#celebrating christmas by getting onto the naughty list

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Pine-ing For You

Father Paul has a little accident while trying to set up Christmas lights and you decide to get festive.

I got this idea while chatting with @aherdofbees​, and together we developed it to get our dear priest into quite the delicious situation. She made a 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 illustration that goes with this fic. Go on, click the linkie and like and reblog, because it truly is amazing. 

Thank you so much for the inspiration Allison, I loved writing this!

NSFT/18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

Pine-ing For You - 5.3K

tw: explicit sexual themes, consensual unprotected sex, body worship, smut with a lot of feelings™, attmepts at humour

Crockett Island may have seemed dull most of the time to the untrained eye, but after more than a year of living there you knew better. The people, while many of them a bit subdued, all had their little joys in life, their passions, and though they were wary of strangers that came into their little town at first, they were among the most kind and hospitable folks you had the good fortune to have met.

However, when Christmas rolled around, even the untrained eye could perceive the shift in atmosphere. It was a jolly holiday after all and the people indeed were slightly jollier. Little by little, decorations began appearing around the island. Many of them were small and decent, maybe just a wreath on a door, or an electric candlestick set in a window. Some were larger, Christmas lights on the roof, perhaps a little reindeer in the front yard. Few decorated more.

Some of these more festive looking places were the schoolhouse, which had student-made snowflakes in the windows, garlands on the windowsills, lights hung from the roof and even a charming wooden nativity scene in front. The Flynn house and The Greene house also breathed a gentle Christmas atmosphere to everyone who walked by. And then, there was Saint Patrick’s. Apparently, Monsignor Pruitt adored Christmas more than anyone else on the island and it showed. Dozens and dozens of various decorations were found in one of the storage areas of the church by Father Paul, who literally begged you to help him put them up. Which you were more than happy to do.

So now there were artificial swags at every corner of the small church, boughs of holly, wreaths, candles and another nativity set, placed right in front of the altar. This one was more detailed and painted, obviously made to be inside rather than face the weather conditions. And it was quite obvious Monsignor Pruitt took great pride in his decor collection. All that was missing were some Christmas trees.

—

Many residents of Crockett Island used artificial trees for their Christmas festivities, but there were still those who couldn’t imagine celebrating their lord’s birthday without a fine fir or a pine. One day, about a week before Christmas, a group of volunteers would gather on one of the larger fishing ships and set off to the mainland to pick out live trees for everyone on the island who wanted one. Ordering worked through simple paper forms, delivered to mailboxes by Dolly Scarborough. One would write down their name, preferred kind of tree, and its size. Filled out forms were then dropped off in the little town hall, along with the money for it. Unlike everyone else (including you) who ordered only one tree, Father Paul ordered three - two larger to be placed inside the church, one smaller for his rectory. He was, of course, among the volunteers going to actually pick the trees up.

They returned around eleven o’clock in the morning. You stood on the dock, looking at the fishing boat full of tied trees with a smile. Paul would be hauling the trees for Saint Patrick’s and the rectory first, with the help from Ed and Riley Flynn, and you convinced Sturge to help you carry the large pine tree you asked for to your home.

“Thank you again,” you said, walking next to him. You genuinely tried to help him carry it, but after a few minutes of very awkward walking and a few broken off twigs, the handyman simply threw the big tree over his shoulder and hauled it the rest of the way by himself. “Do you accept payment in gingerbreads?” you asked with a grin and raised eyebrows. Sturge thought for a while: “Yeah. But it will cost you.” “Oh? How much?” you chuckled. “I want the entire sheet.” You gave a whistle and made an amused ‘tsk’ sound: “Inflation these days…”

—

Two hours later, you stood at your kitchen counter, decorating gingerbreads with white chocolate. The pine stood tall and proud in your living room. It truly was a beautiful tree, healthy and dense, its herby scent, having already filled the room it stood in, was seeping through the rest of your house. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by some shuffling from the hallway.

“Hmm, it smells nice in here,” came a dreamy voice, making you smile. When footsteps began approaching the kitchen, you turned around to greet the priest. But then: “What are you wearing?” you asked, laughing softly. Father Paul was dressed in his skinny jeans, like usual. What wasn’t usual however, was the 'ugly Christmas jumper' instead of the black clerical shirt, its colour reminding you of his gold chasuble. There was a white nordic pattern on front, consisting of snowflakes and reindeers. It didn’t look terrible, but since you never before saw Paul wearing something like this, it kind of took your breath away for a moment.

“Do you like it?” asked Paul with a smile, pulling at his sleeves which you noticed were rather tight at the wrists. “It’s hideous,” you replied snarkily, making the priest chuckle and walk closer to you. He noticed the half decorated gingerbreads right away and was just about to reach for one when you lightly slapped his hand away. “Ouch. What was that for?” asked Paul, fake hurt in his voice. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his torso: “These are for Sturge, for lending me a hand with that tree.” “Oh I see,” replied your lover, understanding on his face, “will you make some for us, too?” You rolled your eyes and couldn’t help but smile: “Of course I will, have I ever neglected you?”

Paul pulled you close to press a soft kiss against your lips, claiming your entire attention. Therefore, you didn’t notice his hand slowly creeping up and onto the counter until it was too late, and one of the gingerbreads was snatched and promptly bit into by the father. “You scoundrel!” you smacked his chest, while Paul only laughed with his mouth full, “you’re lucky I love you.”

He swallowed his bite and batted his eyelashes at you: “it must be the sweater.” You smirked and squinted your eyes. “The jumper is hideous,” you repeated and Paul shook his head: “You really think that?” You didn’t. Taking him in once more, you had to admit that it did look rather flattering on Paul’s tall lean frame. “I knew it,” he said smugly, “you can’t lie to me, you like it.” “I don’t like it,” you tried once more, the corners of your lips turning up inadvertently. Paul took another bite of the gingerbread: “Hm, you love it.”

A few moments later, during which you picked at the soft wool of your lover’s jumper while he hummed appreciatively at the taste of your baking, you gave him a kittenish smile: “Since you’ve got nothing better to do right now than be a menace,” he opened his mouth in mock-offence before smiling cheekily, “you could go and start with the Christmas tree, what do you say?” “Hm,” he thought, “I thought we’d do it together?” Your arms encircled his waist again, pulling him closer and lifting your head to meet his eyes: “We will, but you could at least start putting the lights on. It’s a beast of a tree and I wouldn’t be able to reach the top, unlike a certain tall priest.”

He gave you a soft smile and pecked the tip of your nose, before brushing his lips against yours: “Very well.” You watched in curiosity, as his hands came up to rest on your hips and his eyes bore into your own. And then, in less than a second, he was scrambling away, another gingerbread in his hand. You gasped and stared after him, mischievous dark eyes twinkling at you until he rounded a corner. “Unbelievable!” you called after him.

—

You were pretty happy with your work, before you on the counter lay a sheet of nicely decorated gingerbreads of various shapes. Save for the two Father Paul stole right under your nose, but you supposed Sturge wouldn’t really notice that. You were in the middle of moving them into a container, when a dull thud sounded from the living room. “Paul? Is everything alright?” you called. A deafening silence was your only answer for several seconds and you started getting worried, when Paul’s sheepish voice reached your ears: “Um… A little help here, (F/N)?” You finished storing the cookies away, wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the living room.

You couldn’t see the priest at first, but when you did, you began giggling uncontrollably. Paul was lying on his stomach very nearly under the tree, the christmas lights cord in his outstretched hand. His torso was bare and you could see the yellow jumper and white undershirt tangled around Paul’s arms, caught on one of the tree’s strong branches. He was looking at you abashed, his cheeks a little rosy with embarrassment.

You learned fairly early on in your relationship that for all of Paul’s amazing qualities, his skill as a priest, his knack for cooking, and his knowledge of your body as a lover, he was sometimes quite clumsy and very accident prone. A week wouldn’t pass without him bashing his little toe on some piece of furniture and you’d often find small bruises on his arms and legs, prompting him to sheepishly explain the cause for them. It was usually doors.

“I’m so sorry,” you said after you caught your breath and walked closer to him, kneeling by his side, “but what happened?” Father Paul released a huff and an adorable pout formed on his lips. “I wanted to turn on the lights. I got under the tree, on my knees, and tried to plug the cord into the socket. I couldn’t reach it though, and wanted to get out, try a different angle. But, um,” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue, “I caught my shirt on a branch. I tried to untangle it, but couldn’t. So I thought I’d just try to take the shirt off, free it from the branch and put it on again. This is as far as I got…” The priest looked angrily at his hands, “the sleeves are too tight at the wrists, I can’t get my hands out! I mean, I tried yanking away, but the tree swayed rather nastily and I was worried it would collapse on top of me.”

“Wait,” you said with an amused grin, “are you really actually trapped? You can’t get out of there?” Father Paul 'tsked: “Yes. I am trapped under a Christmas tree. Can you help me?” You smiled softly at him and pet his hair. You proceeded to move forward, crawling under the tree yourself (mindful of any mischievous branches) and snatching the cord from Paul’s hand. You plugged it in and the living room was suddenly illuminated by multicoloured Christmas lights. You crawled back and sat leisurely on the ground, close to the priest’s head. Paul looked at you expectantly for a while, but after seeing you showed no intention to free him, a look of shock came over his face: "Wha- You're really going to leave me here?”

You once more moved your hand to his head, fingers carding through his dark hair: “'Leaving you' is the last thing on my mind,” you moved until you were lying down next to him, hand now coming to stroke his cheek and jaw, “but right now, I think I like you exactly. Where. You. Are,” you exaggerated each word, thumb moving to stroke the edges of Paul’s lips. “You look like an early Christmas present,” you purred, leaning your head on your free hand. Paul closed his eyes at the feeling of your clever fingers once again combing through the soft curls on the back of his neck. “Are you-... are you really trying to seduce me while I’m trapped under a Christmas tree?”

You giggled airily, tugging at the soft hair gently and delighting in Paul’s tiny little gasps: “Hmm, maybe… Is it working?” Paul’s head fell down to lean on his arms, his cheeks got even darker and in a quiet voice he replied: “A little.” You slowly scratched at his scalp, smiling lovingly each time he leaned into your touch. "Hey," you said then, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you. Your thumb found his lips again and you gave him a look he could read perfectly by now. 'Tell me you're not ok with this and I'll stop.' it said. Warmth spread through Paul's chest, followed by a gentle tingle of anticipation.

He pressed his lips against your thumb further in a small kiss, before smiling slightly and blinking at you coquettishly, and he too attempted to speak to you with his eyes: ‘I want this’.

You gave him one more gentle smile, before leaning back and looking at him appreciatively: “My, my, I must have been so nice this year, what a lovely present.” The priest chuckled into his arms: “Are you going to tear the wrapping paper off?” Your head cocked to the side, a wolfish grin on your face. One fingertip stroked along Paul’s earlobe, descending down upon his pulsepoint and feeling his increasing heartbeat. “Nope, I don’t do that, it’s no fun” you shook your head, “I always unwrap presents slowly, peeling the tape off and trying not to damage the paper. Sometimes I even stop midway, because the anticipation makes it so much better.

“I think I’ll start with the parts that are unwrapped already,” you purred into his ear and moved closer, both of your hands coming to rest on his shoulders while you pressed small kisses into his hair, lips moving down to brush against the nape of his neck. “Hm,” you sighed contently, “such a pretty neck, long and elegant, like a swan, almost regal,” you bit lightly at the beginning of his spine, making your lover release a short gasp, “so sensitive.” You moved lower, hands sliding across shoulder blades: “Beautiful golden skin, like honey, soft, and warm, and very sweet.” Father Paul could feel more hotness entering his already red cheeks. Your whispered praises always had a profound effect on him. He hid his face in his arms.

“Strong shoulders and back, muscles defined perfectly but gently,” you continued and now dragged your fingernails across the entire length of the priest's back, making him quietly groan in pleasure. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t like their back scratched, but Paul seemed particularly enraptured by it. You made sure to lightly graze every inch of the golden skin, finding all the right spots, all the while pushing hot kisses onto every single freckle you could see and connecting them with your tongue.

Paul couldn’t help but chuckle when he felt your hands give his clothed bum a squeeze. “Girls love a guy with a lovely arse, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” you whispered cheekily and gave the lovely arse another squeeze, “alright, let me see the other side of this present before I start unwrapping it further.”

You helped Paul carefully roll over and onto his back, his wrists, still bound by his own clothes, now crossed over one another. Dark hair peeked at you from under the priest’s arms, and his pink nipples looked like little pearls screaming for attention. And they weren’t the only thing craving attention. Paul’s erection was tenting the dark grey skinny jeans and his eyes fluttered when you ran a finger over it. You gave him a grin: “Sorry, I’ve always been a little impatient, but I promise I’ll try to be good.” Paul shuddered out a laugh, his breathing a little shallow: “I wouldn’t be mad either way.”

Slowly you put a leg over his waist and straddled your lover: “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah,” you leaned forward and took his face into your hands, thumbs caressing his brow. “Thick, expressive eyebrows… Dark eyes, so, so large. Like a dolly,” you leaned forward to press your lips against Paul’s eyelids, then pulled away again, “cute, well defined nose, perfect for kissing,” once more you made your point by pecking the entire length of your lover’s nose, making him produce a fluttery chuckle.

“Though, of course, your entire face is perfect for kissing,” you smiled at him lovingly and then your fingers traced the edges of his lips, “but most of all it’s your mouth. That perfect cupid’s bow. I see it, and I want to trap it between my own lips. When you smile, when you pout, when you do that adorable little mouth shrug… When you talk, to me, to your congregation. When your mouth is slightly open and I can see your upper teeth just peeking through. I always want to kiss you.”

You crushed your lips against Paul’s, teeth clashing and tongues moulding against each other. He groaned into your hungry mouth and wanted to curl his arms around you, but soon remembered he was bound and released a desperate sound instead. You only parted from him when the lack of oxygen threatened to take your consciousness away. A tiny string of saliva followed you for a bit, before it snapped and landed on Paul's kiss bruised lips. You kissed the slight cleft in his chin and playfully dipped your tongue into it.

The emotion in your eyes as you pulled back could have made Paul cry, you were looking at him as if he was the rarest jewel, the most fantastical treasure in the world, as if he was your sun and moon and stars. “You have no idea just how beautiful you really are, do you? Inside and out,” you whispered, hands returning to stroke the side of the priest’s face, which was once more getting hot. This time however, he couldn’t hide it and as he lay there, absorbing each and every one of your words, Paul realised he didn’t even want to hide. You leaned closer again, whispering against his open mouth: “So beautiful, so very pretty.” An involuntary moan escaped him.

You smiled against his mouth, then ducked your head lower, nibbling softly around Paul's jawline before descending upon his throat, teeth scraping over his Adam's apple right as he swallowed heavily. You shifted until you sat directly on his hips and rolled your own, rubbing against his constricted erection and making his head fall back, those fine lips opening wordlessly. He took large gulps of air, hands involuntarily trying against his restraints once more. “Soon,” you promised, rolling your hips again, “but do try not to move your hands too much. I really don’t want the tree to actually fall down on our heads. Can you imagine explaining that to Sarah, when we show up all bruised and battered?”

The priest made an unhappy little sound, but tried to keep his hands as still as he could anyway. You made your way down his chest, nuzzling your face into his soft skin and delivering soft kisses and playful bites every time you felt like it. Paul sighed when your lips reached one of his nipples. You circled the nub with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth and pinching it with your teeth lightly. You used your fingers to stimulate the other nipple in perfect synchronisation with your mouth, trying various techniques and listening to Paul’s shallow gasps and quiet groans for feedback.

After alternating between the two, now red and swollen, buds for several minutes, you decided to carry on with your adventurous journey across Paul’s exquisite body, and ran the tips of your fingers against his ribs teasingly. You grinned widely when your lover made a little jump, trying to get away from your touch now: “N-no, don’t,” he gasped, but it was pointless. You again stroked over his ribs and under his arms, and was soon rewarded with choked laughter. “A-angel, please… please don’t tickle me right now,” he begged in between chuckles. You giggled, but took mercy on him, climbing up to steal a kiss: “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t resist.”

You sat back onto his thighs and gave the priest a reassuring smile after you laid your hands on his sensitive ribs again, this time your entire palms, intent on caressing him and bringing him pleasure. You stroked down, soon finding an obstacle in your way. Father Paul’s jeans looked so, so tight around his hard shaft it must’ve been painful, and you licked your lips as you made eye contact with him and rubbed the heel of your hand over his length. He shuddered and his eyes fluttered closed on their own. You repeated the motion, making your lover groan with pleasure.

“I think it’s time for me to unwrap my present,” you whispered huskily and waited for him to look at you. When he did, you sat even further away, all the way above his knees, and began making a show of popping open the button and torturingly slowly pulling his zipper down. Your fingers curled below the waistline on each side of the trousers and you tugged them down, little by little, revealing one, then two edges of his hip bone, protruding under his skin enticingly. You left the jeans bunched in the middle of his thighs and observed the priest amorously.

His hands, still crossed at the wrists above his head were balled into fists, fingers white at the knuckles. Paul’s face was flushed dark pink, with sweat gathering in his hairline, one drop of it having already rolled down his cheek. His lips were swollen from kissing. Well, his upper lip anyway, the bottom one was currently trapped between Paul’s teeth, but you presumed it’d be in a similar condition. He was breathing hard, his eyes dark with lust, and there was a damp spot on the front of his grey boxer briefs. You bowed to press a wet kiss just below his sternum, then lower, then lower again, relishing the soft tender skin of the priest's tummy.

You drew a circle around Father Paul’s belly button with your tongue and started pinching the area underneath with your teeth, teasing at the happy trail going down into his underwear. You looked up after reaching the waistband, catching your lover’s intense gaze. He whimpered softly when instead of going where he needed you the most, you bit into that tempting hip bone. “Please…” he whispered, feeling like he was going to go insane if you were to tease him much longer. Paul didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until your soft hand touched his cheek and he opened them again. You were smiling at him warmly, a look filled with tenderness. He willingly opened his mouth for you when you moved your hand to the back of his neck and kissed him soundly.

At the same time you finally pushed your hand under the waistband of his briefs and took a hold of his aching member. Paul moaned into your mouth in relief, his eyes shutting closed and eyebrows turning upwards. You fondled his manhood steadily, massaging it slowly with your thumb drawing little circles into the heated skin. He breathed hard against your mouth once he had to part for breath, and you stuck your tongue out to trace his lips before pushing it back between them. You were slow in your movements, yet Paul soon found himself nearing his peak.

“Wait,” he managed to get out and you let go of him right away. He tried to convey what he wanted with his eyes and, thankfully, you seemed to understand.  You climbed off of him, lying down by his side instead so you could make out some more. From his position, Paul now had some access to your neck and he immediately used this fact to his advantage, pressing sloppy kisses and bites against your pulse point while you massaged his scalp with your fingers. He attempted to duck his head lower, but was held back by his restraints. He gave you another pleading look and you started removing articles of your own clothing, as well as ridding him of the jeans and boxers entirely.

Once you were as naked as he (save for the jumper and shirt tangled on his arms), You climbed back over him, bracing yourself on one hand above his head and pushing your bosom level with his face. Wasting no time, Paul began kissing the sensitive skin, tongue darting out to circle your nipples and flick over them. Meanwhile, your other hand was between your legs, two fingers slowly moving inside your heat in a scissoring motion, stretching yourself. You rested your head against Paul’s, your content sighs fanning over the priest’s black hair.

Suddenly, Paul produced an alarmed sound and turned his head away. You immediately lifted yourself off him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked, your arousal now mixed with worry. He screwed his eyes shut before releasing a sheepish chuckle: “No, no, nothing like that. It’s just-... um, there is a pine needle getting somewhere it definitely should not be getting.” You started laughing quietly, Paul joining you shortly after. After you fished out the pine needle from under the back of his thigh and made sure there were no more pointy things threatening anything vital, you wanted to lean forward again, but Paul stopped you. “I want to watch,” he said. You smiled down at him and made a show of fucking yourself with your own fingers.

Once you felt sufficiently ready, you pulled your digits out and moved down Paul’s body, pushing your hips together. You rolled your hips a few times, the underside of the priest’s cock sliding through your wet folds. Using your now free hand, you reached behind yourself and guided your lover inside. Paul bent one leg at the knee and pushed his hips up to meet you halfway. Both of you choked out a small gasp. Despite your preparation, you needed a few moments to get used to Paul’s width.

You experimentally raised your hips before sinking back, trying to find an angle that worked the best for you. A few thrusts later, you felt a bolt of pleasure shoot through your spine and into your core, and grinned. You lowered yourself until your body was flush with Paul’s and carefully slipped your arms under his, hands coming to tangle into his hair. You connected your foreheads and looked into his eyes deeply as you started thrusting against him in that brilliant angle.

Paul’s laboured breathing and delicate moans blew across your cheeks, warming them more than the blood gathered there. You tilted your head to the side and let your lips connect in an uncoordinated kiss, keeping your eyes open. Paul’s hands were shaking from how much he wanted to reach out for you, all the while keeping in mind that was the only thing he couldn’t do, so he instead tried to convey all the ways he wanted to touch you in through his mouth, sucking on your lower lip, biting your tongue gently, licking a wet strip along your jaw.

Your movements sped up and the fire within you started burning brighter, every single thrust like a spurt of gasoline into a flame. You hid your face into Paul’s heated neck, feeling his heart hammering away at a rapid speed, sensing his groans and whimpers before actually hearing them. You wrapped yourself around him completely, as if willing your bodies to mould into one. The priest bent his leg a bit more, gaining better leverage to pound up into you, feeling his upcoming release nearing as well.

Once Paul heard your moans becoming more urgent, felt your walls beginning to flutter around him and saw your thighs trembling, he started nudging your head with his own, wordlessly attempting to make you look at him, reveal your face. He loved watching you fall apart, your face showing nothing but pleasure, raw, almost unhinged. It was a sight only he was allowed to see, nearly sacred. You raised your head with some difficulty and rested it back against his, your pupils blown wide and constantly disappearing and reappearing behind fluttering eyelids.

You were on the very brink, moments before plummeting down into the abyss, and your hips lost all sense of rhythm. “Come for me, angel,” Paul groaned and delivered a sharp thrust upwards, effectively shoving you over the edge. Your fingers closed in his hair harshly and a wave of pleasure exploded in your core, shooting into your veins like a drug. You gasped violently, releasing a series of short high pitched whimpers as your heat began pulsing around Paul’s twitching shaft. He continued thrusting into you, hitting that little bundle of nerves and effectively prolonging your orgasm.

You were blushing everywhere, sweating, trembling through heaps of bliss, yet a drunken smile bloomed on your face. Your unfocused eyes connected with Paul’s, their gaze intense and almost desperate. “S-so, ah, you’re so b-beautiful, Paul,” you managed to stutter out, and then only watched the fireworks go off in those nearly black orbs. They widened for a millisecond and then, as if a rope snapped, you could see Paul fighting to keep them even open. You would have almost thought he was in pain, with his hands trembling violently, his mouth opening into an ‘o’ shape to release a long moan, and his head tilting back.

Your walls were painted white, spurt after spurt of hotness spreading through your core. Together you shook through the aftershocks, slowly coming down your highs. You collapsed against your lover, trying to get your breathing under control once more. Several minutes of lazy kisses and whispered words of love later, Paul tried tugging his arms free once more, causing some more pine needles to descend upon your cooling bodies. You groggily climbed up his body until you were able to reach the treacherous twig and untangle it from Father Paul’s shirt.

The priest stretched his arms and proceeded to pull both his jumper and shirt off of him, tossing them somewhere to your left. Finally, finally, he was able to hold you and immediately did just so. “You were right,” he said quietly, voice hoarse, “it is a horrible sweater.” You giggled and let yourself slide down and onto your side, lying next to him. “I don’t know,” you purred, your hand coming to caress his cheek, “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

You shivered slightly, your body having already cooled down from your previous activities, and reached for a blanket which was draped over your sofa. You threw it over the two of you and got comfortable in the father’s arms. “If there was an advent calendar of making love during Christmas time, this would definitely be there. Under the tree,” you mused, your voice light and airy. “Wonder what would be hidden under ‘24’,” replied Paul in the same manner, “making love after the midnight Mass?” You grinned into his neck, one of your hands slowly massaging his shoulder: “A lovely suggestion.”

“Still want to decorate the tree?” he asked after a while, pressing small kisses into your hair. You murmured something unintelligible and hid your face again. Paul chuckled lowly: “Okay, shower and a movie then?” “Yeah,” you breathed into his skin, “we’ll do the tree first thing tomorrow.” Paul hummed in agreement. You lay cuddled beneath the Christmas tree, the colourful lights dancing on your bare limbs and the smell of pine lingering sweetly in the air. “We could decorate the one in the rectory after. And bake those gingerbreads only for us.”

A giggle started blooming in your chest, soon turning into a full on laughter. “You really are unbelievable!” you bit into your lower lip and pulled back to look into his large eyes. They reflected the big genuine smile on Paul’s face perfectly: “I’ll even wear the sweater.” You shook your head and quickly crushed your lips against his. Absolutely unbelievable.

Thank you for reading, I hope you had a good time c: As always, you can find this story and all of my other stories over on AO3. Please, be sure to check out @aherdofbees​ tumblr as well, she makes the most spectacular art!

the first tags are sentences I had to restrain myself from using in order not to look like the last bits of sanity finally packed their bags and kissed me goodbye

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead​ @rothko-mirror​ @littleredwritingcat​ @vintageglassheart02​ @thexhostess​ @fatherpaulsimp​ @blackberries45​ @daughterofaries​ @exorcise-my-demons​ sending kisses ××

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Happy Hanukkah-Mas! - A Beth and Alfie Solomons One Shot Story.

They're baaaack! I absolutely adored returning to their world for a little one-off treat, guys, and hope you all love catching up with them again, too. Enjoy :)

Words - 7,478

Warnings - Fluff and smut, lots of it! Minors DNI!

There is much as a mother that I feel my arm in perpetual twist over, my emotions stirred by the large, slate blue eyes of my son, Abe and my daughter, Flora. They truly do know how to get around their father and I with such insufferably effective cuteness. The celebration of Christmas in our Jewish household is just one of those arm twisting, big, cute eye pleading moments that I speak of. 

Although my husband and I are very liberal in our faith, not anywhere as stalwart in our Jewishness as generations gone by (heck, even my beloved bubbe has a tiny Christmas tree and Father Christmas themed decorations!) we do enjoy observing the traditions of Hanukkah, especially passing this onto our children. We light the menorah and recite our blessings before taking to the kitchen and getting into a god-almighty mess while preparing the latkes and jellied doughnuts.  

Let it be known here that Bethany Solomons and deep frying do not exactly go hand in hand.  

Up until their respective ages of five and two, the children seemed perfectly content to revel in our deep frying, dreidel playing, menorah lighting and song singing traditions. That was until these tiny souls began noticing the traditions of their friends slightly differed from ours. Suddenly, there was talk of turkey and tinsel, of baubles and a large, fresh scented tree. Father Christmas was a name that began to be spoken more freely.  

In fact, it was Flora who changed the tides there while scrambling onto her daddy’s lap one evening when she was two, tiny hands fiddling with his beard as she went through her nightly routine of ‘let’s ask daddy as many questions as humanely possible’ where one particularly struck my husband in a direct hit to the heartstrings.  

“Daddy, Father Christmas doesn’t come to our house. Is that because we’re bad children? We’re on the naughty list, aren’t we?” 

To watch him sit there, his eyes glassing as he tried not to allow for his emotions to be so heavily stirred by our youngest was something I could not endure without shoving my nose into a nearby magazine in order to hide my own tears.  

“Nah, my little peach,” he’d eventually offered, after swallowing a lump in his throat he likened to the size of Cyril, our beloved sixty-kilogram bullmastiff. “It’s just that we believe different traditions, innit? You’re only on the naughty list when you’re running around here covered in chocolate and refusing to get in the bath, ain’t ya?” 

He’d then tickled her into submission, or so he’d thought. Flora, just like the man whose lap she was sat upon at the time, is nothing short of persistent in the pursuit of achieving an end goal. After Abe had returned home from his karate class, he too joined in.  

Never let it be said that my offspring cannot work as an effective emotional tag team. Our first Christmas tree was purchased the following afternoon. Cyril duly lifted his leg to it. Alfie was incensed. The children scream laughed. All was well, if not a little soggy.  

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

Taking a pause from typing, Beth reached for her wine, the kitchen quiet and fresh smelling after her efforts in deep cleaning had left everywhere sparkling. It was that time of year again, where the Solomons clan began their dual holiday festivities, the nine days of their Hanukkah coming to a close, ready to pave the way for all things Christmas. 

“No peeing up the tree this year, matey.” she spoke, her hand reaching for the soft crinkles of Cyril’s muzzle, her faithful old companion sniffing her fingers as she offered him fuss. She could barely believe he was twelve, an age almost unheard of for a bullmastiff to reach.  

The giant dog now lived a much more leisurely pace, long walks replaced now by a little trot around the block, the dog returning to lie himself in the middle of the welcome hall and huff about it for a good ten minutes before he’d wander off, usually in search of the children.  

If Cyril’s heart beat for anything other than a good marrow bone from the butchers, it was Abe and Flora. Beth honestly feared for the day they would come to lose him, knowing the devastation that would befall the family to be bereft of their longtime canine companion. He was more than that to them, though.  

Cyril Solomons always was, and always would be their first child. 

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, the dog’s ears pricking as he heaved himself up, ambling out of the kitchen and down to the office, Beth pushing the glass door open.  

“Evening, baby beast.” No, Alfie had never ceased use of the same pet name for her that he’d coined nine years previously, back when they’d first gotten together. “How’s the article going? Nearly done, yeah?” 

She half shrugged with a hum. “About halfway through. I’m bloody knackered, though, so I’ve come to steal you. My tummy is rumbling.” Moving around the desk, she placed her wine down, seating herself in his lap. “What’s with these? These Solomons crinkles you have going on here?” 

Her finger was playfully batted away, her hulking bear of a husband laughing gruffly. “You and your bloody cheek,” he began, kissing her head. “Them lines are the Abe and Flora crinkles these days, them and their fuckin’ demands. Look at this ‘ere, right. She can’t just want the doll you can go to Smyths and buy, can she, your daughter. Nah, gotta want the fuckin’ Rolls bleedin’ Royce of dolls that daddy ‘ere can’t pissing find in stock!” 

He had a penchant for that. When the kids were good, they were their children. When they were causing him mild to moderate strife, they were solely Beth’s.  

Looking at the screen, she shook her head, reaching for the mousse and closing the browser window. “I found it already, it’s on the way from a store in New York. DHL have assured me it’ll arrive by the eighteenth.”  

“Well then why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me, Bethany with the lovely legs? Lovely legs that are gonna catch a right walloping. Sitting here for hours, I’ve been, looking for that fuckin’ doll!” 

“I did!” she exclaimed, slapping his hand as he began laying smacks against her thigh. 

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

Leaning in close, she widened her doe eyes, her nose touching his. “I bloody did! Magda will back me up, she was standing right next to me when I told you.” 

Her playful growl was met by muttering and grumbling. “Moody sod.” 

“Yeah, but you love me, treacle,” he chirped, Beth leaning to kiss his cheek.  

“That I do. Now, come on. I meant it when I said my tummy was rumbling, so you need to emerge.” Picking up her wine, she slid back to her feet, Alfie wheeling his chair closer to the desk once more.  

“I’ve just got one email I need to...” 

“Alfie,” she warned. 

“Five minutes, darlin’. You go order the food. Get us a chicken madras, a keema naan and all the dippy stuff with the poppadom's. Go on, go be a crackin’ wife and order in all the nosh that’ll have me farting like bagpipes for the next day or so.” 

She threw her head back, her laugh loud. “Five minutes, or I deliberately wake Abe and get him to come in and ask you all about where babies come from.” 

“You bloody dare,” he warned, Beth leaning back around the office door. 

“Don’t try me, boo.” Poking her tongue out, she giggled, heading back into the kitchen and taking a seat once more, putting in their order with the Royal Bengal before tapping away a little more of her article. She’d just closed her laptop when Alfie joined her, pulling a bottle of San Pelegrino from the fridge and splashing it into a glass, adding ice while telling her about his working day.  

Since becoming a father, he’d done what nobody expected and actually relinquished a little control over his empire, allowing those he employed to get stuck in with the lion’s share of the day-to-day operations, in order to be present for his children. Losing his own father so young had made him realise just what he’d missed growing up, now he had little ones of his own.  

The kitchen was soon filled with the aromas of India, Beth adding everything to bowls, Alfie hindering her every step of the way, and Cyril hopeful that a few morsels might be dropped upon the floor.  

“It’s nice to be able to have a bowl of samosas out and not have to fight off tiny hands for them,” she mused, picking one up and dunking it into the mint dip.  

“And then only half eating them, storing the fuckin’ things away behind cushions and in shoes an’ all that,” Alfie spoke through a mouthful of poppadom, shaking his head. “Them bloody kids. Wouldn’t have ‘em any other way, though.” 

Neither would she. They were loud and boisterous, but that came with the territory. Seven and four years old meant a perpetual state of noisy. Those noisy states were out of the front door at nine the following morning, both off to their bubbe Solomon’s house for the morning. Beth dropped them with Sarra at just gone half past, leaving her to fight the traffic to head over to Primrose Hill, her breakfast date already there waiting for her.  

“Oh babe!” she cried, opening her arms to Mimi as she rose from the table. “I thought you were bringing the baby? Aww, I was looking forward to a little smush!” 

“No, she barely slept all night, so I’ve left her with Josh and a tonne of expressed milk. Bloody boobs are so sore, and I thought having implants was bad!” Kissing her cheek, Mimi then gestured to the table, a latte waiting for her. “Thought I’d order that in for you. I might be a knackered new mummy, but at least I remembered my erm...” she trailed off, winding her hand around as she thought on the word. “I always want to say my Antoinette, but she was a queen.” 

“Etiquette?” Beth offered, Mimi snapping her fingers. 

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

“So, how have you been, other than tired with sore boobs? I bloody remember that only too well, Mims,” she spoke, picking up her latte and giving it a cautionary blow before taking her first sip. Ahhh, a double shot. Heaven. How well her beloved Mims knew her.  

“I’ve been alright, you know,” she began, perusing the menu before her. “I mean, a woman can function perfectly well on ten minutes of sleep a night, can’t she?”  

“And if she can’t she gets used to it pretty flipping quick,” Beth quipped, making her decision over breakfast quickly. Pancakes with turkey bacon and eggs. She was famished. “How did your check-up go? Are all the sore bits healing nicely?” 

Both women had suffered quite badly during childbirth, Beth’s experience with Abe something so terrible, she very nearly elected a C-Section for Flora. Her midwife had advised her against such, though, stating a natural birth would be much better when she was fully fit and capable. Flora had been a blessing, thankfully, a speed birth of half an hour in active labour, her little girl out in six pushes.  

Mimi nodded as she sipped her orange juice, setting the tall glass back down. “Everything is healing as it should be, and I should be fine to ride again soon!” She’d kept her beloved horses, Bryn and Sunny, thinking at first that she would put them out on loan for a time to someone with enough of that very commodity to devote to them. That was until her darling friends had stepped in to help, Beth and Kinga appointing themselves as exercisers of Mimi’s four-legged friends.  

Being a much more skilled horsewoman than she had been nine years before upon first meeting Mimi, Bryn and all of his naughtiness was appointed to her, Kinga more novice and being tasked with Sunny’s exercise. They went most days in the afternoon, the people at the stables where they were kept taking on their day-to-day care.  

It was one of Beth’s favourite parts of the day, riding out over the fields after lunch aboard Bryn, or working him over eye wateringly huge fences in the arena, the likes of which she once never thought she’d have the bravery to attempt. 

Mimi had taught her well.  

“Oh, before I forget, give these to Magda before she raises merry hell with me,” Mimi then spoke, picking up a bag from her feet and passing it across to Beth. “She loaned me these for Josh’s office Christmas do. It was such a nice night, made even better for wearing a pair of this season’s Louis Vuitton’s on my feet!” 

Yes, Magda would indeed raise merry hell if any loans from her beloved wardrobe department were not returned promptly. Beth took the bag with a smile, placing it down beside her favourite bag of all time beneath the table, the dark blue Birkin Alfie had bought her all those years ago. She still had to shake her head in wonder sometimes, being a woman of such staggering wealth because of whom she was married to.  

Her world had blended with Alfie’s so effortlessly, it often felt like a dream to her still. There she was, with one of the women he’d once dated, Mimi now a married mother herself and long fully integrated within Beth’s friendship group as well as still being – as Alfie always worded it - ‘the bestest mate a fella could ask for.’ After Josh and her mum, Alfie had been the first she’d called upon finding out she was pregnant with her now eight-week-old daughter, Alissia.  

“How did you cope, being away from Liss for a few hours?” she asked with a smile.  

Mimi looked pained immediately. “I hated it! I missed her so much, and I know she was perfectly fine with Josh’s mum, but it didn’t feel right, not having a little bundle in my arms!”  

She remembered it well with Abe, becoming very emotional on her first night out with Alfie after he’d been born, being left in the care of his godparents, Magda and Dennis. Magda had switched her phone off in the end, Beth had called so incessantly to make sure he was okay. ‘You’ll bloody wake the little fella if you keep on calling me! He's fast asleep on Dennis’s chest, just threw up a load of milk all over the dog an’ all. Having a wail of time, he is!’ she remembered being assured.  

Moving their discussion on, both pledging they would never be the kind of women who couldn’t form conversation over anything other than their children, they sat and spoke about all sorts while catching up, Beth’s most recent articles, Mimi’s tentative plans to begin her own accounting business so that she could circumvent a return to office life and instead, work from home and be with her baby. With Josh earning so well now within the publishing world, her return to work truly didn’t need to be expedited quickly either.  

After breakfast, they made time to pamper themselves with a little salon treat, Mimi having a much-needed deep cleansing facial while Beth opted for a massage, wanting to be nice and relaxed for what would likely turn into a chaotic afternoon. It was Christmas tree shopping day, meaning that her children would go from their usual volume of eight right up to eight thousand, such was their excitement at the fairly new tradition.  

“Oi! Abraham Solomons, I see you back there, winding your sister up!” Alfie shouted, looking in the rearview mirror of his Range Rover two hours later, en route from his mother’s house to the garden centre.  

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

“She can’t even reach you over there, mate. Nah, don’t you tell me no fibs, or this car gets turned around, right?”  

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

Abe shrank down in his car seat with a scowl that was a hundred percent his father, Beth turning to give him a warning look that eventually turned into a smile. The Solomons crinkles were very much a hereditary thing. “Be a good boy.” she cooed, grabbing his foot and giving it a shake. Flora was asleep after ten minutes, Abe entertaining himself by narrating a commentary about the people they drove past in the streets, pulling up outside Birchen Grove Garden Centre after twenty minutes.  

“Come on, Flora snorer,” Alfie chimed, rousing his sleepy youngest. The noises that came from that child while she was sleeping. Beth had nearly haemorrhaged from laughter when he’d likened the sounds to ‘that geezer from the Police Academy films’ back when she was a baby. “Come on, my little peach. Let’s look lively, yeah?” 

“No daddy, I want naps!” she protested, Beth being dragged to examine a display of Christmas wreaths by a much spritelier Abe. 

“Child, you’d sleep your life away if we left ya to it. Come on, daddy’ll play pack horse and carry ya.”  

“Okay.” Immediately she reached for him, beaming as she buried her face against his neck. He gave it all of three minutes, the shiny bright of the garden centre’s Christmas displays delighting her eyes so much, she was scrambling to the floor and running off with her brother.  

“Breakage expenditures guesstimate?” Beth quipped, raising an eyebrow as they ran for a display in excited frenzy.  

“Bloody zero!” he bellowed, making a lady walking past him jump. “Go on, get over there and round up ya kids, duchess. I’ll go sort the tree.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Always my kids when they’re being disruptive.” She strode off, not before Alfie aimed a perfect smack to her bum, calling her little ones away from the glass baubles and trinkets, grabbing a basket on her way. She sensed more ornaments would be chosen, and she wasn’t wrong. At least they kept on brand with the theme of green, blue and silver, though.  

“Abraham!” Alfie barked, appearing with a Christmas tree over his shoulder a short time later, finding his son meddling with the nativity display. “Put the false prophet down, son.”  

Beth cringed, shielding her eyes for a moment beneath her hand as her husband drew disapproving stares, Abe unceremoniously returning to the baby Jesus doll back into the manger with all the passion of LeBron James performing a slam dunk.  

“Do you have to be so vociferously Jewish in your denouncing of the Christian lord and saviour?” she hissed, Alfie beaming. 

“Yeah, darlin’,” he laughed, scratching his beard with his free hand. “I bloody do!” 

Herding the children in the direction of the sales desk, she offered appeasing smiles to those offended by her husband and his boom. “Oy fucking vey.” 

Once the tree had been affixed to the roof, the children and purchases packed away, the family Solomons headed to lunch, the little ones making their demands known for a trip to Five Guys. Burgers often worked very well in placation, especially since Beth had designs on dragging her family to do a little bit of shopping afterwards. Kids with full tummies were often slowed down a tad by the weight of their meal.  

While Alfie was having his ear and wallet bended by two very enthusiastic children at the Hotel Chocolat shop, Beth moved down through the shopping mall a little, coming to a small nostalgia store. Since celebrating Christmas was mostly for the children’s benefit, she and Alfie didn’t exchange gifts for one another, but what she saw in the window swiftly negated that.  

“I’ll take them both, please.” she spoke to the sales assistant, hardly able to keep her giggles in as she watched him retrieve the two Ren and Stimpy plush toys from the window display. She would never forget how hard she had laughed all those years ago, when she and Alfie had gotten stoned together one evening, back when the lines between journalist and subject were becoming blurred.  

“Do you mean Ren, as in Ren and Stimpy?” 

“Yeah, the little angry weasel, or whatever he was.” 

The little angry weasel. The memory still brought her the same feelings of hilarity as they’d shared out in the garden of their home, when they were just beginning to fall for one another. She remembered it well, how she’d sat there with him, smoking weed while inwardly lamenting how unfair it was, to have met her perfect person, but with a very imperfect set of terms and conditions that went hand in hand with dating him.  

She couldn’t imagine her life now, should Alfie not have changed his mind. It often made her feel a pit in her stomach, if she thought on it for too long, being driven out of his life in that Uber, Alfie remaining with someone as deadly as Amira had proved herself to eventually be. Thankfully, the unhinged woman who had almost killed her remained languishing within a prison cell to that day.  

Yes, Beth kept tabs on her, just in case she had qualified for parole ahead of the recommended ten years post-sentencing. She couldn’t not now she was a mother, something within not trusting that her long custodial sentence would change her feelings towards her; or pose a risk to the safety of her children upon her release.  

Shaking the less warming thoughts of their past from her mind, she paid for her purchase and left the shop, popping into the Elemis store quickly to repurchase her skincare goodies, before she was met by her husband and two chocolate wielding children.  

The drive home was uneventful, the kids once again on excited mode as soon as they stepped foot into the house, hurling themselves at the many boxes Beth had brought up from the wine cellar the night before containing the Christmas decorations. With the tree placed into the stand, protective netting cut and two shrieking children armed with ornaments, Alfie stood back and watched the scene for a few moments, grinning adoringly at his little family.  

“Let me go and get a few work things done so I ain’t worrying about ‘em all weekend,” he spoke, giving her a little nod. “I’ll fetch you a Merlot on me way back, duchess.” She turned to blow him a kiss before he left the lounge, his grin still firmly in place as he headed down to the office, playing catch up on a few pressing demands on his time for half an hour. 

He then headed to the kitchen, preparing himself a coffee and sorting Cyril’s dinner once he got there. 4:47pm on a Saturday. That time nine years ago would usually mean the house was full of the hustle and bustle of various women getting ready, him returning from a leisurely dog walk and doing a quick bit of business prior to taking his three girlfriends’ out to somewhere fancy. 

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

On that particular Saturday evening, they were playing gracious hosts to Magda and Dennis, their friends coming over for dinner in a few hours, Alfie lifting the lid on the crockpot and giving the beef Bourguignon that had been slow cooking all day a good stir. Nobody cooked like his mother, but bloody hell, Beth gave her a run for her money.  

Furnished with a coffee, he took the large glass of wine through, handing it to his wife with a kiss. “You’ve done a cracking job with that, as usual.” Nodding toward the Christmas tree, he smiled, Beth leaning back into his embrace as Abe flicked the socket, all the warm white lights twinkling into glittered life.  

He might have complained, but beneath the layers of outward distain, he secretly loved Christmas just as much as he did Hanukkah. The joy it brought to his children was immeasurable, and for them, he would move the earth. Putting up a tree, buying gifts and having a nice turkey roast were small by comparison.  

After the decorations had been carefully laid out, Beth placing winter spice wax melts into the burners dotted around the home and running the vacuum around, the kids made their demands for dinner, Alfie sorting them with their request for fish fingers while Beth went to put the clean laundry away and run herself a bath.  

By the time she was done, she refilled the tub for the children, drying her hair while Alfie put himself on bathtime duty.  

“Daddy, look! You’re Father Christmas now!” Flora chirped, giggling as she covered his beard in a barrage of bubbles from the tub.  

“Nah, I ain’t! I’m not that old, and me belly ain’t that big either!”  

She was quick in her cheekily delivered comeback. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Oi!” he growled, picking up the small bucket bath toy and emptying it over her head. “Less of that, or I’m phoning Father Christmas and telling him not to drop by here on Christmas Eve, right?” 

Flora was aghast, Abe tittering to himself. “You wouldn’t, daddy!” 

“Yeah?” he spoke, reaching for the kid’s shampoo. “I do a hundred sit ups a day to make sure I ain’t got no Father Christmas belly, so you’ll cast your aspersions elsewhere, you hear me?”  

“Daddy, daddy,” she began, Alfie beginning to lather her hair. “Are aspersions what mummy makes with the cheese and butter?” 

He and Beth snorted with laughter immediately. “No, little babe. That’s asparagus.” 

“Oh!”  

“Blimey, she’s Mims mark two.” Beth laughed, shaking her head as she finished drying her hair. Once bath fresh and towel swathed, the children were dried and dressed in their pyjamas, both gladly going to bed with little protest. This left the couple with approximately ten minutes to get changed, Alfie sauntering around their ensuite naked as the day he was born, hampering Beth’s progress with her makeup.  

“Got time for a quickie?” 

She scoffed, loading her blusher brush and giving it a little tap. “Darling, with you there’s no such thing. Besides, they’ll be here in less than five minutes, and I’ve got to get the starter in the oven.” Turning around, she sighed painedly, looking down to see a certain part of her husband pointing right at her. “Later. Promise.”  

Giving his cock a good squeeze, she evoked his rumbling groan, delighting his neck with a little nibble before heading into the walk in, pulling on her underwear, grey flared trousers and a simple cropped white sweater. She then remembered her meal choice and changed it for black. There was no way she fancied trying to get Bourguignon sauce out of pale cashmere, she thought, racing when she heard the doorbell chime. 

Clipping her gold hoop earrings in, she was just alighting the stairs when the bell sounded for a second time, Beth jogging down the remainder and jumping over a snoozing Cyril.  

“Where you bloody been?” Magda charged, kissing her cheek. “Shagging, were ya?” 

“Almost,” she winked, reaching to kiss Dennis and take the bottle of Bollinger he carried with him with thanks.  

“Sold that Aston Martin this morning, so I thought we’d celebrate, love,” he spoke, Beth congratulating him as she swung the door shut behind them, Cyril heaving himself up to welcome their guests. “Hello, old lad. Claus sends his regards.”  

Out of their four rottweilers, Claus was the only one who remained, just turned nine and much like Cyril, a lot slower on his feet. It didn’t stop him from showing their two newer dogs who was boss, though, the couple switching from their preferred breed when two beautiful Staffordshire bull terriers had come up for adoption at Battersea Dog’s Home. Magda had triumphed in bending Dennis’s ear about it until he’d finally relented, bringing home Marley and Karma almost two years ago.  

“Where’s me kids?” the lady herself cried, noticing the lounge empty of small people. 

“We put ‘em to bed, or if they’d seen their auntie there’s no way we’d ever have got them to go willingly,” Alfie spoke, opening his arms as he entered the lounge. “How are ya, Mags? Lookin’ gorgeous as ever.”  

“They’re half the flippin’ reason I came!” she joked, kissing his cheek. “And thanks, you nearly had me here in joggers and a t shirt. Been up to my fucking eyes with it all day, I have. Inventory. Beth! Has our Mimi brought them bloody shoes back, or have I got to go up Primrose Hill and lynch the soppy mare for ‘em? Had to include ‘em on the list without ‘em actually being there to save me flippin’ hide!” 

She breathed a sigh of relief when her bestie lifted the bag from behind the sofa, pointing to it. “Come on, come tell me all about your wardrobe woes while I get this champagne on ice.” 

Magda did not disappoint. The inventory of the wardrobe department was a huge undertaking, Magda spending the four days it took before everything was cleared ready for the new season’s attire to fill her sacred space catalogued and cleared out, the items heading back to their respective fashion houses.  

“So I’m there, right, and I’m yelling at the dopey cow that two C’s mean Chanel and two G’s mean Gucci, and if she can’t work that out then why the fuck is she trying to carve out a career in fashion in the first flippin’ place! Told her to go get me bloody coffee and have a think about it while she was gone. Honestly, these flamin’ bloody bastard people they send me to train!”  

Some things truly never did change. Magda had not softened at all, and Beth still found much entertainment in her various tirades against the newcomers to ELLE magazine. “And you wanna know the best part? Only fucking walks past Ralph Lauren during his visit and asks who he is!” 

Beth was aghast. “You’re bloody joking me!” 

“Babe, I nearly fell through the fucking floor!” Taking the champagne handed to her with thanks, she toasted her, pulling her cigarettes from her bag. “Just going for a quick smoke, back in a flash.”  

They had a truly lovely evening together, all discussing their impending break out to Santorini to escape the cold grey that was a winter in London, heading over for a week the day after Boxing Day, wanting to see in the New Year in the sunshine at Beth and Alfie’s luxurious villa.  

“I’ll still never forgive you, mate. Stoned and naked, chasing me down, you twat,” Dennis remarked, remembering back to the first time he and Magda had visited the island to stay within Alfie’s abode, the man himself roaring with laughter at the memory. God, it felt like it had been yesterday, yet nine long, fun filled years had passed in the time between.  

“At least you didn’t have him rubbing his cock all over your leg!” Magda snorted, Alfie winking. 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t bloody love it, Mags!” She pulled a kissy face at him, lifting her wine glass and taking a big gulp, washing down the remainer of her food. Beth truly had done a splendid job with everything.  

The pair stayed for coffee before heading home, Beth loading the dishwasher while humming to music playing on her phone, the feel of Alfie’s hands rubbing over her bum signalling his arrival in the kitchen.  

“Right, now it’s just us and you’ve got the dishes all seen to, it’s someone else’s turn for a bloody good seeing to. Know what I mean, treacle?”  

Oh, how she did.  

She only just about had the chance to add a tablet into the slot and kick the door shut before she was thrown over his shoulder, squealing as he smacked her bum with every step that took them up to their bedroom.  

They tumbled into a kiss, greedy, sinful, longing. All that they had once been hadn’t been diminished by marriage, children or time, their fires still burning as brightly as ever for one another. Making short work of their undress, they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, Alfie quickly extracting himself to go and flick the lock on the bedroom door, save another embarrassed explanation to Abe over what they were doing.  

“Were you and mum wrestling?” the little lad had inquired, after his parents had hastily dressed upon the morning they’d been caught at it, back when he was five. 

Alfie had never cringed so hard in all his life. “Somat like that, my son.” It had been down to Beth to tentatively explain the birds and the bees, Alfie making himself scarce at speed. 

With any entry from small people prevented, he returned to the bed, grabbing Beth’s legs and lying himself between them, his mouth returning to hers with a hungry grunt. The noise had sparks fluttering through her core, the sound of her husband stirred by passion causing tingles to spark, the scent of her arousal intoxicating to him, his hand sliding down her body to cup at her. She gasped, biting his lower lip before their tongues danced wickedly again, a thick finger swiping at her folds, feeling her petals, the heat of her magmatic against him as he explored.   

“Been wanting this all fuckin’ evening, baby beast.” he panted, mouth slipping to her neck, pressing sumptuous, full-lipped kisses that made her shiver like a summer rose touched by the first chill of autumnal frost. 

A sob welled in her throat, pouring from her like wine as that thick digit pushed within, her glistening walls hugging upon it, eyes a burn of blue fire, body keening against his. God, how she still craved him with such unbridled hunger, their connection every inch as magmatic as it had ever been. She rocked against his hand, greedy for more, a second finger joining the first as he held her neck and returned his lips to hers, kissing her with unmatched thirst. 

He was rigid as iron against her hip, her hands smoothing over tattooed flesh, his muscles cording beneath her touch. She grasped him, pulling upward on his cock, sending a ripple through him that caused his chest to jolt. There was no touch more perfect than that of his wife. He breathed raggedly against the swirl of her tongue, head dipping, teeth sharp at her nipples in turn, fingers curling within her soaking cunt to rake exactly where she needed them to.  

She gasped words of longing, Alfie’s mouth descending in a path of loving, heated kisses, the taste of her skin like sweet berries upon his tongue, every touch a constellation laid over her pale curves, igniting her lust to burn like a forest fire. 

Her sex called to him like a siren through a dark, misty night, polarizing, screaming to him, his mouth descending to feast upon her. Closing his full lips around her glistening folds, he sucked upon her hungrily, the elixir of her pouring into his mouth as he tasted her, lost himself to her, felt himself burn to hear the aroused cadence of his beautiful wife.   

She tasted like sharp honey, womanly nectar seeping onto his tongue as he lapped at her in greed, craving more as he buried his mouth against her, her pale legs virtually knotting themselves around his head. Her wail filled the room in soft song, and the sound burned the edges of his very marrow, his heart skipping beats. 

Her hips rucked against his face, a rush of heat evoked by his tongue tracing never ending circles at her clit making her glow, the pleasure biting and throbbing, his hands roaming her all over. She felt besieged by all he bestowed upon her, the touch familiar but never boring. It never was with Alfie. Monotony was not a word heard of within their bedroom. 

Driving his tongue harder against her potent bundle, feeling the little bud beginning to quake under the unrelenting licks, he watched her, her body quivering as he caused a caustic rush. Glimmers began to skitter through her as he brought her to the brink of it, Beth teetering as he paused in tease, gently blowing upon her clit before sucking once again.  

She came apart with a feral cry, her thighs rigid, panting as her release washed over her in ceaseless waves. His lips tended a diligent path back to her mouth, cock daggering into her trembling centre, a rumbled gasp floating from his mouth to hers as he felt her walls fluttering around his girth.   

He stretched and filled her, hands weaving through the long dark of her hair, Beth moaning against each sweet kiss offered, tasting herself upon his mouth. The very flesh and blood of him drew out the primal need within her to give him everything and take what he so willingly poured into her. 

Their intense love and lust for one another collided in perfect alchemy, her slippery walls flexing around him as she glossed the thick cock splitting her wide, her wails like celestial music drifting into his mind as she wrapped her beautiful legs around him. Pushing into his chest, she turned him, Alfie hitting the bed with a thud and a chuckle.  

“Oh, so the duchess wants to be in charge for a bit, ay?”  

She grinned, leaning to him, offering kisses steeped in smoking honey. “Well, if there’s one person you relinquish control for.” 

She began to move against him with tantalising allure, her hips circling as she bore down on his length, little pricks of pleasure melting down her spine. It took diligence, but he was soon a mess beneath her, sweat streaking his tattooed flesh, his cock throbbing within the clench of her walls. Her movements became more focused, wanting to send him reeling into the blinding eclipse of pleasure, feel his enormity crest beneath her.   

The soaking clench of her cunt fluttered strongly around him, the pressure perfect as he felt it crackle furiously before the fire ripped through him completely. With his cock pulsing, he filled her of all which she milked from him, his head thudding back against the bed, gritted teeth finally relaxing as he swam in ecstasy.  

His soul floated somewhere above him, rendered a shaking wreck by her, colours illuminating behind his closed eyelids, everything fluid as the waves continued to wash through him, his heart thundering. She gentled her motions, coming to a stop, her walls flexing around him, but not in the same way as he knew would have had she reached the same cataclysmic finish as he, and for that, he would make much amends. 

They lay stroking one another, chattering, laughing as the night hours drew out. He needed a little more recovery time, now he’d hit his mid-forties, but once that was attained... 

Beth shrieked loudly as her back hit the bedroom wall, glad the children’s bedrooms were a fair enough distance for her yelp not to wake them, laughing excitedly. His mouth covered hers, her legs firm in their hug around his waist as his hands glided over her sweat slicked hair, hips beginning to drive forth into her burning centre. 

She wailed at the fever-hot intrusion of him, merciless in his delivery, fucked hard and fast against the wall coated in luxury paint. His groans spilled onto her tongue, swirling with his, her moans arrowing into the epicentre of his lust for her as he drove into her like a piston. 

Her elegant, dark red nails clawed at his back, marking him, the sting both sharp and sweet as he persisted in frantically building her up to inferno. For him, she would burn to her very bones and back. He’d never accepted any less. 

Alfie never would either. 

Her cries of abandon filled the air as he slowed his rhythm, backing off from a frenzied, merciless pounding of her cunt to a slow, purposeful movement, dragging every girthy inch of his cock in a sumptuously slow glide against her twitching walls.  

Spearing her again hard, he reached her hilt and shuddered with overwhelming desire, arms snaking beneath her trembling thighs to spread her wider, allowing him to bottom out deeper, filling her to the very summit of her cunt. He then slowed, everything potently drawn out, the tempest swirling slowly, but by no means less brutally.  

He was soaked in her slick, her walls hugging him snugly as he withdrew slowly once again, his cock glistening in the low light. It was almost too much to withstand for him, how hot she smouldered all over, but nowhere more so than her cunt. She was like magma around him, without the pain of an unhealable burn.   

Alternating, he drove into her hard again, balls smacking against her with a lewd slap as he began to fuck her frenziedly, Beth demanding he go harder, her nails once again clawing like a feral feline as she felt her ascension flood her body. Sparks skittered through her, her release the full moon rising over his dark horizon as she came apart for him with maddening intensity.   

He pounded her voraciously, giving her no time to recover from his afflictions, fucking her with consuming vigour. Her aroused cries grew louder, her voice breaking with fervour, each thrust the ignition for lightning to begin darting up her spine once more.    

“That’s it, baby. Come again for me.” He growled low in her ear, tongue brushing her throat and his hand fisting her clammy hair to yank her head back, the howl of release reverberating through his ear as his teeth implanted themselves into her shoulder, the pain adding to the overwhelming pleasure.    

Little tremors wracked his cock as he slowed again, wanting to experience those pleasurable twinges as intensely as possible. Re-establishing the surging pace, he let go of her hair and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to take the full, unyielding brunt of every acerbically delivered thrust.    

His groans were as low as rolling thunder, chasing the next release he knew she had for him. They were slick with sweat, bodies simmering, ready and willing to boil for one another again, the embers of their fuck growing, glowing, the fire roaring through them as he felt himself spill into the viscid clutch of her cunt as she shook hard through her own release.   

They swam in bliss together, alone in the bright light of orgasmic abandon, just him and her entwined, the rest of the world falling away. The sound of her soft exclamations through each laboured gasp brought him back from it, looking at her adoringly.  

“My Bethany. Still a little wild’un, ain’t ya, darlin?” 

Trying to catch her breath, she left out a comic huff, kissing the tip of his nose as he chuckled. “Always am for you, boo.” 

He carried her to the ensuite, both taking a quick, refreshing shower to cleanse the sweat which had beaded them, Beth pulling on a clean nightie and Alfie his pyjama bottoms, unlocking the door on the way back to the bed. Gone were the days of enjoying sleeping with nothing other than each other wrapped around their nakedness, now that they usually had early morning visitors to their bed.  

Whistle, beep, snore, grizzle, whistle, snore. Yes, they could only be the sounds of one person that awoke Alfie at 5:52am the following morning, pulling back the duvet to see Flora snuggled up beside him.  

“Ahh, ‘ello, Officer Jones,” he spoke, stroking her messy hair, Beth snorting with laughter at his side. 

“We have to let them watch those films at some point, they’ll love them,” she spoke, referring to the Police Academy films, one of the characters who of course her daughter seemed to take after in the sound effects department.  

“Yeah, when they’re a bit older,” he agreed, pulling back the duvet to see Abe snuggled in beside his mother. “Ahh, the other one found his way in too. Like homing beacons, innit?” 

Just then, the door was shunted open, their furry child ambling in and jumping up onto the foot of the bed, the family complete. Flora stirred, rubbing her eyes and smiling widely. “Cyril.” she croaked, crawling from under the covers, her fleecy security blanket within her grasp. Plonking herself down next to the gargantuan dog, she covered them both with the swathe of soft, grey fleece, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“I suppose you’re going to get up and workout, hmm?” Beth asked, Alfie turning over and wrapping her in his arms, reaching to gently stroke Abe’s head.  

“Nah, love. I’m happy exactly where I am.” 

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[turtle-babe83]

{F!Reader, on the Naughty List}

Warning: Language and NSFW content 18+ only

Just imagine…..

He has been teasing you all evening.

A finger trailing lightly up your thigh as you stand at the stove and stir a pot. A hot breath on the back of your neck before landing a chaste peck while you’re setting the table. Sneaking up behind you when no one is looking to reach around and squeeze your breasts as you pull your apron over your head. The last straw is when he corners you by the bathroom and cups your clothed mound, rubbing your clit with his thumb through your pants, while dragging his tongue up the side of your neck to suckle your ear lobe. You begin to melt, and then he stops and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you wanting out in the hall.

“Dammit, Leo,” you groan under your breath.

It’s time to get even.

You make sure to sit right beside him at Christmas dinner. Waiting until he has a large bite of buttered roll in his mouth, you sneak your hand into his lap and grab his cock, giving it a firm squeeze and pull. Bits of bread spray out on the table as Leo chokes. Raph reaches over and gives him a few hearty whacks on his back as he catches his breath.

“Oh honey, are you alright? Did you bite off more than you can chew?” you ask, sweetly.

Leo narrows his eyes at your look of innocence and wipes his mouth with his napkin. You take another bite of macaroni and cheese and moan with pleasure at the flavor, just loud enough for him to hear. He gulps audibly. Inwardly, you celebrate your victory. Throughout dinner, you tease him as mercilessly as he teased you. Swirling your tongue around your spoon, lapping up the mashed potatoes. Making comments on just how deliciously the flavors burst on your tongue. By the end of the meal, Leo practically jerks you out of your seat to pull you to his bedroom. His father and brothers share knowing grins.

When he pushes you through the door and locks it behind him, he whirls on you with uncontrollable lust flashing in his eyes. Finally, you feel vindicated.

You smile demurely and murmur, “Goodness, Leo. What’s gotten into you?”

He growls and the sound goes straight to your core. You back up as he stalks you across the room disrobing as he goes.

“You know exactly what you did,” he grounds out, fists flexing.

Your smug grin is his final straw as you reply, “Gotta be able to take it if you’re gonna dish it, babe.”

You are on your back, clothes being ripped away before you can blink.

“Let’s see how well you’re able to take it….all damn night,” he snarls, mouth latching onto the rapidly beating pulse in your neck.

His hands are everywhere, grabbing at skin hard enough to leave bruises and you love every second of it. Watching Leo lose control is one of your favorite things. As his mouth leaves damp trails down your body, you mewl and writhe. He laps hard at your folds, tongue rough and demanding.

“Can’t decide what I wanna fuck first,” he mutters between licks, “this pretty pussy or that smart mouth.”

Your eyes widen at his crass words, knowing how rare it is for him to talk so dirty. Then he takes your nub between his lips and suckles harshly and you nearly explode.

“Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop!” you beg, wanting to cry at how good it feels.

Within seconds, you cum and it’s a body bucking, head thrashing, wailing kind of climax. Before you even have a chance to recover, he’s looming over you, thighs spread as he settles over your shoulders. One hand grips the headboard and the other directs the thick head of his leaking cock between your lips.

“Made my mind up,” he smirks. “Open wide.”

You obey and he plunges forward quick and deep, gagging you on the first thrust. You cough but recover fast and begin to suck. Leo brushes your hair out of your eyes tenderly, in direct contrast to the way he’s fucking your throat.

“Oh honey, are you alright?” he mocks your words from dinner. “Did you swallow more than you can take?”

Oh, hell no. Did you think you were even earlier? Leo doesn’t know what he’s started….💙

@exovapor @dilucsflame33 @nittleboo @raisin-shell @thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @chicchanmooshy @mysticboombox @roxosupreme @zowise2912 @xanadu702 @ravn-87 @ashleighclark98 @fyreball66 @tmntspidergirl @lady-maria-the-wolf225 @labeccy @lunar-corgimon @misteria247 @ladyofparchments @raphielover @tortuefaerie @bunnyraptor69 @polypandragon @sharpwindow @tkappi @aurora-the-kunoichi @pheradream15 @rheawritesforfun @cowabunga-doll @coulrofilia-sexuell l @lilyssims @daedric-sorceress @hotredphoenix @raphslovemuffin80 @sketch-and-write-lover @drowninghell @digitl-art-monstr @fluffytriceratops @angelcatlowyn @turtlesmakemehappy @narwals14 @bibiz82 @fictionalmenmistress @sewerninno @scholastic-dragon @selfless1978 @zombiesnips-blog @tmnt-tychou

[kinfanfiction]

Bernard x Elf!Reader - Chapter 8 - Christmas Eve Party

A/N: MERRY XMAS EVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Never have I ever written something this cheesy.

     Finally, the year long awaited Christmas Eve had arrived. Today the focus was on getting Santa ready to takeoff. Once he left the North Pole, the elves could celebrate! Though, that morning the only thing you could think about was if you were ready to face Bernard after everything you’d realized the day before. You now knew you saw your best friend in a different light than you had before, and you knew he felt the same, but you were far too terrified to confront him, and clearly he was terrified too. Realizing you had romantic feelings for your best friend was one thing, but continuing to feel the full effects of those romantic feelings flood through you felt so new, and it made you uneasy because you were scared of change. That’s why you’d stuck to the same routine for hundreds of years.

     Unfortunately, you wouldn’t have a chance to even think of addressing such an emotionally daunting circumstance until Santa flew off on his sleigh. So, you stuck to your current routine, trying to make yourself comfortable. You got dressed for work, made yourself a morning cup of cocoa, ate a leftover cookie, and walked to work. Your first line of business was to check on the reindeer, so you began by making sure all of the reindeer were in shape for the journey. They’d been kept on a healthy diet all week, and now they just needed to fly around a bit, so you let them out to stretch their legs and takeoff around the North Pole, and once they felt rejuvenated, they came back to the ground. You pet them and gave them words of encouragement, extra carrots, and lots of water, then you walked back inside to make sure all was going well on that front. 

     Bernard had thought a lot about the night before. The way you inspected him was confusing, and then you kissed him on the cheek! Which was even more unexpected. He felt as if he was going to faint when you’d done that, you never had before. He of course strictly attributed the action to the mistletoe that had strangely appeared above the two of you. Never for a moment would he have guessed you were responsible for it. He just thought it must’ve been a coincidence. He had yet to see you that day, and figured he probably wouldn’t get a chance to until the evening because suddenly, he had a lot of last minute paperwork that he had to fill out. He was practically buried in it. It seemed a lot of the naughty kids had been working extra hard to work their way back onto the nice list just in time for Christmas. He had to evaluated what had gotten them on the naughty list on the first place, and if what they’d done in the past few days could redeem them. For some, there was no change made, but for others, he figured they had done well working to change their status. He passed his notes onto Santa, so the big man could make the final call.

     You helped ensuring all toys and candies were packaged, wrapped, and ready to go. You, being the oldest elf among them were often selected to give the sleigh a test run to ensure the reindeer weren’t having trouble pulling it, and that all the functions inside the sleigh were working as they should. You flew around for about an hour, to make sure the sleigh didn’t tire easily, and a few elves on the ground watched. You’d done this so many times over the years, so you weren’t as excited about it as you were the first time around. Not to say it wasn’t still fun, but you weren’t beaming and squealing about it like a child would. 

     Once the sleigh was confirmed ready for takeoff, the elves had to make sure every toy and candy made it into Santa’s sack. The second you dropped one in, it disappeared, and you and the other elves dropped in gift by gift until the bag was fully prepared. You put the seemingly empty sack into the back of Santa’s sleigh and, along with a few other elves, you hooked the reindeer up to it. 

     Upstairs, Bernard made sure everything was ready on Santa’s end. For the last time Santa revised his list, and made sure to check it twice with the help of Mrs. Claus. Bernard brought him his coat and hat, and walked with him to the sleigh. On the way he saw you and he swore his heart skipped a beat. He gave you a small smile, which you returned quickly before distracting yourself with the imminent task at hand. Santa finally got on his sleigh and took off, waving to all the elves below, and you waved back. 

     Quickly, the elves cheered and moved to the town hall to throw their annual Christmas Eve party. For the first time in a long time, you and Bernard decided to attend. First, you wanted to dress nicely, so you both went home to change. You dressed in a simple emerald green dress with a fluffy white jacket over it along with some black flats. Bernard had no idea what to wear at first, but eventually he decided that since it was a party, and not a formal event, he would wear a wine red suit with no tie, and a black sweater underneath to keep him warm. 

     Before you left for the party, you grabbed the gift you’d made for Bernard. It was a teddy bear you’d sewn yourself with a hat identical to Bernard’s on his head and a little sweater on just like his to match. You wrapped the bear carefully and brought him with you. You walked to the party on your own, sat down on a nearby couch, took your coat off and waited for Bernard quietly. Judy complimented your dress, sat down beside you, offered you a cup of cocoa, and the two of you talked for while. 

     Bernard, however physically ready, was not mentally prepared to meet you at the party, because he knew tonight he would confess. He talked himself up in the mirror for a little while, and finally checked the time, realizing he had to go. He grabbed your gift and your letter, and he walked to the party. 

     When he finally arrived your face lit up, “Bernard!” You exclaimed, standing up. Judy recognized this moment as her chance to go mingle with the other elves, so she quickly excused herself. He was caught off guard by your fancy dress, and he felt like the air in his lungs had been knocked out of him because you looked absolutely stunning. You always did, of course, but seeing you all dressed up did something to him he couldn’t explain. For you, seeing Bernard in anything other than the sweater he constantly wore was a treat. Even though you loved his signature sweater, he looked incredibly handsome in his suit, and you found yourself suddenly feeling flustered around him for the first time. 

     “Y/n!” He exclaimed back with a grin. “That dress is absolutely stunning on you.” He remarked as he walked towards you. You didn’t know how to respond to his compliment, so you made one of your own. You pulled him just a little closer by his blazer, pretending to be looking more at his suit than him. “I’ve never seen this blazer before. I like it. It suits you.” You joked, and then you laughed at your own joke. 

     Bernard smiled as you laughed, “Thank you.” He could feel himself relaxing the longer he looked at you, and soon the two of you were chatting as you normally would. You explored the snack table, discovering many leftover candy canes that were probably the ones you’d made in a haze the night before. You took some treats and sat down, continuing to talk about your day with Bernard. Once you had finished your food, you hadn’t realized you had a couple crumbs left on your cheek. Bernard, without saying anything, leaned over and brushed them off with his thumb. You paused and looked at him, wide-eyed, and you couldn’t help but blush. He realized he hadn’t explained himself and moved away. “Sorry, you had something on your face-”

     You put a hand up to the place on your cheek where his thumb had been and chuckled nervously, “Oh god, that’s embarrassing.” 

     He shook his head, “No, it was cute.” He assured you, but then he realized he probably shouldn’t have said that. He cleared his throat and corrected himself, “I mean- it’s fine, it happens.” He then awkwardly looked around the room. You couldn’t stop blushing, and every time you felt your face heat up you just thought ‘What is wrong with me?’ You’d literally never felt so easily embarrassed around him before. Why did realizing you’d fallen for him change that? As if perfectly on cue for a good distraction, Frank Sinatra’s version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” began to play, and so Bernard offered his hand to you. “Would you like to dance with me?” He asked, and you gladly took his hand and nodded.

     Bernard carefully placed his hands on your waist and watched your facial expression for any indication that you were uncomfortable. You weren't, because you were never uncomfortable with him, but you were so nervous and you could feel your newfound feelings growing with every second you spent this close to him. You draped your arms around his neck and as you swayed together, you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d forced himself to suppress these same overwhelming emotions. 

     He quietly reveled in the moment, secretly hoping there’d be more like it to come. You looked into his eyes, and as your previous confidence faltered, and you felt more vulnerable, he felt more confident than he had in a long time. The tables had turned, and you weren’t sure what to do about it. You stared into his eyes for a while, not saying anything as you swayed from one song into the next. After about 3 songs, the closeness was starting to be too much, and you felt too overcome with built up internal emotions, without having anywhere for you to express or move them externally. Bernard noticed this through a shift in your body language, which made his expression shift to that of a concerned friend, and he let you go. “Is everything alright?” He asked as you took a step back from him. 

     “Can we leave? I don’t know if I can stay here much longer..” You admitted, and he nodded without hesitation.

     “Of course! I’ll get your coat.” He offered, and without another word he walked to the couch where you’d been sitting, grabbed your coat and noticed the gift hidden under the table in front of it. You caught up to him and grabbed the gift yourself. He gently draped the coat over your shoulder and you gave him a kind smile. The two of you left and when you got outside you handed him your present.

     “It’s for you.”

     “I’ll open it when we get to your house, I want to make sure you’re alright.” 

     “I’m alright now.” You spoke softly and then you took a deep breath to calm your heartbeat.

     “So I guess parties aren’t your thing after all?”

     “I guess not.” You agreed with a chuckle.

     “I don’t think I like them all that much either, it was only nice because you were there.” 

     You literally couldn’t stop yourself from blushing every time he said something even remotely nice. He'd been kind to you many times before and you were fine and now not being able to kiss him and break this tension was torture!

     You both made it to your house, and you welcomed him inside so he could sit down and open his gift. He chose to stand because your gift was in his back pocket and he wanted to be extra careful with it. He revealed the teddy bear and as soon as he laid eyes on it you suddenly felt that it was a ridiculous gift. “I know you probably don’t need another teddy bear in your life since you see them almost every day but I just-”

     “The detail on the sweater is incredible! I absolutely love it. Thank you.” He beamed as he spoke before bringing you in for a hug. 

     “Oh! I’m glad you like it.” You said, somehow surprised. 

     “Of course I do, I always cherish your gifts..” He spoke in a gentle tone as he usually did when he talked to you, and now you found yourself melting at the sound. His voice trailed off because now that you’d given him your gift.. it was time to give you his.. He was absolutely terrified. “I.. got you something too..” He said as he pulled out a small, intricate wooden box. He also took out the letter, his hand shaking as he handed them to you. “Open the gift first, then the letter. It’ll make more sense that way.” So, that’s what you did. You gaped at the necklace in your hands, inspecting all the little charms.

     “Oh, it’s beautiful! Wow, I can tell you put a lot of time into this.. The charms are so cute!” You spoke words of admiration, and he smiled, still incredibly nervous. Next, you opened his letter.

“Dear Y/n,

                    I knew if I didn’t write my thoughts down, I’d fail to convey to you, with full honesty, just how much you mean to me. In your hand, I’ve made you a charm necklace. Each charm represents just eight important parts of our relationship. I made a hot cocoa charm, to represent all the meaningful conversations we’ve had while drinking it. A snowflake charm, not only because of where we live, but because the snow makes me think of walking beside you in it. I added an ice skate because skating with you makes me feel young and free again, and both literally and metaphorically, I find myself constantly spinning circles around you. Moon and ocean charms, because you are the moon to my ocean. I could never resist your magnetic pull, and I wouldn’t be as strong without you. There’s a star charm, because I never mind the endless cloudy nights we’ve seen together, because you are the only star I need. I added a gift box charm, because to me you being in my life is the greatest gift of all. Finally, I added a heart, because you have stolen mine. Y/n, I can’t continue to hide that I am completely, utterly in love with you. I’ve had years to think about my feelings for you, at first I wasn’t sure if I was just really glad to be your friend or if I was yearning for something more. Once I had accepted my feelings, I began thinking of this moment and how I wanted it to go. At first, telling you the truth felt impossible. I was, and still am, terrified of ruining our friendship. I don’t want you to feel like you have to reciprocate my romantic feelings, and if you don’t I’ll be perfectly content in being the friend you need. However, if my romantic feelings are reciprocated, I promise to be the perfect best friend AND boyfriend. A two for one deal! But seriously, I promise I’ll never stop loving you, I’ll never stop being there for you as you have been for me all these years. I want to see the world with you. I want to retire with you and move wherever you want to go. Any place on Earth is Heaven to me as long as I’m with you. You mean everything to me. I love you.

                                                               Forever Yours,

                                                                          Bernard.”

     At some point as you were reading, you had to sit down. Bernard was absolutely frozen, afraid to breathe as you took everything in. Luckily, the initial blow of realizing his feelings for you had already come to pass, but the full length of his emotions thoughtfully written out just made you start sobbing. This reaction confused Bernard more than anything, he had half expected you to be disgusted and kick him out, never wanting to speak to him again, and half expected you to just smile or gently tell him that you didn’t feel the same. In spite of his surprise, he immediately sat beside you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think I’d make you cry.. What’s wrong? What did I say? If I hurt you somehow I take whatever I said that hurt you back immediately.” He said, panicked and unsure of what to do. You covered your mouth as you cried for a little while, you had no idea love could be like this. All this time you thought of it as either terrifying or unnecessary, but here it was before you, on paper, and it was beautiful. 

     You calmed yourself just enough to lean in and kiss him. Dammit it felt amazing to finally kiss him. He was incredibly unprepared for this, but he quickly pressed further into the kiss, wrapping his arms around you once again. You ran your hands through his hair, tasting peppermint on his lips, and he could taste the same on yours, along with a hint of chocolate. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but he was sure this was the best Christmas gift he’d ever received. Finally, after a couple minutes of kissing each other, you pulled away. 

     “I love you too. I think I have for a long time, but I was too scared of the idea of romantic love so I never let myself think of our relationship as ever being more than platonic. I don’t know why I was so scared, especially when it came to loving you. You have never been anything but perfect for me, I’m so sorry I-” 

     He stopped you with a shake of his head, “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. It’s okay that you were scared, don’t feel guilty for that. If you still feel even a little bit scared now, I’ll be here to remind you that you don’t have to be. By the way- I just really have to ask, did my letter alone make you realize you had feelings or-?”

     “Actually, I realized yesterday. I wasn’t expecting a confession so soon.. This one day of tension alone has been killing me. How long have you-?”

     “About 600 years. I’ve been in love with you for 600 years.” He said with a chuckle, feeling a weight lift off his chest as he finally told you the truth. 

     Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, “Dear St Nicholas, 600 years?! I’m so sorry I was so oblivious for so long-” 

     “Stop apologizing, I’m glad I waited. You’re worth the wait.”

     “I could hardly last a day, and here you were dealing with the same tension and fear for 600 years! Hah! That’s crazy!” You exclaimed. Then, in a moment of silence, where Bernard seemed to be reflecting on his own, you grabbed the charm necklace beside you and put it on.

     Bernard looked at the necklace and then back at you.

     “Is that why you were so nervous at the party?” He asked as he flashed you a cheeky grin. 

     “Maybe..”

     “You were nervous because of me? That’s a little hard to comprehend if I’m being honest.”

     You chuckled. “Well, It’s true, I was. I think I still am. You might have to kiss me again to ease my nerves.”

     “Gladly.”

[superblysubpar]

Eddie needs Dio's "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen", literally any scenario or genre will do.

There are still two spots left in my twelve days event if you’d like to request something - no need for it to be Christmas themed, winter activities/stories are more than welcomed too. The playlist so far is linked at the end of the story. Let me know what you think, any interaction is so appreciated and loved! 

Summary: Modern Eddie POV (but just in terms of the bar crawl kind of thing), mentions of drinking / puking (not too detailed, but a little sorry), Eddie is Christmas Eve bar crawling with Steve and Robin when he meets you, mentions of the holiday Christmas being celebrated

1.3k words

Day 05 | Track 05: “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” by DIO

How Steve and Robin convinced him to go on a bar crawl was beyond him. 

And not just any bar crawl - but a Christmas Eve bar crawl.

Sexy santa's, “sit on my lap and tell me what you want for christmas’ ”, bright red cocktails with whipped cream and green beer, “I'm on the nice list but tonight I'm on the naughty’s”, and so much tinsel in people's hair and beards that somehow managed to get all over him.

Ugly Christmas sweaters, themed on themed food, drinks with puns to match the music that had been bopping overhead at every. single. bar. - and people sloppy drunk screaming happy holidays at him or trying to hold up mistletoe in his face.

And as they walked up the block to the last bar of the evening, Eddie watched a girl puke her absolute guts out, bright green in a sea of white snow and he groaned.

"Guys, please, can we call it a night? I'll order us an uber-"

Robin gasped from her place on Steve's back (claiming to be too tired to walk, but not too tired to miss the last bar and Steve being just tipsy enough to offer her a piggyback ride with a smile instead of a look of disdain). 

Steve elbowed him, grinning, a high pitched voice surely mocking Robin as he exclaimed, "But this one has karaoke!"

Eddie groaned again and Robin gasped again and hit Steve's shoulder, "Go, go! What are you waiting for Steve! We can sing Last Christmas if we hurry!"

Steve started walking faster, turning backwards to face Eddie as Robin hit him repeatedly. He called out loudly, "Come on Munson, you heard the lady! Last one there has to carry her all the way back home!"

Eddie hung his head and followed, as much as he didn't wanna go, he was having fun with Steve and Robin and there was potential to get some really good blackmail videos to use against the two if they really did do karaoke.

And so, that's how he found himself leaning up against the wall grinning ear to ear at Steve screaming that Bruce Springsteen version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.  Eddie couldn’t wait to show the kids the video. 

And he had to admit, Steve wasn't actually that bad, and Robin holding up her cell phone with a video of a lighter in front of him made it even better. 

When Steve finished, bowing to his small applause and high fiving Robin as she pretended to echo a cheer and a chant of his name, Eddie watched a group of girls pushing one of their friends towards the stage who was shaking their head profusely.

The opening wailing of a guitar started and Eddie perked up. This was not the average Christmas song played on the radio.

He watched you stumble onto the stage, glaring at the group of your friends as you took the microphone from Steve. 

Dressed in a Die Hard t-shirt, black jeans and combat boots with a Santa hat, Eddie was pretty sure his heart stopped beating when he realized it was the DIO version of the song.

Your eyes wide, mouth open like a fish, and nothing came out as you stared at the people occupying the small bar. Eddie felt his body moving, felt his heart in his fingertips, it was just like singing with Corroded Coffin, it wouldn’t be that bad. 

You know, except he was pretty tipsy, it was way more than only five drunk people, and you were holding the same mic as him, and he didn’t have his comfort blanket of a guitar to hold.

When he stepped onto the small stage and started singing, you grinned and eventually joined in with him, screaming out in a voice that he didn't understand could fit inside of you, "To save us all from Satan's power, when we were gone astray…”

A duet like he’d never sung before, clutching the mic together, he was mesmerized by the way you scrunched your eyes closed as you absolutely wailed out notes perfectly and when the guitar solo happened and you pretended to play while headbanging he almost got down on one knee right then and there. 

When the song ended, Eddie and you were both breathless, foreheads almost touching, you bit your lip and backed away shyly, falling back into your group of friends who grouped around you screaming and cheering about how good it was. 

Steve patted him on the shoulder, grinning and then pointed to Robin slumped over on the table, "Time to pay the piper my friend."

Eddie rolled his eyes, "How did she fall asleep during that," he grunted as Robin pushed his face away, kicking at him and he mumbled, "Jesus, Buckley, help a guy out here."

She moaned, "I don't want to go! I wanna sing..." She hiccuped and moaned again, "Last Christmas. I didn't get to sing Last Christmas."

Steve and Eddie shared a look and then Steve held her hands down as Eddie grabbed at her waist and she kicked him in the knee.

Eddie could feel his ears getting red as he clenched his jaw, "Woman, if you don't-"

She pointed at him, forehead on the table, "Steve can carry me. You go with that cutie."

Eddie rubbed his temple and sighed, watching Steve chug water next to him, "Harrington can't carry you right now. Buckley, get on my back right now or I'm leaving both of your asses here and I'm taking your Christmas present back."

She hiccuped again, peeking one eye open too, "You got me a present?"

He rolled his eyes, "Yes. A good one too. Now," he tapped his rings on the table, "Up."

She sighed and put her arms out like a zombie and Eddie hiked her up on to his back as she huffed at Steve, "I can't believe you told me to have that Claus-mopolition at the last bar-" She kicked out her foot at Steve who stumbled next to Eddie, "Or how you convinced me to get these boots. They hurt!"

Steve knocked her skull with his knuckles lightly, "You ordered that drink because the bartender who was trying to sell it to you had green eyes, and-" Steve spun, walking out of the bar backwards, "You asked me if your butt looked good in those boots and I said yes and-"

Robin hissed, "Steve-"

Eddie laughed, "They do make your butt look good Buck."

She flicked his ear and he could tell she was rolling her eyes, drunk, but not enough to lose her sarcastic spirit, "In your dreams shitbirds."

Steve placed a hand over his heart like he'd been wounded when Eddie heard, "Wait! DIO karaoke crasher!"

Eddie turned to see you running down the sidewalk, pushing through the mess of sloppy drunk people. Robin slid from his shoulders as you reached them.

You were breathless, holding up a finger to your neck and a one second signal and Eddie was grinning so hard he thought his face would pop.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Sorry, I just thought-"

You waved his apology away and stepped forward, "I wanted to say thank you to my knight in shining leather."

Barely any space between your bodies and Eddie felt his face heat up as you reached into your back pocket and held up mistletoe and kissed his cheek.

You whispered, "Thank you."

You slid his jacket sleeve up as you pulled the cap of a sharpie off with your mouth and wrote a number on his wrist, signing it with your name. You winked at him as you turned away from him with your lip between your teeth as your friends all cheered and cat called and you flipped them off. 

Eddie was pretty sure he melted into a puddle right there on the sidewalk as he watched you walk away, nothing would ever ruin a moment so-

He turned to see Steve holding Robin's hair back with his head facing the sky as he shook it, mumbling something about no matter how many times she promised to watch Star Wars would he say yes to a bar crawl again.

Twelve Days of Christmas Playlist:

[stardust948]

Happy Sunday 💛 Prompt Zutara first Christmas together?

The Perfect Gift

This was it.

Their first Christmas together as an official couple. Katara had to make it special to celebrate the major milestone. Gone were the days of gifting Zuko homemade matching sweaters for him and his cat. No. This year’s gift was going to blow his socks off.

Katara scratched out the latest suggestion in her bullet journal. Anyone would think of a signed cover from his favorite band. C’mon be original! Katara sighed for the hundredth time as she rubbed the center stone on her necklace. What could she possibly get Zuko that would mean something? She was seriously considering writing a letter to Santa Claus when her doorbell rang. Katara opened it and beamed at the sight of Zuko wearing a Santa hat and carrying a tree.

“Are you supposed to come down the chimney?” she teased while letting him in.

“Does this mean I don’t get any cookies?”

“Nope. I’m gonna eat them all myself.”

“Then you’re going on the naughty list for not sharing.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The two laughed before sharing a kiss.

“Is that a real Christmas tree?” Katara asked excitedly.

“Yep. Uncle ordered too many for the tea shop so he said we can have this one.”

“Did you tell him about my tree?” Katara accused playfully while crossing his arms.

“Tara that’s not a Christmas tree. It’s a car air freshener dangling from a string.”

“The nurse student’s special.”

She laughed while Zuko rolled his eyes affectionally. Katara got the rest of her decorations as Zuko set up the tree. She caught a glimpse of Zuko unwrapping prized knife with the pearl handle. It was quite beautiful. Such a shame Zuko didn’t have an equally regal case to keep it in. Katara’s eyes lit up.

That’s what she’ll get him.

~*~

After decorating the new Christmas tree and making cookies, Zuko returned to his apartment promising to take her to dinner for the holiday in a few days. Katara stayed up late searching online for the right case. She finally found on, but it was incredibly expensive. There was no way she could afford this! Not unless she sold something of great value.

Katara rubbed her necklace. A thought crossed her mind. Her necklace…

As a whole, it wasn’t worth much except for the cerulean blue stone with traditional Water Tribe designs carved onto it. Katara brought it a long time ago after doing research on her heritage. Since then, the value shot through the roof. Katara swallowed thickly. Despite the plain faded chain, she loved this necklace and wore it daily. Katara glanced at her sewing kit. It wasn’t too late to throw together a scarf.

No. Zuko was her boyfriend against all odds from hard circumstances and interfering abusive exes. They were finally together. Finally happy. Katara wanted to show him how much he meant to her. She wanted to make this the best Christmas ever.

And she was going to, no matter what.

~*~

The week flew by. Before Katara knew it, Christmas Eve had arrived. As promised, Zuko took her to her favorite local seafood restaurant. The waitress greeted them warmly and showed them to their usual table.

Katara glanced up at Zuko and noticed him giving her a soft shy smile that made her stomach flutter. She had to give it to him now.

“I got you something.” They both said at the same time before dissolving into childish giggles.

Katara sat the present on the table. “I couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”  

“Me either. I think you’ll really like it.” Zuko glanced at her, brows furrowing slightly. “Where’s your necklace?”

Katara touched her bare neck. “Uh… open your gift first.” She pushed the box towards him. “You might need your knife to cut the tape.”

“Oh uh… I don’t want to ruin the wrapping paper.” Zuko handed her his gift. “Together?”

 Katara nodded.

They counted down to three before opening the gifts. Katara gasped.

“A silver chain for my necklace…”

“An ivory case for my knife…”

A silent heartfelt understanding passed between them as they realized what the other sacrificed.   

“It’s perfect.”

~~~

Thanks for the ask anon! It really got me into the Christmas spirit 😊

I hope you have a great holiday!

AO3 link

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 29: New York Christmas Serenade (2/4)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1868

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 30 31 32

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)

Killian felt an unaccustomed stab of nervousness flow through him as he walked the steps leading toward Swan’s abode.  He knew very little of what was transpiring in Storybrooke, only that the kingdom had once again been transported to the Land Without Magic via a curse and they needed the savior. 

Much was riding on Killian’s success in restoring Emma’s memories, and he felt the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders.  While he’d have traded away the Jolly and done all in his power to find Swan simply for her own sake, the fact that her parents were counting on him spurred him on even more.  It had been centuries since he’d truly belonged anywhere and he had no intention of mucking this up.

Truthfully it was a minor miracle she’d invited him to spend the evening with her and the lad at all, but from what he’d gathered as he’d wandered the streets of this strange place called “New York” Christmas was a time for miracles.

Taking a deep breath, Killian raised his artificial hand and wrapped on her apartment door promptly at 7:00 pm.  He tapped his fingers against his leg as he waited, and then suddenly the door was opened and she stood there and literally took his breath away.  She wore a soft green sweater that brought out her eyes, jeans and brown boots, her hair was pulled back into a soft pony tail.

“You’re stunning, love,” he said in wonder—almost reverence.  His heart rate picked up as he saw her color prettily at the compliment.  If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Emma Swan was flustered by his presence in her home.

“Thanks,” she said, “you look pretty good yourself.”

Killian looked down at his black jeans, his blue button down shirt and his leather jacket, glad he’d thought to find attire more suitable to his environs. 

“Aye, well..” he said, giving her a flirtatious grin, “I have been called dashingly handsome, love.”

She rolled her eyes but laughed softly, breathily.  Killian leaned toward her, drawn to her, wishing nothing more than to repeat their mind-blowing kiss on Neverland.  For a moment, Emma leaned forward, lifted her head.  Was she actually going to allow him to kiss her?

“Hey guys, are you coming in soon?” came Henry’s voice from the kitchen, “I’m starving.”

And with that the spell was over.  Emma took a healthy step back, held onto the door and waved him in.  “Yeah, um…” she said, “come in.  Dinner’s ready.”

Killian obliged, shedding his jacket and placing it on the rack beside the door.  He looked around in interest, admiring the large, open feel of the apartment, impressed with the large, well decorated pine tree in the corner near the windows, enjoying the delectable aromas wafting in from the kitchen.

“It smells tasty, love,” Killian said, taking the seat Henry indicated at the head of the table.  “Did you prepare our meal yourself.”

Henry laughed.  “Mom doesn’t cook; especially on Christmas!  Of any day of the year, we ought to at least have edible food on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”

“Excuse me?” Emma said feigning great offense.  “You better watch yourself, Kid.  Santa’s still watching.  Don’t want to get on the naughty list.”

Henry grinned.  “Hey, I’m only telling the truth.  I’d say being honest ought to keep me on the nice list.  But seriously, Killian, we had our dinner catered from this little Italian place down the street.  They have the best spaghetti and meatballs you’ve ever eaten!”

Killian smiled at the playful ribbing between mother and son.  Though he knew his Swan would wish to have her memories and know the truth, he was grateful to the Queen for giving her and the lad such pleasant memories and such a close relationship in their false life.

“I’ve no doubt but that you’re right, Henry,” Killian said, taking the bowl of long, thin pasta Swan passed him. He placed a healthy serving on his place, and then topped it with the red sauce placed before him on the table.  “As it happens, this is the first time I’ve ever consumed this particular dish.”

Both Swan and her lad stopped what they were doing and shot him astonished looks.  “You’ve never eaten spaghetti and meatballs before?” Henry asked.

“Not even once.”

“Well are you in for a Christmas treat!” Henry assured him as he began to eat with typical preteen gusto.

And as Killian ate his meal of spaghetti and meatballs, salad and garlic bread, he had to admit the lad was correct—although whether it was the deliciousness of the food or the pleasantness of the company he enjoyed most was a matter for some debate.  As the evening continued, Swan lost the last hint of her nervous awkwardness and began talking and laughing with him—far more open than she’d ever before been in his presence.

After dinner, Killian followed the lad into the living room to choose a movie for the evening, after which came a ritual that left Henry nearly writhing in excitement.

“We open most of our gifts on Christmas morning,” Emma told Killian as Henry rushed toward the tree, carefully picking up each of the brightly wrapped packages which bore his name, shaking them, looking them over, weighing them in his hands, “but a few years ago, the kid talked me into starting a Swan family tradition of him getting one of his presents on Christmas Eve.  Choose carefully, kid.”

And suddenly, with the mention of gifts for the occasion of Christmas, Killian came up with a plan.  What if he was able to jog the lad’s memories?  With Henry on his side, perhaps the two of them could find a way to remind Emma who she truly was.

Killian grinned as Henry opened his chosen gift.  The lad’s enthusiasm and exuberance were contagious.

“The video game I wanted!” Henry said as soon as the bright, colorful paper was ripped away.  “Thanks mom!  This is great!”

Emma ruffled his hair.  “No problem kid,” she said.  “And just you wait.  You may be an expert at the other games, but I’m determined I’m going to beat you at this one!”

“Sounds like a challenge to me, lad,” Killian said teasingly, reaching over to playfully squeeze Swan’s shoulder from her perch beside him on the couch.  “Are you going to let it go unanswered?”

“No way!” Henry said.  “You’ll see, mom!  You may be good catching real bad guys, but I’ve got the video bad guys quaking in their boots!  Can I play it now?  Please?”

Before Emma could answer, Killian put a up his artificial hand.  “Just a moment, lad,” he said.  “If you please, I have my own gifts to bestow.”

“Killian,” Emma said, looking over at him, “you didn’t need to…”

“Nonsense, love,” he answered.  “You were so kind as to allow me to share your holiday.  The least I can do is offer a few small tokens of my gratitude.”

“Seriously, we don’t expect…” Emma began again, but this time she was interrupted by her son.

“Did you bring me something?” he asked Killian, stepping up to him.

“Indeed I did, lad,” Killian said, reaching for his satchel.  “If I don’t miss my guess, you have the heart of a true believer.  The truest believer, even.  I thought perhaps you might find joy in perusing the stories of other heroes and believers.”

With a flourish, Killian pulled Henry’s old storybook from his bag and presented it to the boy.  It was this book that had ignited Henry’s belief the first time.  Was it possible the item would do the trick for a second time?

Henry accepted the offering, muttering a quick “Thank you,” before peering in confusion at the tome.

“A storybook?” Henry asked, brow furrowed.

“Aye,” Killian said, “a storybook, but I hope you’ll find it so very much more.  Go on lad, open it.”

Killian watched eagerly as Henry opened the book to the story of his grandparents.  He hadn’t long to wait.  Henry couldn’t have read more than a paragraph before his eyes got wide as saucers and he quickly looked up at Killian.

“Hook!” he said slowly.  “I…I remember!”

Waves of relief covered Killian like a blanket.  He may still have quite the uphill task in front of him, but for the first time since finding his beloved Swan in her apartment home, Killian knew without a doubt that he would.

–Up next: Emma wakes up on Christmas morning—and ends up spending a very pleasant full day with both her son and the pirate she doesn’t yet remember she had feelings for.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[acrossthewavesoftime]

Liselotte's Favourite Childhood Christmas

Liselotte von der Pfalz, Duchess of Orléans, with her two children Philippe and Elisabeth Charlotte, whom she wanted to experience the same Christmas festivities as she did as a child, c. 1678–1679 by Pierre Mignard.

A merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate (and of course an equally happy day to everyone who is currently celebrating a different holiday or none at all)!

Do you know that feeling of being nostalgic for the time when Christmas was a magical, festive season rather than a busy rush of obligations, get-together and worrying about presents, food and keeping all the relatives happy? You're not alone in that.

This year's Christmas post comes straight from the 17th century: on 11 December 1708, the Duchess of Orléans, more commonly known as Liselotte to her friends, family and posterity, recounted the magic of her favourite childhood Christmas, the last she spent in Hannover with her aunt Sophie (in the year 1660, I believe; Liselotte would have been 8 years old), to her daughter. Luckily, we still have the letter:

Ich weiß nicht, ob ihr auch jenes andere Spiel kennt, das man in Deutschland immer noch pflegt; man heißt es das Christkindl; dabei richtet man die Tische wie Altäre her und legt für ein Kind alle möglichen Sachen darauf, neue Kleider, Silber, Seidenbänder, Puppen, Naschereien und alles mögliche. Auf die Tische stellt man Buchsbäume, und auf jedes kleine Ästchen steckt man eine kleine Kerze: das sieht ganz wunderhübsch aus. [...] Ich erinnere mich, wie man in Hannover das letzte Mal das Christkindl zu mir kommen ließ: Man hat Schulbuben kommen lassen, die recht ordentlich eine Komödie spielen. Als erstes kommt der Stern und dann der Teufel und die Engel und schließlich der heilige Christ mit Petrus und den anderen Aposteln. Der Teufel schilt die Kinder und liest eine lange Liste mit ihren Untaten vor. Darauf sagt der Christ, daß er gekommen ist, sie zu beschenken, aber weil sie so böse sind, könne er nicht bei ihnen verweilen. Der Engel und der heilige Petrus bitten für sie und versprechen, daß sie sich bessern werden. Da vergibt Christus ihnen, und der heilige Petrus und der Engel führen sie zu den Tischen, die für sie bereitet sind [...]. Und als der heilige Petrus mich bei der Hand nahm -- es war ein kleiner Schuljunge mit einem falschen Bart --, da sah ich, dass er Krätze hatte, und daran merkte ich den Schwindel. [...] Und ganz bestimmt freue ich mich noch heute daran."

I don't know if you know that game which is still being maintained in Germany and called Christkindl [Christ Child]; they dress the tables, one for each child, in the style of an altar, and put all manner of things onto them, such as new clothing, silver, silk ribbons, dolls, sweets and much else. Onto the tables, they put little box trees, and on each little branch they place a little candle; it all looks very beautiful. I recall how they had the Christkindl visit me for the last time in Hannover: They had schoolboys come to act in a rather amusing comedy. At first, the star arrives, and then the devil and the angels and at last Christ with St. Peter and the other apostles. The devil scolds the children and reads a long list of their misdeeds to them. To this Christ replies that he has come to give them presents, but since they are so naughty, he cannot stay. The angel and St. Peter plead for them and promise that they will be good. Christ forgives them and St. Peter and the angel lead them to the tables which have been arranged for them [...]. And as St. Peter took me by the hand -- he was a little schoolboy with a false beard -- I remarked that he had scabies and saw through the sham. And without a doubt it still brings me joy until this day."

Sadly, this was to be the last Christmas of this sort Liselotte ever celebrated; her father, notoriously stingy to the point of arguing with his son's school at Heidelberg to lower the lunch fees citing poor young Karl's meagre appetite, was not one to indulge in grand festivities and when in France with children of her own, Liselotte, intent on bringing this favourite childhood tradition back for her own son and daughter, met with resistance from her husband. In a letter dated to January 1711 to Sophie von Hannover, the beloved aunt in whose home she had celebrated this favourite Christmas:

"hir weiß man gar nichts davon; wolte es introduciren, allein Monsieur sagte: 'Vous nous voulés donner de vos modes Allemandes pour faire de la despence, je vous baisse les mains'."

"They don't know nothing of it here; I wanted to introuce it, but Monsieur said 'You want to give us your German fashions [just to] create expenses, I kiss your hands."

So, young Philippe and Elisabeth Charlotte d'Orléans sadly never experienced the things that had made their mother's childhood Christmasses special, most crucially, they never had a Christmas tree, which would not arrive in France until after WWI.

To some degree, Liselotte's Christmas still exists materially; we know Christmas trees, presents still look very much the same, and there are holiday-themed plays both secular-ish and classic nativity plays put on by children, albeit luckily with a less harsh moral undertone.

But what's perhaps the most important, contrary to Philippe d'Orléans's fear of overspending is the aspect is to pass the joy of the festivities on, and share it with others because in the end, what's more precious than all the new clothes, silver, silk ribbons, dolls and sweets are the happy memories of the day.

Quotations taken from: Dirk Van der Cruysse: Madame sein ist ein ellendes Handwerck. Liselotte von der Pfalz. Eine deutsche Prinzessin am Hof des Sonnenkönigs (1995), 4th edition 1997, p. 85 f.

[cocktailsfairytales]

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🎄 This is an un-EX-pected, Christmas themed, 2nd chance romance.

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🔥 Slow Burn

🎁 Heartwarming feels

😍 Swoon and 🌶 Spice and everything nice but most definitely on 🎅🏻 Santa’s NAUGHTY LIST!!

Blurb:

Clark Griswold was onto something, at least with his annual holiday meltdown.

And since the last three weeks of my life have been riddled with humbug—another breakup, a broken toe, an office promotion I deserved and didn’t get—I’m not at all in the mood to celebrate nor have the happ, happ, happiest Christmas EVER.

When Mom insisted that we all gather at my Grandparent’s ancient cabin for an old school family Christmas, I fully intended to get into the holiday spirit with the help of the three wise men, Johnnie Walker, Jack Daniels, and Jim Beam. But those boys did absolutely nothing to offset the shock or temper the sting of seeing my EX on our doorstep the first day of our holiday soiree.

Apparently, Santa missed the memo, and this elf is pissed.

Stuck for a week with the man who obliterated my heart nearly two decades ago, I did the only thing I could do and put on my game face, thankful for the home advantage.

I knew better than to drink that last cup of eggnog.

I knew better than to get tongue tangled beneath the mistletoe with the only man to ever break my heart.

I knew better than to sleep with Satan’s wingman on the eve of the Lord’s birthday.

I could blame the nog. I could blame the deceitful light blue eyes, thick, angelic hair, and panty evaporating smirk…but mostly, I blame Eli because he always knew exactly which of my buttons to push.

I foolishly thought a family Christmas filled with nostalgia was going to turn my inner Scrooge around, but this year’s festivities went up in flames. Leave it to the ghost of my Christmas past to be the one to light the match.

Fa la la la la, la FML.

Read more books by Kate Stewart here: www.katestewartwrites.com

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Narrated by: Joe Arden & Maxine Mitchell

Download here: https://amzn.to/3E1nPC9

🛷Haven't read it yet? 🛷

Read for FREE with Kindle Unlimited or Grab it for the LIMITED TIME sale price of $1.99 👇🏻

Amazon Universal Link: http://mybook.to/PlightKindle

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🤣 LOL

🔥 Slow Burn

🎁 Heartwarming feels

😍 Swoon and 🌶 Spice and everything nice but most definitely on 🎅🏻 Santa’s NAUGHTY LIST!!

Blurb:

Clark Griswold was onto something, at least with his annual holiday meltdown.

And since the last three weeks of my life have been riddled with humbug—another breakup, a broken toe, an office promotion I deserved and didn’t get—I’m not at all in the mood to celebrate nor have the happ, happ, happiest Christmas EVER.

When Mom insisted that we all gather at my Grandparent’s ancient cabin for an old school family Christmas, I fully intended to get into the holiday spirit with the help of the three wise men, Johnnie Walker, Jack Daniels, and Jim Beam. But those boys did absolutely nothing to offset the shock or temper the sting of seeing my EX on our doorstep the first day of our holiday soiree.

Apparently, Santa missed the memo, and this elf is pissed.

Stuck for a week with the man who obliterated my heart nearly two decades ago, I did the only thing I could do and put on my game face, thankful for the home advantage.

I knew better than to drink that last cup of eggnog.

I knew better than to get tongue tangled beneath the mistletoe with the only man to ever break my heart.

I knew better than to sleep with Satan’s wingman on the eve of the Lord’s birthday.

I could blame the nog. I could blame the deceitful light blue eyes, thick, angelic hair, and panty evaporating smirk…but mostly, I blame Eli because he always knew exactly which of my buttons to push.

I foolishly thought a family Christmas filled with nostalgia was going to turn my inner Scrooge around, but this year’s festivities went up in flames. Leave it to the ghost of my Christmas past to be the one to light the match.

Fa la la la la, la FML.

Read more books by Kate Stewart here: www.katestewartwrites.com

[ptergwen]

i thought of this last night; peter is canonically jewish, but i feel like he’d buy u a present *just* bc he loves u so much 🥺

warnings: literally one swear

a/n: YESSSSSSS omg and we definitely don’t acknowledge that enough so thank you for sending this in! much love n i hope you enjoy :,)

-

your face is nestled in the juncture between peter’s neck and shoulder, arms hugging his waist. a cheesy rom com plays on the hallmark channel while you two snuggle. peter rubs a hand up and down your back with his cheek smushed against the top of your head.

you invited him over after your family’s christmas celebration, since peter himself doesn’t celebrate. nevertheless, he wanted to spend some time together because it’s a special day for you.

“so,” peter speaks lowly over the movie. “how’d you make out this year? get everything you wanted?”

a soft smile stretches across his lips. he feels you grin back, your own lips brushing his skin.

“mhm, i did,” you murmur and pepper a string of kisses to peter’s neck. “your cuddles are the best gift of all, though.”

peter leaves a kiss on the side of your head, then pulls back so he can look at you. his hand trails to your hip, fingers poking at you playfully.

“i dunno, love. wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he hums. “they are!” you insist, squeezing him tighter for emphasis. “there’s nowhere i’d rather be than in your arms, pete.”

“could say the same,” peter cracks another smile. he dips his head down so he’s at your eye level, his gazing into yours. “but, what i meant was… there’s one gift you haven’t gotten yet.”

you squint up at him.

“wait, what are you-“

he’s already springing to his feet before you get the chance to question him.

he returns just as quickly as he left, with a small bag that has tissue paper sticking out of it. you hadn’t even seen him bring that in.

“where did that come from?” you wonder, sitting yourself up on the couch. peter plops back down next to you, winking. “a spider never tells. y’know, ‘cuz we’re… stealthy.”

he holds out the bag to urge you to take it. you do so with a pout, peter scooting in closer to you.

“peter, you didn’t have to,” you coo. he gives you a look of bewilderment. “um, yes i did. it’s christmas!”

peter grasps both your hands in his, fingers lacing through yours.

“you’re jewish,” you giggle back. “you’re not,” he deadpans, nudging the bag with his knee. “c’mon, you didn’t think i’d come through?”

“no, it’s just… i don’t have anything for you,” you frown once again.

chuckling, peter brings your connected hands to rest in his lap.

“don’t worry about it, y/n/n. you got me for hanukkah,” he reassures you. “besides, ‘tis the season to be jolly… or whatever they say.”

“that’s exactly what they say,” you confirm, inching towards peter until there’s no more space between you two.

you nuzzle your nose against peter’s and exhale a content sigh. his eyes flutter closed, lips turning up into a grin. he smooths his thumbs over your knuckles lightly.

“i really appreciate this, by the way. but…” you set peter’s gift on the cushion beside you. “your cuddles would’ve sufficed.”

“goddamnit, y/n,” peter groans out.

he lets his head fall onto your shoulder, defeated.

“your name’s gotta be first on the naughty list.”

[lokislastlove]

The Naughty List (Dark!Loki x Reader)

Summary: You and your roommates get a surprise visitor on Christmas Eve.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, Monster fucking, smut, bondage, tiny bit of pain play. 18+ ONLY!

Note: Ok soooo this idea would not leave my head, and I wrote it super fast, mostly at 1am so probably not my best writing, but it is what it is. Still working on QB Steve, but wanted this out before Xmas. Hope everyone that celebrates Xmas has a happy holiday!

🎄

“Jesus, that is just straight alcohol,” you grimace.

“Hey!” Darcy exclaims indignantly. “I make great cocktails, you’re just a lightweight.”

There’s a muffled chuckle from beside you on the couch and you scowl between your two friends, throwing an elbow at Monica.

“Ouch! What?” she laughs, rubbing her arm. “Pretty sure you’re not supposed to abuse your friends on Christmas.”

“Yeah, or Santa will put you on the naughty list,” Darcy teases as she settles in the arm chair next to you.

“I miss being a kid at Christmas,” you lament as the Christmas music buzzes from the TV speakers.

“Yeah, holidays were better as a kid,” Monica agrees, giggling at the two burglars on screen taking paint cans to the face.

Darcy scoffs, “you guys are crazy, it’s way better now that you can drink and party.”

“Who parties on Christmas Eve?” You ask.

“Yeah, everyone is always with family, which is why I’m stuck with you two,” Monica jests with a wink and you laugh.

Darcy hides a mischievous smile and shrugs as she swirls her drink. You narrow your eyes at her, waiting for her to break. She always breaks, she’s terrible with secrets.

“Darcy,” you prompt.

A grin breaks out on her face and she rolls her eyes, “Okay, okay! I might have agreed to make an appearance at Sean’s house tonight. He’s having a couple people over, it’s no big deal.”

You and Monica share a look before you turn back to Darcy with a sigh, “I thought you said you weren’t talking to him anymore?”

“It’s just a party,” she defends.

“And Ian is cool with that?” Monica prods.

“Ian decided to fly across the country and leave me, so I don’t really care what he thinks,” Darcy complains.

You scowl, “Darcy he went to see his family… and he even invited you to go.”

A thud sounds from above and you look up instinctively at the blank white ceiling. You turn back to Darcy who doesn’t seem to notice and is chugging her drink angrily.

“I don’t know why I even told you guys. I mean, I was gonna invite you, but I should known better than to think you’d want to do something fun.”

“Hey. I’m fun. Just not at the expense of the people I care about,” Monica argues while your attention is pulled back to the ceiling.

“Do you guys hear that?” You ask as you watch the outdated chandelier shudder slightly.

They continue to bicker, ignoring your concern as their insults grow louder and more vindictive due to their overindulgence. Your eyes scan the ceiling and the framed pictures on the wall as they tremble from the thuds growing louder, like footsteps drawing near. But it makes no sense, why would anyone be climbing around on top of your rental house?

“Guys,” you say again, sitting up straight as you feel an odd prickling sensation on the back of your neck, “seriously. I think someone might be on our roof.”

“What?” Monica asks, following your gaze as it moves toward the vases quaking atop the fireplace mantle.

The room quiets and you all watch with bated breath as the footsteps slow when they near the fireplace, almost as if someone were sneaking toward your chimney.

“Probably just Sean trying to fuck with us,” Darcy quips, pushing up her glasses and squinting at the ceiling.

Monica nods, “yeah or maybe it’s a maintenance guy. You know how Joe always likes to send over workers when we least expect it.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest, pulse beating in your ears as you wait for another distinguishing noise, anything to ease the stress of the unknown. You flinch and a collective gasp rings through the room as a trickle of soot leaks from the chimney and onto the pile of burning logs. Dust seeps into the air and you grip the arm of the couch as you all stare wide-eyed at the hearth.

A larger rush of ash drops and the fire dies with a sad fizzle. The air cools unnaturally fast and the Christmas lights strung around the room begin to flicker then burn out all together, plunging you all into darkness.

“What the fuck,” Darcy says and you hear her shuffle around next to you.

The bright blue light of her phone lights up the room right as you hear the sound of metal scraping against brick and mortar. You scramble to your feet, climbing over the couch to get further away from the fireplace when suddenly something large comes crashing down. Two hoofed feet smash through the half eaten logs, red embers flying every which way.

You tremble as you watch the hearth seem to grow, allowing this massive creature to climb out with sinister grace. The candles around the room burst to life, right as Darcy’s phone slips from her fingers.

“Oh shit,” Monica breaths out, her voice shaky with fear.

The monstrous stranger straightens to his full size causing the long curved horns protruding from his brow to scrape along the plaster ceiling. The only visible part of his face are the vivid green eyes glowing beneath his dark hood. He says nothing as he looks between you and your friends, studying you as you all quiver with trepidation.

Heavy metal shackles slacken in his clawed grip and clatter loudly to the floor, making you all jump. A dark chilling chuckle rattles his enormous frame and you squeak. His head snaps to you and tilts as he watches you, those emerald eyes burning into your soul.

“Someone has been naughty,” he growls.

His words would be comical, were you not ready to faint from fear. Instead, his voice makes your skin erupt in goosebumps, it’s so deep and devilishly smooth.

“What the fuck?” Darcy exclaims in disbelief.

He turns to her, tutting softly as takes a step towards her, the iron cuffs dragging threateningly in his wake. Darcy panics and scramble further away, grabbing the nearest object, and holding it out as a pathetic defense. She waves the plastic remote like a sword and he laughs mockingly, the faint sound of a bell jingling in time with each breath.

He shrugs his thick fur coat as he holds up the end of the chain and rattles it at her menacingly. He extends one of his long sharp fingers and points at Darcy, “you.”

“Sorry, I’m spoken for,” Darcy banters, as she eyes the front door.

You feel a surge of protective instincts when she catches your eye pleading for help. The sight unnerves you, for as long as you’ve been friends with Darcy you have never seen her scared of anything.

You watch the creature pop open a shackle and take another large step forward, his hoof clacking against the wood. Darcy whimpers and cowers before him with eyes closed and without thinking you leap at him.

You jump over the corner of the couch with an angry yell and attempt to push him away with all your strength, but he barely grunts or budges. You fall to the floor with a pained moan, feeling as though you just jumped full force into a brick wall.

Darcy and Monica both shout, “No!” as you are suddenly lifted off your feet by your neck, his strength beyond anything you comprehend.

He doesn’t squeeze, he just holds you up as he observes you curiously. Your toes barely able to tap the floor as you cling to his veiny forearms. You groan and struggle helplessly as your friends plead for him to drop you.

“What was your next move, I wonder,” he says.

Tears prick your eyes, “please, leave them alone.”

“Hmm, and what would I get instead,” he considers your proposal.

“Anything! Please, just don’t hurt them,” you beg.

His eyes seem to glitter as he lets them drift down your body and a cruel laugh marks the stupidity of your offer. Without a word he drops you and you crumble to the floor. You look up just in time to watch him pull something from his back and the faint light you had moments ago vanishes as you are swallowed by cloth.

You shout into the leathery fabric enclosing you and try not to think too hard about the stench of the sack. You are jostled uncomfortably, unable to hear, until finally some time later your ass meets the hard ground. The lack of air supply and constant battering has you dizzy and nauseous as he finally opens the bag and you collapse on a glossy black marble floor.

You take in desperate gulps of air, though it remains as hot and stale as it felt within the bag. You cough, head pounding as you try to take in your new surroundings.

A large four poster bed is the centerpiece of the room, the black wood frame laden with garish red satin sheets and pillows. The large fireplace opposite the bed blazes brightly, providing the only source of light in the tenebrous bedchamber. A small alcove housing a table and chairs is where you spot your captor, draining a large frothy libation with a loud slurp.

He stares you down as he lowers his mug slowly, allowing you to see his face for the first time. His long black hair slicked back neatly around his horns contrasting sharply with his unblemished pale visage. Those glowing green eyes sparkle in the fire light as he places the mug on the table and a forked tongue pokes out to wet his lip salaciously.

“Where am I?” You ask, trying not to tremble under his gaze.

He smirks and crosses his fur-covered leg over his knee, bouncing his hoofed foot as he appraises you. The silence is unsettling, and you are unsure how to proceed from here. But there is one thought that eats at you inside until you burst.

“Are my friends safe?” you inquire eagerly. As long as they are ok, you know you made the right choice.

He answers with a low chuckle that grows into a roaring cackle, “I can see why my brother loves you so.”

You stare back at him in bewilderment and concern, “…who? What?”

He rolls his eyes, “not YOU, specifically. But you know, the nice-listers.”

He waves his hand through the air blithely, and you gulp at the long polished black claws curling at the end of each finger. Your brow furrows at the reference and then it hits you all at once.

“Krampus,” you whisper in disbelief.

“Mmm, smarter than you look,” he muses.

You scowl at the back-handed compliment, “what do you want?”

“Well I had planned on a long evening of punishment with your well-endowed adulterous housemate… but then you made me an offer I couldn’t resist,” he smiles, flashing his long pearly-white fangs.

Your mouth goes dry as you realize the position you put yourself in. Panic floods your veins, and you try to subtly slide away from him, too shaky to stand and run.

He hums as he watches you in amusement, “so even the good ones try to flee… how interesting. Would you like to see how far you can get?”

Your breath hitches at his taunting and you pause as an idea occurs to you, “Am I the first nice-lister you’ve ever taken?”

He raises a dark brow, “you mean are you the first mortal with a hero complex who has tried to impede my punitive duties?… no.”

Well there goes your plan of trying to be amenable and strike a new deal, ‘kill them with kindness’ is unlikely to get you anywhere this time.

“…but you are the first foolish enough to offer me… ‘anything’,” he grins wickedly.

The dark sinful timber of his voice makes you shudder and you spring to your feet and rush for the opposite side of the room. But the black panel you thought was a door, turns out to be a mirror. You slam into it with a cry and frantically search the shadowy room. There are no doors, no windows, and no visible hatches on the ceiling or floor.

You press yourself to the wall as a sob escapes you, “please. Please, let me go.”

“Mmm, the begging does sound sweeter from your lips,” he remarks calmly. “But the real curiosity is… what other sounds can you make?”

Without warning he whips his hand through their air and a long gold chain appears in his fist, flying toward you with a flash. You flinch and scream as the shackles magically lock around your wrists and he pulls back, causing you to fall forward. You land with a grunt, the hard floor knocking the wind out of you as he leisurely lures you in. He drags you along the floor like a helpless fish caught on a hook.

Unable to stand, you slide smoothly across the marble, inching closer and closer to him until you are close enough for him to lay his hoof on your shoulder, pinning you to the ground. You struggle fruitlessly, a pained grunt pulled from your lips as he digs the sharp rounded edge of his toe into your back.

“As much as I’d love to tease you,” he purrs, “we only have a few hours left until dawn, so let’s skip to the fun part.”

Another wave of his hand and the chain raises up to the ceiling until it has you dangling in the air before him. You swing helplessly as he watches you stoically, taking a moment to inspect every inch as you start to spin slowly.

You gasp when you turn back toward him and he’s already on his feet, eyes level with yours. You shiver at the rumbling purr that sounds from his chest, like a lion eager to devour his captured prey. He holds up a single sharp nail and hooks it under the collar of your shirt. Slowly he drags it down. The tear of the fabric makes you cringe as your bare chest is exposed to his hungry gaze.

The sheered shirt tickles your sides, but he doesn’t stop. He drags the nail down further, scratching into the skin of your belly and your sensitive pelvis before he catches the hem of your loose shorts. The elastic pops easily and he catches your cotton panties.

“Don’t!” You squirm as he makes it to your mound, terrified of that razor like edge near your folds.

The shorts slip down your thighs right as he nears your clit and you let out a relieved breath when he pulls his hand away, your bottoms fluttering freely to the floor. He tears away the remnants of your favorite pjs and lets you spin on the chain, your shame heating your face.

He hovers his hand over your hip so that his nails drag across your skin, pressing dangerously close to the point of bleeding. You groan as your skin starts to burn, but not unpleasantly. He stops you and admires the scratches circling your hips. He hums his approval and squeezes your ass, nails like needles around the edge of each cheek.

He continues to fondle you, using his claws to tease you, the pain making your nerves more sensitive and responsive to his more delicate touches. Once he has your nipples hard and sore his forked tongue slips out and he circles each nub. Flicking up and down, then around several times before repeating.

His skill was dizzying and despite your disgust and humiliation you find yourself arching into his touch. It doesn’t take long until he has you openly moaning, begging him to stop even though you know you don’t want him to.

“I’m impressed,” he praises as he grips your hips and admires your disheveled features, “the naughty ones rarely last five minutes. But in the end you’re all animals, just like me.”

He leans in close, his snake-like tongue slithering out to taste the tears staining your cheeks. You cringe but he simply ignores your resistance, humming in delight at your misery. He takes a step backwards, the hard clank of his hoof against the stone, and lifts your pelvis so that it is level with his.

He has you cradling his waist with your legs and you feel something hot and sticky prodding at your slick folds.

“No,” you whimper in your delirium, head lolling as you watch his monstrous red cock drag up your slit.

He grips himself at the distinct circle of hair near the base as he guides himself to your drooling entrance. Your legs pinch his waist, the thick fur from his legs tickling your inner thighs unnaturally, but make it easier to keep a hold of him. You moan as he fills you, the sensation familiar but the sight of his inhuman features make it feel wrong, and somehow even more pleasurable.

He tuts when he feels your arousal coat his thick shaft, “naughty girl.”

He slides into you with ease, stretching you deliciously as you instantly give yourself over to your basest instincts. You hear him groan and you look down to see your hips curl into each thrust without a thought. Your moans grow louder, matching his own as he works to build up a tantalizing momentum.

“I think you needed this more than she did,” he grunts. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

He raises your hips and drops you down hard on him, hitting a bit too deep so that you cry out in pain. He focuses his attention there until he has you sobbing and begging once more. He hunches over, watching himself destroy your cunt and, to your horror, his tongue extends to a beastly length so that he is able to tease your clit.

“Fuck!” You scream at the depraved sight and your eyes roll when the pleasure explodes within your core.

You come with a scream and the chains snap, dropping you into his awaiting arms. He stands there a moment, savoring the feel of you clenching and relaxing around him as your orgasm subsides. With his cock still buried deep, he walks you over to the bed and drops you on the slippery satin sheets.

“Let’s see how bad you can really be,” he teases as he climbs into the bed and hovers over you. “I’m certain you’ll be on my list next year.”

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @queenoftheworldisdead @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken

[nottodayjjk]

dirty little secret ~ knj

❆ summary: one fateful night in december, you come to acquire santa's naughty or nice list by accident. together with your neighbour and best friend namjoon you uncover the dirty secrets of your neighbours plunging everything into chaos. bringing mischief about is all fun games, until your own little secret appears on the naughty and nice list.

❆ pairing: namjoon x female reader (minor appearance of other idols)

❆ word count: 10,4k

❆ genre: humor, romance, fluff, smut

❆ fic warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), language

❆ rating: 18+

❆ notes from the author: this fic is part of a hoeliday well spent from the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries​, @kithtaehyung​ and @xiaokoo​ and is loosely based on the hallmark channel-movie ‘naughty or nice’ (2012). i had a lot of fun writing this! big thank you again to @kookdiaries for creating this incredible banner and for @minigum for being the most wonderful beta reader <3

❆ tag list: @shameless-army​​ @writtenwhalien​​ @shrimpmsg​​ @moonchild1​

In the dark of the night, snow was falling softly and covered the street in peaceful quietness. Christmas decorations and flickering candles adorned the lit windows and lights were beautifully draped around snow-covered bushes. Sparkling reindeers pulled Santa’s carriage and inflated snowmen waved happily at cars driving by. Christmas time had just begun.

A few lamps illuminated the street with their yellow dimmed light as a dark, giant shadow slipped past. Quiet footsteps could be heard in the stillness of the cold winter night, wading through ankle-deep snow in heavy black boots. They were on their way to the sturdy apartment building on the left side of the desolate street, determined to fulfil their quest. They took another look around before they slipped through the glass door, the red fabric of their clothes gleamed under the flickering light of the broken lamp of the entrance lobby. Then, the night was quiet again.

You had been out with your best friend and next-door neighbour Namjoon whom you knew a few years by now. From the first day you had set foot in the small apartment building, he had been a helping hand, mainly through helping you carry a myriad of small boxes and things all the way up to the 6th floor where the both of you lived. The elevator had, of course, been out of order on that day. But he hadn’t complained at all! And because he had gone way out of his way even though he had only met you that same day, you had invited him to a take-away pizza and a bottle of cheap wine from the supermarket right around the corner. You had not expected your first night in your new home to be like this, to be so much fun. He had stayed until the morning, the two of you talking about anything and everything until the birds had chirped good morning outside. And the bond between the two of you had only grown from there on out.

You had visited a local Christmas market together, drinking a whole lot of eggnog and relishing in the joyful spirit of Christmas. You had never been someone to celebrate Christmas before you had met Namjoon. In your first year, he had basically dragged you to the market and filled you up with all kinds of different Christmassy drinks and snacks, bought you several gingerbread hearts, and even got you to ride one of the many attractions with him. The next day had been awful, the hot chocolate with rum had come out the same way that it had gone in. Still, it had been the most joyous Christmas time you had ever had.

Ever since then, he always did something new with you every Christmas. Buying a tree, seeing a Santa Claus show in the city centre, or writing letters with long wish lists to Santa. But it had never come down to actually spending Christmas eve and morning together, to your disappointment. He usually drove to his parents, a three-hour ride from where you lived, leaving you on your own to sulk in loneliness until he came back for New Year’s Eve.

Well, this year he had bugged you until you had agreed to go décor shopping for your apartment with him. It had made him sad to see your living space so empty during a cheery time like this. He got you all the basic things: fairy lights, cute little snowmen that had the friendliest smiles, a whole lot of candlesticks with red candles that smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon, hell, even glitter balls and bows for the small tree he also had gotten you.

After putting all the decorations up and “to celebrate your joyful shopping spree”, as Namjoon had called it, he had once again persuaded you to go to the Christmas market, letting no feeble excuses count. He had been in too good of a mood anyway for you to turn him down. You found it cute when he was all excited and giddy like this.

He had ordered eggnog after eggnog. His infectious enthusiasm had only gone up, not down a tad as you had hoped. But after the third eggnog, you hadn’t minded anymore anyway. Namjoon had entertained you all through the evening, making you laugh and enjoy yourself after a long week of studying and learning. Even though it had just snowed the other day, the eggnog had held you warm through and through, your cheeks feeling hot. Maybe it had also been a little bit because of Namjoon and how he had scooted closer and closer to you throughout the evening, ‘to keep each other warm’ as he had stated.

You had stayed until the booth had closed and the owner had hushed you to finally head home. Given both of your inebriated states, getting home had taken twice as long as it did when you’d left from home to go out.

As you had reached the door, waving a last goodbye to Namjoon who had stumbled clumsily into his own apartment, it had taken you a few minutes until you finally had gotten the key into the hole. You hadn’t even bothered to brush your teeth, only changing into comfy pyjamas – which had been quite the task – and slipping into bed. Dreamland hadn’t waited long to come, and you had fallen sound asleep.

So, to no one’s surprise, you didn’t hear when soft but heavy footsteps approached your apartment in the middle of the night. Didn’t spot the broad shadow that could be seen through the small gap under your door where the light fell in. Didn’t notice when a thick package wrapped with packing paper was pushed through the letter slot of your apartment door.

The package fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The towering figure hummed a merry tune before taking off again. You only turned around in your sleep, mumbling, “No more eggnog, Namjoon”, before it was quiet once more.

The rest of the night went uneventfully, and the package laid peacefully on your door mat until morning came.

A pounding headache. That was what had woken you up. The eggnog hadn’t been a good idea from the start, and you had told Namjoon several times. But even though he had listened to you, he had ignored your reasonable request. He hadn’t really given you a choice to begin with. And you hadn’t wanted to complain. At least he had paid and that was all that had been needed to convince you.

While Namjoon was already producing his own music, you were still a university student majoring in Art. You got by fine with the money your parents sent you and what you earned from your part-time job at the library, but you were still glad for every penny you could keep and save for after university. You dreamed of opening your own business and, heck, you needed a lot of money for that.

When Namjoon had heard of your ideas, he had been in immediately, supporting you in every way possible. Even if it meant paying for your drinks or your museum visits on the weekend. As long as he got to spend time with you, it was worth all his money.

You desperately grabbled for the nightstand. Luckily, you had prepared pain meds and water in advance, even a small piece of toast. Your nights out with Namjoon usually ended like this, so you are accustomed to it.

Sitting up a little, you popped the pills into your mouth first before chucking the water into your throat as if your life depended on it. Once you’d dealt with that, you reached towards the toast, munching on it until it was no more.

You felt better immediately as the medicine worked its way through your system and the toast soaked up the remaining alcohol in your stomach. Slowly the turns in your stomach lessened and until there was one thing overtaking your needs. It was time for coffee.

Slowly, you got up, swaying a little back onto the bed but overall, it was not as bad as you’d had expected. Sure, the eggnog had made your stomach a little weak, but you felt certain it could handle the coffee. Otherwise, you couldn’t make it through the day. Coffee was vital right now.

On the way out of your bedroom, you snatched your long silk gown, putting it on. You headed straight to the coffee machine, pushing the little blinking button so it started grinding the black beans. The soft smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air as you grabbed a big mug from the sink. You sighed and leaned one hip on the counter.

As you waited for the coffee you looked around and your gaze fell onto an exceptionally cheery snowman on your coffee table. You had never been keen on Christmas decorations. They were too bright, too colourful, and too cheesy.

Well, jokes on you. All the things the two of you had bought, the fairy lights, red candles, a few reindeers and snowmen, and some green fir branches, were now spread around your apartment, the small tree chilling next to your TV in the corner. It was hard to say ‘No’ to Namjoon’s puppy eyes. He usually got his way with you.

It had also been his idea to not only put the lights on the curtain rods but to wind them around them, too. 

He had held you safely by your waist as you had stood on the ladder to reach up there. His long, slender hands had felt so warm through your clothes that your heart had stuttered for a second and you had gotten the job done rather quickly to get away from this weird feeling that had erupted in your chest. Because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t admit that Namjoon had become more than a best friend to you over the last few years.

But you had to confess; the lights were very very pretty. You even thought about keeping them up there after Christmas. They brought a soft glow around the room that made it feel unbelievably cosy and romantic.

As you absentmindedly grabbed for your finished cup of coffee you couldn’t help but remember the way Namjoon’s skin had glowed in these lights. How mesmerizing he had looked. How hard you had had to keep yourself from putting a hand up to one of his cheeks and caressing his soft skin.

You lost yourself in the memory for a second before you noticed something very peculiar from the corner of your eye. Something very square and brown. It was a package. On your doormat. ‘What in god’s name,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed it in curious suspicion. The post usually never came that early. Especially not on a Saturday. And why had no one rang the bell? It was odd, to say the least.

You left your coffee on the counter, steam still rising in puffy clouds from the cup. Cautiously, you made your way over to the mysterious package that read your full address, but no sender. It was quite big, now that you had gotten closer, and it had you wondering how it had fit through the narrow letter slot. Maybe Namjoon was pulling a prank on you?

Before you picked up the package, you opened the door and checked the hallway, frantically looking left and right. But no one was there, not even Namjoon to cheekily grin at you.

Closing the door behind you, you took the brown package and laid it down on the counter next to your coffee. You eyed it once more while taking a long sip from the beverage. Should you open it? What if there was something… bad or deadly inside? You had heard of such packages before on the news. People sent them to get revenge on ex-partners or enemies. Well, you had no such things… and Namjoon seemed to be out of the picture as well.

After some more staring, curiosity finally got the best of you, and you carefully ripped open the brown packing paper. It revealed a heavy book that was edged in red velvety fabric that had golden ornaments engraved. Imprinted on it was the lettering “Naughty or Nice”. Wait- what?!

Snorting laughter erupted from your chest. This had to be a prank, right? ‘Namjoon’s good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Keeps hiding until I actually look at the book. Not a very good prank, but alright…’

As you were about to open it, you could hear a key jingling in front of your door and some mumbled curses. ‘Speaking of the devil.’ Namjoon strode through the door in his pyjama and a long gown, his hair looking dishevelled and eyes still half-closed. He had your spare keys which gave him the possibility to let himself in whenever and you didn’t mind. At this point, it had become commonplace.

You watched with an amused grin as he immediately scuffed over to the coffee machine, grabbing another cup from the sink, and turning it on once more. He inhaled the smell just like you did before he turned around to face you.

“Morning, Y/N,” he hummed, and a lop-sided grin adorned his lips. Hell, how did this sleepy look fit him so well? “How is your stomach?”

You crossed your arms and leant back on the counter. “Better than I thought. You?”

“Same, same. I just really craved your coffee. This machine is a literal angel!” He turned back around to grab his coffee and take a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Very funny, by the way.” You pointed at the book behind you, still laying unopened on your counter. “You never have Christmas-pranked me before so that’s a first. But it isn’t one of your best ideas, if I can be honest with you.”

There was a moment of silence. You had expected him to laugh at you or make a clever remark about how he had gotten you to open it. But… nothing. He just blankly stared at you. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Making this book look like Santa’s Naughty or Nice list? Very funny, Namjoon, very funny!” You chuckled a little at him pretending not to know what you were talking about.

He spied over your shoulder, reading the lettering. And shook his head. “Y/N. I… didn’t prank you. This–“ He pointed to the book. “–is nothing I came up with. Though I must say, I think it’s a pretty good idea!” He snickered a little and took another sip of his coffee.

“But–“ You turned around to the book. “–who sent it to me then? I don’t know who else would try and prank me…” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking another look at the packing paper. Still nothing but your address.

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No, I was just about to when you came through the door.” You put a hand on the binding. The velvet fabric felt soft under your fingertips and the golden lettering glittered in the glim of the fairy lights. It looked so… real.

Carefully, you opened it, coming face to face with a blank page. Maybe the others? You browsed to the next page. And the next. And the next. But they were all blank, not even a tiny little bit of ink to be seen. ‘Weird…’

Skimming through the rest of the book, you looked for anything peculiar. Nothing. “It’s empty,” you told Namjoon, while going back to the first page and leaving it open.

You heard shuffling on the floor and suddenly Namjoon leaned over your shoulder to look at the book. He stretched out his hand to skim through it as well. He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and his breath on your neck as he let out a confused huff.

When he stepped back from you after inspecting the book, you wished him back closer behind you. ‘Stop that,’ you scolded yourself in your head. ‘He is your best friend!’

“Well, it actually looks like someone pulled a prank on you,” Namjoon stated while making himself another cup of coffee. He usually runs on three. On a good day. That you knew his coffee consumption so well said a lot about how regularly he came over in the morning to use your coffee machine.

“Apparently…”

Loud bass suddenly disrupted the morning, booming through the wall to your left. ‘No, not again!’ It was your other neighbour… Jungkook. He kept it down on most days. But he always pulled this on a Saturday morning, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose just to annoy you. You had banged on the wall a few times before. On some days he even turned the music down after your knocking complaint. But today, it was on a whole other level. As if he knew you had been out late and had a mild hangover.

“Ugh, I’ll swear I’ll punch him some day,” you mumbled while pinching your eyebrows in frustration.

Namjoon knew you weren’t kidding. Jungkook had been getting on your nerves ever since he had moved in next door. Before him, there lived a nice and quiet lady who occasionally baked chocolate cookies for the two of you and had always put something nice in front of your door during Christmas time. Now, there was Jungkook. Student, party animal, and the type to listen to music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Namjoon said. “But I also don’t want to have to visit you in prison during Christmas time.” He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair before chucking down his coffee.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise of paper coming from the counter. The book! It was turning its pages on its own. “Holy-“

You stepped in front of the counter, Namjoon following closely, eyes as wide as the moon. “How is that possible?” he whispered while peering over your shoulder again.

A golden light bloomed from the Naughty or Nice book and the two of you just stared at in great awe as sparkles danced around the room. “I’m usually not one to believe in magic,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “But this is a whole new thing…”

The turning stopped and the pages gently dropped down. Beautiful, curved letters emerged, writing your neighbour’s name. They shone golden in the light. “What is happening?” you hissed while intently watching the book. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, speechless.

 Jeon Jungkook: always leaves his trash in front of Mrs. Kim’s apartment door

Underneath was a moving picture, showing Jungkook looking around frantically before putting his trash bag on Mrs. Kim’s doormat and a more detailed description of what was going on. You gasped out in disbelief. “Mrs. Kim is always so nice! How dare he!?”

Namjoon let out an angry huff. “You’ve got a good point but-“ His forehead crinkled in confusion and scepticism. “How does it do that?”

You shrugged, turning the page to see if it had a built-in display. But… there was nothing. It was just a normal page like any other. You turned back to the picture of Jungkook where he had gotten caught in the act. By whom? You didn’t know, could only guess… But no, this was not possible. Santa didn’t exist. But… an idea came to your head.

“Hmm, let’s put this to a test,” you said as the pounding bass continued to boom through the wall. You left the book open, the image of Jungkook engraved in your head, as you turned on your heels and made your way over to the door.

“You actually gonna go over there?” Namjoon trailed behind you, not sure if this was the right thing to do. You definitely had a reason to be angry at Jungkook. But what if this was all just a scam? Well, it felt far too real for that, but Namjoon wasn’t yet ready to call his beliefs into question. This was insane.

You nodded and opened the door. “He has been getting on my nerves for a few weeks now. It’s time to put this to a stop.” You gave him one last determined book before stepping out into the hallway.

Namjoon shook his head in amusement at your vendetta and stopped at your doorstep, leaning against the frame watching you. This was your fight. He wouldn’t get between the frontlines. He knew your anger all too well.

You rapped viciously on the door; quite sure Jungkook wouldn’t hear any of it. And of course, the door didn’t open and the music blared on. So, you resorted to a more effective method. You pressed the button of the bell and held it down. ‘I will have you answer your door even if it takes the whole freaking day.’

It took a few seconds, but you heard the music fading and someone swearing behind the door. It worked. A malicious smirk adorned your lips. You weren’t even nervous, more excited to try the spicy information you had acquired about him. The keys jingled in the keyhole and an annoyed face appeared in the ajar door. “What is it?”

You crossed your arms and put on your most intimidating look. The secret from the book gave you a hell of a confident boost. “Jungkook,” you started, “I’ve told you many many times to quiet it down.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “I know. I’m sorry but-“

You cut him off immediately. “No buts. You’re either gonna tone it down from now on or…”

“Or what? You’re trying to threaten me?” He laughed and threw his head back. “That’s new. Well, you’ve got nothing on me, Y/N.”

You squinted your eyes at him, and a smile grew on your face. “You sure?”

Jungkook leaned against the door frame while looking bored. The arrogant look on his face gave you the rest of the encouragement you needed. “Well,” you swirled one of your hair strands around your finger, “I know you’re putting your trash bags on Mrs. Kim’s doormat, so you don’t have to take it out yourself…”

It took a moment for Jungkook to realise what you just said. But when he finally did, his jaw almost dropped down to his knees. “How-“

“The poor woman. I think she deserves to know…” You turned around, feeling the power pulsating in your hands. It was electrifying! You slowly strode over to your apartment.

“Y/N!” Jungkook called out after you, desperation apparent in his voice. “I-“ He dropped his head in defeat, all pride and arrogance had left his body. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’m gonna tone it down from now on,” he caved in.

“You better,” you just answered and walked away, leaving a speechless Jungkook by his door.

Namjoon snickered as you entered your apartment again, finding the whole situation very amusing. “Have you seen his face? He was so stunned!” Both of you burst out into a fit of laughter, needing a few seconds to calm yourselves down again.

You went back to the still open book. “So it tells the truth…” you stated while tracing the letters with your fingers when they suddenly started to disappear. “Oh! They’re vanishing!”

“Probably because you called him out on that,” Namjoon assumed, looking at the now empty page and then at you. “You know what that means… right?”

You turned it over in your head for a few seconds before you answered Namjoon’s gaze with a mischievous smile. “Let’s discover some secrets this Christmas!”

And so, the two of you went on to discover the hidden secrets and misdeeds of all of your neighbours. The book was never wrong. Not when it told you that Mrs. Kim had a secret fling with Mr. Sung from floor 5 and they were acting like giddy teenagers, that Mrs. Lee let her dog pee on Mrs. Park’s door mat once in a while because they couldn’t stand each other, that Soonyoung from second floor liked to bathe in pure milk occasionally, that Yeji from first floor stole Mr. Chew’s newspaper now and then because he was rude to basically everyone in the building, that Taehyung from fourth floor had sang Christmas carols in the middle of the night for Yeji because he had been out to drink, and many many more.

Some of them you used for your amusement, but most of them were kept between the both of you. You felt closer to Namjoon than ever before. Sharing and keeping secrets about your neighbours bound you together. And Christmas time was a blast, for the both of you! You went out once in a while to the Christmas market again but usually you kept your noses in the Naughty or Nice book, awaiting the next secret to appear. So, Christmas time went by in a happy blur.

After coming home from another one of your merry adventures, you began to realise that this might all be over soon. Actually, Christmas evening was tomorrow already and Namjoon would probably be off to his parents. You didn’t want to stop discovering all these secrets with Namjoon. You had spent a lot of time together; it had been so much fun. And you liked being around him, you knew that. You weren’t ready to admit it, but you had fallen in love with him even more by now. Even after all these years, his way of living and his wisdom still amazed you to no end.

Your thoughts were suddenly disrupted by Namjoon as the both of you reached your apartment door. “Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Namjoon stood in front of you, nervously wrenching his hands. You had never seen him skittish before. Had something happened?

He took a deep breath before he began to speak. “I was… wondering if you wanted to spent Christmas together?” Namjoon nervously scratched his head. “I-“ he stumbled over his own words for a moment. “I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. And my parents won’t be at home anyway. So, I was wondering- I mean-“ He rambled on and gestured wildly between the both of you.

To stop him, you gently put your hand on his arm. “Yes,” you answered simply and smiled at him happily, not able to contain your excitement at his request. Your heart was beating in your chest. Spending Christmas with Namjoon was a dream come true.

“I... would love to.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly while not being able to meet his eyes. You were sure he would be able to read your confused feelings for him right there.

He let out a small huff of relief. “Good, good… We can go grocery shopping together tomorrow if you want. So we can pick something to eat that we both like.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Meet in the morning as usual?” you asked, fidgeting with your jacket sleeve.

Namjoon nodded. “I will cook of course. You will be my guest! Also, your cooking skills might be a little insufficient for Christmas…” Mischievousness gleamed in his eyes and you just shook your head, laughing a little.

“I think my cooking skills are fine as they are. It’s not my fault you don’t like the food that I cook!” you exclaimed and hit his shoulder playfully. “Also, your food might taste better than mine. But you’re definitely more chaotic than I am!”

“Okay, okay,” he put his hands up in defeat. “You’ve got a point. I’m still cooking though.” He took off his beanie to run a hand through his hair. He stretched his arms out, motioning for you to give him a goodbye-hug.

Your skin tingled as you obliged. His hands rested on your back as he tugged you close. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your back. Gosh, his voice and his soft lips were hovering right next to your ear. It created images in your head you shouldn’t be thinking about in the proximity of your best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You swallowed a big lump in your throat. “Good night to you too,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, heart still fluttering. He could hear the rapid beating for sure.

Both of you stayed in the hug longer than necessary, thinking about what would become of your adventures once Christmas was over. You were sure the book would disappear, that its owner would come to get it.

You sighed before stepping away from Namjoon, giving him a small smile before pulling out your keys. He went over to his door, a jingling noise reaching your ears. You looked over your shoulder before entering your apartment.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” Namjoon called over in a hushed voice before he disappeared behind his own door. Little did you and he know what effect these last few words would have on you…

Wanton sounds escaped your mouth as your hands grasped fiercely for your sheets. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you felt a desperate mouth latching onto your clit, tongue poking out to gratify your little bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt… overwhelming.

You couldn’t hold in a lewd moan as the tongue worked magic on you. “Please–“ You couldn’t form a whole sentence without being interrupted by your own moans.

You felt a hand softly caressing your thigh. “Y/N,” a familiar voice reached your ear, making you perk up. Was this… real? You lifted yourself on your elbows to see if you were right with your guess.

Looking up from between your legs was a tousled Namjoon, cheeks red and lips glistening in the light of your fairy lights. He looked like an angel with his skin glowing golden and his hair illuminated.

It felt like a dream come true…

It wasn’t the morning light waking you up nor the loud traffic noise from the street in front of your apartment building. No. What woke you up was the growing wetness between your legs. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, a light film of sweat covered your forehead. Well, that had been… hot.

You had had dreams of Namjoon before. Funny ones, sad ones, even ones where the two of you had been dating. But with things like this, you had only been daydreaming about thus far. It had you all riled up, a little embarrassed, but first and foremost horny.

His head between your legs and his tongue on your clit had felt so real. Oh, what you’d give to actually get to feel that. But you were sure that it would remain something that stayed in your daydreams, when you had to release some friction behind your bedroom doors.

You sighed, pushing the thick blanket to the side. You had to take care of the mess between your legs and there was only one place that always helped: the shower. You had to get this dream out of your head before Namjoon would come over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look into his eyes without thinking of the sinful scene that repeated itself again and again in your head.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ you pushed yourself to get out of bed and into the shower. As if you didn’t enjoy this…

As you sat down by the book again with a big cup of fresh coffee, you were actually wondering if you’d ever appear on the list. Or Namjoon. And which secret of yours it would be. So far, it hadn’t spilled any of yours. But it would be merely a matter of time until the pages would reveal what you had kept from one another. Even though there were barely any secrets between the two of you. Only this… this was kind of a major one.

Absent-mindedly, you browsed through the book again. What secret would reveal itself today? Maybe about this dude all up on floor 7 that was always wearing a beanie and sunglasses or that girl from over the street that was walking her dog up and down the street.

Someone was entering the apartment. Namjoon rounded the corner and came into your view. He was also still in his morning clothes, his feet hidden beneath two slippers. Your gazes met shortly, a quick nod exchanged and gentle smiles, before he made a turn.

“And?” He strolled over to the coffee machine, slippers scratching on the floor. “Anything new?” He nodded towards the book sprawled out in front of you.

“I haven’t really checked yet, give me a second.” You concentrated back on the book, pages sliding through your fingers as you looked for a new secret until you found it. You didn’t really pay any attention at first. But then you read your name in big, curved letters. A quiet gasp slipped past your lips.

Checking to see if Namjoon was still making coffee, you hoped he was not aware of your little slip up. He happily worked away, putting coffee beans into the machine, whistling ‘Jingle Bells Rock’ to the puckering sound of the milk frother.

Then, you turned your attention back to the book. When you read Has naughty dreams of their best friend in small letters, your heart sped up and your breathing got ragged. Underneath it was, like it had always been the case before, a more detailed description of what had happened. And a picture of you writhing and moaning beneath the sheets. No, why today?!

The words in front of you blurred as you tried to fathom the consequences if Namjoon came to read this. Your friendship would be over. He would never speak to you again. Hell, what would he think of you?!

You couldn’t let that happen. He was the only thing in your life that kept you sane. That could not all be thrown away. You quickly closed the book, thinking of something to distract Namjoon.

Unfortunately, the loud thump startled Namjoon. He turned around as he heard the sudden noise. He eyed you for a second and then noticed the closed book under your hands. He put down the coffee spoon he was holding. “Uhm… Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes are like… this wide.” He put a fair distance between his thumb and his pointer finger.

Quickly shaking your head, you scrambled for words. “It’s nothing. I-I thought I…” Yeah, what did you think? It was hard to lie when Namjoon looked at you like that. Your brain couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, you just gulped heavily.

Namjoon’s coffee was now forgotten, its owner too curious about what you had read and seen. He had, of course, noticed your nervous behaviour, growing suspicious of what you were trying to do. His slippers scraped along the floor again as he casually made his way over to you. With his gaze never leaving your face, he followed your every move.

Clambering for the book, you secured it in your arms before Namjoon could reach for it. He couldn’t find out. Not about the dream. Not about the feelings you held for him. But especially not about the dream. The sinful scenes replayed themselves in your head again and you felt your cheeks heating up once more. “There is nothing in there,” you exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But there was a crack in your voice. And you could see it in his eyes. He knew.

Scrambling to sit up right on the couch, you shook your head ‘No’, keeping the book tight in your clutches. Over your dead body would it fall into his hands.

“If there is nothing to see, why are you keeping it from me?” He tried to reason with you, stretching out a hand towards the book that you kept clutched in front of your chest, your arms wrapped around it like it was the most precious treasure you had ever possessed.

Namjoon was not one to accept a ‘No’, you knew that. You could spot the determined look in his eyes already. There was nothing that would keep him from finding out. And that had you scared like hell.

You could only stare at him, not having an answer for his very true and logical question. He would always catch you with his well thought-out reasoning. It made you want to tear your hair out every time. Right now, though, you were paralysed by fear.

“Well, you leave me no choice,” he approached you slowly, trying to read you, trying to calculate which escape route you would take. Because whatever stood in that book, had you all jittery and he had to know why. Though he knew that you would never show him voluntarily.

Panic, your brain screamed. And your body scrambled up from the couch, trying to get away from Namjoon. You still clutched the book in front of your chest with both hands.

“No, no, no!” he lunged forward, reaching for you. “You’re not getting away!” He got your left foot before you could escape safely from the couch. Your body fell back onto the cushions, knocking the breath out of your lungs. But you didn’t let go of the book, no matter the pain it would cost.

In his haste to prevent your escape, he knocked down a few wooden reindeers and snowmen from the coffee table. Luckily, there was no glass there. You had told him right in the store that you would not be buying any glass decorations if he would be around. With his clumsiness, he would knock them down within mere seconds. Hell, he had almost dropped something right then and there in the shop. But you both had other things to worry about right now than your Christmas decorations.

“Namjoon,” you shout out anxiously. “Let go of me!” But his grip on you didn’t ease up.

“Not before you show me the freaking book, Y/N!” And he kept his word, his hands desperately trying to seize the book from your tight grip. But you wouldn’t give up so easily. You once more tried to get away from him, grasping for the armrest and pulling like your life depended on it. But he was just too strong, with one hand grabbling for the book and the other holding down your legs.

While fighting him off, you didn’t notice how he’d crawled up your body, getting in nearer reach of the book. And suddenly he was way too close to your face, hovering above you in such an intimate way he never had before.

There had been moments of course. Where he had caged you in a little at your door, when he had leaned in too close, when he had pulled you into his warm embrace… But that had been something different.

Now he laid on top of you, covering your body with his. His chest heaved against yours as he tried to catch his breath from fighting with you. His grey-dyed hair fell in streaks into his eyes and once more his skin glowed in the warm fuzzy light of the fairy lights that framed his head. For a second, the both of you just... stopped.

He looked deeply into your eyes; his pupils overshadowed with an emotion you couldn’t grasp. Your heart beat even faster and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel his skin burning on yours. It was… ravishing. Your body couldn’t get enough of it already.

Suddenly, he snapped the book out of your hand, forcing an evil laughter out of his mouth and the moment was gone. He had shamelessly used your messed up state to his advantage and now the book was in his hands.

He scrambled back up from his position on top of you, quickly getting away from you and taking the book with him so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of snatching it back from him. Well, you had resigned already anyway. There was no way you could stop the inevitable from happening now. You said your last goodbye to your friendship. He took one last look at your dishevelled and defeated state before he plopped down on the armchair.

Thump, thump, thump. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears like the drums of that one Christmas song that they always played on the radio, and your stomach took a heavy leap. No, you couldn’t watch this. It was just too much to handle. You grabbed for the plush Santa Namjoon had gotten you as a joke last year, and hid your face in the red fabric of his cloak. You peeked out anxiously, watching Namjoon.

Pages rustled as Namjoon slowly opened the book. His heart beat just as fast as yours as he searched for the right page. Not because he was anxious, but because of his excitement as to what he would get to read on that page. And then he finally found it.

He was not surprised that it was about you. He had actually predicted that. Why else would you react that way if this didn’t reveal something about you? But the content had him gasping out in astonishment.

To actually believe it, he had to read it more than once. It beat all of his wildest dreams. Not only had you caught feelings for him, but he had of course caught feelings for you as well. And quite some time ago too. He had wanted to confess more than once but he hadn’t had the guts. He was very afraid of losing you as well so this came as a very pleasant surprise to him.

Unable to help it, he read the passage once more and let his gaze on the image of you linger a little longer, feeling arousal crawl up his body. He had caught you staring at him here and there, when going for a swim in the summer or when he read a book, when you didn’t think he would notice. He had never given much thought to it though. He would have never guessed that you had thought about him, dreamed about him.

He needed a few to gather himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He couldn’t let this slide just like that now that he knew that you felt the same for him. Now that he knew what you were craving. And he wanted to give you exactly that. All night if you wanted to. He wanted to give you the pleasure that you deserved, see you writhing underneath his fingers, calling out his name so that everyone could hear what he did to you.

A mischievous grin passed over his face. He would take care of that wish of yours, as a Christmas gift. That he promised to himself and gathered all of his confidence for. His heartbeat was going through the roof but he didn’t want you to know, and tried to keep a calm face.

You peeked out once more as he closed the book. You tried to read his face, but there was nothing to work with. Had your friendship been ruined already? Would he just leave and never say a word to you ever again? You expected the worst, already feeling tears prick in your eyes.

Namjoon slowly got up from the armchair and now you were sure he would leave the apartment. You felt embarrassment, shame, and regret overwhelm you. But there was something in you that fought back. Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t just let him go like this. “Namjoon, I-“

But he cut you off mid-sentence. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He shook his head, putting the book down on the table and shoved it over towards you. Your gaze fell back to the image of you, a moaning mess in the bed. You couldn’t handle looking at it and instead gazed up at Namjoon and being met with an expression that you hadn’t expected at all.

He looked like a boy who had gotten the biggest present for Christmas, but there was also something a lot less innocent in his eyes. Holding your gaze, he came back over to the couch and crouched in front of you.

“You’ve been –“ He swallowed visibly, nervousness getting the best of him for a second, before he proceeded with confidence “–a very naughty girl, Y/N, haven’t you?” He cocked an eyebrow while putting both of his hands next to your legs that rested on the edge of the couch.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Never had you imagined that Namjoon would speak like this to you. You could not say much, your throat going dry, and just slowly nodded your head.

“Hmm, thought so,” he answered while letting his gaze wander over your form. “Well, what do we do about that? Naughty girls need to be punished, right?” His eyes drifted back to your face, satisfied he took notice of the effect he had on you. How your legs unconsciously rubbed together at his every movement.

With the heat rising from you, he felt drawn to you.

“But I think you’ve been pretty nice this year. I think we leave the punishment for another day and instead–“ He nodded towards the book, referring to the description of your dream under the picture. “– keep working on this.” He turned back towards you. “What do you think, Y/N?”

His words were music in your ears. This was more than you could wish for. You pinched yourself for a second, making sure it wasn’t another dream of yours, that you hadn’t just fallen asleep again in your bed. But it was as real as it could get. Arousal is already pooling in your panties, Namjoon’s deep voice resounding in your head.

By now, he was drawing small, soft circles on the skin of your thigh, patiently waiting for your answer. He wouldn’t do anything about it as long as you hadn’t given your consent. There was still a little voice inside of him that wasn’t sure if you really felt the same. He had no time to think too much about it though.

You cleared your throat, the effect he had on you clear as day. “I’d… love that.” You shyly answered, carefully putting a hand on Namjoon’s cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of the gentle action.

He pushed himself up a little, his face hovering in front of yours. You held your breath, excited for what was to come. He was even closer than before. You could feel puffs of his hot breath gently caressing your lips. His eyes kept yours caged, his pupils blown looking like black holes that swallowed you to take you to another dimension.

With his hand moving up to the side of your neck, it gingerly brushed against the skin and he left it at the nape of your neck. His face inched closer, barely any space left between your lips now. Your thumb grazed over his cheek, the skin underneath warm and tender. You could stay like this forever.

“May… may I kiss you?” Namjoon asked, gaze drifting between your shining eyes and your tempting lips. You took his breath away, making him weak in the knees. Why hadn’t he confessed to you sooner? He could have had it all already. You had both missed out on so much. But there was still so much time to make up for it all.

It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there, but to answer his question first. You looked deep into his eyes, “Yes, I beg you to.”

And that was all that was needed for Namjoon to desperately press his lips against yours without hesitating for even a second. Both of you closed your eyes, relishing in the moment of the first kiss shared between the two of you. It was not at all how you had expected it to feel but so much more. Your heart took a leap at his soft lips that moved so lovingly against yours while his thumb stroked your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Namjoon had to take a break to catch his breath, soft laughter escaping his lips. His hand remained at the back of your neck and so did yours on his cheek. But this break didn’t last long because both of you were already hungry for more. Your other hand went into his hair while your mouth landed back on his.

Tugging a little at the strands, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, his lips opening to the kiss. His tongue darted out, tapping against your lower lip and begging for entrance. You let him stew a little until both of your tongues met in a heated battle.

Slowly, Namjoon could feel himself getting hard. Your sweet lips got the best of him and he couldn’t do anything against it when his mind imagined them wrapped around his cock. He could feel it twitch in his pyjama pants, begging for attention. But Namjoon wanted for you to cum first. The outlook of getting to taste you with his tongue between your folds was too promising.

In fact, he didn’t want to wait any longer. As much as he enjoyed making out with you, he wanted to dig into the real fun. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead softly against yours. This time you had to catch your breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Namjoon whispered softly, asking for your permission to go on.

You pecked his lips adoringly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming about it.” Both of you chuckled lightly, caressing each other’s skin. “I couldn’t wish for more this Christmas.” You had to stifle a laugh. This was the most interesting Christmas you had ever had. And you loved it.

Namjoon made his way over to your ear with featherlight kisses to nibble on your earlobe before he hushed into your ear, making you shiver at the nickname he used for you, “I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, baby girl.”

“I will,” you breathed back, enjoying the shivers that ran down your spine as Namjoon’s breath tickled your skin. You buzzed with excitement, awaiting his treatment.

“Okay, baby girl,” he moved down from your ear to your neck, nipping at the skin and grazing his teeth over your shoulder a little. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

While your breathing got heavier at these few words already, he gently pushed your thighs apart with his hands, his upper body moving in the space in between to have better access to your neck. His hands wandered over your inner thighs, setting your skin on fire and your blood boiling.

Another quiet moan escaped your mouth. It all felt just too heavenly. And it made Namjoon proud to know he was making you feel good. You deserved it and he was ready to give it to you for the rest of your life if it meant he would hear your sweet little moans.

As he nibbled lightly on your neck, his hands crawled up your shirt, pushing it up over your chest. His mouth unlatched to attach itself again to one of your nipples immediately, drawing sloppy circles around it. While one of his hands held up the shirt, the other sweetly caressed your other breast, brushing against the sensitive bud and making it stand up, aroused.

Throwing your head back, you pushed your upper body into Namjoon’s face. The treatment he blessed you with was paradisiac. If it was up to you, he could do that for the rest of eternity. Still, there was one place where you needed him a lot more…

“Joonie.” His nickname left your lips in a faint, breathless hush. He let out a breathy moan against your nipple. God, now his mind would forever replay this moment and your needy plea whenever someone would call him by this nickname. You were his rise and his fall.

He pecked your nipple one last time before looking up from in between your breasts with hooded eyes. “Yes, baby girl?”

“I need you,” you breathed out, hands still playing with his soft hair.

He cocked his head, one of his eyebrows rising. “Need me how?”

You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He knew exactly how, teasing you in a vulnerable moment. With your cheeks heating up, you looked away for a second. This was still very unchartered territory to you.

Feeling one of his hands back on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Eyes full of genuity, he softly told you, “You don’t need to be ashamed when you’re with me. You can freely tell me what you want because I want to make you feel good.” He took your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, softly muttering against your skin, “I want you to feel safe with me.”

It was easy to tell he was being serious and honest. How did you deserve this man? You mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ to him, feeling more at ease now. And it gave you the confidence to state your desire.

“Joonie… I need your mouth on me and your tongue in me, please,” you begged as you didn’t break off the eye contact. His eyes lit up at your words and he nodded eagerly, pressing one more kiss on your knuckles before he let your hand go.

“If you need something to hold onto, my hair is as good as anything else,” Namjoon told you, winking at you saucily before levelling his head with your clothed core. You held in a breath as he put a featherlight kiss to your inner thigh before nipping on the smooth skin.

His hands wandered over your lower legs towards your waist where they played with the hem of your pyjama shorts, ghosting over your skin. He could smell your wetness and it drove him crazy. He was just as riled up as you were.

He looked up from between your legs, giving you a very similar view as your dream had. You still couldn’t believe that this was all actually happening.

“Baby girl? Could you do me a favor?” His hands slipped back under your shirt for a second, drawing soft circles on your lower back.

You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything as long as he’d continue his exploration down your pants.

“Could you lift your hips for me a little?” He nodded towards your hips. “We need to get these out of the way.”

You obeyed his request, leaning back while lifting up your hips from the couch. All you wanted was his mouth on you.

Namjoon sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the view he was about to get. He had dreamed of that moment many, many times. In the shower when the thoughts of you got over his head, in bed when he had had another vivid dream of you in his arms.

He gently pulled down both your pyjama shorts and your panties, dragging them slowly over your legs to fully enjoy this moment. The clothing items in question hit one of the snowmen in the face as Namjoon carelessly threw them over his shoulder.

You felt the cold air hit your sensitive skin, dragging in a breath as it came in contact with the rough material of the couch. You needed release desperately right now, even little things like these throwing you off. You sank back into the couch a little.

Heartbeat strumming in his ears, Namjoon’s gaze wandered between your legs, laying eyes on your glistening folds for the first time. It was a sight to behold, at least for him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, dragging one hand through his hair while lowering back down between your legs.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered while pushing his arms under your legs and pulling them up on his shoulders so he could get better access. You relaxed your upper body on the backrest while shifting your hips up to the edge of the couch so that not only you were comfortable, but it would also be easier for Namjoon.

He gave you one last smile before pressing his head between your legs, his hair pleasantly tickling the inner skin of your thighs. You could feel hot puffs of breath hitting your sensitive folds, making you shiver around him. He hummed lightly, pleased at your reaction.

With his hands gently holding down your thighs, he pressed soft kisses around your pussy, nipping at the skin here and there and biting down softly. He closed his eyes, savoring the last moment before he would get to taste you.

With one hand holding you up, you entangled the other back into his hair, threading through the strands. Your soft gasps filled the air, encouraging Namjoon on.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, dropping a sloppy kiss onto your pussy. Tongue darting out between his lips, he took a long lick along your glistening folds. You tasted so good, he was glad that you would be the first meal of his day besides the coffee.

A strangled moan reached his hair and he opened his eyes to watch you throw your head back in pleasure. You looked like a goddess in the dim light of the morning and the fairy lights, the sinful image burned into his mind forever.

One of his hands reached around your leg to spread your folds for him, your clit coming into view. He latched his mouth onto it, sucking it in like a starved man.

Waves of pleasure rolled over you, feet pressing down on Namjoon’s back. If he kept this up, you would be falling apart in mere minutes. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him to continue his treatment of your pussy. “Don’t stop,” you breathed out.

He replaced his lips with his thumb, caressing your bundle of nerves while his mouth moved further down. His tongue hungrily lapped at your walls, desperate to catch every taste it could get.

Your hips moved on your own as they pressed themselves against his face willingly, desperate for a release. You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Namjoon worked his magic on you.

As his tongue found your entrance, he slowly pushed it inside, before swirling it around a little. You gasped for air as you could feel it massaging your walls, back arching up from the couch. After letting you adjust to the feeling of his tongue inside you, he started darting it in and out at a rapid pace, thumb still fumbling your clit.

His nickname fell from your lips like a waterfall, wonderful music to his ears. You begged him not to stop, promises of you being close spurred him on, going down on you even faster. He could feel his rock-hard cock straining against his pyjama pants, begging to be released. But it was not yet the time.

He needed you to cum all over his tongue first and, hell, he would make sure of that. Feeling your walls contracting around his tongue, he put a little more pressure on your clit, circling and rubbing it gently with his fingers, trying to take you over the edge. You were almost there, he could feel it.

“Joonie, fuck, I am-” The sentence got lost between a heavy mess of moans and whimpers as you finally came with one last stroke around Namjoon’s tongue. You closed your eyes, orgasm blazing through your body in pleasurable waves.

Namjoon lapped up everything he could get, guiding you through your orgasm. As the moans and the whimpers lessened, his mouth, albeit grudgingly, detached from your folds, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before he looked up about you through his lashes.

As you looked down, you were met with a very vivid image of your last night’s dream as Namjoon’s skin glowed from your juices that were smeared all around his mouth. His hair had fallen into his eyes, not able to hide the playful glint in his eyes. His cheeks were a flushed red, chest heaving for air.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the hot skin. You leaned over him, stealing a kiss and tasting yourself on his tongue. “Thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly, taking pride in making you feel so good. He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your delicate scent. “I think we both actually have someone else to thank.” Both of your gazes fell onto the book that still laid open on the coffee table.

You grinned from ear to ear at his words. “Well, thank you, Santa, I guess then? For helping us idiots?” Both of you couldn’t hold in your laughter at the situation. What a naughty Christmas it had been for sure!

Quietness settled over the two of you for a minute as you enjoyed each other’s company. As Namjoon slowly got up from his kneeling position, you noticed his hard manhood through his pants. Licking your lips, you felt yourself getting wet again. Your hunger for Namjoon had only just awakened.

“How about… a shower?” you proposed, cocking a head at Namjoon. “I think it’s time I’ll take care of you.” Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let your hands roam freely over his upper body.

Namjoon snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “As if I could say no to that.” You could feel his cock through the soft fabric of his pants pressing against your thigh. Namjoon leaned down, his lips against your ear.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered as he softly started kissing you again under the shining lights of the fairy lights and a mistletoe magically grew down from the ceiling. Santa has his way in fulfilling wishes…

© nottodayjjk 2021 - all rights reserved.

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖

[donutloverxo]

Kissing under the misletoe w/ Andy

*gif is not mine*

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated❤Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Warnings - dom/sub undertones, boss/employee relationship, implied age gap, jealous Andy.

Word count - 1.3k

7 days of ficmas

“Mr Barber,” you called out, knocking on the door that was slightly open, before entering, he looked up at your from the paperwork giving you a small smile, “We’re all wrapping up for the Christmas party, you’re coming, right?”

You blinked at him, subtly jutting your bottom lip out to give him your signature princess eyes, because you knew what his answer was going to be.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can make it. I think I’ll just go home and work on some of these cases,” he replied, gesturing to the heaps of files on his messy desk.

He often picked up the slack during the holidays because he didn’t really like to celebrate much, or so you’d heard, you had only been here for about half a year.

You expected him to tell you no. You didn’t know how someone so effortlessly charming can be so anti-social. If he ever did come for drinks after work or at an office party, he’d just hover and not speak unless spoken to.

Since he was the DA and everyone’s boss, they were more conscious around him. Except you of course. You didn’t think he was meek, it didn’t really make sense for a lawyer to be so shy...

“Please?” you blinked, “I’ll be so bored without you...” dropping your voice just a little to get the message across. Jutting your titts out by pressing them together with your forearms, hoping to entice him some more.

You weren’t one to chase a man. Nope. They chase after you. But if Andy really was shy then you’d have to do something to get the gears going unless you wanted to die an old maid.

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his brunette hair, “I’m sorry, Y/N, you’ll have to go without me. Maybe I’ll be at the next one?”

You only huffed, stomping your foot and then storming out over to your desk. You had been Andy’s secretary, or assistant or whatever, for over six months. You thought he was as into you as you were with him. He often got you coffee or your favorite sweets, you had caught him staring at you more times than you could count.

Then there were those lingering touches, or how he’d remember everything you ever tell him about yourself, or how he’d laugh just a little bit too much to any stupid joke you cracked.

Surely, you weren’t imagining all of it. Maybe he felt that you were too young for him, or that he couldn’t be with someone he works with.

“And then I got his wife to testify against him,” Neil said, cracking a crooked smile that made you shiver, “I haven’t lost a single case this year.”

Lie. He most definitely had, Andy loved to rant about his incompetence to you.

He had been acting like a creepy old man since you started working here, he wasn’t your type, he annoyed the fuck out of you.

But... nothing would piss Andy off more than you being with his bff.

Besides, you didn’t want to be alone on the holidays and he was the only one who seemed to show any sort of interest in you...

“Hm.” You hummed as you tuned him out once he started talking about where he gets his suits.

“So, what are you doing for the holidays?”

“Not much really, I don’t want to go home this year, my family can be a bit too much.” You answered.

He held onto your elbow, whispering into the ear over the festive music, “You wanna get out of here?”

You nodded. Collecting your coat you followed him out but he still wouldn’t stop fucking talking as you both waited for the elevator.

If only to just shut him up, and because you hadn’t felt any sort of intimacy, not even so much as a hug in the past year.

You pulled away when you heard someone clear their throat, your heart hammering in your chest as you feared of being branded the office slut.

“Oh,” you let out when you saw Andy come out of the elevator, giving you a look before staring Neil down. “Hey...” You're not supposed to be here.

“Neil,” he said, his hands on his hips.

“Hey, man, have fun at the party, we were just taking off,” Neil looked at you, probably hoping to get out of there.

“She’s not coming with you.”

Which made you huff. Putting you in an awkward position because yeah you’re obviously not going home with him now but who the fuck did Andy think he was to tell you what to do.

“What?” Neil scoffed before looking at you for an answer.

“Yeah, I um... have to help Mr Barber with something,” you told him before apologising and following Andy to his office. If Neil was upset, he didn’t really show it, telling you that it was okay and you’ll both get together some other time.

“Close the door behind you,” Andy instructed.

“Did you forget something? I didn’t know you were coming... or I wouldn’t have...”

“Wouldn’t have what? Made out with the first man you laid eyes on?” he quirked a brow at you.

“It was hardly making out,” you rolled your eyes, “I have a friend who’s from Europe and she kisses me on my lips all the time!”

“What constitutes as ‘real' kissing to you then?”

You hummed in thought before pulling him over to the window, where you had hung up some mistletoe while you were decorating his office, you pointed up at it

“It’s more festive this way,” and then crashed your mouth over his, he tasted like coffee and peppermint from the candy cane cookies you baked and gave him as a Christmas present.

You released all your pent up tension and feelings into that one kiss, massaging his tongue with yours, caressing his cheeks over his beard, not pulling away until you literally couldn’t breathe.

“See,” you wiped some of your lipgloss off of his mouth with your thumb, “this is real making out.”

“I don’t give a shit,” he spat, his mind still a bit dizzy, “From now on, you’re not going to be kissing anyone.”

“What? You don’t get to tell me what to do! Not after work hours, and let’s see,” you looked at your wrist, “it’s after six!”

Taking a hold of your forearm, digging his nails into your skin, “Stop playing games,” he sneered

“You’re the one who’s been playing hard to get since the beginning,” you mumbled.

“Fine then. No more games from now on, you’re mine.”

“Just like that? I don’t get a say in it?” Not that you would ever even consider rejecting such a tempting offer...

“No, you don’t, since you decided to go and be a bad girl. What am I going to do with you,” he shook his head. Before stealing another kiss from you, he was already addicted to the taste of you.

He thought he could stay away from you, trying to deny his growing feelings for you, he didn’t want anyone questioning your accomplishments or how you get them. So he returned home with a heavy heart but he missed you and your festive spirit too much, so he came back, to maybe tell you how he felt, only to see you in another’s arms...

“Um... maybe you could let me off with a spanking?” you cheekily suggested.

“You’re definitely on the naughty list this year,” he said and then gasped, a bit taken aback, when he felt you squeeze his ass.

“Ha! I knew it! I knew it’d be the most perfect piece of ass ever.” You laughed like a maniac, grabbing two handfuls of his buttcheeks and then pressing your face into his chest, his body heat warming you up in the nicest way as he wrapped his hands around you to hug you.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” he said, patting your hair, “because we’re going back to my place. And I’m going to teach you a lesson or two on apprprite office etiquette.”

“Mm... okay.” You usually hated lessons and lectures but this one sounded promising.

[tooweirdforyou]

Ily and I'm so proud of you 🥺👉🏼👈🏼💙 keep up the good work my child 🍪

With that being said, ima request for the first time 😈

Can you hit me with that Luffy, prompt 16 ? Do it however you like 😚

Holiday Prompt #16 With Luffy

A/N : I hope I didn’t already use this pic- thank you for requesting!!! 🥰🖤 ilyt :DD thank you for being proud of me, 🍪 🥺 hope you enjoy this! :))

H.P. #16 : “I pray Santa doesn’t give me coal this year..”

Summary : In which, Luffy decides to cheer up his significant other and shine the positivity of Christas spirit. not good with summaries

-

“Do we really have to do this?”

Hearing the Christmas music being played and sung by Brook in the background, you sigh softly at the sight of Usopp, Chopper and Franky cheering and singing the lyrics loudly to their hearts content.

Sanji was in the kitchen, whipping up a special feast for dinner, Zoro was napping on the deck and light snow falling down upon him.

Robin was currently on the upper deck, unboxing the many decorations that the two girls, Usopp and Luffy bought to hang around the ship, while you and Nami were setting up the decorations on the Christmas tree.

“Why not? It’s a tradition and plus, it’ll be fun to celebrate with the crew.” Nami smiles as she hangs another ornament up onto tree.

You only sweat drop at the sight of Luffy screaming the lyrics with a huge grin.

“NEXT SONG! YO-HO-HO-HO~

Chopper the Blue-Nosed Reindeer

Had a very shiny nose

And if you ever saw it

You would even say it glows

All of the other humans

Used to scream and call him names

They never let poor Chopper

Join in any human games!

Then one foggy Winter day

One human came to say

"Chopper, with your nose so bright

Won't you come home with me tonight?"

Then how the humans loved him

As they shouted out with glee

"Chopper the Blue-Nosed Reindeer

You'll go down in history!””

You smile slightly at the lyrics and just shake your head at Luffy’s weirdness and hung up another decoration.

“I don’t know, I guess I just think it’s so.. over the top. Especially with Luffy begging to invite everyone we’ve met to celebrate with us..” you mutter, trailing off as you thought back to your memory from yesterday.

Nami scowls at the memory and you could see the tense aura radiating off of her. “He’s seriously insane..” Nami suddenly turned back to her cheery mood and smiles at you.

“So [Name]-“

“[NAAAAMEEEE]!”

Before you could react, you suddenly felt yourself be shoved down onto the deck, Luffy on top of you with a wide grin. “[Name]! [Name]! I have a question! Are you listening?!”

Hearing his words and his eagerness level of a child’s, you grunt a bit and look up at him hovering over you. “Yes, I’m listening. What is it, Luffy?”

Nami just stares in shock, Robin giggling a bit to herself and the others just ignored and continued to sing or do whatever they wanted.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

Taken back, you furrow your bows at him and his random question. “Uh, I don’t know.. why?”

“Because, I wanna know! Can you guess what I want for Christmas?” Luffy smiles brightly and you couldn’t help but smile at how excited and joyful he was about this holiday.

“Meat?” You mused, slowly pushing Luffy off so you could sit up properly. Luffy slides off of you and laughs. “Shishishi~,”

“Yeah! But also, I want to spend Christmas with all of you!” He grins widely with closed eyes.

The others, who were listening, were surprised before they relaxed and smiled at their Captain, hearts warming at his words.

You smile softly at Luffy and his pure heart and just shake your head, getting up and dusting off your clothes. “Looks like you’re getting everything you want for Christmas then. Your list is all checked off.”

Luffy smiled softer towards you, about to speak before Sanji interrupted him. “Oi, dinner time! Feast is all ready!”

Luffy quickly snaps his head to the kitchen with stars in his eyes and drool coming out of his mouth. “MEAT!”

You laugh at Luffy’s actions and ruffle his hair slightly, bringing his attention back to you. “Let’s go, Captain.”

“Yeah!”

-

“[Name], you didn’t answer me. What do you want for Christmas?”

Hearing Luffy, you glance towards him, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed and his straw hat resting on top of his head.

You two were currently alone in your room, you rummaging through your clothes while Luffy watched you.

“I already said I don’t know.. I never thought about it.” You shrug before turning away with a pout. “Though, I pray Santa doesn’t give me coal this year..”

Luffy seemed interested in your statement as he tilts his head curiously at you, confusion running through his head.

“Why would you get coal for a Christmas?” He then thought about what Makino taught him as a kid and he gasps dramatically, eyes widening.

“Have you been naughty, [Name]?!”

You blink a couple times at Luffy’s genuine shock and laugh heartily aloud, which confused the poor captain further.

“I suppose I have been..” you shake your head playfully and continue to go through your clothes, organizing your things.

“But, I don’t know, every year, I either would find myself with coal to warm myself up during the winters or I wouldn’t get anything at all.”

Luffy listens intently as he leans back on the floor before he stretches his arms and propels himself onto your bed.

“It never really bothered me whether I had something or not, but I’m not looking forward to coals anymore.” You glance back to Luffy, to see he moved and was now laying down comfortably on your bed.

He seemed to be in thought.

You close your drawer and walk over towards the bed, taking a seat at the edge and smile lightly. “What did you use to get for Christmas, Luffy?”

Luffy hums softly, staying quiet for a moment before smiling softly. “The same thing every year as a kid. Just a fistful of love punches from Gramps, and then meat and clothes from Makino and the old mayor in my village!” He laughs a bit at the memory of his childhood.

You giggle lightly and place a hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “Sounds like a fun time.” You hum and Luffy nods with a better smile.

Soon, a lightbulb went off his head as he grins childishly. “I have an idea..”

Your smile quickly fades as a brow was soon raised towards him. “...what is it?”

Luffy didn’t answer you and only chuckles to himself as he gets up and rushes out the room, calling for Usopp and Brook.

You sigh at Luffy and stared at the doorway. “He’s a weird one.. but he’s my weird one.”

-

“HO, HO, HO!”

“Why?..”

You deadpan at the sight of Luffy in the all too familiar red and white outfit, a fake white beard over his face and the proper red hat to go with.

“Luffy, what are you up to..?” Usopp and Nami sigh and Luffy clears his throat. “I’m Santa!”

“Don’t be stupid.. who would actually-“ Sanji was interrupted by a yell.

“WOAH, ITS SANTA CLAUS!!” Chopper shrieks in awe, eyes widening with stars inside, at the sight.

“Never mind..” Sanji sighs, exhaling a puff of smoke from his lit cigarette.

Franky, Brook, Robin and you stood from the sidelines and watched, before you walk over to Luffy and grabbed at his exposed cheek.

“Wow.. who knew Santa was so stretchy?..” you joke, pulling at his skin and watching it stretch out, Luffy grunting a bit.

“Oi! Stop that!” He shouts before clearing his throat again. “I’m Santa Claus, and I have presents!”

“PRESENTS?!” Chopper and Usopp yell in unison and you sigh once more at them and their gullibility.

“Yep! And I have a special one for [Name]!”

Now this piqued your interest. “For me?” You question with brows furrowed as Luffy reached into his bag and pulled out a box.

“Mmh! Someone told me you were afraid of getting coals this Christmas! So I came to give you something else instead!”

You eye him suspiciously before opening the box and widening your eyes.

Reaching in, you grasp the item in your hand and pulled it out, staring at it closely.

Then, a small smile broke from your lips.

Luffy stared at you closely and waited for your reaction. “Wellll? Do you like it?” Luffy was no longer doing his deep voice and was now back to his regular self.

The others stare in silence and curiosity, wondering what it was.

A snort escaped your lips as you smiled wider. “You’re so.. weird, Luffy.” You mumble, staring at the object in your hand and held it tightly.

Luffy grins as he pulls down his fake beard to show his warm smile.

“This is much better than coals. I love it, thank you Luffy.” Clutching it tight in your fist, you wrap your arms around Luffy and hugged him tightly, to which he gladly returned.

“Shishishi!~ I’m glad you like it!” He smiles warmly with his eyes closed and faint blush appearing on his cheeks.

You gave a light peck to his cheek and took a look at the item once more, a genuine smile embracing your features.

...

“Wait, what is it?” Usopp asks, interrupting the sweet moment between the two of you.

You chuckle and held it up in between your fingers. “It’s a rock with a smiley face on it.”

Silence overtook the crew.

“HAH?!”

-

a/n : I feel like this wasn’t my best work— but I still really liked this, even if I couldn’t think of anything 😅 but I hoped you all did too!! So sorry this took a while and if it’s not what you expected either! :(