#fem!reader x santa harbour

[umnitsa]

Hungry

Summary: Santa always takes too long to give you your promised gift :3

A/N: This was heavily inspired by @beefrobeefcal and their lovely chubby P-boy series. I just couldn't help myself. Written with unholy eagerness and no profreading!

Pairing: Santa x reader

CW: Established relationship (every year), Santa is ravenous for cookies and alcohol, oral (F receiving), dubcon (santa is drunk, but he iniciates things), Santa EATS a lot on this and this is just mood (it makes very little sense, but I do not care <3)

“I know our deal is that I stay asleep during the gift giving, but I’ve been hearing the bells for almost an hour now, the first rays of the morning are coming through the window and…” You blurted quickly, as you left the bedroom, just to be greeted by the sight of Santa Claus happily reclining in your massage chair, a beer in one hand; the other was resting on his belly. His chest and belly, even his glove, were covered in cookie crumbs. His hat was discarded on the table, his hair falling wildly around his shoulders in a silver halo.

“Oh, Nick.” You sighed softly, watching him rumble happily, then raise the can to his mouth. He took a big gulp from the can and opened his eyes. With a smirk, he turned the chair vibration off and pulled the chair to a sitting position. It made you chuckle, it reminded you of all the mall santas and their elaborate armchairs, this was just a more minimalistic, modern version of it.

It made you want to sit on his lap and tell him what you really wanted. You had missed him, one year is too much to wait.

“Left your house for last, cookie. You always have the good liquor.” Santa gruffed, pulling a large cookie from his pocket and biting on it. More crumbs fell on his beard and his chest, merrily. You could see he was completely drunk. He placed the beer on the side table and opened his jacket, making crumbs fly all over your room. “Didn’t feel like going the long way home just yet.”

“And the raindeer…?” You asked, getting closer to him.

“They will come back later.” He asked, munching on the cookie. He chugged more of the beer, swallowed it all down and smiled at you. “Did you miss me, baby?”

“Yeah. I missed you so much…” You stepped even closer, fidgeting nervously.

“Been a good girl?” He asked, raising one eyebrow, teasing you gently.

“I behaved this year.” You nodded, eagerly. You were wet just from waiting for him.

“Do you have more beer? And more cookies, please. This year there were a lot of shitty cookies. I ate them all; I’m not ungrateful…” He patted his distended belly, which made you chuckle. His clothes were usually large, but now the jacket was open, you could see his full belly, making his shirt look definitely tighter. “I ate all of them, but I’m still hungry, cookie.” He pleaded, his eyes sharp and intense. “Bring’em, I know you made me some.”

He said, looking into your eyes with a loopsided, knowing smirk. You nodded and scurried to the kitchen, grabbing the enormous plate filled with an impossible amount of cookies. You knew him, you spent the night baking, making sure you would have enough for him.

Back in the living room, he was standing up, jacket off, tugging on his suspenders drunkenly. His sheer size always mesmerized you; he was tall and large, thick, fat. He was immense, his arms and his highs thick, soft, but hiding immense strength. Santa threw his gloves on the couch; they landed over his boots on the floor. He smiled at you, knowingly, and sat on the armchair. He then readjusted the little table, making sure he could reach it even while sitting down.

“Here, cookie.” He pointed at the table, then sat, burping. “Get the beer… Do you have whisky?” You nodded in response. “Good girl. Put it all here and come sit on my lap.”

You placed the bottle of whisky, a glass and a six pack of beer on the table, then sat on his lap, moaning happily.

“You hate when I make you wait, don’t you?” Santa petted your hip, squeezing softly.

“I miss you, Nick.”

“I miss you too. I just like to tease...” He said, raising one hand to pet your cheek, then pulled you for a gentle kiss. You placed your hand on his chest, sliding your fingertips over his skin, through the cut in his shirt. He made a pleased noise against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, he grabbed one of the cookies. Santa raised the cookie in his hand and turned it, examining. Humming softly, he winked at you. Then he bit it, looking into your eyes.

“These are good!” He chuckles, a soft ho-ho-ho coming from his lips. “Good cookie.” He chuckled to himself, looking from the cookie to you, then he pushed the rest of it inside his mouth. “I love when you bake for me.”

He eats and drinks watching you. Licked his lips, eyes half lidded. As the cookies vanished from the plate, his hands got more intimate. He grabbed your ass and your thighs, kneading gently. He bounced you on his lap, chuckling softly as he watched your tits wiggling. You giggled, combing his hair with your fingers, swatting the crumbs from his beard gently. Santa fed you tiny pieces of the cookies, watching your lips wrapping around his fingers.

“You’re being very good this year, cookie.” He said softly, leaning back to get some space for his belly. Between the cookies and the alcohol, you figured he was pretty full, being the end of the night. You noticed he leaned back, but he didn’t move you from his lap; it brought a smile to your face. “And you have been especially good to me.” He waved to the cookies. “What happened?”

“Every year you give me a gift and make me happy.” You said softly, rubbing his belly. “This year I want to make you happy.”

“Thank you, cookie.” He blinked, swaying drunkenly. His words were somewhat slurred; he looked all soft, slow, content, like a predator well fed. He bit on another cookie, looking you all over. He voraciously ate it, then sighed, patting his belly.

Santa chuckled, pushing you off his lap and standing up. A small ‘oof’ escaped from his lips when he wrapped his arm around you for support, his other hand on the side of his belly. You could see he was dizzy, uncoordinated; he stumbled to your bedroom, hugging you firmly against him.

He took off his shirt, dropped his pants and, naked, threw himself at your bed. The thud resonated through the house, making him chuckle.

His massive heavy cock rested cradled between his belly and his thigh, hard and pulsing. Santa breathed slowly, and deeply, looking at you with a smile. One hand moved over his distended belly and he raised the other to you, making a ‘come forward’ movement. You held his hand, giggling, and he pulled you to kneel on the bed, then he directed you to sit on his face.

“There’s one last special cookie to eat up, and I’m still hungry.” He chuckled, pulling your hips down; he kept one hand on your ass, his other moving to caress his own cock in slow movements of his fingers.

His tongue pressed against your lower lips, making you gasp. The hand on you pressed you down, his nose moving against your clit. He growled, hungrily pushing his face against you. You moaned and whimpered softly as he moved, your body tensing.

You could feel he was in no rush, savoring your taste, your smell, the way you felt against his lips and tongue. You clenched around nothing, riding his face. He grunted and moaned against your pussy, the vibrations pleasant.

His hands moved over your ass, grabbing and pulling you down, making you whimper. He squeezed your flesh, grunting, desperately licking you. With his lips around your clit, and his hands squeezing your flesh, you came.

Santa chuckled, encouraging you to move so at least he could breathe. You chuckled back, moving to his side and hugging him, your hands caressing his full belly.

“You’re the best cookie.” Santa said, mischievously, his fingers sliding against your forearm and your hand. His beard was soaked, and he smiled, eyes half closed. He hummed, pleased with himself. “Good girl. Smart too. There were more cookies and more alcohol this year…”

“Yeah, kept you fed, full and drunk so you wouldn’t tease me too much.” You petted his belly, palm lightly moving up and down. “It worked!”

”Naughty.” He laughed, tickling you.

“You drive me crazy every year, it’s unfair.” You pouted playfully.

“I drive you crazy because you’re naughty all year long. Touching yourself thinking of me. Do you think I don’t know?” He smacks your hip, smirking. “Naughty little cookie.”

You pressed against his side, letting him crush you against his side as you cuddled his belly. Now you could wait.

[neganwifey25-blog]

Woooowwww😮‍💨🤤

Joyful Night

Pairing: Santa Claus (Nikamund The Red) x fem!reader

Rating: explicit (MINORS BE GONE)

word count: 1.9k

warnings: oral sex, penetration, creampie, nipple play. 

Summary: You comfort your husband after his Christmas night run. 

A/N: you know what the fuck is going on. This actually got a little sentimental but what’s porn without a story? Not beta’d. Credit to the gif maker(s). 

You’ve never worried over Nik.

Not once.

But when the reindeers arrived back at the property without him bickering over them in the sleigh, you instantly knew something was wrong.

“Oh, my darling boys,” you coo, running your hands over their tufted fur coats. You needed to set aside some time to groom them later in the week. “What trouble has he gotten himself into now?”

Keep reading

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Worrying About Santa The Night Before Christmas Eve

Nicumond the Red/Santa Claus x Fem!Mrs Claus Reader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

(A/N:) Finally watched Violent Night this year and I didn't realize how much I needed David Harbour's Santa in my life. I feel like I've been a very good girl this year! XD Sooooo I had to write something! This idea wouldn't leave me alone and it's the perfect time for it! So enjoy my fellow David Harbour fangirls and Merry Christmas! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The house was quiet while all the elves worked tirelessly to prepare for the big night. Santa always made sure to get plenty of rest before his Christmas Eve run and while he'd been doing it for so long now, you couldn't help but worry. Especially since he'd been showing telltale signs of burnout. You couldn't blame him as it seemed like children weren't as appreciative or thankful as they used to be. You tried to explain that things changed over time but you knew deep down he still enjoyed doing his job despite the complaints. Your heart ached and the stress of the eventful day looming ahead kept you from sleep. It didn't help that Santa was snoring loudly in your ear. You brushed his cheek and snuck from the bed. When you had nights where you couldn't sleep, you would bake, read, or anything to help calm your mind. But your favorite place to unwind was the stables. Being surrounded by the reindeer in the cozy stable, it had an affect that no other did.

Slipping on a comfy robe and rubber boots, you trekked across the snow covered ground. The crunch of snow under foot and the tinkering of elves in the surrounding buildings made you smile. It was when you opened the stable doors to see 8 fuzzy noses and 8 sets of curious warm eyes did your shoulders finally relax. You didn't want to bother Nicomund, he had enough to worry about and if he knew how you were feeling because of him. The guilt would eat at him. So you opened the door to Prancer's stall and let yourself in. The reindeer nuzzled your hand looking for treats. As always you had a pack of graham crackers in your robe pocket and all the reindeer knew it.

"You can't be greedy," you whispered. "Everyone will get one. Not just you Prancer."

The reindeer shook it's head munching happily on the treat while you grabbed a brush and began to stroke it across his coat. You lost track of time before the barn doors opened once more and Santa called out your name.

"I'm in here," you answered. You knew it wouldn't be long until he started looking around for you. For some reason your husband had the uncanny ability to know when you were sleeping or when you were awake. He leaned over the stall door.

"Leaving me for the reindeer now," he asked a teasing gleam in his eye.

"They do smell better sometimes," you replied pocketing in the brush and giving Prancer one more quick pat.

"Traitor," he glared at the reindeer. Only Prancer nodded before ignoring you both completely to go munch on more hay. Santa stood up letting you exit the stall and as you closed the door back Nicomund stepped closer pinning you against the wood.

"Is everything alright," he asked cupping your cheeks with warm hands.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head, "Right. You only disappear when something is bothering you and you always come to the barn when you're worried about something."

"You a mind reader now," you retorted.

"No," Santa shook his head. "I just know my Mrs. Claus really REALLY well."

"I'm worried about you. That you're losing the joy that this season once brought you. The children used to bring you so much happiness and now I don't think you can find one good thing about what you do anymore."

Your heart was breaking and Santa could tell that you were on the verge of tears. He wrapped you tightly pulling you close to him.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm sure I'll find that happiness again I once had when I first started doing this," Nicomund kissed your forehead.

"You think so," you sighed leaning in closer to him.

"No."

"Good to see your confidence is intact then," you snorted causing him to chuckle.

"Now I only have so long left with you this evening before I have to go. So will you please come back to bed? You may love the reindeer but I promise that I can keep you much better company," he cooed.

"Is that a promise," you teased.

He nodded and you laughed. Santa leaned down giving you a deep kiss, laced with lots of promises. A few seconds later you and Nicomund were walking back to the house hand in hand. Talking about everything and planning on the time you both wanted to spend together once Christmas Eve was finished and all you could do was look forward to that time you got to spend with him. Back in the cozy house, Santa swept you up in his arms carrying you back to your shared bedroom where he deposited you back onto the mattress making you grin.

"Merry Christmas Mr. Claus," you whispered, kissing him softly.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. Claus," he replied kissing you right back.

[nicomundthered]

fics masterlist 🤠

All stories are fem!reader and second person pov. Pay attention to the rating please, know thy self and if you are underaged please don't interact with 18+ content.

Requests are welcomed.  But I will admit, I am a slow writer and an even slower editor. Which I am trying to improve because I have a lot of ideas. Currently writing for David Harbour and Pedro Pascal but could potentially be persuaded.

All works can also be found on Archive.

I’ve hit a wall of lack of inspiration and motivation…feel free to request or encourage. 💖

Jim Hopper

The Broken Places- 18+ you move to your new job in Hawkins. Hopper is your boss. follows the show but with hopper x you as the focal point.

Chapter One: The Prologue- 8k 🌶️

Chapter Two: The Vanishing of Will Byers (on hiatus)

Nicomund The Red (Santa Claus)

Santa May-be?- 18+ | pure filth | 7k - you are being very naughty and Santa decides to make a surprise visit. 🌶️

Joel Miller

The Injured Trilogy- a story told in three parts focused around my favorite trope - hurt/comfort. Basically reader is constantly getting injured.

Kept Hidden- 11k | you act impulsively and get injured. then you try to hide it from him. 

Blood Runs Cold- 10k | you save Ellie, but not yourself.

part three (on hiatus)

Din Djarin

Dead Of Night- 18+ | Bodyguard AU- Din gets hired to be your bodyguard and you absolutely hate it. Until you don’t.

Chapter One: Incomplete and Insecure - 5k

Arthur Morgan

A Kiss and a Bounty- 2k | fluff | "shut up and kiss her already"

A Tale of Two Animals- 2k | extreme fluff | modern au set during quarantine

To Be Hunted- 5k | angst, fluff | he takes you hunting, you find out why and its not what you expected.

[prose-for-hire]

My heart lives in Texas

[A late (and final) 12 days of Christmas fic]

Pairing: Fred x fem!reader

Request: Can you please write something with a female reader from a different country thats friends with and crushing on Fred and she can’t afford to go back to her home country to visit her family so Fred invites her to come to Texas with her to see Freds family or something?

Requested by: Anon

Warning: Mention of homophobia.

You had moved to the U.S. from your home country a year or so ago. It had been quite an adjustment at first. Angel investigations had taken you on once they realised you were fluent in several demon-languages. You had studied extensively when you lived back home.

You arrived at a similar time as Fred returned from Pylea. You bonded instantly. Fred was a sweetheart, and you adjusted back into life together. She leaned on you, she trusted you instantly. There was a calming aura around you and ever since she returned she leaned on you. You became close friends.

You both moved into Angel’s hotel and spent most days and nights together. You whispered through your traumas, comforting each other. You would often share a bed, cuddling together. So close with her arms draped around you.

You told each other it was platonic, it was because you needed each other. Cared about each other. You could only sleep so long as the other was in bed beside you.

But you both had feelings growing inside. Such deep and unending feeling they made you dizzy. Neither of you spoke of the way you felt, because things may change. And change frightened you both. Because you had gotten comfortable in your routine. In the way that you lived now, together.

Your friends tried to nudge you into speaking about your feelings, everyone knew that you were in love. It was plain as day.

Angel had asked you to come into his office. It was coming up to Christmas and everyone was discussing their plans in the main room. Fred was talking about going back to her parent’s house which is something she hadn’t been able to do in a long while.

“Y/n, I’m only asking you in here ‘cause we’re friends… right?” he added that on the end a little unsure and you nodded with a little smile.

“Right!” You assured him with a small smile.

“I’m not great with advice, but I just wanted to say somethin’. If you, uh, don’t mind” He started, you and Angel had become close and he wanted his friends to be happy, “You and Fred, you’re meant for each other. I’ve seen a lot and it’s not often you find something like you have with her”

“You can all tell, can’t you? That I like her?”

“We can tell you love each other. Go for it, at least some of us deserve to be happy” He murmured, alluding to the low mood of the rest of the team and himself.

“I don’t want to push her into anything… she’s special” You said softly. Angel nodded, staring into the distance as if he knew the exact feeling you harboured intimately. You were about to speak, offer him a friendly ear if he wanted to talk when there was shouts for you both in the other room

Another case. Another demon to fight.

You managed to complete the case after a lot of hardship. The demon had terrorised the hotel, taking all of the decorations and incinerating them in the melee.

When you were all sat around, exhausted surrounded by piles of smoking ash, most from vampires and the rest from the Christmas trees, Cordelia commented that at least you had the holidays to look forward to. Angel had insisted everyone take time off.

You were very quiet at this. You had thought about going home but it just wasn’t possible this year. The cost of tickets and the guilt you’d face should something horribly go wrong in California.

Fred saw you thinking, your brow furrowed slightly and she worried. She slipped her arms, looping them with your own as she leaned against your shoulder. Your eyes kept closing, you were blinking slowly. She whispered, telling you it was time to go to bed.

She led the way, taking your hand in hers as everyone watched you go. They understood and had stopped commenting on your affection. They had all silently agreed to let you figure it out naturally.

You slid into bed and she got in beside you. Your arms were open for her as they always here. She cuddled up to you, settling in her usual place. The space between you felt smaller and smaller each night.

She spoke softly, recounting her day as you managed to stay awake long enough to speak your mind too. She asked then, after a moment of silence what was troubling you. About the season.

And you explained, near poured your entire heart out about all your emotions. You were suddenly wide awake and retelling every worry and anxiety you had over leaving and returning home.

You couldn’t bare it if it had changed at all and yet if it was the same it would perhaps be harder to return. Los Angeles was your adopted home now, you wanted to see everyone but the cost was too much and she frowned.

You didn’t wish to be alone but you weren’t able to go. You couldn’t explain it any other way.

As you slept, she started thinking about her own thoughts. She had been reluctant to leave you, she had felt torn between her family Christmas and spending time with you. As the light of dawn started to filter through, she made a decision.

Once she realised you couldn’t go home for Christmas it wasn’t even a question that you would come with her. She had bought the tickets without thinking and insisted that she couldn’t celebrate without you there. You meant too much.

She of course gave you the choice, but you didn’t even have to think about it. You said yes, instantly.

You left together on the plane. You touched down on Christmas Eve. You felt like you might see Santa himself as you flew through the sky. It was a wonderful sight and she held your hand almost the entire way. She gushed and gave you her entire family history as you made your way there.

You went straight to her parent’s house. They had seen her since she returned from Pylea but not very often. They were so excited that she was coming for Christmas.

You walked over the threshold and were immediately greeted by her parents. They presumed you were dating already by the way she spoke about you. Fred had come out already when she was younger and her parents were so lovely about it.

“Aw, y’all look so cute together!” Her mother smiled wide and hugged you both at the same time.

“Mom, it’s not like that” There was a little glint in her parents eye as they exchanged a look at her words. It was only a matter of time, in their eyes. Fred then walked towards her father smiling, “Hey Dad”

She hugged her Dad as you smiled at them both. They both embraced you as if you were already family. They were so friendly and so down to earth - you loved them. And luckily, they absolutely loved you.

You had an evening meal. In the Burkle house, the Christmas Eve meal was almost more important than the one the next day. Because it was usually the three of them, making it more intimate with the extended family arriving tomorrow. Apparently there was a lot of them. Her Mom had been working hard to cook and her father had laid the table for you all.

You set your bags away and washed up before you ate. You smiled at Fred’s childhood home before you descended the stairs again and sat around the table while Mrs Burkle served up. You complimented the way the house was decorated and had her mother almost blushing at your words.

As the meal went on, there were plenty of subtle prodding to see what kind of relationship you were truly in.

“We’re so pleased to finally meet you, Y/n. Fred has said so much about you on the phone” Her father nodded as he chewed on his meal.

“You know our neighbours down the street have two adopted children now. Isn’t that wonderful? They’re amazing Moms” Fred’s Mom continued to gush as Fred shifted slightly at her words despite her best intentions. She then leaned into the table a little more to say to you, “Our Winifred has always been such a caring soul, we’re glad she’s found someone just as kind”

“Oh, thank you Mrs Burkle. This meal really is amazing” You smiled as Fred slipped her hand under the table, resting her hand on your thigh. She kept it there through the rest of the meal, rubbing her thumb every so often. She wanted contact with you, she didn’t want to be away for you for a moment.

After the meal ended, you made sure you assisted Fred’s Mom and helped clear away the dishes.

“And she’s polite too!” You heard her whisper too loud to Fred before she followed you into the kitchen. It made you smile, even if you hadn’t managed to speak to Fred about it alone that at least her family thought you were good enough for her daughter.

You helped wash up and engaged Fred’s Mom in conversation while you assisted her. She made you really smile. You turned to leave, going to find Fred, your heart a magnet to hers. You couldn’t bare to be apart. But her mother took you by the hand, telling you that you are part of her family. That you would always be welcome here.

She also warned you not to mind any of the extended family tomorrow if they say anything rude about you and Fred. In fact, she promised they would be sent out of the house quicker than you could say Happy Christmas.

You smiled at the floor, you really did feel like one of them already. She squeezed your arm again before nodding and letting you go and find your Fred.

You stayed in the living room with her parents for a while before retiring to her childhood room. They provided a camp bed for one of you on the floor, but nobody in the house was convinced it was going to be used that night.

Fred had an idea, she wanted to show you something she would do when she was younger. She opened her balcony. It was only small but she laid blankets out so that you could stargaze together. She rested against the wall and she gestured for you to join her, which meant you were now sitting between her legs. She wrapped you in a light blanket and you nestled together despite it not being that cold.

You and Fred sat together, the cool breeze was welcome. You leaned back, your head resting against her chest. She stroked your hair softly before sliding her hands down to hold yours.

“Your Mom thinks that we’re dating” You said softly, your words so light they danced away with the low breeze that whistled around you. Your hands weaved between each other as you leaned further back against her.

“Mhm, she does that with every friend I’ve had since grade school” Fred chuckled, which was true. But, her Mom had a lot more reason to think so this time.

“She’s going to fight your homophobic relatives for us” You chuckled.

There was a silence. Fred shifted under you slightly. You moved up to sit and turned to look at her. You worried that you had said too much, spoken of it as if it were laughable. You hadn’t meant it that way at all.

She looked down slightly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she realised what was coming. You could easily hurt her here. Tell her that this wasn’t what she hoped it was.

But, of course you would never do that.

“Fred, I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to push you, after everything you’ve been through” You began your speech and shuddered despite the lack of cold, these were words you had practiced in your mind for such a long time it didn’t feel real that you were saying them now, “I love you and the biggest gift that you could give me this year would- would be if you would be my girlfriend?” You asked, your voice caught in your throat at the end.

Her eyes shone, watering with all of this emotion. It was made even more prominent in the moonlight. She couldn’t form words, she just nodded yes vigorously. You embraced, wrapped around each other on the balcony, a tear falling from her eye now. This was all she had ever wanted. You pressed your lips to hers, only briefly, there would be a whole night and beyond for more. This moment was yours. And you were going to cuddle under the stars once more.

You held her so tightly, laying her down. You were flat on your back with her tucked into your side now. You couldn’t take your eyes off her now, the stars would be nothing compared to her.

She whispered that she would stargaze at night, hoping that her soulmate would be looking up at the stars too, wherever they were. That one day, she would return to this balcony with the one she loved and share blankets this way. That one of the first weeks, when you had first starting sharing a bed she had pictured watching the stars with you.

You spent the rest of the holiday period, and beyond, exploring your romantic relationship. She took you around the places she used to frequent. You both struggled to leave, this place would be special to you both know. It was perfect and you swore to her from that day that a piece of your heart would always live with hers in Texas.

[umnitsa]

I am not sober right now, so indulge me...

Headcanons for kink: Alexei Shostakov (Black Widow), Jim Hopper (Stranger Things), Santa (Violent Night)

Alexei

He isn't the most sophisticated partner. XD But he is eager and curious, and he will try anything you bring to him. He doesn't really like using rope or other restraints, because he is fully capable of restraining you with his massive body. He will spank you but will giggle like a schoolgirl through the whole process, from sheer giddiness. He will shift to a fully serious, hair-pulling growling dom if you disrespect him though (isn't that the game?)

He loves the idea of roleplaying, but he is so cheesy doing it you WILL feel you're in a 70's porno. It is hot and fun in its own way.

He's mostly a soft dom who loves the idea of using you for his fun. And his fun is making you come again and again. It makes him feel powerful.

He really, really wants to please. So if you praise him, he will be a babbling mess and will become putty in your hands. Use it well, it's the only way you're gonna ride him because he loves restraining you with his body. He doesn't really understand daddy kink, but it's ok if you call him daddy. He does have a size kink, with everyone being smaller than him, but I bet he would pop a boner if you were his own size or bigger (it would be a delightful surprise for him).

Hopper

I can see Big Jim as vanilla as it comes. Mostly because he thinks most things are distractions. He just wants to devour you.

Ok, not so vanilla, he really really likes to spank you.

Well, he also loves manhandling you.

And he loves you on your knees, looking at him with big eyes.

But that is just him! If you bring him the idea of domination and submission, he won't understand how it relates to him. He's absolutely oblivious.

Big Jim has basically two modes. Classic!dom, who will spank you, growl orders, fuck you hard, pull your hair, make you beg for an orgasm. And Service!dom, who will cover you in soft praise, eat you up and finger you for hours, who will suck on your nipples as he rubs your clit gently, make you beg for him to stop and just fuck you already, you're so overstimulated.

Even when you take charge, he has this look of control over things, he smiles at you as if he's indulging you in good nature. He thought it was very cute when you handcuffed him that time.

Calling him daddy is a no-no. He's a bit sensitive. But if you call him sir, or chief in a sexual way... You'll get a raise.

Santa

That is a dirty old man as I have ever seen one. That man is kinky as fuck and nothing you say can make me think differently. He's very respectable, a good man, but he will pop a boner if you call him Father Christmas in a sexual way. He has a daddy kink and it's a severe one.

He is a flirty menace and will talk you into an orgasm. He is incredibly vocal, grunts, moans, and dirty talking. Sweet praise and playful degradation so you don't forget how naughty you really are. He will make you admit to every desire, to admit that you love what he does to you, out loud.

Oh, and he is there to realize all your fantasies, the best he can. If you want it, he will try it at least once. He will judge you? Yes. He will probably mock you playfully a little bit. In a dirty way. The dirtiest. Just so you don't forget you're naughty.

You will be tied up in red ribbons, some day.

He loves when you decide to please him. Santa loves to rest against the pillows and just watch you play with his body. Between grunts and soft moans, he will praise you, his hands gently petting and squeezing you in turns.

[umnitsa]

Santa has had enough of Christmas

Summary: Santa Claus is really frustrated with your behaviour.

A/N: So, yeah. There we are. More questionable porn with Santa Claus. I’m not even sure this is a bad thing anymore xD This is the moment I must admit I really loved Santa calling kids ‘little shits’, and it’s totally inspired by that line. XD Hope you enjoy this one!

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader

CW: degradation, mostly. Santa is angry on this one. This is dirty, so please beware xD

Santa materialized in a tiny living room in a tiny apartment, in a big city, in a big country, and he immediately felt something was wrong.

No Christmas decorations.

He squinted behind his glasses, adjusting to the light in the room, and the second thing he realized was that he occupied most of the room. That made him chuckle low; the one getting the present was very, very short, indeed.

Huffing, he turned around, looking for a tree or a stocking or wherever the fuck she placed her gifts. He found a place of cookies, a thermos, a bottle of beer, and a card on the dinner table.

“Sorry, Santa. I forgot to buy milk, so I am offering you my favorites. Beer and coffee.”

He laughed, a sad laugh. He knew you didn’t really believe in him, that this was just a joke for you, but it was ok. You were a grown-up. Grown-ups have a hard time just believing. The important thing was that you were on the nice list and deserved your gift. And your wonder.

He opened the beer, scoffed at the thermos, and grabbed one cookie. It wasn’t that good, but at least it was homemade.

He then saw the small gift close to the plate—the one you had bought yourself. With a grunt, he picked your present from the sack, but he heard a humming sound before he could place it on the table. The bedroom door must be open.

Santa moved quietly; there was a covered body in the bed, facing down, moving slowly, rhythmically. The humming came from right there. He stepped to the door, trying to make sense of the situation, when he heard a whimper, then a soft moan.

He felt the gift heavy on his hand. And the list became warm on his belt. You had just lost your place on the nice list. He had watched you all year, being sweet after a lifetime of perversion. Every moment, he watched you behave, being a good little girl… He got invested!

“What the fuck you think you’re doing, you little shit!” Santa raged, slamming the light switch. You scrambled, sitting down, the covers sliding.  “So fucking close, now I'll have to get you coal." He grunts. "It was already done and wrapped, you little pervert."

You had the audacity to look at him and moan, the vibrator still lodged into your body.

"I work all year, and you spoil everything in the last minutes of the day. Unbe-fucking-lievable." Santa growled as you scrambled, pulling the vibrator out and covering your breasts. “You leave that plate of cookies every year as a ridiculous little internal joke, and the year you’ll get the fucking present you spoil everything like this? What were you fucking thinking?”

“I… I was thinking of you, I guess…?” You said hesitantly. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry.” He grinned, placing the present back in the sack and tugging on the jacket. You just watched him, mouth half open. By the time he was through with the jacket and started tugging on his vest, your hand was moving under the covers again. He growled, angry. “This is so disrespectful.”

You quietly watched him, your hand moving gently under the covers. That infuriated him.

“And you just keep going!”

“If this is a dream…” You babbled, trying to look innocent but clearly hiding something.

“I’ll show you the dream. You’re gonna get exactly what you were thinking of.” He spat, taking the rest of his clothes. You gasped, leaning forward when he took off his shirt. Your hand speeded up; Santa Claus growled, quickly getting rid of his pants.

For one second, you looked genuinely scared, but it quickly turned into lust. You licked your lips, thinking of how it would hurt.

“Look at that. The little pervert got turned on by my size.” He mused, almost to himself, his face in a snarl, his voice showing some disdain. He placed his glasses at your bedside, then pulled the covers to expose your body. He hummed, looking at your breasts, your hips, the expanse of soft skin. “Is this what you want for Christmas, you horny little shit?”

“Please, yes.”

“On fours.” He chuckled darkly, climbing into the bed and grabbing your arm to turn you around.

“But I want to see you…”

“Tough luck.” He growled; you got on fours, trembling, your arousal explicit by the glistening on your thighs. “You’ve been naughty; you don’t get what you want. Now it’s my turn; now I get what I want.”

You lowered your shoulders to the bed with a moan, pushing your ass up. He made a disapproving noise and grabbed your hips. He took a moment to rub his cock against your pussy, enjoying your slick feel, the way you squirmed, rubbing your ass against him. His cock lined with your hole for a moment, and he gently pushed, enjoying the way you gasped, holding your breath.

He trusted into you, slowly and relentlessly, until you felt your hips against his. You whined, squirming; his big hands grabbed and squeezed your hips, your asscheeks.

“I’m curious.” He slid his hand up your back, then grabbed your hair, pulling you up. He sat on his heels, hugging you against his chest, cock firmly into your pussy, immobile. “Why? Why did you behave all year and just now… Relapsed? I’ll only move if you answer me. And tell me the truth; I know when you’re lying.” His voice sounded like a growl, an angry, rumbling growl.

“I saw you a few years back.” You panted, trying to grind against him, to little success. “Bringing coal. I saw you choosing the beer. And how you grunted and sighed eating the cookies. You looked so good… I wanted to fuck you, but the only guarantee you’ll visit is by being a good girl. So I did it.” You moaned. “I just… I thought if you saw me, if you liked what you saw, you could join me.”

“Fuck!” He trusted up, a sharp, hard thrust. “You were trying to trap me? You pervert! Naughty little slut.”

You moaned even louder, his hands squeezing your breasts. His anger was starting to melt with pleasure, and he had to admire your courage in setting everything up. He had to respect that even being naughty, you believed in him so much... You behaved, your true nature hidden in the process. He started thrusting, not so hard now, enjoying the feeling of your body against his.

“You feel so good.” You sighed.

“Christmas magic.” He chuckled, sarcasm dripping from his words.

“Nooooo. It’s you.” You whined, looking back over your shoulder, your hands over his. He nuzzled your cheek, enjoying your sighs and your whimpers. You raised your hand to his head, a soft whimper escaping from you as you buried your fingers into his hair.  He then nuzzled your ear and hair, taking deep breaths as he moved. “Thank you…”

“You’re so fucking naughty.” Santa chuckled, pushing you back on fours, his big hand sliding over your back. He took a moment to squeeze your hips, then pushed back to watch his cock disappear into your pussy.

You propped your head on your arms, whimpering, then turned your face to see him. Such a beautiful sight, his big body dwarfing yours in proportion, the tattoos adorning your chest and arms. As he growled in exertion, his blue eyes focused on the place your bodies met.

Santa didn’t look like he was paying any attention to you, but he was trying to commit that image to memory, your supple body, your soft skin, the way you were squeezing him, your moans and whimpers. He just couldn’t keep mad for long. You couldn’t be so naughty if you could make him feel like that.

The thought itself made him grab your hips harder, diving into a deep, hard thrust that made you howl in pleasure.

"Oh, is that how you like it? I see. Pervert.” He grunted, watching you tremble with his words. “You like when I point out you’re a naughty slut. What a delightful little shit you are!” He laughed, caressing your back ever so gently. He sounded dismissive and cruel, but the soft look in his eyes betrayed him. He was doing that for your pleasure. “I can’t say I’m not enjoying this.”

He pulled your head back by your hair, noticing how you whimpered and grabbed the sheets. He kept thrusting progressively harder and faster until you came, body going slack under him with the force of your orgasm. It didn’t take much for him to join after that, with your moaning and the way you weakly pushed against him. Santa just loved the way you reacted to him.

”That was a horrible thing to want for Christmas.” He said, his voice breathless and gruff, as he threw himself into the bed by your side, his arm still around you. He caressed you soothingly, especially your hips, which he had grabbed so hard just moments before.

“Sorry.” You lowered your head, chuckling giddily, your whole body tingling from the afterglow. “But that’s the only way I can get filled with Christmas cheer. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You know I have to give you what you ask for, even if you’re a naughty little shit taking advantage of the rules. You have to stop writing me dirty letters, though. The elves keep stealing them.” Santa chuckled, kissing your shoulder.

“You really want me to stop?” You asked softly.

“No.” He chuckled, his whole body shaking. You ended up laughing too.

[umnitsa]

For Santa

🎁 birthday sexy headcanon

I gotta tell you that dirty old man did the 'dick in a box' thing at least ONCE. And laughed the whole way through it.

Santa is usually tired, overworked, and somewhat depressed; so you need to be the one surprising him, even for your birthday.

You do remember the day you waited for him all wrapped in red ribbon. The silky ribbon crisscrossed your body, over your arms and legs, bows decorating the whole ensemble. It would be a work of patience to unwrap you.

The look on his face was priceless.

Santa is a patient man. He slowly pulled every one of the bows, slowly unwrapping you, and kissing the exposed skin gently. It took most of the night, and in the morning, he was smiling, breathless, your body firmly pressed against his side, one arm wrapped tightly around you.

"It seems I was very nice this year." He chuckled, squeezing one of your asscheeks. "But you were terribly naughty. We need to fix that."

[umnitsa]

Santa has had enough of Christmas (2)

Summary: You're not at home, but he finds you. And gives you a special gift. *wink*

A/N: So, yeah. I couldn't stop thinking of them, so there is more, 2 years later. Some things are very inspired by earlier Santa fic, we had some lovely writers who deactivated, but their ideas live on. Thank you Kitty! <3 <3 <3

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader (fem)

CW: a quickie, with your friends in the other room. And more christmas cheer!

Not proofread, and you guys know english is my second language, so there.

I really hope you had a good, peaceful eve, and I wish you a peaceful day today. Christmas can be harsh, but we can always do whatever the fuck we want, even defile Santa! XD *giant hugs*

You sighed softly, watching your friends chatting around the table. You wish you were home, getting ready to wait for Santa, your toys charged and ready. You spent the whole year thinking of him, wet and desperate…

But your friends needed you. 2024 was a particularly rough year for everybody, and when your friends asked gently if you would like to join them on the 24th… You couldn’t say no.

You couldn’t be a good girl for Santa Claus, but you surely were a good girl for your friends.

And now they were laughing and giggling, sadness, hardships forgotten, the heavy weight of the holiday gone. You huffed.

Only one good fuck a year and you gave it up for them. If they only knew.

So after almost a year of writing dirty letters to Santa Claus, you sent a heartfelt one. You told him you would be with your friends, followed by paragraphs on how would you miss him, and dirty fantasies for the next year.

You hoped he wouldn’t mind.

In your heart, you were sure the action would put you in the nice list anyway.

So you would probably get home to a cute gift. No Daddy Christmas cock for you this year.

“Sorry guys, I’m feeling a bit tired.” You said softly, standing up, some weird restlessness commanding you. “I’m going to lie down a bit, take a nap…”

“Take my room!” The owner of the house said, smiling. “And lock the door, some of us here are drunk and we have pranksters at this table.”

“Santa isn’t coming for any of you this year, you assholes!” You laughed and went to the bedroom, locking the door anyway. You would hate to wake up to a thousand ridiculous pictures of you sleeping, some screaming and sharpie doodles all over your face.

You heard the lock, then soft bells rang behind you, as the warm breeze moved the curtains. You shook your head, smiling to yourself. He wouldn’t…

Golden sparkles swirled from the window, materializing the red wearing giant in front of you.

“Santa!”

“My favorite little shit.” He chuckled, silver waves framing his crooked smirk. Santa took a few moments appreciating your expression, a mix of excitement and surprise, then chuckled again. “You thought I wouldn’t come? After another year of you tormenting me with the dirtiest shit I’ve ever read…”

Santa Claus huffed, playfully, throwing the sack on the floor then taking off his gloves and throwing over it. He prowled in your direction, opening his jacket.

“And I can’t skip the fucking letters, no. I have to read them in my workshop, in front of all those fucking elves.” He towered over you and you stepped back, against the door. “They keep stealing the damn things. They all giggle, looking at me weird. Like I am the pervert.”

He picked you up and pressed you against the door, his thick thigh between your legs and the weight of his body against you keeping you slightly off the floor. He had you pinned.

“You really thought I wouldn’t look for you?” He growled against your lips, his blue eyes tinkling with playful anger. You gasped, leaning towards him, but he pulled slightly back, not allowing you to kiss him. “After a year of disrespect? I should fuck you in front of your friends, show them what you really want for Christmas, how much of a pervert you are.”

You moaned, feeling yourself pulse, so warm and so wet.

“Ho, ho, ho.” He chuckled low, releasing you and stepping back. His face a picture of mirthful surprise. “Really? Whoa.” He sits on the bed, tutting, shaking his head. “You are shameless. I don’t know what I expected. I can smell you, filthy little slut.”

You kneel between his legs and nuzzle his cock over his pants. You lick the leather, whimpering softly. Santa pets your hair.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” He coos, softly, his voice gentle and loving. “Aaaaw, look at you. I didn’t know little shits get in heat too. So desperate.”

“Fuck.” You gasp, scrambling to open his pants.

“Language.” He chuckled, leaning back, making the process easier for you. His pants are large, and he did come prepared (no suspenders, the devious old man). The fabric easily falls open, showing his cock, hard and pulsing precome. No underwear either. You look at him, wide eyed, then at his cock. “It turns you on, doesn’t it? Disrespecting me. Writing those letters, asking Santa to stuff your stocking.”

You grab him with both hands, your hungry mouth descending over his cock, quickly swallowing as much as you can.

“We don’t have much time.” Santa said, pulling your hair. “Come sit on my lap, quick.”

You stand up, pulling your dress up; he grabs your hips and turns you to the door. You feel one big thumb pulling your panties aside, then the hands on your hips press you down. You feel him positioning himself, and like magic, he slides perfectly into you.

A loud moan escapes your mouth and your friends stop laughing for one second. You both stop, panting, alert. The noise outside restarts and Santa breathes, relieved.

It’s quick and hard, almost brutal, his hands tightly grabbing your hips, pulling you up and down… You felt like a doll, like his little toy. You come quickly, eyes rolling back. The only noises in the room are his soft grunts and the loud noises of your thighs slapping against his, punctuated by wet sloppy sucking sounds.

He keeps hitting that delightful place inside of you. You come a second time and he doesn’t stop until he’s covering your insides with merry, creamy white.

Santa nuzzles your ear gently, his soft beard and hair brushing against your ear. His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against his chest.

“Now you’re filled with christmas cheer.” He whispers against your ear.

“You won’t let me forget that, right?” You chuckle, feeling like you’re in slow motion. You rest your head against his shoulder, blushing.

“You’re going back to the party with christmas cheer dripping down your thighs, little slut.” He laughed very quietly, your body shaking with his. It gave you a warm, soft feeling in your chest; you placed your hands over his, petting him. “I find it funny that’s what makes you blush. Not só shameless after all.”

“In my defense, I was cockdumb and completely fucked out. It was a ridiculous post orgasm joke.” You sighed, enjoying the feel of his body against yours. He shrugged, squeezing you tighter.

“You need to stop asking for these things.” Santa said, and you could hear he was smiling. It made you smile too. “It’s wrong on so many levels.” You heard the soft ho-ho-ho against your ear.

“Do you really want me to stop?” You teased, as you did every year.

“No.” He whispered.

“What does that say about you?”

“We both know under all this I’m just a dirty old man.” He said, gently pulling from you, sitting you on the bed.

Santa stands up and quickly arranges his clothes.

“They are coming to check on you.” He grabs his sack and his gloves. He reached quickly inside the sack and pulled a large package wrapped in stripped gift wrap, with a red bow. The tag said ‘To: Little shit. From: Santa.’ He placed it by your side, smirking. “This is my gift for you.”

He cups your cheek gently, looking into your eyes, and smiled. After a moment, he gently leaned over, kissing your forehead, then your lips. Stepping back, he tapped his nose with a wink and vanished through the window in a flurry of golden sparks. You heard a knock on the door; a friend calling you to open the gifts.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your friends never laughed that hard. You eagerly tore the wrapping, to reveal a beautiful red box. Taped to the top, a card with elegant writing.

He sees you when you're sleeping And he knows when you're awake He knows if you've been bad or good So be good for goodness sake

Inside, a candy cane striped dildo; you could recognize that shape anywhere. Over the head there was a carefully placed small decoration that clearly was supposed to represent mistletoe. There was also lube, a thick, stuffed envelope and a mobile phone.

“I can’t believe you went through all this trouble for yourself. Who gave you this?”

”Santa.” You laughed, waving the tag, then storing it inside the box. You couldn’t wait to read that letter.

[umnitsa]

Come Christmas Morning...

Summary: Your husband always has a special gift for you come Christmas morning.

A/N: I caved in. I did it, I wrote Santa. And I am not remotely sorry. This was a gift for @kittyshead, who inspires me to no end with her Santa fic. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Santa x Mrs. Claus!reader

CW: Somnophilia (but with blanket consent and encouragement), a fuckload of fluff and sex <3

******

It was a Christmas tradition for Santa Claus. A naughty one, but there were perks to not being on the list, and this indeed was one of them.

It all started one Christmas, Santa Claus tiredly arriving home the morning of the 25th of December after an exhausting night of delivering presents. You, delightful wife of his (always a good girl), were still fast asleep. You looked so beautiful in the first light of the morning; he wanted you… But decided you were too beautiful to wake up quickly, so he spent long minutes caressing your hair, your arms, and your face until you woke up in bliss, your husband pressed by your side, his cock against your thigh, hard, pulsing against your skin.

He whispered soft words of praise, describing how beautiful, how peaceful you looked, asleep. You encouraged him to move further every year, ensuring he knew how much you enjoyed waking up in his arms, telling him how much you looked forward to the first lights of Christmas morning.

Until it became a tradition. Until neither of you could imagine spending the morning of the 25th otherwise.

Santa Claus sneaked into his own bedroom, as he did so many mornings before, and the irony didn’t escape him. It never did.

Suppressing a chuckle, he placed the sack on the reading armchair you kept in the room, then quickly removed his gloves, his hat, and his boots. He then proceeded to take off his jacket and leather vest, all his attention already on the bed. On your peaceful body, languidly stretched against the sheets.

You shifted, lost in some weightless dream. Your husband chuckled low, throwing his shirt and pants aside carelessly. With a smile, he pulled the covers to see what surprise you had for him this year. He skipped a breath as he saw the little satin nightgown—dark red.

He trembled, pulling the sheets, watching the goosebumps raised on your skin by the colder air of the room.

He brushed his lips against your shoulder ever so gently, but you shifted, facing the bed, hugging a pillow, one leg folded. He pulled the covers completely off you, admiring you as the light in the room changed, the first rays of sun invading the room through the window.

Your husband sniffed your hair, the softest of groans coming from him. His hand was already sliding against your side, over the satin, exploring the feel of the fabric against his palm and you.

A slight appreciative noise came from your lips as he petted you slowly, pulling your nightgown up, so he could see your ass and your thighs. He squeezed one asscheek gently, testing how deep into sleep you were. He knew he could proceed when you just sighed, pushing your ass against his hand and slowly arching your back.

For a moment, looking at your bare bottom, he didn’t know what to do, torn between the desire to keep the game longer and the desire to lick your pussy. He cocked his head, considering he never quite found a way to lick you without waking you up. As he considered what to do, he gently grabbed your asscheek and pulled your thighs apart.

He sighed. He had this obsessive thought since he found one of your naughty little notes hidden in the sleigh earlier. Little offerings, images, promises, even begging. It drove him crazy, year after year, little pieces of paper in your handwriting, bearing your desires and wishes. He could even imagine you on the desk, writing them and chuckling to yourself, biting your lower lip, squeezing your thighs together.

He sighed, lost in the images in his head, one thick finger already sliding in and out of you, agonizingly slowly. You were already wet, some touching before sleeping, a good dream; maybe you sensed his presence, his scent even in your sleep.

Santa sucked on his finger, a moan escaping him at your taste. You shifted with the sound but didn’t really change your position. He had to be more careful.

With light touches, he maneuvered your legs until his cock was pressed against your pussy. He stayed still for a long while, enjoying your heat burning against his skin.

You moved your shoulders languidly, and Santa knew he had little time before you woke from your slumber by the way you sighed. He couldn’t resist the temptation of rubbing his cock against your clit, slowly, even with the risk of waking you up earlier than he intended. Your mewls were worth the risk.

He pushed into you, ever so slowly, as gently as he could, trying to stretch those final moments for as long as possible. Your eyes fluttered open as your body raised from the deep, peaceful feeling of sleep to the searing ecstasy of pleasure.

You moaned weakly, his hands moving to cup your breasts, pinching your nipple between his thick fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.” He growled softly, his hips moving with purpose now, long slow thrusts.

You opened your eyes, your mind hazy with sleep and pleasure, and as your vision focused, you gasped.

Your husband towered over your body on the bed, his hands worshipping your body, holding it for dear life, unwilling to release you. He smiled, his silver hair falling messily over his face. Your eyes trailed down his broad chest, tense with his effort not to just thrust into you hard and fast.

You took a moment to enjoy his tattooed chest and shoulders, the drawings snaking over his arms. You loved them, and the scars, they were all little reminders of life before, a reminder of the man your husband was and the trophies for the man he became.

“You’re so beautiful.” He moaned, thrusting slightly faster. Your body felt like paradise, warm, welcoming, pulling him in. You grabbed his chest, your nails leaving tiny marks along the drawings on his chest. “You’re such a good girl. Leaving notes so I would feel less lonely. Teasing me with every little surprise…”

Santa lowered his body against yours, covering you, his hair falling on your face. Without slowing his thrusts, he kissed you deeply, the thirst of a hungry man; even one night apart was torture.

You came, whimpering against his lips, the way he held you tipping you over the delightful abyss. His infinite passion for you was palpable in how he touched your body; you could feel it inside yourself, sparkling under your skin.

He kept kissing your lips gently, insistently, grunts and groans pouring into your mouth.

“My beautiful wife…” He whispered as he came, his rhythm faltering, then slowing until his hips stopped.

You chuckled, feeling light, even with his body covering yours. Santa nuzzled your cheek and your neck, kissing every now and then.

“I really want to taste you, but I need a moment.” He growled against your skin, then chuckled as you played with his hair. “I’m not that young anymore.”

“You aged perfectly.” You rubbed his shoulders, sighing against his solid body. His fingers buried in your hair, he whispered gentle nothings against your skin.

“I’m not finished with you.” He grumbled.

“I’m sure you’re not.” You whisper against his hair. “Merry Christmas, love.”

[neganwifey25-blog]

🤤🥴 good lord I love this

Come Christmas Morning...

Summary: Your husband always has a special gift for you come Christmas morning.

A/N: I caved in. I did it, I wrote Santa. And I am not remotely sorry. This was a gift for @kittyshead, who inspires me to no end with her Santa fic. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Santa x Mrs. Claus!reader

CW: Somnophilia (but with blanket consent and encouragement), a fuckload of fluff and sex <3

******

It was a Christmas tradition for Santa Claus. A naughty one, but there were perks to not being on the list, and this indeed was one of them.

It all started one Christmas, Santa Claus tiredly arriving home the morning of the 25th of December after an exhausting night of delivering presents. You, delightful wife of his (always a good girl), were still fast asleep. You looked so beautiful in the first light of the morning; he wanted you… But decided you were too beautiful to wake up quickly, so he spent long minutes caressing your hair, your arms, and your face until you woke up in bliss, your husband pressed by your side, his cock against your thigh, hard, pulsing against your skin.

He whispered soft words of praise, describing how beautiful, how peaceful you looked, asleep. You encouraged him to move further every year, ensuring he knew how much you enjoyed waking up in his arms, telling him how much you looked forward to the first lights of Christmas morning.

Until it became a tradition. Until neither of you could imagine spending the morning of the 25th otherwise.

Santa Claus sneaked into his own bedroom, as he did so many mornings before, and the irony didn’t escape him. It never did.

Suppressing a chuckle, he placed the sack on the reading armchair you kept in the room, then quickly removed his gloves, his hat, and his boots. He then proceeded to take off his jacket and leather vest, all his attention already on the bed. On your peaceful body, languidly stretched against the sheets.

You shifted, lost in some weightless dream. Your husband chuckled low, throwing his shirt and pants aside carelessly. With a smile, he pulled the covers to see what surprise you had for him this year. He skipped a breath as he saw the little satin nightgown—dark red.

He trembled, pulling the sheets, watching the goosebumps raised on your skin by the colder air of the room.

He brushed his lips against your shoulder ever so gently, but you shifted, facing the bed, hugging a pillow, one leg folded. He pulled the covers completely off you, admiring you as the light in the room changed, the first rays of sun invading the room through the window.

Your husband sniffed your hair, the softest of groans coming from him. His hand was already sliding against your side, over the satin, exploring the feel of the fabric against his palm and you.

A slight appreciative noise came from your lips as he petted you slowly, pulling your nightgown up, so he could see your ass and your thighs. He squeezed one asscheek gently, testing how deep into sleep you were. He knew he could proceed when you just sighed, pushing your ass against his hand and slowly arching your back.

For a moment, looking at your bare bottom, he didn’t know what to do, torn between the desire to keep the game longer and the desire to lick your pussy. He cocked his head, considering he never quite found a way to lick you without waking you up. As he considered what to do, he gently grabbed your asscheek and pulled your thighs apart.

He sighed. He had this obsessive thought since he found one of your naughty little notes hidden in the sleigh earlier. Little offerings, images, promises, even begging. It drove him crazy, year after year, little pieces of paper in your handwriting, bearing your desires and wishes. He could even imagine you on the desk, writing them and chuckling to yourself, biting your lower lip, squeezing your thighs together.

He sighed, lost in the images in his head, one thick finger already sliding in and out of you, agonizingly slowly. You were already wet, some touching before sleeping, a good dream; maybe you sensed his presence, his scent even in your sleep.

Santa sucked on his finger, a moan escaping him at your taste. You shifted with the sound but didn’t really change your position. He had to be more careful.

With light touches, he maneuvered your legs until his cock was pressed against your pussy. He stayed still for a long while, enjoying your heat burning against his skin.

You moved your shoulders languidly, and Santa knew he had little time before you woke from your slumber by the way you sighed. He couldn’t resist the temptation of rubbing his cock against your clit, slowly, even with the risk of waking you up earlier than he intended. Your mewls were worth the risk.

He pushed into you, ever so slowly, as gently as he could, trying to stretch those final moments for as long as possible. Your eyes fluttered open as your body raised from the deep, peaceful feeling of sleep to the searing ecstasy of pleasure.

You moaned weakly, his hands moving to cup your breasts, pinching your nipple between his thick fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.” He growled softly, his hips moving with purpose now, long slow thrusts.

You opened your eyes, your mind hazy with sleep and pleasure, and as your vision focused, you gasped.

Your husband towered over your body on the bed, his hands worshipping your body, holding it for dear life, unwilling to release you. He smiled, his silver hair falling messily over his face. Your eyes trailed down his broad chest, tense with his effort not to just thrust into you hard and fast.

You took a moment to enjoy his tattooed chest and shoulders, the drawings snaking over his arms. You loved them, and the scars, they were all little reminders of life before, a reminder of the man your husband was and the trophies for the man he became.

“You’re so beautiful.” He moaned, thrusting slightly faster. Your body felt like paradise, warm, welcoming, pulling him in. You grabbed his chest, your nails leaving tiny marks along the drawings on his chest. “You’re such a good girl. Leaving notes so I would feel less lonely. Teasing me with every little surprise…”

Santa lowered his body against yours, covering you, his hair falling on your face. Without slowing his thrusts, he kissed you deeply, the thirst of a hungry man; even one night apart was torture.

You came, whimpering against his lips, the way he held you tipping you over the delightful abyss. His infinite passion for you was palpable in how he touched your body; you could feel it inside yourself, sparkling under your skin.

He kept kissing your lips gently, insistently, grunts and groans pouring into your mouth.

“My beautiful wife…” He whispered as he came, his rhythm faltering, then slowing until his hips stopped.

You chuckled, feeling light, even with his body covering yours. Santa nuzzled your cheek and your neck, kissing every now and then.

“I really want to taste you, but I need a moment.” He growled against your skin, then chuckled as you played with his hair. “I’m not that young anymore.”

“You aged perfectly.” You rubbed his shoulders, sighing against his solid body. His fingers buried in your hair, he whispered gentle nothings against your skin.

“I’m not finished with you.” He grumbled.

“I’m sure you’re not.” You whisper against his hair. “Merry Christmas, love.”

[neganwifey25-blog]

Woof🥵😳

Santa has had enough of Christmas

Summary: Santa Claus is really frustrated with your behaviour.

A/N: So, yeah. There we are. More questionable porn with Santa Claus. I’m not even sure this is a bad thing anymore xD This is the moment I must admit I really loved Santa calling kids ‘little shits’, and it’s totally inspired by that line. XD Hope you enjoy this one!

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader

CW: degradation, mostly. Santa is angry on this one. This is dirty, so please beware xD

Keep reading

[beefros-sin-bin]

Join me in sin!

HELL YEAH, SANTA IS SEXY AF ESP IF IT'S DAVID HARBOUR IN THE RED MAN'S SUIT!

love love love that anything i've put out into the universe even remotely nudged this into fruition. Thank you, Nitsy!

Been-an-awful-good-girl regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

Hungry

Summary: Santa always takes too long to give you your promised gift :3

A/N: This was heavily inspired by @beefrobeefcal and their lovely chubby P-boy series. I just couldn't help myself. Written with unholy eagerness and no profreading!

Pairing: Santa x reader

CW: Established relationship (every year), Santa is ravenous for cookies and alcohol, oral (F receiving), dubcon (santa is drunk, but he iniciates things), Santa EATS a lot on this and this is just mood (it makes very little sense, but I do not care <3)

“I know our deal is that I stay asleep during the gift giving, but I’ve been hearing the bells for almost an hour now, the first rays of the morning are coming through the window and…” You blurted quickly, as you left the bedroom, just to be greeted by the sight of Santa Claus happily reclining in your massage chair, a beer in one hand; the other was resting on his belly. His chest and belly, even his glove, were covered in cookie crumbs. His hat was discarded on the table, his hair falling wildly around his shoulders in a silver halo.

“Oh, Nick.” You sighed softly, watching him rumble happily, then raise the can to his mouth. He took a big gulp from the can and opened his eyes. With a smirk, he turned the chair vibration off and pulled the chair to a sitting position. It made you chuckle, it reminded you of all the mall santas and their elaborate armchairs, this was just a more minimalistic, modern version of it.

It made you want to sit on his lap and tell him what you really wanted. You had missed him, one year is too much to wait.

“Left your house for last, cookie. You always have the good liquor.” Santa gruffed, pulling a large cookie from his pocket and biting on it. More crumbs fell on his beard and his chest, merrily. You could see he was completely drunk. He placed the beer on the side table and opened his jacket, making crumbs fly all over your room. “Didn’t feel like going the long way home just yet.”

“And the raindeer…?” You asked, getting closer to him.

“They will come back later.” He asked, munching on the cookie. He chugged more of the beer, swallowed it all down and smiled at you. “Did you miss me, baby?”

“Yeah. I missed you so much…” You stepped even closer, fidgeting nervously.

“Been a good girl?” He asked, raising one eyebrow, teasing you gently.

“I behaved this year.” You nodded, eagerly. You were wet just from waiting for him.

“Do you have more beer? And more cookies, please. This year there were a lot of shitty cookies. I ate them all; I’m not ungrateful…” He patted his distended belly, which made you chuckle. His clothes were usually large, but now the jacket was open, you could see his full belly, making his shirt look definitely tighter. “I ate all of them, but I’m still hungry, cookie.” He pleaded, his eyes sharp and intense. “Bring’em, I know you made me some.”

He said, looking into your eyes with a loopsided, knowing smirk. You nodded and scurried to the kitchen, grabbing the enormous plate filled with an impossible amount of cookies. You knew him, you spent the night baking, making sure you would have enough for him.

Back in the living room, he was standing up, jacket off, tugging on his suspenders drunkenly. His sheer size always mesmerized you; he was tall and large, thick, fat. He was immense, his arms and his highs thick, soft, but hiding immense strength. Santa threw his gloves on the couch; they landed over his boots on the floor. He smiled at you, knowingly, and sat on the armchair. He then readjusted the little table, making sure he could reach it even while sitting down.

“Here, cookie.” He pointed at the table, then sat, burping. “Get the beer… Do you have whisky?” You nodded in response. “Good girl. Put it all here and come sit on my lap.”

You placed the bottle of whisky, a glass and a six pack of beer on the table, then sat on his lap, moaning happily.

“You hate when I make you wait, don’t you?” Santa petted your hip, squeezing softly.

“I miss you, Nick.”

“I miss you too. I just like to tease...” He said, raising one hand to pet your cheek, then pulled you for a gentle kiss. You placed your hand on his chest, sliding your fingertips over his skin, through the cut in his shirt. He made a pleased noise against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, he grabbed one of the cookies. Santa raised the cookie in his hand and turned it, examining. Humming softly, he winked at you. Then he bit it, looking into your eyes.

“These are good!” He chuckles, a soft ho-ho-ho coming from his lips. “Good cookie.” He chuckled to himself, looking from the cookie to you, then he pushed the rest of it inside his mouth. “I love when you bake for me.”

He eats and drinks watching you. Licked his lips, eyes half lidded. As the cookies vanished from the plate, his hands got more intimate. He grabbed your ass and your thighs, kneading gently. He bounced you on his lap, chuckling softly as he watched your tits wiggling. You giggled, combing his hair with your fingers, swatting the crumbs from his beard gently. Santa fed you tiny pieces of the cookies, watching your lips wrapping around his fingers.

“You’re being very good this year, cookie.” He said softly, leaning back to get some space for his belly. Between the cookies and the alcohol, you figured he was pretty full, being the end of the night. You noticed he leaned back, but he didn’t move you from his lap; it brought a smile to your face. “And you have been especially good to me.” He waved to the cookies. “What happened?”

“Every year you give me a gift and make me happy.” You said softly, rubbing his belly. “This year I want to make you happy.”

“Thank you, cookie.” He blinked, swaying drunkenly. His words were somewhat slurred; he looked all soft, slow, content, like a predator well fed. He bit on another cookie, looking you all over. He voraciously ate it, then sighed, patting his belly.

Santa chuckled, pushing you off his lap and standing up. A small ‘oof’ escaped from his lips when he wrapped his arm around you for support, his other hand on the side of his belly. You could see he was dizzy, uncoordinated; he stumbled to your bedroom, hugging you firmly against him.

He took off his shirt, dropped his pants and, naked, threw himself at your bed. The thud resonated through the house, making him chuckle.

His massive heavy cock rested cradled between his belly and his thigh, hard and pulsing. Santa breathed slowly, and deeply, looking at you with a smile. One hand moved over his distended belly and he raised the other to you, making a ‘come forward’ movement. You held his hand, giggling, and he pulled you to kneel on the bed, then he directed you to sit on his face.

“There’s one last special cookie to eat up, and I’m still hungry.” He chuckled, pulling your hips down; he kept one hand on your ass, his other moving to caress his own cock in slow movements of his fingers.

His tongue pressed against your lower lips, making you gasp. The hand on you pressed you down, his nose moving against your clit. He growled, hungrily pushing his face against you. You moaned and whimpered softly as he moved, your body tensing.

You could feel he was in no rush, savoring your taste, your smell, the way you felt against his lips and tongue. You clenched around nothing, riding his face. He grunted and moaned against your pussy, the vibrations pleasant.

His hands moved over your ass, grabbing and pulling you down, making you whimper. He squeezed your flesh, grunting, desperately licking you. With his lips around your clit, and his hands squeezing your flesh, you came.

Santa chuckled, encouraging you to move so at least he could breathe. You chuckled back, moving to his side and hugging him, your hands caressing his full belly.

“You’re the best cookie.” Santa said, mischievously, his fingers sliding against your forearm and your hand. His beard was soaked, and he smiled, eyes half closed. He hummed, pleased with himself. “Good girl. Smart too. There were more cookies and more alcohol this year…”

“Yeah, kept you fed, full and drunk so you wouldn’t tease me too much.” You petted his belly, palm lightly moving up and down. “It worked!”

”Naughty.” He laughed, tickling you.

“You drive me crazy every year, it’s unfair.” You pouted playfully.

“I drive you crazy because you’re naughty all year long. Touching yourself thinking of me. Do you think I don’t know?” He smacks your hip, smirking. “Naughty little cookie.”

You pressed against his side, letting him crush you against his side as you cuddled his belly. Now you could wait.

[neganwifey25-blog]

Wow…I want Santa now 😭😂😩😮‍💨

Santa has had enough of Christmas

Summary: Santa Claus is really frustrated with your behaviour.

A/N: So, yeah. There we are. More questionable porn with Santa Claus. I’m not even sure this is a bad thing anymore xD This is the moment I must admit I really loved Santa calling kids ‘little shits’, and it’s totally inspired by that line. XD Hope you enjoy this one!

Pairing: Santa x Naughty!reader

CW: degradation, mostly. Santa is angry on this one. This is dirty, so please beware xD

Keep reading

[neganwifey25-blog]

Come Christmas Morning...

Summary: Your husband always has a special gift for you come Christmas morning.

A/N: I caved in. I did it, I wrote Santa. And I am not remotely sorry. This was a gift for @kittyshead, who inspires me to no end with her Santa fic. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Pairing: Santa x Mrs. Claus!reader

CW: Somnophilia (but with blanket consent and encouragement), a fuckload of fluff and sex <3

******

It was a Christmas tradition for Santa Claus. A naughty one, but there were perks to not being on the list, and this indeed was one of them.

It all started one Christmas, Santa Claus tiredly arriving home the morning of the 25th of December after an exhausting night of delivering presents. You, delightful wife of his (always a good girl), were still fast asleep. You looked so beautiful in the first light of the morning; he wanted you… But decided you were too beautiful to wake up quickly, so he spent long minutes caressing your hair, your arms, and your face until you woke up in bliss, your husband pressed by your side, his cock against your thigh, hard, pulsing against your skin.

He whispered soft words of praise, describing how beautiful, how peaceful you looked, asleep. You encouraged him to move further every year, ensuring he knew how much you enjoyed waking up in his arms, telling him how much you looked forward to the first lights of Christmas morning.

Until it became a tradition. Until neither of you could imagine spending the morning of the 25th otherwise.

Santa Claus sneaked into his own bedroom, as he did so many mornings before, and the irony didn’t escape him. It never did.

Suppressing a chuckle, he placed the sack on the reading armchair you kept in the room, then quickly removed his gloves, his hat, and his boots. He then proceeded to take off his jacket and leather vest, all his attention already on the bed. On your peaceful body, languidly stretched against the sheets.

You shifted, lost in some weightless dream. Your husband chuckled low, throwing his shirt and pants aside carelessly. With a smile, he pulled the covers to see what surprise you had for him this year. He skipped a breath as he saw the little satin nightgown—dark red.

He trembled, pulling the sheets, watching the goosebumps raised on your skin by the colder air of the room.

He brushed his lips against your shoulder ever so gently, but you shifted, facing the bed, hugging a pillow, one leg folded. He pulled the covers completely off you, admiring you as the light in the room changed, the first rays of sun invading the room through the window.

Your husband sniffed your hair, the softest of groans coming from him. His hand was already sliding against your side, over the satin, exploring the feel of the fabric against his palm and you.

A slight appreciative noise came from your lips as he petted you slowly, pulling your nightgown up, so he could see your ass and your thighs. He squeezed one asscheek gently, testing how deep into sleep you were. He knew he could proceed when you just sighed, pushing your ass against his hand and slowly arching your back.

For a moment, looking at your bare bottom, he didn’t know what to do, torn between the desire to keep the game longer and the desire to lick your pussy. He cocked his head, considering he never quite found a way to lick you without waking you up. As he considered what to do, he gently grabbed your asscheek and pulled your thighs apart.

He sighed. He had this obsessive thought since he found one of your naughty little notes hidden in the sleigh earlier. Little offerings, images, promises, even begging. It drove him crazy, year after year, little pieces of paper in your handwriting, bearing your desires and wishes. He could even imagine you on the desk, writing them and chuckling to yourself, biting your lower lip, squeezing your thighs together.

He sighed, lost in the images in his head, one thick finger already sliding in and out of you, agonizingly slowly. You were already wet, some touching before sleeping, a good dream; maybe you sensed his presence, his scent even in your sleep.

Santa sucked on his finger, a moan escaping him at your taste. You shifted with the sound but didn’t really change your position. He had to be more careful.

With light touches, he maneuvered your legs until his cock was pressed against your pussy. He stayed still for a long while, enjoying your heat burning against his skin.

You moved your shoulders languidly, and Santa knew he had little time before you woke from your slumber by the way you sighed. He couldn’t resist the temptation of rubbing his cock against your clit, slowly, even with the risk of waking you up earlier than he intended. Your mewls were worth the risk.

He pushed into you, ever so slowly, as gently as he could, trying to stretch those final moments for as long as possible. Your eyes fluttered open as your body raised from the deep, peaceful feeling of sleep to the searing ecstasy of pleasure.

You moaned weakly, his hands moving to cup your breasts, pinching your nipple between his thick fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Claus.” He growled softly, his hips moving with purpose now, long slow thrusts.

You opened your eyes, your mind hazy with sleep and pleasure, and as your vision focused, you gasped.

Your husband towered over your body on the bed, his hands worshipping your body, holding it for dear life, unwilling to release you. He smiled, his silver hair falling messily over his face. Your eyes trailed down his broad chest, tense with his effort not to just thrust into you hard and fast.

You took a moment to enjoy his tattooed chest and shoulders, the drawings snaking over his arms. You loved them, and the scars, they were all little reminders of life before, a reminder of the man your husband was and the trophies for the man he became.

“You’re so beautiful.” He moaned, thrusting slightly faster. Your body felt like paradise, warm, welcoming, pulling him in. You grabbed his chest, your nails leaving tiny marks along the drawings on his chest. “You’re such a good girl. Leaving notes so I would feel less lonely. Teasing me with every little surprise…”

Santa lowered his body against yours, covering you, his hair falling on your face. Without slowing his thrusts, he kissed you deeply, the thirst of a hungry man; even one night apart was torture.

You came, whimpering against his lips, the way he held you tipping you over the delightful abyss. His infinite passion for you was palpable in how he touched your body; you could feel it inside yourself, sparkling under your skin.

He kept kissing your lips gently, insistently, grunts and groans pouring into your mouth.

“My beautiful wife…” He whispered as he came, his rhythm faltering, then slowing until his hips stopped.

You chuckled, feeling light, even with his body covering yours. Santa nuzzled your cheek and your neck, kissing every now and then.

“I really want to taste you, but I need a moment.” He growled against your skin, then chuckled as you played with his hair. “I’m not that young anymore.”

“You aged perfectly.” You rubbed his shoulders, sighing against his solid body. His fingers buried in your hair, he whispered gentle nothings against your skin.

“I’m not finished with you.” He grumbled.

“I’m sure you’re not.” You whisper against his hair. “Merry Christmas, love.”