#as has the holiday season.

[freckleslikestars]

Mistletoe Kisses

Christmas MSR smut, what more could you want

3303 Words, read here on AO3

She’d been pissy with him all day, agitated and grumpy, snapping at the mildest of questions, and checking her watch constantly. Of course, he understood. Her brother was coming into town, bringing the family, for Christmas at her mother’s. Just another painful reminder of Christmas’s past. And so it didn’t really bother him so much when at ten to five she gave a sharp sigh and stood from her side of the desk, abruptly pushing her chair away and muttering as she jammed papers into her briefcase.

‘I’m heading out.’

‘Okay. What time do you want me at your Mom’s tomorrow?’ her brow furrowed. ‘Christmas Eve? At your Mom’s. That’s- that’s if you still want me to come. I mean, I don’t want to impose, and you’re not...’

‘Tomorrow. Yeah. No, um, I’ll swing by at around two and pick you up?’

‘Okay. Sounds good.’ They hadn’t been...doing whatever it was that they were doing – some undefined, unnameable...thing – for long. A couple months – slightly longer if you counted the time four months ago when they tumbled into bed together after an intense case. And the night after his mother’s death when he sought comfort in her in the only way he could. And, really, if you considered the week after the New Year, where they barely left her bed and then refused to talk about it, both swearing it wouldn’t happen again, it was fast approaching a year that they’d been doing...well, whatever it was they were doing.

But it wasn’t serious. Unless you took into account all the unspoken things between them. The fact he’d silently hoped and silently mourned alongside her throughout round after round of IVF. The way he’d felt about her since...as long as he could remember. The lengths he’d gone to to save her and keep her by his side. And, of course, the fact that she was it for him, no matter how little they’d ever discussed any future together.

But it wasn’t serious. They were just having fun, screwing around behind the government’s back. Only, he’d started spending multiple nights in a row at her place, and she at his in turn. It seemed tonight was going to be the first night in a long, long time now that he wasn’t to be going home with her. And, of course, he was going to be spending Christmas with her family. Staying at her mother’s house. Meeting the extended family.

So... maybe not as casual as they were telling themselves.

He sighed, cracking his neck and reclining back in his chair, picking up the next file from the haphazard pile on his desk and flicking through it with little interest. He was worried that she wasn’t ready for him to meet her family, that going along tomorrow was a bad idea, that there was too much pressure on it. Because whilst this was it for him, whilst there was nothing and no one he wanted more than her, he still wasn’t certain that she was on the same page, and he really didn’t want to push it so far that he lost her.

Having absorbed nothing of the file he was reading, he decided that he’d try and read it through one more time before packing it in and heading home for the night. Ten minutes later and he was giving up, deciding that a night of leftover Chinese and Star Trek reruns was mildly more appealing than staring at barely convincing reports of sea monsters and Yetis. Mildly.

Traffic was hellish, a city of people leaving for the holidays and doing last-minute shopping, clogging the roads and making his drive impossibly slow. Tinny Christmas songs crackled over his car stereo as downy flakes of snow started tumbling down, catching in the taillights of the cars ahead and melting on the tarmac. As he inched closer to home, he let his mind wander and allowed himself to fantasise about tomorrow and about future Christmases to come. They hadn’t exactly discussed in what capacity he’d be attending the Scully family Christmas, and whilst he was fairly certain that Maggie at least suspected that they were together, he was also pretty sure that Scully hadn’t disclosed the nature of their relationship to any of her family. But that didn’t stop him from daydreaming of dropping sweet, chaste kisses on her cheek as they helped lay the table and wrapping his arms around her waist as she stood chatting with her aunt by the fireplace, finding a hidden corner to murmur sweet nothings into her ear and kiss her until her cheeks flushed.

The crawl home took twice as long as usual, and by the time he’d pulled into his parking space, the desire to go over to her place, crawl into bed next to her and forget the swirling snow and holiday traffic until the new year, was only dampened by the thought of spending even more time on the road and the idea that maybe she wouldn’t be so welcoming of his uninvited appearance after the day she’d had.

His building was quiet as he traipsed his way up the stairs, not before sending a glare towards the elevator that had been out of service for the past week, and he only passed one neighbour on his way up to the fourth floor, bobbing his head in a slight nod, a murmured ‘merry Christmas’ as they passed one another.

He sensed it as soon as he stepped into his apartment, the presence of another soul. He wasn’t sure what set his senses off, but there was something...not quite right. Everything was still, untouched, silent; everything perfectly in its place. But there was a hint of cinnamon in the air, a fresh breath of familiar musky perfume hidden under it.

Shedding his coat and toeing off his shoes, he placed his briefcase by the door with measured precision, biding his time and waiting to see if she’d come out of hiding. Assuming she’d fallen asleep when she didn’t come out to find him, he tiptoed his way into the bedroom, swallowing thickly when he saw her.

She was a fantasy, all diaphanous red and white lace, sat primly on the centre of his bed, a coy, inviting smile tugging at her lips. A fuzzy Santa hat was perched crookedly atop her head and she dangled a sprig of mistletoe between her fingertips, the spray of white berries drooping down above her cinnamon lips.

‘Hi.’

She gave a delicate wiggle of her fingers before twisting her hand and beckoning him with a come-hither crook. A low grown rumbled through his chest as he staggered towards the bed, his knees hitting the frame with a thunk. 'Merry Christmas, Mulder.'

'Bit early for Christmas presents, isn't it?'

'Are you complaining?'

'Certainly not,' he shook his head, clambering onto his bed and shuffling up to her, 'you look…incredible.'

She smiled up at him softly, 'I thought you'd like it.'

'Like it? This is my favourite item of clothing now,' he pinched red chiffon between his fingers, rubbed the white lace trim with reverence.

'I bet you'd like what's under it even more,' she leant forwards, catching his lips with her own in a soft, tender kiss - almost chaste in it's comforting familiarity - the arm holding the mistletoe dropping down to rest against his head, holding him to her.

'Oh, without a doubt,' he murmured against her. His hands had started wandering, cupping her breasts through the lace, ghosting across her stomach, toying with the straps and disappearing beneath the hem of the babydoll. 'But I enjoy unwrapping my presents just as much as the present itself.'

'Some presents are fun to play with in their wrapping,' with the mistletoe in hand, she guided his lips down her chest, gave a sinful moan as he laved his tongue over a pebbled nipple, closed his teeth gently around it. With a shift of the mistletoe, he turned his attentions to the other breast, leaving his hand to finish his work. He peeled away the cup of the babydoll, pressing his face into her warm flesh, humming at the familiar scent of her; apricot shower gel and the perfume she gets from the department store, and the slightly musky spike of her that he can always detect after a day's work. She mewled, her free hand twisting into his hair and anchoring him to her, a soft plea falling from her lips.

Without needing her to guide him, he worked his way down her chest as she reclined back into the pillows, pressing wet kisses to her stomach through the diaphanous material, drawing it up to reveal a matching red thong. He nudged her legs apart, groaning at the sight, 'you're so naughty, Scully. So damn naughty. And I am one lucky sonofabitch,' his humid breath pressed in on her cunt, his nose barely ghosting across the soft, pale flesh of her inner thigh.

'I'll remind you of that next time you ditch me in favour of chasing after Bigfoot,' her voice caught as his tongue darted out to lick along the elastic of her panties.

'I'll make it my new year's resolution, how about that?'

'Won't stick,' she muttered, groaning when he placed a wet, open kiss over her slit, sucking on the flesh either side of her thong with a blissful moan.

He pushed up from her slightly and rested his chin on her pubic bone, gazing up at her with eyes full of mirth, 'well then, next year I'll be on Santa's naughty list, and you can punish me in whatever way you see fit.'

'Is that a promise?'

'Pinky promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. No more ditching you,' he pressed a chaste kiss to the jut of her hipbone, leaning into her palm when she cupped his cheek. 'I think this needs to come off, you know,' he lightly snapped the elastic of her thong, grinning when she squirmed. He hooked two fingers into each side and helped her shimmy them off, following their path with his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking at her legs, all the way down and all the way back up again as he settled before her, prostrate at her alter. She jolted at the first full lick of his tongue up her weeping opening, a whimper escaping her lips when he lapped at her clit.

He was good at this, good at winding her up and undoing her, driving her crazy with his lips and teeth and tongue, his own sounds of pleasure egging her on. He knew how much suction she liked, where on her clit too much was painful, and where the lightest touch could set her off like Times Square on New Years Eve. He knew just when to slip a finger or two into her tight heat, and the perfect way to curl them to have her begging him for more. In just the few months that they'd been doing this regularly, he'd become somewhat of an expert in what made Dana Scully tick, and what made her come. He could write dissertations on in, do a PhD in his partner's oral preferences.

Her back arched and her fingers tightened in his hair, the mistletoe long forgotten. With a hand on the back of her thigh, he guided her leg over his shoulder, moaning when it opened her up further and she used the leverage to draw her closer to him with her foot on his back, her toes curling into the fabric of his shirt. She was so very wet, a core of molten lava in a liquid body, eagerly gasping for more, more, as her hips writhed and thrust against his mouth. One of his hands reached up to join her own on her breast, fondling and massaging and pinching and soothing. His other hand braced around the leg he'd slung over his shoulder, pressed his palm against her lower stomach to stop her from squirming so much. His thumb gently pulled the hood of her clit up to allow it to peek out further, softening his tongue around it to lap gently. She mewled, her grip in his hair tightening when he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

'Mulder, please?'

'What do you need, Baby?'

'You. I just need you.'

His cock was straining uncomfortably against his slacks, and other than grinding himself into his mattress, there wasn't a thing he could do in his current position to relieve some of the pressure. He knew, without a doubt, that if he didn't pull her over the edge first, he'd never manage to last when he pressed himself into her tight heat. He flicked his pointed tongue against the left side of her clit, traced it up and down her slit before laving across her with the flat of it. 'You have me.'

She whined, straining against him, 'Mulder?'

'Yes.'

'Make me come.'

He'd do anything for her, of course, and after delving his tongue into her pussy, cleaving her open and lapping at her juices, he pressed two fingers into her, crooking them just so to rub against her front wall. She cried out, releasing the grasp on her breast to tangle her hand into the sheet beside her, gripping and pulling at it. Her muscles clenched and quivered around his digits, rippling with each rhythmic curl, until he gave a hard suck to her clit and she came with a whimper, trembling apart in his arms. He continued to suckle gently at her labia whilst she came down, her gasps calming to the occasional audible breath. She hummed, affectionately combing her fingers through his hair when he placed a delicate kiss to her mons and dropped his head down to rest on her thigh.

'You're overdressed,' she murmured, dragging a limp foot up his still-clothed back.

'I think we can do something about that,' he pushed himself to stand at the foot of the bed, efficiently shedding his work clothes and tossing them vaguely in the direction of his laundry basket.

She beckoned him over, a sly, satiated smile on her lips as she reached for him. Her kiss was ravenous as she tasted herself off his face, desperate as he tugged her down to lie flat on her back and settled himself into the cradle of her thighs. His shaft lay against her still-quivering pussy and he rocked his hips, coating himself in her slick. They both groaned as he pressed into her, their tension from the day melting away as she adjusted to him, his weight settling over her as he pulled out and thrust back in at a glacial pace.

'Christ, you're tight,' he grunted out, gritting his teeth as she clenched around him with a grin. Despite how big he felt within her, she was dripping with arousal, and it didn't take much effort to slip in and out of her.

'Roll over,' she whispered, two fingers tapping on his flank to encourage him. With his grip on her hips, he flipped them so she was atop him, pressing herself up with his palms on his chest. The change in angle had her dropping her head back and shifting her hips in a grinding roll, keeping him nestled inside her.

The room was thick with their gasps as she picked up her pace, lifting herself up and dropping back down onto him, her lingerie fluttering around her with each movement. He couldn't take his eyes from her, beautiful as she was, with her cheeks flushed, one tit falling out of the bra cup he'd pulled down, riding his cock like it was the only way to save her life. The Santa hat on her head had slipped down to the side, and the fuzzy ball swung to-and-fro with her frantic movements, and the sight was charmingly sexy. His fingers dug into her hips, helping her along as the muscles in her thighs quivered and faltered, and she leaned forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Her name, a mantra gasped into her mouth as she shattered around him, dragging him over the ledge with her into the trembling depths.

She slumped down onto him, her muscles continuing to milk him for all he was worth, as she trailed kisses down his throat and across his neck, showering him in grateful affection. With a pat to his stomach and a whimper, she pulled herself off of him, disappearing into the bathroom. He could hear her use the toilet, the taps running as she cleaned herself and washed her hands, and the familiar, domestic sounds of her existing in his space made him smile as he rested his eyes, trying to summon the energy to strip and re-dress the bed. She returned before he had the chance to move, flinging the thong he'd pulled off of her into the laundry hamper before crawling over to curl into his side.  

‘Feeling better?’ he asked, trailing his fingertips up her bare arm as she settled her head on his chest.

‘A little,’ she nodded, but he could hear the tightness that still laced her voice. The cooling room around them chilled the sweat on their bodies and she shivered, Mulder pulling the blanket from the foot of his bed up and over them.

‘Wanna talk about it?’

She shrugged against him but nodded, ‘it’s just...Christmas. Mom’s tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ve got the mental energy to deal with it all. It’s already a difficult time, and I just...with Tara being pregnant again and Mom constantly checking that I’m okay and Bill being...Bill. And that’s not even thinking about all the cousins and the aunts and all the “and what about you, Dana?”’

‘Well, I’ll be there to distract you when it all gets too much. And – I might be being a bit presumptive here – but I’d say I’m somewhat of an answer to that question.’

‘You’re the answer that will prompt Cousin Mona to make a joke about sleeping my way to the top and Aunt Eileen to ask you about your shoe size, so...as much as I love that you’re coming, you’re not exactly the saviour of the day. We could just stay in bed all weekend, tell Mom we’ve got food poisoning.’

‘She’d be disappointed.’

‘Yeah...’ she sighed, shaking her head. ‘Besides, I ought to see Matty. Mom says he’s started talking.’

‘How about- how about we call your mom tomorrow morning and tell her that I have the sudden urge to drive down to Raleigh and visit my mother’s grave? She’s not going to question that. We say we’ll try to make it to midnight mass, but it depends on how we feel after the drive, and then we make sure we’re over there for roll call at O’ five hundred sharp Christmas morning. That way, you don’t have to deal with the extended family, Bill will have no ammunition for any of his arguments because you were supporting your partner through the loss of a parent, and if he tried to contest it, he’d come across as the asshole, and you still get to see your mom and Matty on Christmas day.’

She craned her neck up to stare, disbelieving, at him, ‘Mulder, I can’t use your dead mom as an excuse not to see my family.’

‘Call it an early Christmas present. Besides, lying about visiting her grave is the closest I’ve come to spending time with her over the holidays for many, many years.’

She gave a tender smile, ‘I love you so much.’

‘Yeah?’

Swallowing thickly, she nodded and reached up to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, ‘yeah.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

[elliotpostmemes]

[shikisei]

say your goodbyes to this year

[starthecozy]

My steddie winter exchange gift for Rio!! (@steddieexchange) In which Steve throws caution to the wind and decides to show exactly how much his bard friend truly means to him. ♡ (inprnt)

[anewp0tat0]

Black Butler Amino, Black Arts Magazine - Holiday Party

it doesn't quite look like a holiday party from here, but what I imagined as a humble little piece is~~ Ciel and Lizzy sneak away from the big bustling midford Christmas party and raid the kitchen desserts, like they did when they were kids(it was Lizzy's idea, Ciel clearly hasn't been himself since he returned, and she wanted to bring him back).

[xofeno]

JESSE LEE SOFFER as WES MITCHELL FBI: International / Season 4 / Episodes 1-8 (2024)

[kay9leo]

New Picrew Creation tagging game

Happy New Year's Everyone!

What would your Hogwarts Legacy MC look like in the modern day/21st century? Since Iñaki is from the 21st century, this is her in her modern day glory.

Made a creation with with this picrew.

No pressure tags: @myokk, @theladyofshalott1989, @ps-cactus and anyone else who want to do this - consider yourself tagged!!! 😁

[chacerider]

Ultra Happy Holidays from M78! 💫🎄

[dailyfigures]

Hatsune Miku ; Vocaloid ☆ Good Smile Company

[teaofpastels]

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ALLEN!!! 🎄✨

[cherbearsz]

some itty bitty christmas doodles

[raineandsky]

#137

tw: mentions of death

“You might consider yourself lucky, [Hero],” the supervillain snaps coolly, “being here, still alive. You are only alive because I let you—because you are much more fun to slowly squeeze the life from, until you’re begging me to end it all, and we will have plenty of time for that.”

With one last cold glare and a swish of his coat, the supervillain leaves the hero in the dungeon. The hero would be inclined to call it a prison, or even a cage, but the walls are damp and there’s bloodied chains sitting in one corner, so in their mind this counts very much as a dungeon.

They settle against the cool stone as comfortably as they can manage, which frankly isn’t comfortable at all. They close their eyes, a sigh escaping their lips. They’re prepared to face whatever agonies are doubtlessly ready for them ahead. Waiting for said agonies will be boring, that’s all.

“You too, huh?”

The hero opens their eyes to glance across the dungeon, to the other side of the darkness. They can only just make out the outline of a figure sulking in the other corner, but they recognise the voice all the same.

“Fancy seeing you here,” the hero says with a short laugh. “What did you do?”

The villain practically growls. “I’m not entertaining you.”

“It’s not entertainment; I’m just curious.”

There’s a second of silence, and the hero thinks they might get an answer before the villain simply says, “You first.”

“Fucked up.” The hero shrugs, though they can’t tell if the villain can see it or not. “Did something not particularly heroic.”

The villain shifts a little, chains clanking together with the movement. “Huh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I figured it must be something bad.” The villain makes a noise that might be a laugh or a scoff. “[Supervillain] doesn’t get super serious with just anyone.”

“Must’ve been pretty serious for you to end up down here, then,” the hero comments with a huff.

The villain raises an hand to their face, and the hero gets a glimpse of the line of chain trailing from their wrist.

“Oh, it’s whatever. I also fucked up. Did something…” The villain grapples for a word awkwardly. “Not villainous.”

The hero barks a laugh that seems to make the villain jump, if the sudden clank of metal is anything to go by, but they can’t help it. A newfound anti-hero and a good-hearted villain sharing a supervillain’s dungeon. What a pair they make.

“You’ve peaked my curiosity,” the hero says brightly. “Please, continue.”

Like a broken record, “You first.”

“Ah, y’know, the usual.” The hero doesn’t really want to say it out loud. “I, uh… I killed someone.”

“Oh.” The silence following that is uncomfortably long, until, thankfully, the villain adds, “Yeah, you’re right, that’s not very heroic.”

The hero nods, though they’re not sure if the villain can see it. “I didn’t mean to. It was another villain. I don’t know who—they had red hair and glasses.”

“Oh,” the villain repeats, a little more strained this time. “Yeah, that’ll do it. They’re one of [Supervillain]’s favourites. Or were, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Eh.” The villain waves a hand at them nonchalantly. “I didn’t really like them, honestly. They were always showing me up in front of [Supervillain], but I think that’s why he liked them. I wasn’t as willing to throw my comrades under the bus for attention.”

They clear their throat awkwardly, and the hero takes the hint. “What about you, then?” they ask shortly. “What did you do?”

The villain sighs, the puff of warm air catching in the one strip of sun lighting the place. “Well, quite the opposite.” A cough of a laugh jolts them slightly, like they weren’t expecting it. “I stopped [Supervillain] from killing someone, and they got away.”

The hero sits on that for a moment. “That’s very noble of you,” they offer eventually.

“Oh, don’t you start.” The villain tsks in annoyance. “I already have [Supervillain] calling me soft for it.”

“I can’t blame him. I mean… are we sure I’m the hero and you’re the villain here?”

The villain laughs like the idea is ludicrous, and the hero laughs too because it is, but then a silence falls over them and the hero knows that they’re both thinking the same thing.

“You know,” the villain starts slowly, “I’ve never really liked being here.”

The hero snorts humorously. “I can’t say I’m a big fan of grotty dungeons either.”

“Not here, you moron,” the villain snaps. “I mean here, with the villains. As one of them.”

“Oh, cheers to that. The agency has too many rules.”

“This hellhole doesn’t have enough.”

“Well,” the hero says brightly, “I’m sensing something big is happening here.”

The villain hums thoughtfully. “Can we maybe talk about it outside of the dank dungeon?”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.” The hero’s mind is already running through plans, scenarios, ways of escape. It’s always easier with a teammate, anyway. “Let’s get the hell out of here and start our new lives.”

[newtonsheffield]

Anthony, sobbing into his hands because the woman he loves (who he still believes he can’t be with) is going to recover and he tells her he couldn’t bring himself to see her in case he lost her.

Violet: Colin is so sensitive. My most sensitive boy. So selfless.

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

It's not even a fucking joke anymore, I need to frag these robots NOW. It's getting so bad my dick BURNS and my stomach TWISTS whenever I see these goddamn sexy bots.

Autobots, Decepticons, in between, none of the above, it don't matter! I'm going insane I need them in my bed right now, I don't care if they break my bed, me, my house, or anything else, I need any and all of them inside me whilst I'm in them at the same time holy shit

Not even any of those "we fraggin' until-" I AINT FUCKING STOPPING.

Were any of us joking? I mean I've been exactly this unironically horny over tfp ratchet for like the past week

[ygodmyy20]

O-Oh! How did that mistletoe get there?

[panicky-pansexual]

CW: BLOOD‼️

you’ve changed…