, and you can feel the coil in your belly tightening already. Fuck, he’s good at this.

Your hand remains clamped around his dick, squeezing it occasionally, his hips rutting up into your fist at a leisurely pace as he watches you fall apart on his lap.

He moves his other hand from where it’s been resting on your hip, and, widening his thighs slightly to create space beneath you, brings the tips of his index and middle fingers to your hole. You’re sopping wet and swollen, lips almost sucking him in just from the slightest touch.

He looks to your face again as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You manage a rapid, shallow head nod and a, “M-hm”, and he slowly plunges two fingers into you, scissoring them and generating a low groan from you, which in turn causes a harsher snap from his hips.

“Jeezus, Boots, you make the most delicious sounds, wish I could record them, listen to them on a loop. Fucking hell.”

“Maybe you can, you’re a musician after a-all…”

That’s the last thing you can say for a while, the combination of Eddie’s smirk, his talented fingers pumping in and out of you, his glorious thumb movements, the feel of his cock in your hand and his hips bucking beneath you all conspire to bring you to your peak.

You grip the arm of the throne hard, nails denting the pile on the velvety fabric. Your eyes close and your vision goes black before becoming a thousand tiny fairy lights, a firework igniting in your core and spreading throughout your body in the most delicious waves as you spasm around Eddie’s fingers.

You don’t notice you’ve been groaning until your senses return, and you feel a slight roughness in your throat. Eddie continues his movements, though slower, and helps you ride out your aftershocks as you pant on his lap.

Only when you start to twitch in discomfort does he remove his thumb from your clit. He slowly pulls his fingers from inside you, and to your surprise brings them up to his lips, pushing them fully inside his mouth and sucking greedily, closing his eyes and humming at your taste. Popping them out with a wet smack, he says,

“My god, Boots. You taste better than sugar cookies and cotton candy combined.”

Your arms feel suddenly weak, and you flop forwards, forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. You feel his warm, broad palm on your back, rubbing gently, soothing you.

“Y’okay there, sweetheart?”

You manage a little squeak, and mumble a tiny, “Mmph, yeaaah…”, as he chuckles lightly.

After a few moments you sit up a little, gazing into Eddie’s blown chocolate eyes through an endorphin haze, and you notice your cheeks are tense, in what must be, given Eddie’s somewhat lovesick expression, a goofy smile.

You realise you’re still holding on to his dick, and give it an experimental squeeze, to test whether your muscles are responding to signals from your brain (yeah, that’s definitely the only reason…). Eddie’s hips buck up, and you sneak a look down to see more precum leaking from the tip. You gather some with your thumb, circling it gently over his slit.

Eddie inhales with a hiss. His strong arm around your back goes to pull you in for another kiss, as his other hand reaches up to the hat atop his head, pulling it off and discarding it amongst the tangled fairy lights.

You move towards him for a deep kiss, releasing the grip on his member and running your hands around his (surprisingly muscular and delicious) neck and into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling your fingers into the curls and tugging gently, earning you another moan.

Shifting your hips along his thighs, you press your soaking folds against Eddie’s turgid cock, and the combination of sensations causes Eddie to break the kiss and emit a loud, low groan. His arms tighten around your torso and he moves his warm mouth down your jaw and neck with wet kisses, then lightly bites the top of your shoulder.

You sigh, knowing what you want.

“You ever fuck an elf, Santa?”

Eddies still mouthing at your collarbone as he mutters into your warm skin,

“Goddammit, you’re incredible.”

You move backwards slightly and Eddie takes the opportunity to reach behind him, grabbing the back of his tank top and dragging it off, dropping it carelessly to the side of the throne to join the lights and his hat.

Fuck, his chest is glorious too.

Bringing a little of your lower lip between your teeth, you run your palms down his solid torso. You want the opportunity to play with that nipple ring and examine each and every one of his tattoos, but right now there are more pressing desires on your mind.

He lets out a shaky breath as you brush his abs with your fingertips, shift your position and line up his swollen head with your eagerly awaiting hole.

“You sure about this, Boots?”

You look up at him, at his blown dark eyes and pink, kiss-bitten, shiny lips, and quirk an eyebrow as you run your fingers into his hair and murmur, “Oh yeah, Eddie. I want you to make me feel… special inside.”

He gasps as you angle your hips and sink down, pushing the head of his cock inside of you, gradually taking his thick length.

He kisses your lips once more, humming, as you acclimatise to his girth, then grins lasciviously as he thrusts his hips upwards, filling you completely. You’re close enough that the moans you let out mingle together and your breaths become shared, eyes locked and mouths agape.

You roll your hips, sliding Eddie’s length in and out of you at a gentle pace. You can feel every ridge and vein as he enters and pulls out, and you’re sure you can feel his frenum piercing dragging against your walls.

You can tell he’s holding back, consciously stilling his own hips and allowing you to set the pace. But this doesn’t last long.

Voice gravelly and ragged with lust, Eddie mumbles,

“Shit, baby, I gotta move. I wanna fuck you so bad, Boots. You gonna let me fuck you?”

Mouth close to his ear, you breathe out a small, “Please”.

It’s all he needs.

Grabbing your ass and squeezing hard but not harshly, Eddie pulls you down onto him as he thrusts up from below. His pace is ruthless as he lifts and drops you, matching his rhythm as he grunts and mumbles incoherent curses. You can’t make out much, but you do hear,

“Fuck, baby, you feel so divine, taking me so well, Jeezus Christ.”

Fuck, he feels amazing.

You remember his cock tattoos, and imagine how they might look, shiny and covered with your slick, disappearing in and out of your glossy lips.

This image, combined with a particularly hard snap of Eddie’s hips causing him to angle slightly differently and start to nudge that special place inside of you, causes you to let out a loud gasp, and your mouth drops open as you try to form a sentence.

“Oh fuck Eddie, I’m- I’m…”

“You gonna cum all over Santa, pretty girl?”

He continues thrusting at that delicious angle and you feel your legs start to tremble.

“Fuck! Y-yes, ye-ess!”

Heat building in your core, you just about hear Eddie mumbling,

“Shit, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, I’m not gonna last much longer. Where do you want…?”

Before he can even finish you’re blurting out,

“Inside me Eddie, please.”

You bounce on Eddie’s lap as his thrusts become deeper, faster, and then harsher and less rhythmic. You grind down onto his pelvis, your clit rubbing against his pubic bone and his thick, dark pubic hair, as his cock continues to bully your most sensitive spot.

Suddenly your muscles tense, thighs clamping around him, your forehead pressing hard into his, as his hips slam up into you. You let out a low whine as you peak again, vision blackening, all your muscles tensing as your walls clench around him.

Eddie follows almost immediately, thrusting harshly upwards and pulling your hips down onto him, and you feel rushes of warmth as he groans and empties himself inside your fluttering cunt.

There’s quiet for a moment, and all you can hear is your panting breaths and the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, foreheads feasting against each other, heartbeats slowing and breathing becoming more regular.

Breathlessly, and without full clarity, you sit up slightly and mumble “Fuck, Eddie, that was…”

Eddie chews a little on the inside of his lower lip, and with the widest, sexiest smile you’ve ever seen, replies softly,

“Merry Christmas, Boots.”

After a few moments spent pecking kisses on various parts of your face, making you giggle, Eddie eventually helps you to lift off his slowly softening cock. He leans over to retrieve his discarded tank top and uses it to help clean the mess you both made between your legs.

You unpeel yourselves from the golden throne, feeling sure the heels of your boots have left marks in your ass, and he aids your passage back to the locker room on wobbly legs, helping you wash and making sure you’re ok.

As you gather your things he changes into his street clothes. They’re not dissimilar to last night, though he’s foregone the chain belt and has chosen a somewhat more fully intact shirt, and he watches you as he slings on his leather jacket.

Almost ready, you look down forlornly at your gaping tights, the hole barely covered by the hem of your skirt. Eddie chuckles, and tries to lighten your hosiery-related mood.

“Perhaps I could buy you a new pair? Maybe at lunch tomorrow we could go visit your favourite shop, and you could pick out something nice?”

The image of Santa and one of his elves nonchalantly browsing the displays in a sex shop amuses you greatly, and you tell him so, but he insists he would totally do it, if you wanted to.

There’s a pause as you retrieve your coat and go to put it on, and as you do he adds,

“Well, I’d call it a Christmas gift, but… I’d actually prefer to get you something a little nicer. If you’re around. And you’d let me, of course.”

You’re surprised by Eddie’s unexpected tenderness, and the implication that he might want to continue… whateverthisis. You don’t want to presume anything, but there’s certainly a little tingle in your belly at the thought.

You reply, sardonically, “Sure, I guess. So long as it’s not red and glittery, I think I've had enough things like that to last me for a little while.”

You both snort-laugh at this.

As you start to walk together to the staff exit at the back of the mall, Eddie offers to take your bag so you can fasten your coat and put on your hat and gloves.

Trying to sound casual, he asks, “Sooo, how’re you gettin’ back to Robin’s?”

“I was gonna take the bus, like usual.”

Eddie looks at you sideways, slightly bashful.

“Could I, maybe, give you a ride? We can stop at Benny’s on the way, if you’re hungry. It's a diner”, he clarifies, remembering that you’re not from around here.

Your tummy flips, and not just from the thought of a milkshake and fries.

“Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”

Eddie smiles that wide smile again, and you see his cheeks turn a little pink. It’s odd, him being all shy and self-conscious after what you two have just done, but somehow it’s also incredibly endearing.

As he walks you through the parking lot, still carrying your bag and toying with a stray piece of tinsel that he found in his pocket, he says,

“Y’know, I’d still really like to see what you do with that Christmas dildo.”

Thinking back to how he looked all tangled up, you smirk back at him as you think of how you’d quite like a redo of him tied up for you.

As you reach his van, you lean against the passenger door and coyly look at him.

“Well, maybe I could show you. Could we, maybe, do something after work tomorrow?”

With the sweetest dimpled smile you think you’ve ever seen, Eddie cocks his head to one side and lifts a hand to run the tip of one forefinger along your jawline, as he replies in that low rumble,

“Oh, Boots, you should know by now. All you have to do is ask.”

🎄You may not yet be completely sold on the whole idea of The Holidays™️, but you’ll have to admit to Robin that this might well be the start of your Best. Christmas. Ever.🎄

Thanks so much for reading! ILY 🥰

Please support your content creators by not only liking but also commenting and reblogging - it’s so important. If you liked this there’s a good chance others will too, and comments and reblogs are the only way posts get seen. Consider it a Christmas gift to your writers and followers 😍🎅🏼 Thank you, and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate!

Resources: Proof that Deck The Halls can be sung to the tune of War Pigs (and vice versa), plus the ‘Fa la la’ 😊🎄

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eternal-kosmo-ghoul · 5 months

Text

⭒❃.✮:▹ holiday hoes

“so if you’re keen to listen, here’s an offer i’ll propose. let me work and i’ll provide you with a touch o’ that gold!” —liquid gold, lackadaisy

❝for the christmas spirit I’m going to be doing something… special, this year~

for the following days, i’ll be challenging myself to write an nsfw prompt that’s holiday related, based on the prompt list i gave myself. the masterlist will be posted soon enough, so stay tuned~❞ —kosmo

the list will update as each day passes. all fics are NSFW and must be read with caution!

ALL readers are gender neutral, however some fics may have gendered body language.

┅✦┅

✿ prompts ✿

1. “all dolled up” — phantom x reader, lingerie

- you wanted to look extra pretty for phantom on the holiday season

2. “a different kind of warmth” — swiss x reader, cockwarming

- when the icy cold temperatures hits, swiss has his own unique way of warming you up

3. “gingerbread houses” — aurora x reader, food play

- what a fun little activity to do with aurora! surely she won’t have any other ideas in mind… right?

4. “red ribbon” — rain x reader, bondage

- there was leftover ribbon from gift wrapping that you decided to use, and maybe you’re just the best gift for rain

5. “naughty list” — terzo x reader, spanking

- how sad… you ended up on the naughty list, looks like papa terzo will have to ingrain some discipline into you

6. “candle queen” — sodo x reader, wax play

- the scent of the candles just made this year extra cozy, maybe sodo has some tricks up his sleeve for how to make things cozier

7. “frosted windows” — cirrus x reader, mirror sex

- the fogged windows are perfect places to trace pretty little shapes on, cirrus however has a different shape in mind

8. “come watch me play” — vessel x reader, exhibitionism

- vessel likes to put on a show for the christmas cheers. what kind of performance does he have in mind?

9. “unwrap your present” — cumulus x reader, stripping

- you came home from a long day of work, just finally getting that well deserved vacation. cumulus has a pleasant surprise waiting for you

10. “festive little fantasies” — copia x reader, toys

- your gift for copia surely got him excited….

11. “picture perfect” — iv x reader, aphrodisiacs

- ivy was not expecting this little christmas get together to get all.. steamy.. but now he has you all to himself

12. “not so angelic” — omega x reader, corruption kink

- the little angel that came down from heaven to spread the joyous spirit… surely omega won’t try anything

13. “holiday blow” — iii x reader, blowjob

- as iii is writing letters to his loved ones, you decided to give him a little treat underneath his desk

14. “stuffed like a present” — mountain x reader, cum bulge

- mountain wants to give you something that’ll leave you completely filled

15. “nice list” — secondo x reader, praise kink

- what a good pet you’ve been… and it looks like secondo has taken notice

16. “blind to the light” — ii x reader, blindfolding

- ii wanted to add more spice to the bedroom for this year, and spoil you prettily for his holiday affairs.

17. “give you more” — zephyr x reader, overstimulation

- you decided to be extra generous to zephyr, and assist him when he’s in dire need of some love and affection

18. “my special gift” — sunshine x reader, thigh riding

- sunshine has a special way of showing off what’s hers.

19. “miss me on holiday season” — aether x reader, sexting

- aether is away for the festive spirits, that doesn’t stop you from missing him though

20. “just this once” — ifrit x reader, hate sex

- stuck in a log cabin with an old enemy, except ifrit’s been feeling extra lonely this christmas

21. “take me to church” — swiss x reader, blasphemy kink

- christmas is all about celebrating the birth of jesus… swiss wants to show you off to him

22. “forever ingrained” — vessel x reader, photography

- a new polaroid camera? vessel is getting a few ideas on what to do with it…

23. “christmas tree” — phantom x reader, public sex

- while searching for the perfect christmas tree, phantom finds himself needing some attention

24. “sharing is caring” — sodo and rain x reader, threesome

- sodo and rain learn to share their special gift

25. “merry christmas” — all era iv ghouls x reader, fuck party

- the ministry is all decorated in festive decor and it truly feels like the holidays are in season! now… what do these ghouls want to do with you?

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#ghost fanfiction #sleep token fanfiction #ghost bc x reader #sleep token x reader #the band ghost x reader #papa emeritus x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #vessel x you #vessel x reader #holiday prompts #holiday writing #smut prompts #smutty drabble #ghost bc smut #nameless ghoul smut #sleep token smut #spicy content #christmas prompts

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wolfstarshipping · 4 months

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wolfstar wips

So I'm using the @hprecfest day 12 prompt "a WIP you're following" to post a short rec list of WIPs that has been sitting in my drafts for so long now I even had to remove a fic that had been finished in the meanwhile!

Something rotten in Grimmauld Place by @plecotusauritus (8,802 words, Hamlet AU) This is a wolfstar Hamlet AU, need I say more?? I've never much cared or thought about Hamlet since I read it in school but this fic (almost) makes me want to reread Hamlet and I can't wait to see where the story goes next, I love the atmosphere this fic captures, the lovely writing style and just seeing all these characters we know so well fit into the plot of Hamlet is so, so cool!!

the oldest recipe for parsnip soup by @eyra (10.639 words, modern AU, christmas fic) Getting another fic by eyra for the holidays has been such a wonderful treat! I love the whole setting and the characters of this fic so much already, especially Sirius!! And the writing and all the descriptions are so, so beautiful, as always, highly recommend checking it out!!

Welcome to Aphrodite by @de-sire-blog & @rhabarberjunge (18.957 words, magical AU, secret identities) this is one of those fics I've read a while ago, but I keep thinking about it because I loved it so much. I don't want to give away too much of the plot, but the premise is Sirius finding a hidden, adults-only club that makes people's secret desires come true, and of course Sirius's secret desire is Remus... It's hot, it's fun, and it's incredibly angsty, I love it.

Stitched into My Skin by @squintclover (19.297 words, canon divergent AU, memory loss) I love the heartache and all the bittersweetness that comes with memory loss fics so much already, and I am so obsessed with the way it's been done in this fic. The premise of the fic is Peter casting a memory loss charm on Sirius on October 31st 1981, which leads to Remus raising Harry and randomly coming across Sirius years later, only Sirius doesn't remember him. I'm so intrigued by the first few chapters already and can't wait to see where the story goes next!

Marauder FM by @hollyivydruzy (26.402 words, modern AU, radio AU, enemies to friends to lovers) I know I've recced this fic before but I will never shut up about it because I love it, and especially this fic's Remus so, so much! It's an iconic, funny radio AU set in London, and I wish the radio shows from this fic were real because I would listen to Sirius's radio show every morning if I could. I just love the vibe of all of them working at the radio station together and the slow burn enemies to friends (to lovers) is so delicious!

The Patchwork of Us by @tracingpatternswrites (27.502 words, modern AU, enemies to lovers, co-parenting Teddy) This is such a lovely fic about Sirius and Remus navigating the difficult situation of co-parenting Teddy after Tonks dies, I love the domesticity and the enemies to lovers vibe of this fic so much!

The Picture of Sirius Black by @lynxindisguise (30.049 words, Dorian Gray AU) okay anyone who has ever seen my blog knows how much I love lynx's writing, which is why I am also obsessed with this fic, even though it's a genre I'm usually not that familiar with. It's a Dorian Gray AU, it's gothic horror but especially the first few chapters are also giving victorian romcom with murder sideplot vibes (and I mean this as the biggest compliment), this fic will make you laugh and cry and want to murder some of these characters yourself maybe.

Only Fools Are Satisfied by grumposaur (@pancakehouse) (38.353 words, modern AU, tennis AU). I really love the exploration of Sirius's family dynamics in the context of him being a professional athlete in this fic, and Remus with his tanlines and freckles is everything!!

Neon Moon by @krethes (47.698 words, modern AU, cowboy stripper Remus AU, Las Vegas) I didn't know how much I needed Remus to be a stripper and a cowboy before I read this fic, but now I do and I love him!! The whole premise of them meeting at a strip club while Sirius is out on James's bachelor party is so iconic, and the vibes of the fic are just overall excellent, highly recommend checking it out!

on another ocean by @colgatebluemintygel (118.148 words, modern AU, backpacking/interrail, friends with benefits) Where do I even start? This is an incredible fic, one of my all time faves, I've reread some of the chapters several times now and am so obsessed with this fic's Remus in his socks and sandals, driving Sirius crazy with lust. Also I will not spoil it for anyone who hasn't read it, but the scene in the budapest chapter in the club bathroom features one of my favorite Sirius moments of all time, across all universes haha.

marginalia by @spindrifters (266.547 words, magical AU, canon divergent AU - Grindelwald won, slavery AU) I'm having a hard time trying to put my love for this fic into words in just a short paragraph. This fic is so unique in its setting, and it's so beautifully written and asks & answers the question "what if Grindelwald had won?" in such an incredible, highly political and also very immersive way, if you haven't read it already I really recommend checking it out (as well as the already complete Tedromeda spinoff set in the same world, history books!!!).

Staying Strangers by 3amAndCounting (319,368 words, modern AU, texting fic, university AU). This is one of my comfort fics, I love a good texting AU, this is quite a popular fic anyways but if you haven't read it and like modern AUs & texting fics (though it isn't all just texting) go check it out!

#hprecfest2023 #wolfstar wip #wolfstar #fic rec #wolfstar fic #wip #rec list #wip rec list #also i put these in order of their lenght because whenever i do a rec list that's not just chronological from doing daily fic recs #i have a small crisis over in which order i want to put them #also i just KNOW as soon as i post this i will remember another wip i've forgotten to mention so PLEASE feel free to reblog this and add #more current wolfstar wips (either ur own or someone elses!) if you want to!!! <3

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morallyinept · 4 months

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Naughty Or Spice? - A Marcus Pike Christmas One Shot 🎄

Written for @hellishjoel 's 12 Days of Pedro. Thank you for inviting me to participate, lovely! Thanks to @undercoverpena for the 12 Days of Pedro banner. 🖤

Character: Marcus Pike

Prompt: Holiday Meal

Read the other amazing fics here 👇🏻

🎄Hellishjoel's 12 Days of Pedro Masterlist🎄

Summary: You and your husband Marcus are preparing a Christmas feast for your relatives, when you both give in to a hunger of your own.

Pairing: Husband!Marcus Pike x WifeF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub. Image used for aesthetic purposes only, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 4.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Explicit - Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/69

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Really enjoyed writing this and being a part of this amazing group of writers for 12 Days of Pedro, & I hope you enjoy reading it too! 🎄

MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🖤

The heady aromas of brandy and honey glaze can be smelt wafting around him, creeping up his nostrils, making his stomach rumble and mouth water in anticipation of the festive banquet.

The kitchen, the epicentre of your shared world in your cosy home together as newlyweds, is alive with the fervour of holiday feast preparations, embracing a melange of scents that paint the air with vivid notes of fragrance.

The pièce de résistance, the roast turkey, emits an enticing aroma; a melody of savoury richness that speaks of crisp, golden skin and succulent, juicy meat, infused with the earthy blend of rosemary and thyme.

A harmonious mix of umami and sweetness mingles in the air. The citrusy notes of orange and lemon zest adds a bright, effervescent zing, cutting through the savoury with a refreshing counterpoint that teases the palate.

Marcus wanders back into the kitchen after discarding his shoes; a sprig of fresh garden herbs contributing their own verdant movement to the olfactory composition, as he brings them to his nose to smell sage flooding down his trachea in abundance.

"I got the sage, baby." He says.

He soon discards the leafy bunch on the counter top when he sees you standing precariously on a chair with your arms rummaging deep into the cupboard.

You wobble a little unbalanced, and he rushes to you, supporting your butt in his giant hands, and grabbing a hold of your waist to stop you falling and cracking open your skull on the wooden floor that heats his socked feet pleasantly underneath.

It’s only a matter of time really - he can’t leave you alone for more than five minutes before some casualty will undoubtedly ensue.

But then, when Marcus isn’t having a panic attack about you accidently slicing off your thumb when you chop the vegetables - real fast with warp speed, and simultaneously skimming the iPad screen for the best honey types to roast them in - he kinda finds your inelegance endearing.

He married a clumsy one, and he couldn't be more pleased about that as you smile warmly at him coming to your rescue. You still take his breath away as he feels his lungs struggle, smiling warmly up at you.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asks, as you shove a stack of bowls down into his big hands.

He places them on the counter top and stays close to you with his arms ready to catch you like the swoon-worthy hero he is.

“I’m looking for that big glass dish, you know, for the bread rolls.” You explain, your voice echoing around the inside of the cupboard stacked high with dishes and plates of all variety and size.

“Out the way, honey,” he lifts you down off the chair, kissing you on the cheek as you slide down his warm body.

“Mmm,” you smile at him as he blushes a little.

And your husband has never looked more appealing, with freshly washed hair styled in neat waves; a spicy scent of his cologne tickling your nostrils, and dressed in a smart, yet relaxed, cream sweatshirt teamed with jeans.

He pushes the chair aside to the sink whilst he looks for it, reaching up into the cupboard without needing a chair, or to stand on his tip toes.

You clock his sweatshirt riding up to reveal golden tanned hips with his jeans resting low on his svelte waist, tantalising you further.

“This one?” Marcus asks, pulling out a frosted glass serving platter a few seconds later.

“Yes, thank you,” You glance up as you sprinkle flour over the freshly baked bread rolls that have cooled enough on the rack.

He plonks it down beside you as you start arranging the bread buns on it, stopping only to tap his hand away as he reaches for one cheekily, and to blow the flour off your hands. You absentmindedly wipe your dusty fingers on your jeans, leaving white patches.

The best cooks are also the messy ones, Marcus thinks, smiling as he watches you happily thrive in your environment that’s piled with dishes to be washed, spoons stirred in various pans simmering on the hob, and pastry rolled out ready with festive cookie cutters that you'll press in.

He smirks, seeing you have a faint flour handprint on your butt as you lift the dish off the counter top and walk it out into the dining room.

He steals another kiss as you pass, pulling you gently by the elbow, making you giggle softly. And it’s a sound he’ll never tire of.

The table is heaving with enough food to feed the five thousand, and yet it still doesn’t seem like quite enough.

The grand Christmas tree in the background twinkles with golden lights, carefully arranged like shimmering stars, casting a warm and inviting glow over the tree's boughs. Ornaments of various shapes and colours adorn the branches, each telling its own magical story.

Shimmering globes catch the light, scattering it in a dazzling display of red and green reflections. Delicate icicles dangle from the tips of the branches, capturing the essence of winter's frosty beauty.

The whole room reminds you of something out of an old fashioned Christmas card - just how you’d envisioned it when Marcus and you spent a day putting it meticulously together - and you’re proud of Marcus for his decorating efforts, if but a little obsessive.

You make space for the dish of bread rolls on the table, groaning and creaking with more added weight. You pull your phone out of your back pocket and check the time. They’ll all be arriving soon.

“I think we need more chairs...” You groan coming back into the kitchen. You look up at Marcus, who has a spoon in his mouth and freezes on the spot.

“Caught red handed, Agent!” You playfully scold.

“I can’t help it, it tastes so good.” He smirks, pulling the spoon from his mouth and you zone in on it, smirking through those pink, wet lips of his. “Is there chestnut in this?”

You nod, smiling.

“Damn…” He praises with a keen grin, resting casually against the counter top. The blend of tart cranberries and smoky bacon makes his cheeks tingle as he licks around his teeth.

“You have to share this recipe with me.”

You shake your head reaching for the sage. “No way. My grandma would turn in her grave if I gave away her secrets.”

“Here, taste it…” Marcus holds out the spoon to you with a nub of the cranberry stuffing.

“I know how it tastes, I made it.” You smirk as you brush past him to turn off the hob. "Besides, it still needs the sage, it's not done yet."

He slips it into his mouth instead groaning in delight. "Honey," he begins, his voice a warm blend of appreciation, "you've truly outdone yourself.” As he points around the kitchen with the spoon.

You scoff.

“I mean it. Although, I’m probably going to gain at least twenty pounds.”

“You will if you eat that whole thing.” You giggle. “You married a feeder. Your fault.” You take the bowl of stuffing from him and place it on the counter top. You turn back to glance at him as he watches you with twinkly eyes.

“What are you looking at?” You ask, admiring him curiously, as his smile widens across his sculpted cheekbones.

“You,” he reaches forward and pulls you towards him.

His hand starts wiping down your butt as he cradles you close to his chest. “You look so hot in the kitchen; did I ever tell you that?”

“Excuse me, Mr Backwards century!” You say to him wrinkling your nose through a smile.

“You know what I mean. You’re a great cook. What’s not sexy about that, hmm?” Marcus asks with hooded, dark eyes.

You know that look, know that when his eyes are swallowed up by the lust of his pupils like this, that you’re helpless to resist. He looks at you with a quiet, brewing hunger; a hunger that will last for hours as he devours you and leaves no morsel left.

You feel his large hands squeeze at your ass lavishly, but you scarper out of his grip giggling. There’s still so much to do and not enough time to do it.

"Stop distracting me."

"But I'm so good at it." Marcus responds with a wink.

“Mhm, can you get the potatoes out for me?” You ask him, and smile sweetly.

You toss him a dish cloth, quashing all his wily charm, and he catches it before it lands on his head.

Marcus spins on his heels and pulls open the oven door; the blast of heat in the face makes him squint. He can smell the flavoursome scents from the herbs, making him salivate as he reaches in.

“Watch out, it’s hot!” He can feel the heat from the tray biting into his skin even with the cloth. He drops the tray down quickly and feels the sear of the burn cooking him. “Ah, shit!”

He snatches his hand back as the tray clatters on the drainer, hissing as he puts his hand straight to his mouth, sucking on the fleshy piece of skin between his thumb and forefinger with a frown.

“Let me see,” you say, coming up beside him and running the faucet.

“It’s just a little scald. I’ll be fine,” Marcus assures, holding his hand out under the cool flow. He can feel the rawness of its sting, even under the water.

You dab it gently with a dry, clean cloth and inspect it. It’s a little pink, but no signs of a bad blister brewing.

You look up at him and kiss it gently. “All better.”

“You’re so sweet to me.” Marcus smiles, and runs his hand through the frazzled wisps of your hair coming loose.

He pulls you in for a kiss and you kiss him back, only refuting it when it mutates into a swamping, dizzy smooch that begins to make your head spin.

Reluctantly breaking away from the kiss, you share a moment of breathless laughter; the gritty reality of the kitchen chaos juxtaposing with the sweet and savoury notes of the holiday feast filling your nostrils.

“Stop it, I need to uh...” Your voice trails off, distracted by his kisses that now run over your cheek and to your neck, where he knows it will make you melt like butter in a hot pan.

His wandering hands are sliding up the outside of your thighs and groping your ass again.

“Yes, you have to do what?” Marcus prompts through breathy puckers. You feel his tongue, hot and wet, licking carnage on your skin. Instead of dousing the fire, it inflames it.

“The food… Marcus, I-I need to... fuck...” You whine as his lips graze across your throat.

“You taste so good,” Marcus purrs, nipping at your skin and completely forgetting about the soreness of his burn. The feel of your ass inside his hands probably has something to do with that as he kneads and massages away.

Hands become reacquainted with body parts as yours run up his chest over his sweatshirt, whilst his runs the gauntlet up your back, leaving tingles and shudders.

Damnit, he smells so good.

You can feel his hardness press into your lower belly, foreheads together, panting a little, as you both watch your hand start sliding down over the bulge inside his jeans and groping it.

You hear him groan into your eyelashes; that wanting, little whimper making you buzz between your legs.

“We should stop... they’ll be here soon.” You whisper, not wanting to stop at all, not now he has you right where he intends to keep you.

“We’ve got time for a little fun,” Marcus breathes through swollen, cherry lips as he watches you unzip his flies. "I want you... I wanna fuck my really hot, chef wife on the kitchen floor."

“Mm, God.” You whine as he beguiles you into utter sedition.

“Get it out, honey,” he urges in a devilish whisper as you undo his top button and pull the prize of his cock out from his jeans. "See how hard you make me?"

He lets out a groggy gasp as you squeeze his cock gently, gasping in want as you slide your thumb over the tacky stickiness he leaks.

You run your hand around it, feeling him pulsate and twitch a few times before kissing him again, swallowing and gorging on his moans.

"You're so hard for me..." You praise. He’s rock solid; stiff and heavy, and seeping from his thick head into your palm as you pump him slowly.

"Always," He smiles, bashfully.

You kneel down, running your tongue over the tip before taking him inside your mouth.

“Shit,” he breathes out. Marcus pushes the denim down his hips, scooping the hem of his sweatshirt out of the way so he can get a better view of you.

Looking up at him, you let out little murmurs of satisfaction as you mouth on him; running your lips over his warm, pulsing skin and licking your tongue around his fantastic length.

He looks down at you, eyes filled with that swaying lust turning them black, biting down on his bottom lip as he grunts.

“Baby…” He whines like he can’t produce coherent words. The basics of sentence structure lost to him.

You pump him as you suck the swollen head; back and forth, sucking on him that bit harder. Tasting all the notes of him on your tongue.

Marcus rests his hands against the countertop, his hips sticking out at you as you take him deep. You run your tongue over him, shiny and down his shaft before you lick back up again and suck deeper, making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Oh my God.” You hear him pelt into the ceiling.

As you pull him back out, crystally strings of your saliva coat him and dangle from your mouth; that yummy mushroom head of his cock popping in and out driving him crazy.

“I need you to sit on my face,” Marcus whines as he helps you up to your feet and kisses you harshly.

He licks all around your mouth desperately; the wet and stickiness from your saliva mashes into his, and he can taste the faint salt of his cock on your tongue.

His hands strip you of your jeans and panties quicker than you realise, and he pulls you down clumsily onto the kitchen floor with him, laughing and giggling in a tangled heap of knotted limbs.

You perch over his head, knees pressed against his broad shoulders, facing away from him and lean forward; his cock back in the vicinity of your mouth.

You suck him in to your mouth as Marcus starts licking away and sucking on your clit; that barely-there, ragged graze of his shaved stubble giving you a pleasant scratch against the inside of your thighs.

“Mmm...” You coo around his cock as you feel him tickle and tease your lips.

He pushes his face right up into your slit, his nose ghosting around your ass and thrashes his tongue around with adept precision. The swollen folds of your pussy are pressed flush to his lips; he kisses, mouthing and smooching gently.

Tongue probing, exploring as he licks long, laborious stripes up the length of your cunt, teasing and prolonging the agony.

A scrumptious sixty-nine taking place on the kitchen floor that’s warm on his butt cheeks, whilst the oven continues to cook the food ready for his family gathering, who could all turn up at any given moment for their Christmas Smörgåsbord of festive treats.

But right now, neither of you care, gorging on your own feast of each other stuffed full and succulent in your mouths.

You groan and moan hungrily around his cock as he licks and sucks in tandem with you, devouring one another’s naughty bits and getting a good fill of them; a pre-course starter, as it were.

Marcus’ hips buck gently up into your mouth, getting in deeper and making you gag a little, but you don’t quit, if anything it makes you suck harder around him because you know he loves it when you choke a little on his impressive cock. You love it too.

“Ah yeah!” Marcus breathes out into your pussy as you massage his plump balls while sucking. You can feel him swell and pulse around your fingers as you roll them, squeezing and pulling gently.

But then you stop sucking, his cock slipping out of your mouth and whine out; unable to concentrate on him where he’s doing an absolute number on your clit with his own mouth.

“Oh God! Yeah!” You pant, whipping your head up and turning to glance him over your shoulder, but can’t see him - face buried deep into your cunt. “Shit! Marcus! Don't stop!” You cry, head lolling forward as your thighs quiver and tighten.

It feels amazing, his tongue, fuck...

He strokes his finger in, smearing and running your slick outwards, clearing the sticky tracks with his tongue. Groping your ass affectionately as he tastes you. Tonguing your hole; slipping in and out, and in and out, then in again as he feels you jostle and jerk above him.

Your own mouth becomes full of him again; that wet, delicious suction around his cock makes him groan into your folds.

“Baby, that’s so good,” he pants. He can feel you tease around his head, swallow him down deep and then pop him out to lick his length.

You start rocking, grinding on his face a little as the wet sucks around his mouth intensify.

His fingers grip into the warm flesh of your ass cheeks; unspoken encouragement for you to ride his face as he subtly pulls you back and forth onto it with the movement of your hips.

“Mmm, Marcus… fuck.” You moan. You can feel it all tingly and pulling tighter on your clit.

He sticks his tongue out, as far as it will go as you grind and bounce against it.

He slips his finger fully in your hole, index to the hilt, pushing and rubbing against that fleshy engorged spot inside. Working you up deliciously.

“Mm-hmm,” he enthuses, as your pussy slides up and down on his tongue with more uncouth abandon.

You groan around his cock, your mouth full of him as you start to soar. Heating up, reaching maximum temperature before you start to boil over.

“Yeah, mm-hmm… mm-hmm, like that, baby. God, you taste so good.” He mutters.

Your raspy pants tell him you're near; the way in which you get louder, throatier. The way your body starts to tense, to shiver against him. How you rock with more desperation and need. How your tight hole clenches around his finger, spasming wildly, as it builds within you.

Tight and binding until you finally snap and release.

“Uh-huh,” he groans around his tongue flicking at your clit. He can feel the tremors on his cock from your voice ribbing around it as you shudder and shake.

Marcus groans in delight as you come, flooding his mouth with the saccharine taste of you; basting him with your own sweet glaze.

And Marcus could die right now, happily pass on to the next life with his face buried under your pussy that’s gushing for him all in his mouth.

“Marcus!” You wail, gasping hard and burning up.

He kisses you through it; making out with your sopping pussy with heated strokes of his tongue and groping at your hips.

His hands slowly stroke over your smooth skin; your back, your hips, your ass cheeks as he feasts. Mouth open and tongue flicking across your pussy as you writhe and grind against him.

He can hear it, the way your own mouth sloshes around his cock more feverishly; sucking, drooling and God it feels so wet. He can feel how drenched his dick is, soaked in your saliva as you suck him harder and deeper.

He thrusts his hips up and little, sinking himself further into your mouth and soon he can’t bear it anymore.

“I need to fuck you,” Marcus pants, the strain in his voice palatable when comes up for air. “I need to be inside you, baby.”

“Do we have time?” You groan, trying not to dribble as your clit thunders and your legs buckle.

“There’s always time for pussy,” Marcus smirks, hungrily. You wipe at his chin, sticky and glistening with your slick, as he nuzzles into you.

He takes your remaining clothes off in the middle of the kitchen, unclipping your bra and groping at your breasts, pinching your nipples gently before he turns you around.

“Bend over, gorgeous.” Marcus croons over your shoulder in a wicked, enticing voice.

He places your knee up on the counter top; the bowls of food ready to serve up and congested all over it are shunted out of the way a little too harshly.

You feel the swollen head of his cock push gently, feel yourself opening up around him and sucking him into you.

“Fuck, you’re so hard, so big,” you mewl out to him as he slides in.

“Love it when you tell me I’m big...” Marcus smirks inside your ear.

“That’s because you are. Shit!” You gasp as he’s fully sheathed inside you, pussy stretching around him and feeling wonderfully tight. "I will never get tired of this."

"Good, because I'm going to keep doing this to you."

Your hands are flat on the counter top as he pulls your hips back onto him each time he rocks into you. You push back onto him willingly, hips doing the work; dancing on the end of his cock as you groan for him.

His big hands grip tight around your waist, holding you steady and in place so he can really go some.

He fucks you harder, upping the pace; his breath pelting your shoulder as he breathes out.

“God… you feel so good,” Marcus pants.

You turn over your shoulder to kiss him, clutching at the back of his head desperately as he fills you up with each shunt of his hips; twisting his hair inside your fingers as you cry out.

You push back more, his thighs slapping against your ass cheeks as he builds you up to another glittering crescendo.

“Marcus! Oh shit, I'm coming!” You call out as you contract and cream around him again.

"I can feel it, baby." He praises, mouthing into your shoulder blade. "I can feel you coming all over my cock. Shit, like that!"

Smirking after you've come again, he sits you on the counter top, hooking his arm under your leg as you hang off of it; pussy draped all over his cock as he thrusts, bouncing up into you.

Deep slaps of your skin with each pound echo around the kitchen as he whimpers through ragged breaths.

You cling on with one arm around his bronzed neck, your hand slipping on the counter top behind you and threatening to knock off one of the bowls at any given second, until crash!

“Shit!” He sighs with a breathy smile.

You both giggle, glancing down at the contents splashed all over the floor whilst you still fuck.

“Not the cranberry stuffing!” He sighs, and genuinely looks forlorn for a second, until you turn his jaw and focus back to you. You squeeze around his cock with your pussy and he grunts.

“There’s more, don’t worry.” You sway him back to your lips.

“Of course there is.” Marcus takes you upright in his arms, carrying you practically as he fucks harder up into you; bouncing on his cock like a space hopper in his arms as he stands upright.

Your hand is still behind you, pushing against the edge of the counter top now as you wrap your legs around his waist tighter.

He works you up and down his cock, rolling you around on it and panting wildly, groaning with you.

“I’m gonna come soon,” Marcus gasps into your face; his cheeks are glowing red on the apples, sweat glistening around his collarbone that you long to taste.

You nod encouragingly at him. “Come inside my mouth,” you urge as he starts to wind up into you again.

"Oh, baby!" He growls.

Marcus reaches blindly behind him and tugs at the chair you’d previously stood on and sits down with you riding in his lap.

He kisses over your clavicle, running his tongue around the skin until he gets to your nipple and sucks it, looking up at you.

“Oh, shit… baby. I’m close.” He groans, his eyes closing for a few seconds as you can see the strain on his face. His brown eyes hold wildly dilating pupils when he opens them, and you know he’s almost there.

You hop off his lap and drop to your knees and start sucking his cock again, tasting yourself all over it.

He places his hands gently on your head and pushes you down further onto him until he can feel your throat tightening around him.

"Yeah, like that... Oh, shit!"

You suck in air heavily through your nose, and feel him pulse and shudder. Seconds later, the blast hits the back of your throat as it gushes out of him.

“Ah, shit-shit!” Marcus drones as he comes, his socked toes curling inwards before relaxing as he empties out.

You come up for air, swallowing him down and smiling at him as you lick your lips.

“Mm, you taste really good.” You sigh contentedly. You plant delicate kisses on and around his stomach.

“Not as good as you,” he smiles with sparkly peepers.

The oven beeper goes off moments later as you’re rubbing at his thighs, scratching gently in the downy hairs at the top of them, and you glance over your shoulder at it.

“Good timing!” You giggle, as he growls and snorts into your neck as he envelopes you in a swamping cuddle, refusing to let you go.

Fighting him off, you grab a dish cloth and open the oven; the blast warms your bare nipples as Marcus stretches in the chair and watches you pull out the tray, full of the turkey, sniffing at it eagerly as you set it down on the counter top where he’d fucked you only minutes ago.

He smirks, rubbing at his arm and elbow as you catch his gaze.

“What?” You ask him. “I’ll die before I serve dry turkey to anyone.”

He starts laughing and reaches for his jeans. "Always a perfectionist."

"You love it."

"I do, I do." He agrees.

After you've both dressed and cleaned up the escaped broken bowl pieces and stuffing splattered across the floor, you’re in the middle of a deep, mesmerising clinch in the centre of the kitchen.

“Hell of a cook,” Marcus mutters to you, glancing at all the food. “I can’t wait to dig in.”

“I believe you’ve already had quite a fill.” You say, nuzzling into his nose and he chuckles.

“Not nearly enough.” He says, cupping your ass again. “I’ll be coming back for seconds, later. Maybe even thirds…”

“Mm, I’ll get the Pepto ready.” You breathe dreamily, licking into his succulent mouth.

“I wasn’t talking about the food,” Marcus chuckles.

“I know.” You smirk.

“Although, I'm definitely going to have to loosen my belt later.” He glances at all the food on the counter top and you watch as he licks his lips at it all.

The doorbell rings, startling you both, and you watch Marcus pull away from you reluctantly with a heated grin.

He opens the front door to be swamped by the many faces of his boisterous family members piling in.

You smile, fixing your hair as you go to greet them.

Good timing indeed.

12 DAYS OF PEDRO MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

#12 days of pedro #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal #marcus pike #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fluff #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

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abiiors · 6 months

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twelve days of christmas

okay, i'm back again because i had so much fun in october! but this time it's a bit different—as you can see, there are only 12 prompts and not 31 so you can have a bit more flexibility about when you want to post :)

no rules as such—you can write 1 or 2 or all 12 and post them any time in the month of december. once again, i'm posting this a month in advance so people have the time to plan + write

i hope you guys participate again and i would absolutely love to read your fics so pls tag #christmas75 if you use these <33

typed list of prompts under the cut

1] secret santa 2] we went to winter wonderland 3] under the mistletoe 4] nightmare before christmas 5] naughty vs nice 6] gingerbread house 7] all i want for christmas 8] eggnog and mulled wine 9] snowed in 10] ugly sweater party 11] home for christmas 12] midnight kisses

(ps: i made these for me and my mutuals in the 1975 fandom but if you want to use these for other fandoms, please feel free to do so :) however i'd really appreciate if you didn't use the christmas75 tag <3)

#reblogs are really appreciated <3 #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #george daniel #adam hann #christmas prompts #christmas #christmas75 #winter prompts #writing prompts #christmas writing prompts #christmas writing challenge #12 days of christmas #winter #writing prompt

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slytherhys · 4 months

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12 Days of Christmas - ACOTAR Edition

In the spirit of the Holidays, I will be writing & posting short stories about the ACOTAR characters for the next 12 days. Please note that some will be shorter than others and that this is simply meant to be a fun time for everyone that loves these characters as much as I do!

PS. I'm open to requests.

You can also find this series on AO3 - as well as all my other stories.

8th day of christmas - gingerbread house

CW: Explicit Sexual Content

No Crying Over Spilled Icing (Elriel NSFW)

Elain eyed the gingerbread house in front of her with something akin to misery. Only twenty minutes ago, when she had first taken the dough out of the oven, she had been immensely proud of herself – it had been baked to perfection, neither too dry nor too moist, with a beautiful golden-brown colouring and a smell so sweet Elain had fought herself not to eat the whole thing in one go.

Buttercream had been used to make intricate, delicate patterns on what would be the walls, as well as cute little tiles for the rooftop. Candies, too, had been used aplenty. It had looked promising. Beautiful even.

But that had been before she had realised one of the walls was cut too short – something Elain hadn’t noticed until she started setting everything together – giving the house a sort of crooked, haunted look that made it resemble more a Halloween decoration than a Solstice treat. The icing, of course, hadn’t helped either. The walls barely stuck together, and the rooftop was slowly falling to its demise. Elain watched it all unfold, unblinking.

A great architect Elain did not make.

When she had first told Feyre she’d be bringing her own gingerbread house – and not one of those sets the bakery sold every Solstice – she hadn’t been expecting a building made of dessert to be so damn infuriating. She was set to leave in an hour and a half, and she doubted she had the needed time to try it all over again. She doubted she could find the will to do it in the first place.

“What are you doing?” A deep voice startled her, her eyes finally turning away from the baked mess in front of her.

“A gingerbread house.” If it could be called that. It definitely didn’t look like one.

Azriel tilted his head, eyeing the house with a stoical expression. “Are those the ones from the bakery downtown?” His eyes flickered to hers. “Cassian had mentioned how he wanted to try and build one.”

Elain huffed, suddenly affronted. “Of course not.” Maybe she should have though.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Right. Dumb question.” He narrowed his eyes, eyeing the eyesore with curiosity. “Why is it…slanted, though?”

“Well, first the icing melted,” She explained, hating the way her voice wavered. “And then the wall on the left was too short.” Azriel nodded along as if she was making perfect sense. “And it smelled really good, so I might’ve eaten one of the windows and now it looks weird.” She dropped her eyes again. “By the cauldron, it’s barely salvageable.”

“Why not just take the side of the roof that’s slipping away? It could probably stand, even if it’d be a little crooked.”

She bristled. “Then it’ll be a gingerbread box.” He gave no indication whatsoever that this information alarmed him. “Az, no one wants to eat a gingerbread box.”

Azriel smirked. As if it were funny. “Calm down, princess.” He looked at the mess in front of them, going around the counter so he could stand by her side. “We can fix this.” He said, and Elain watched from the corner of her eyes as he came to stand right behind her instead, his arms going around her as he reached for the gingerbread in front of her.

“What are you doing?” She gasped.

“Why, helping you, of course.”

She highly doubted he was that innocent. His scent surrounded her, the heat from his body resting upon her skin as a gentle caress. It was all Elain could do to keep her eyes open, to follow his hands as he gently studied her creation. She could hear his steady breathing, quickly realising just how close he was to her. His lips were by her ear, his front pressing against her back every so often.

“Maybe we could do a tent instead?”

Elain frowned at the suggestion. It could work, even if it felt lazy to do so. She felt his hands on her hips, caressing her as she mumbled, “I suppose so.”

He seemed pleased by her quick acceptance, the feeling of his lips so faint against her skin, it was nearly unnoticeable. “Or just accept the defeat and do something else instead.”

Elain hadn’t realized she had closed her eyes, but at the sound of his lewd proposal, she snapped them open, promptly stepping closer to the counter and stepping away from him. “You’re distracting me.”

“Am I?” He stepped closer once again, pressing his nose against her neck, his lips a breath away from touching her fevered skin. “You smell good.”

Elain nearly whimpered “That’s just the gingerbread.”

He pressed his mouth against her shoulder, nibbling softly as if he couldn’t help but taste her. “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

She turned around, ignoring her erratic breathing. “I still need to bake another batch-” She gasped as she felt his hands on her waist, raising her so she was sitting on the counter before she could finish her sentence. “Azriel, we don’t have enough time for that.” Truth be told, she was doing very little to push him away.

Azriel, of course, noticed that as well.

“I think we have more than enough time, princess.” He said, voice raspy as he stepped even closer. Elain wasn’t sure where her body ended and where his began, but as he kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, it felt like the most urgent thing that he stepped even closer.

Elain nearly whimpered as he pulled away, panting as he grabbed the hem of her skirts, pulling them up at an agonising speed.

Elain, however, wasn’t to be deterred. “Someone’s cocky.” She said, far too breathy for it to mean much.

He raised an eyebrow, scarred hands trailing up her legs. “Is that a challenge princess?”

Elain ignored the goosebumps raising all over her skin, ignored the craving that seemed to throb with her every heartbeat. “If you’re up for it.”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” A smirk was all the warning she got before Azriel pressed his face between her legs. Elain cried out, mindless with want. Her legs quickly wrapped around his shoulders, pressing him closer to her at the first touch of his tongue against her center. She was vaguely aware of leaning back on her hands, accidentally spilling what remained of the icing on the counter.

She couldn’t bring herself to care – she reached for his hair with her other hand, moaning as he devoured her. He moaned her name against her core as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was a man starved, licking her, and fucking her with his tongue as if this was both the first and the last time he ever got to do this. The feeling of his large, scarred hands pulling her thighs apart, the scratch of his beard against her sensitive skin, it was all too much. Azriel had barely pushed a finger inside her before Elain was tumbling over the edge, his name on her lips as she bucked against his mouth over and over and over again.

“Sweetest fucking thing in the world.” He growled, more to himself than to her. He was panting, eyes dark as he took her in. She probably looked like a mess, panting, hands covered in icing, legs opened in a lewd display of her arousal. Elain felt herself blush under his scrutiny, but any embarrassment quickly faded as he took her mouth, his tongue seeking hers. “Turn around, princess.” He mumbled against her lips, helping her get down from the counter before lightly slapping her ass. “We’re on a schedule.”

Funnily enough, that was the furthest thing from her mind. Nothing mattered – not the party, not the spilled icing, not even the gingerbread house that had somehow ended up splattered on the kitchen floor. There was nothing but him. Not as he pushed inside her, his length stretching her as if it were their very first time together. Her every nerve-ending was on fire, her body craving him even as he filled her again and again. There were only the sounds he made as he rutted into her, the gentleness in his hands as he pulled her by her hair, the wantonness in the way he kissed her.

“You’re making such a mess, princess.” He panted against her ear, pulling down her corset, his hands quickly grabbing into her bare tits.

“Please.”

“Are you close?” Elain could do nothing but nod. He had barely pulled out of her when she was being turned around, her eyes quickly finding his as he pushed back inside in one swift move, as if he had never left. “I need to see you when you come.” And then he was wrapping her leg over his hip, filling her even deeper.

He wrapped his lips around her nipple, nibbling on the sensitive skin as his cock kept pounding into her. The feel of his mouth, of his cock… All Elain could do was scream out his name as she crashed, coming around his cock just as he spilled into her.

“Fuck.” He panted, hips still bucking against her.

Elain giggled, high on his touch. “Think I still have time to bake something?” She asked, shamelessly pressing her lips to his chest, his throat, his lips, taking them between her teeth and pulling gently. He hissed.

“Not if you keep doing that.” His gaze roved over her before finally settling on her eyes with a mischievous glint. “And I don’t think that gingerbread cake is salvageable anymore.”

Elain supposed not, but she wasn’t a quitter.

In no time – and with a lot of effort – Elain was kicking Azriel out of the kitchen, scrubbing every nook and cranny of the counter and busying herself with something else. Something quick that wouldn’t raise any eyebrows.

Or so she had hoped.

“Where’s the gingerbread house?” Feyre asked only a few minutes later, eyeing the plain gingerbread cookies Elain had managed to bake in the measly thirty minutes she had been left with. Azriel, at Feyre’s question, gave Elain a heated stare, a smirk blooming on his lips as he casually strolled into the living room without a care in the world. Elain felt her cheeks heat up, pointedly ignoring her sister’s knowing smile. “Had a change of heart?”

Elain cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders as she made her way to the kitchen. “Sure,” she said. “let’s call it that.”

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elain x azriel #pro elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #christmas fic #gingerbread house #feyre archeron #12 days of christmas acotar edition #christmas stories #christmas #happy solstice #christmas prompts #my writing

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ellemj · 4 months

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Letters to Santa, Part 1: 12 Days of Smut #11

Bucky Barnes x Reader 2-Part Fic

Request/prompt courtesy of @stuckysbike:

Warnings: profanity, mentions of orgasms, allusions to smut, dirty letter writing, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I wasn't planning to do any sort of multi-part stuff for this 12 Days of Smut thing, I wanted to churn out a bunch of smutty one-shots so you guys could have a lil Christmas meal every day. But when I started writing this today I kinda fell in love with the last couple of paragraphs and it felt so RIGHT leaving it the way I did. So, it looks like you guys will be getting part 2 of this tomorrow which will be s m u t t y and also a separate smut #12 tomorrow. Thanks to @stuckysbike for this amazing prompt that I’ve been thinking about for DAYS now.

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is any one of the following, you can pick for me because I’m a little indecisive:

someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present

someone to give me a Christmas miracle (three orgasms in one night, if that’s not too much to ask)

someone to cum down my chimney

With love,

Y/n

“Oh my god, this is perfect!” Natasha laughs out the words as she waves your letter around in the air. “We have to mail this. I need someone to find the address for the North Pole.”

“Come on, Nat. Santa’s already put me on his naughty list. I’m not getting anything this year.” You say with a pout, pushing your bottom lip out.

“It’s true, I saw her submit a half-finished mission report last week.” Wanda points out. You roll your eyes before leaning back on the couch and raising your nearly empty beer bottle to your lips. You take a long sip as Nat, Wanda, and Sharon continue reading each other’s dirty letters to Santa and teasing each other. You’re enjoying sitting through the fun of girls night like you do every Friday night, until you hear the elevator ding across the room. Just as you turn your head to see who it’s carried upstairs, the doors slide open to reveal Sam and Bucky. Sam opens his arms wide upon seeing the four of you piled together on the couch, clearly loving that he’s just stumbled into his first girls night.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks excitedly, quickly making his way over to the couch and seating himself on the end of the sectional.

“A bunch of girls writing dirty letters to Santa? Yes.” Sharon reveals all. You shoot her a faux-angry glare.

“Sharon, he’s a guy. You’re not supposed to tell him anything about girl’s night.” Wanda reprimands her jokingly. Sharon lifts her hands in surrender.

“Hey, this is the first one I’ve been invited to, no one told me the rules. I’m also a little drunk, it’s not my fault.”

Your eyes snap back over to Sam just in time to see him peering over Nat’s shoulder, trying to get a look at your very own dirty letter to Santa. You’re quick to scramble to your feet and snatch the piece of paper from Nat’s hand, narrowing your eyes at Sam.

“If you don’t have a sled and…eight…no, nine reindeer, then this isn’t for you.” You say coldly, carefully folding the letter and setting it on the coffee table that’s littered with pens, beer bottles, and various snacks.

“I could have a sled.” Sam offers, eyeing where your letter now sits.

“You have wings, it’s not the same.” Sharon quips. As everyone continues to joke and tease each other around the coffee table, you’re sitting back and enjoying the nice buzz you feel from the alcohol you’ve consumed so far tonight. After another minute of listening to your friends have the time of their lives, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched. You let your eyes float around from Wanda to Nat, then to Sam at the end of the couch, and then to Sharon. No one’s looking at you. That’s when you remember the silent sixth person in the room. You turn your head and look over your shoulder, finding Bucky standing in the kitchen, sipping from his own bottle of beer as he stares right at you. Any other person caught staring would look away. That’s the normal thing to do, right? But Bucky has never looked away, of all of the times you’ve caught him staring. Maybe it’s an alpha male type of behavior you could learn about on Animal planet, hell if you know, but whatever it is Bucky has it bad. Sam jokingly refers to him as the bionic staring machine and you’ve never heard anything more accurate. However, you’ve noticed lately that Bucky stares at you a hell of a lot more than he stares at anyone else. Is it wishful thinking? Maybe. You have no problem admitting that the man is annoyingly attractive, and the fact that he tends to be so quiet and elusive only adds to the attraction. Like they say, a crush is just a lack of information. If Bucky talked more, you’d easily lose your attraction to him. You’re sure of that.

You’re lightly engaging in the conversation with Sam and the girls again, but you can still feel Bucky’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head as you speak. When he finally silently slips out of the kitchen and disappears down the hallway that leads to everyone’s rooms, you’re relieved. You don’t know why you always find it so hard to relax around him. He puts you on edge for a reason you’ll never understand.

“Okay, I think it’s time for everyone to get to bed. We have a full day tomorrow with baking Christmas cookies, the gingerbread house contest, and the Christmas dinner.” Wanda reminds everyone. She’s the first one to rise from the couch, gathering up the pens and blank pieces of paper to put them away. You’re quick to start collecting the empty beer bottles from the coffee table, trying to do your part. You’re so preoccupied with straightening up the small mess you all left in the kitchen that you don’t even notice Natasha tucking your dirty letter to Santa into the waistband of her pants. In fact, the dirty letter doesn’t even cross your mind as you finish up in the kitchen and head to your room for the night.

Natasha thinks of herself as a matchmaker of sorts, or at least someone who’s good at reading chemistry between people. She might not know enough to say that two people are destined to marry and have a bunch of kids together, but she knows when two people would have a good physical relationship. That particular skill of hers is what leads her not only to steal your dirty letter to Santa, but to slide it under Bucky’s door as she passes his room to get to her own a little while later. What a devious Black Widow your best friend is.

---

Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Someone to give me a Christmas miracle of three orgasms in one night. Someone to cum down my chimney.

Bucky has read the letter a total of four times, each time making his dick a little harder and his chest rise and fall a little faster. He stares at the bottom of the page where you so neatly signed your name. It’s the dirty letter you wrote just earlier during girls night. Bucky isn’t even questioning the fact that this is how the four of you chose to spend your evening. His only question is how and why your letter ended up sitting on the floor right inside of his door after he finished showering. Did you slide it under there yourself? Did someone else do it? Are you expecting him to give you one of these gifts?

He sits on the side of his bed still staring down at the piece of paper in his hand, but he’s not reading it anymore. He’s thinking back to every single interaction he’s ever had with you, from the most minor to the most memorable. Hell, they’ve all been memorable. Every lingering look, every seemingly accidental touch of your thigh against his when you’re in the quinjet or in the conference room for a briefing, every damn word you’ve ever said to him. There’s always been some kind of a spark between the two of you, a clear sexual tension that was begging to be broken, but neither of you ever did a thing about it. So, why now is Bucky thinking about doing something about it? If you slipped the letter under his door, then it’s obviously something you want him to do. You gave him a fucking menu of choices. But if you didn’t slip it under the door, then who else has noticed the sexual tension between you two and decided that it was their job to remedy it?

Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Someone to give me a Christmas miracle of three orgasms in one night. Someone to cum down my chimney.

Bucky folds the piece of paper into a small rectangle before placing it in the top drawer of his nightstand and taking a deep breath in.

All of the above. That’s what he chooses for you.

TAG LIST:

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier #12 days of smut

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tetheredfeathers · 2 months

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Some of my favourite fics set during CF

My favorite everlark moments are the months before and after the announcement of the quell. Anyway here are some fics to fill that void. All are canon compliant except for one.

Because she couldn't possibly..... by ETNRL4L

An absolute favorite, the eyelash scene in Peeta's pov. The writing is impeccable.

knit 2 together by loveleee

Katniss knits, Peeta paints. So sweet.

Seven Days by ThirtySomething

Another one about them working on the plantbook, so bitterweet.

The Archer's Aim by sophinisba

A villanelle for the Catching Fire training montage. Let's just say I cried.

The Last Sunday by IzzySamson

Training before the quell in Gale's Pov. Loved the insight into Gale's head watching everlark be so angsty and obvious lol.

Capital Vices and Distinct Virtues

This one is so beautiful and well written I cannot emphasize enough.

Katniss and Peeta debate the merits of mankind, its virtue and vice, with District Twelve as a stage. Katniss begins to realize something she won't fully understand until after the rebellion. Canon-compliant CF interlude. Round 4 PiP submission for the sin of pride, though all seven make an appearance.

Sneak Attack by burkygirl

This one is so fluffy and cosy, ughhhhh loved it. SLight canon divergence tho. This is the only one rest are all canon complaint.

A surprise during Peeta's walk home from the bakery could change everything. A little winter Everlark interlude post-Victory Tour. Written for Day 1 of the Yuletide in Panem: 12 Days of Christmas challenge on Tumblr.

Intimate Bystander by burkygirl

Love this author so much.💕💕

Katniss said it was just for the cameras. Gale believed her until he discovered she screams for Peeta in the night. In the days before the Quarter Quell, Gale finds out there’s more to Katniss’s relationship with Peeta than she’s led him to believe. In-Panem, mostly Canon. Everlark Fic Exchange, Springtime Edition, Prompt 1 – Gale walks in on/eavesdrops/overhears Everlark being intimate.

Conversations by tethered_feathers

Last but not least one by me, still writing tho.

Peeta and Katniss' conversations over the course of CF

#katniss everdeen #the hunger games #everlark #peeta mellark #katniss and peeta #katniss x peeta #the hunger games katniss #thgseries #thg fanfiction #thg series #thglibrary masterlist #everlark fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3fic #everlark smut

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aftgficrec · 6 months

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ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention