#violent night fanfiction

[anna-hawk]

The Eggnog Effect

Nicomund the Red | Santa Claus x F!Reader

Summary: You passed out on your friend's couch and wake up to find Santa Claus leaving a gift for your godchild.

WC: 6.2k // Explicit 🔞

Warnings: Christmas smut, bad jokes and cheesy wordplays

For @roguesandsaviors who's love for David Harbour triggered me into trying my hand at writing smut for someone else than Jon 😁

Also on AO3

You frowned as you slowly woke up, wondering about the small tinkling sound that got you out of your slumber in the first place. Cracking one eye open, you tried to make out your immediate surroundings, but your face was smushed into a pillow. A throw pillow, to be more precise. 

Ever since the birth of your godchild, your best friend and husband had started asking you to spend Christmas Eve with them. How could you say no to witnessing the kid’s eyes growing big with wonder after discovering the presents lying underneath the Christmas tree? 

Usually, though, you spent the night in the guest bedroom and not on the living room couch. You berated yourself for the sore neck you were likely getting from the sleeping position and grumbling internally about the long hours spent at work today that resulted in your exhaustion when you heard that noise again.  

Blinking and opening both eyes now, you glimpsed some movement to the side of the couch, where you knew the Christmas tree to be. As you twisted to your back, your eyes caught onto something red and large and… 

“Oh God, I really need to leave off the eggnog next time… I’m actually seeing Santa now,” you groaned and quickly rubbed over your tired eyes. 

Except that there was that tinkling again, more agitated, which made you open your eyes once more only to be met by the sight of a large man standing stock still just a few feet away from you. His wide eyes stared at you with a mix of panic and annoyance. 

“Oh shit,” you breathed as realization sank in, and you understood that your brain wasn’t playing tricks on you but that there was a stranger in the house and… You opened your mouth to scream, but the man was on you in a fraction of a second. A large palm covered the entire lower half of your face and stopped you from uttering any sound, while the other hand held the man up on the armrest under your head. 

“Shhh,” he hissed, his eyes lifting to the entrance of the living room to check if anyone was coming, before they bore into yours.

Oddly enough, and maybe it was still the eggnog talking, you didn’t try to fight, despite the way his large frame loomed over you. You didn’t move at all, actually, as you met his gaze. The only thought going through your mind was, oh, he’s got blue eyes. You stayed in the same position for several more seconds, his eyes never leaving yours as he assessed the situation. Realizing that you weren’t going to out him, the man slowly removed his hand from you and stood. You stayed where you were, observing him curiously; the white blond curly beard and hair under an askew red and white cap, the deep red leather coat lined with white fur spanning over a wide chest and shoulders, a pair of shiny, black boots. Everything about him screamed Santa Claus, but he was also nothing like the various men playing Santa in malls and other places. Those other Santas had also never elicited such a strong response from your body, either. 

“Who are you?” you breathed, mindful to keep your voice down, when really, the question should have been what are you doing here? Or, what do you want? 

“Who do you think I am?” he grumbled, while you watched him glare at a small bag and rummage around in it with a frustrated expression. 

Your eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets when the man thrust his whole arm into the bag, and it just vanished inside, which should have been impossible given how tiny the bag was compared to his arm. 

“Where the fuck is it?” 

“I didn’t know that Santa swears,” you snorted at the absolutely crazy sight in front of you. 

“He does when the presents aren’t where they’re fucking meant to be,” he muttered, before his face turned into a satisfied grin. “Aha.” His arm slowly came back out, followed by a large, neatly wrapped present. 

You blinked in rapid succession as you took in the size of the present and the size of the bag again. Yup, something was definitely up. A bicycle, for a five-year-old or not, would never fit in that bag if something… You snorted to yourself as the word magical ran through your mind. Don’t be ridiculous, you thought to yourself. But then the man pulled out an actual scroll of parchment, which started to glow as he pulled it apart. Sitting up, you stared at the man as he scanned the contents of the scroll with a thoughtful look. 

“What’s that? Your naughty and nice list?” you sniggered, while pulling your legs under you on the couch and letting your eyes drift over him appreciatively. 

“Mmhm,” he replied absently, seemingly looking for something in particular. 

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his easy admittance, before you began laughing under your breath. 

“Tell me, Santa. Am I on your naughty list?” You leaned your head against your palm and rested your elbow on the armrest, smirking as you drawled the word naughty. 

“Nope,” he answered instantly, while your flirty expression went completely unseen since he still didn’t look at you.

You frowned curiously at his reply and tilted your head to one side before slowly getting up and approaching him. This, at least, seemed to catch his attention because his eyes snapped to you as soon as you moved. He watched you with a slight frown. Curious. 

“You sure?” you grinned. 

This was all absolutely crazy. There was a fucking stranger in your friends’ house, pretending to be Santa and looking damn fine in that role, yet here you were, flirting outrageously with him anyway, when flirting usually felt awkward to you. The eggnog definitely was at play here. 

He chuckled and said your name. Your full name, which had you stopping dead in your tracks as you stared at him with wide eyes. 

“You’ve never been on the naughty list once,” he finished with a shrug. 

“How… Who…” 

How could he know your name? If he were a burglar, he’d probably only know your friends’ names since they were on the mailbox. He could have looked them up and seen your name popup in your best friend’s feeds on social media, but to what end? He’d just left a goddamn bike for your godchild instead of taking something. And that bag? That wasn’t a trick. 

The man sighed deeply. “Adults,” he muttered, before thinking for a second. “Do you remember what you wished for on Christmas when you were eight?” 

Taken aback by the question, you frowned and thought for a second before memories hit you, and you nodded as you opened your mouth to reply. Except that he said the same thing as you did at the exact same time as you. You took in a sharp breath of surprise. How could he know that? It was far too specific to be a random guess. Only if… 

“So what are you going to do when you leave? Pull a Men In Black and wipe my memory or something?” You crossed your arms with a chuckle as your brain accepted the crazy truth.

He snorted and shrugged. “Trust me, the very few people who have actually seen me have never talked about me. And if they did,” he trailed off with another meaningful shrug that clearly said, who’s gonna believe them? 

You nodded faintly at his logic. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m curious, though… What’s your actual name? Santa? Kris? Nick?” You headed to where your godchild had left the cookies and milk and picked up the plate with the cookies. You chose one for yourself and offered one to… Santa. 

He took a cookie but didn’t look away from you, his head shaking in amusement a second later. 

“Really? Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you wanna know?” 

You shrugged and bit off a piece of cookie, the man doing the same before he glanced down at it with an appreciative sound and nod, then looked into your expectant face again. 

“You can call me whatever you want. The list is pretty long.”

“But none of them are correct,” you surmised, watching him reach for the milk glass and taking a large gulp. “How about… Daddy Christmas?” 

You had to hold back your loud laugh as he sprayed his mouthful all over his front at your words. He tried to cough as silently as he could and shot you a death glare as you stood there with a satisfied grin on your face. 

“Am I on the naughty list yet?” 

His nostrils flared as he wiped crumbs and milk off his beard and coat before he stalked over towards you until he was in your face. 

“You should be more careful with what you wish for, girl,” he growled, yet instead of feeling threatened, you felt more than turned on. 

“Oh? What are you gonna do? Give me your big lump of coal?” you breathed, loving how big and tall he was. 

Santa blinked at you once, twice, then burst into laughter, which had you smiling broadly. 

“Gotta admit, this was a new one.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but something chimed close by, which had him checking his watch. “Fuck!”

Picking up two other cookies, he headed towards the fireplace and lifted a finger to his nose, sparks firing as he did so, but then he looked back at you. 

“Nicomund,” he said softly, which had your eyes widen at the revelation of his name.

He smiled and pressed his gloved finger against his nose. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

He was gone in a swish of golden sparks a second later. 

One year later

Dressed in a festive pair of pajamas, you yawed widely as you looked at the clock sitting in the midst of Christmas decorations on the mantelpiece. You stretched your arms over your head and shook your head to try fending the sleepiness off. 

You were back at your friends’ house and sitting on the same couch as last year. Last year, when you’d met the actual Santa Claus. You’d spent weeks doing research on the origins of Christmas, yet none of the results had been conclusive in any form. You’d guessed that people truly didn’t usually see him like he’d told you. After a while, you almost wanted to believe that the whole thing had only been a dream, coming from too much eggnog and sleep-deprivation. Except that he’d given you his name. Nicomund. You couldn’t have dreamed that up. The name had actually given you some vague results as you’d given it in. Nicomund the Red, a former viking warrior. Who was supposed to have lived over a thousand years ago. Considering what you’d witnessed, you didn’t even think it that farfetched that they could be one and the same person. The way he’d talked had clearly hinted at the fact that he’d been doing this for a very long time. He knew who you were. Even as a child. Yet, he didn’t look older than his late forties or early fifties. 

As much as you enjoyed loosing yourself in fantasies in books and so on, you considered yourself as a pragmatic person in real life. You liked facts and magic, while a fun concept, had never seemed like something real. And yet… After what you’d seen… 

That’s why you wanted to stay awake on Christmas Eve. Prove that you hadn’t actually dreamed everything up. And you might have also wanted to see him again, just because. It was ridiculous. You hadn’t been able to go on a date the whole past year, Nicomund popping up in your head at random times. The way you’d felt attracted to him had left you reeling. He’d been in full Santa gear, yet all you’d been able to see were his blue eyes, his large frame and drawling deep voice, the combination lighting your entire body up. 

Your eyes drifted to the clock again, watching the time slowly approach one in the morning. Resting your head against the couch, you closed your eyes and sighed. A very comfortable bed was waiting for you just down the hall, and your body wanted nothing more than to sink into it and sleep after the long day you’d had again. But what if you missed him? Your fingers curled around a folded up piece of paper resting on your lap. Just in case, you’d written him a note, requesting him to wake you up if you were to fall asleep. With your eyes still closed, you smirked to yourself at the few lines you’d written. Maybe you could tell him yourself later. You would open your eyes in a second. You were just resting them a bit. 

Weren’t you supposed to be asleep for Santa to show up? 

The next thing you heard was a loud and excited scream coming from close by, having you jerk awake in your bed… Bed? Sitting up quickly, you realized that you were lying in the guest bedroom. When had you moved there? The last thing you remembered was that you’d been sitting on the couch and fiddling with the note. The thought of the note had you looking all around yourself and the floor, yet there was nothing there. Quickly getting up and slipping into a pair of warm slippers, you almost ran to the living room to look for the note. The only thing you found was your godchild gushing about the presents sitting under the tree, your friends standing around him with broad smiles. 

“Merry Christmas,” they called at nearly the same time as they saw you walk in. 

Tearing your eyes away from the couch and the floor, you schooled your features into a bright smile and replied in kind, hugging the couple and then kneeling to do the same to their kid. You helped rip into the wrappings and forced yourself to focus on what was going on around you. 

As the day went on, you never found the note, but you were still absolutely certain that Nicomund had been the one to get you into bed. You might have been exhausted, but you would have remembered it if you’d gotten up to go to bed on your own. Disappointment shot through you at the realization that you wouldn’t get the chance to see him again until the next year. If at all.  

Later that same day, you had dinner with your family, which served to take your mind off things for several hours. It wasn’t until later that night and once you’d returned to your place well after midnight and gotten ready for bed, that you sighed dejectedly again. In your pajamas and leaning against the counter of the open kitchen that looked into the living room, you slowly sipped water from a glass when your fireplace made a sputtering noise. Frowning, you put the glass down behind you and walked into the living room, only to yelp in surprise when golden sparks appeared and formed into the shape of a man a few feet away from you. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, eyes wide and heart racing. 

Nicomund met your gaze and smirked at your gobsmacked expression. 

“Merry Christmas,” he rumbled. 

Your mouth moved silently as your eyes slowly took in his appearance. Gone were the red coat and hat, instead he was wearing a loose, off-white colored shirt and had his hair pulled up in a messy bun, showing off more of his handsome face. The V in the shirt’s neckline revealed the beginning of circular tattoos with what appeared to be runes. All the air rushed out of your lungs at the whole sight. He definitely wasn’t Santa right now, meaning that it really wasn’t the outfit that did it for you, since you were getting even more turned on than the previous year. 

“What are you doing here?” you croaked, your mind having a hard time realizing that he was standing in your living room. “Christmas is over.”

“It is, yeah… I thought you wanted to see me.” He put his bare hands into the pockets of his red pants and tilted his head at you. 

Your eyebrows lifted at that. “Why didn’t you wake me up then?” you muttered, pursing your lips slightly. 

“Not enough time,” he answered easily, eyeing you slowly.

“For what?” you breathed, swallowing at the way he was staring at you. The way he'd said it hinted at more than just him running behind schedule. 

“I got your note,” he said instead, and pulled the neatly folded paper out of one of his pockets, scanning it lazily after unfolding it. “You got real creative.” He lifted his gaze to yours briefly, the eye contact and implications of his words having heat rushing to your face. 

Biting over your bottom lip and taking strength in the knowledge that he came to find you once he’d been done with delivering presents, you grinned at him cheekily. 

“You said that I was never on your naughty list, so I figured that I could get a reward for having been such a good girl over the years.” 

You took a step closer to him, seeing him watching you attentively, expression unreadable. 

“And that’s what you had in mind?” His eyes went back to your note. “Dear Santa, I’ve been particularly good this year. Please let me play with your Christmas ornaments and suck on your candy cane. And while Santa Claus is coming to town, I’ll be sure to show how good I can go to town on Santa Claus. And please don’t forget to stuff my Christmas stockings with your big present. Hoe, hoe, hoe, Merry Christmas.”

Hearing him read the note out loud in that husky drawl had all the heat from your face rushing down your body. You couldn’t even feel the slightest bit of embarrassment at your silly wordplay, especially when you could see the corner of his mouth pulling up as he read, while his voice deepened by the end. His eyes lifted to yours once he was done, before he let them travel over your body. Slowly, taking all of you in, his blue eyes dark in the half light cast by the living room lamp. Your lips parted as soft pants left your mouth, your heart rate picking up at his intense perusal. 

“May I have my Christmas present now?” you breathed after taking a step closer and leaving you only a few inches away from him. 

He huffed out an amused laugh, but you didn’t miss the way he lightly leaned towards you, his large chest moving up and down faster. 

“Show me how good you can be,” he rumbled, as he let go of the note, which fluttered to the floor. 

As you reached for his face with one of your hands, you caught his surprised expression when your fingers gently ran along his bearded jaw and towards the back of his head to pull him towards your mouth. Considering the low sound he made as your lips met, he had nothing against kissing, he seemed more surprised by your gentle touch, that you wanted more than just something frenzied and fast. But you did want. Corny and over the top sexual Christmas wordplay aside, you really wanted the man. All of him. 

Slipping your tongue along his while slightly pulling at his hair, Nicomund growled and pushed into you, his hands moving into action as they travelled around your waist and down to your ass. His beard tickled deliciously around your mouth as he kissed you back fiercely. The first physical proof of his arousal pressed against you, making your breath catch at the size you could feel. Taking a step back away from him, you quickly found his eyes as you sunk to your knees before him. Nicomund’s breath came in short pants as his dark eyes watched you lifting your hands to the fastenings of his red pants. You took your time pulling the golden buttons from their respective holes, while you could see his erection straining the fabric just below. After you were done, you tugged the pants and underwear down enough to reveal his length. Unable to keep your eyes away, you finally looked at his gorgeous cock, proudly standing away from his body, the head red and shiny with pre-come. 

“As red as Rudolf’s nose,” you muttered lightly, almost to yourself, except that Nicomund heard every word. 

“Fuck, you’re terrible. Don’t make me change my mind,” he grumbled, sounding between amused and exasperated.

Slipping out of the top half of your pajamas to reveal your breasts, you glanced up at him with a smirk. 

“You really wanna stop, Daddy Christmas?” you teased, right before leaning forward to lick up a long stripe from the base to the top of his cock. 

His body went rigid at the touch, while he groaned. Suddenly, one of his hands was in your hair, the fingers sliding against your scalp and moving your head up, so you had no choice but to look at him. A long moan slipped free from you at the treatment, which had Nicomund grinning in satisfaction. 

“You’re not really being a good girl right now, y’know. Bein’ a lil tease and all. Thought you wanted to show me how good you can be.” His voice was low and washed over you in a delicious wave, stoking your lust further. 

Nodding instead of replying verbally, you let your mouth fall open and your tongue peek out in invitation. Nicomund hummed, pleased, and guided you towards his cock. 

“There we go,” he rasped, as he slowly slid over your tongue, stretching your lips with his girth. 

Once he was as far as you could manage without gagging, he stopped moving. His hand remained in your hair, but he neither pushed nor pulled, waiting for you to decide what to do next. You kept him like this for as long as was comfortable before you slowly drew back and gently suckled over the head, while you wrapped your fingers around him. Nicomund groaned as you angled his cock up for you to tongue and suck under the head, teasing the sensitive nerves. You took your time sucking all over him, savoring the sounds you could get out of him, your body heating whenever he cursed under his breath when you did something he particularly enjoyed. 

Listening to his breaths picking up speed and feeling his hips jerking as he got closer to release, you were surprised when he gently removed you off him with the same hand as before. Lifting your head since you had expected – wanted – him to come in your mouth, you gazed at him in confusion. He reached for one of your arms and pulled you to your feet before he was kissing you hungrily. Which you didn’t mind in the slightest, as you folded your arms around his chest to answer in kind, your nipples hardening as they rubbed against the material of his shirt. 

“Wanna be inside you,” he admitted roughly, talking against your mouth. 

You keened in the back of your throat and nodded fervently. How could you not want that? 

“Yes,” you hissed, kissing him deeply. 

“Bed?” he rasped, and it took your brain a second to get your body to move. 

“Yeah, okay.” You took his hand and pulled him out of the living room and towards your bedroom. 

Inside the room, Nicomund drew you back to him for a quick kiss before he bent over to pull down your pajama pants and get them off you. You clutched at his shoulders as he divested you of the clothes. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he ordered, having your move instantly. 

You observed him through hooded eyes and pressed your legs together at the tingle of anticipation running through your core as you watched him undress. You would have loved to do it for him, but this gave you the opportunity to let your eyes feast on him as he revealed his tattooed body, the shirt falling to the floor. He was large and strong, but with a softness around his belly that had your fingers prickling with the desire to touch. His hair was a mess of curls, in and out of the hairband holding it back. You expected him to remove the rest of his clothes and stared into his face questioningly when he didn’t, only to realize that he was already watching you. Stepping towards you and making you spread your legs for him to stand between them, Nicomund towered over you as he gazed down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Thought you might want me to keep them on. So you don’t forget who exactly is fucking you.”

Your whole body heated with lust and embarrassment alike. You wanted to open your mouth to explain that you didn’t have a Santa kink, that you’d never thought of Santa in that way, but after the jokes you’d made, you couldn’t fault him for teasing you about it. Only, you didn’t care who he was. You’d have wanted him the same way had he been the Sandman, or just a normal man as well. And to be honest, having him almost fully clothed while you were naked was also turning you on. 

“Is it time for your big present, then?” You bit over your bottom lip as you stared up at him with a hopeful expression. 

Chuckling, Nicomund leaned down to your eye level. 

“Not yet,” he hedged, and knelt between your legs. “First I gotta get a taste of your…” He thought for a second. “Cookie.” 

Your eyes widened at the unexpected wordplay and what it meant. He didn’t give you the time to further react as he grabbed your hips to pull them halfway over the edge of the bed and sink between your legs. You barely had the time to catch yourself with your hands behind you on the bed at the first swipe of his tongue over your wet folds. Crying out at the hotness of his tongue combined with the soft scratching of his beard on your sensitive skin, you fought to keep your eyes open to watch him. Heat ran through you at the way he so clearly took pleasure in eating you out. He took his time doing it too, at first only giving you broad licks that didn’t hold that much strength and mostly served to wind you slowly up as his tongue became more precise. Your eyes fluttered, and you panted once he began using the tip of his tongue to run maddening circles around your exposed clit. As you were getting louder and louder the stronger the pressure of his tongue became, Nicomund suddenly stopped and, instead, focused his attention on your inner thighs, kissing and teasing his beard across your skin. Your legs quivered from the change of pace, and you wanted nothing more than to bring his head back to where it had been. He seemed content to keep torturing you, however, and you knew in that moment that you would be dealing with beard burn the next day. 

“Nicomund… please?” you breathed on a whimper, gazing down at him and catching his eye as he looked up at you without stopping his ministrations. 

Your expression seemed to trigger something in him because his mouth and tongue were back on your clit in the next second. You had to throw your head back at the explosive pleasure shooting through you as his lips surrounded that little bundle of nerves, and he sucked on it enthusiastically. You screamed in bliss and tangled your fingers in his hair, silently begging him to stay right there. From the way he growled, he had no intention of going anywhere anyway. He pressed his thumbs into your thighs, pushing your legs further open and pulling your folds apart as his mouth ripped more and more delirious sounds from you. As two of his fingers slowly sank into you and curled up to start fucking you, your whole body wrapped over his head, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that your legs locked against Nicomund’s shoulders. 

While you were slowly coming back to yourself, Nicomund kissed his way up your mound, hip and belly, his soft touches making your body shake with more than just the aftershocks, your entire body feeling sensitized. When he reached your stomach, you cupped his head with your hands and leaned down to kiss him deeply. His beard was damp, while his lips still tasted like you, having a new shiver of desire going through you. Nicomund grunted into your mouth as he knelt up, curling one arm around your waist while the other held him up behind your back. Without ever breaking the kiss, he got to his feet and leaned over you until you were almost lying on the bed. You moved up the bed with his help, just enough for him to get his knees on the mattress and pull your legs over his thighs properly. Meanwhile, your hands took their time exploring his body, running all over his back and sides, reveling in his size and comforting weight on top of you. Your fingers encountered a few scares as they went, bringing the reminder of your research back to mind. Only fights and battles could explain the size and placements of some of them. And then there were the tattoos. Santa Claus was an ancient Viking warrior. The concept was absolutely wild, but you put the wayward thought to the side in favor of focusing on the whole man on top of you. 

Nicomund lifted his head a few inches and held himself over you to look into your face. He was breathing hard, sweat starting to form at his temples, his eyes traveling between your lips and eyes. You looked at him dazedly and smiled before lifting your head, keeping your eyes open, to press your mouth against his. You repeated the action a few more times, seeing his chest rise and fall faster each time. 

“Are you going to make me beg again?” you whispered, your lips grazing his. 

He chuckled and stroked a thick thumb over your jaw. 

“Please, Santa, pour your milk all over my-”

His mouth crashed into yours, effectively shutting you up, but unable to stop you from giggling. 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he growled, shifting on top of you. 

“But cookies always need – oh fuck!” 

This time, his method was more convincing, as he used your momentarily distraction while you teased him to line up with your entrance and push inside you in one long and powerful slide. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your head back as he had you crying out with each snap of his hips, his length making you feel as full as you’d wished for. Nicomund mouthed around your jawline, grunting into your skin as he thrust into you repeatedly. Leaning your head forward again, you drew his mouth in for an open-mouthed kiss, sucking and biting his bottom lip, trying to give back as much as you could in your position. It seemed to be enough for him, since he slammed into you harder, groaning as you moaned even louder while your inner walls pulsed around him. 

“Feel so good,” you moaned, your voice breathy and high-pitched, your legs curling over his thighs as extreme pleasure unfurled inside you again. 

“Fuck,” he gritted out roughly, staring down at you with burning eyes. “You gonna come for me again?” 

You nodded. “Please? Nicomund… Please!” 

You couldn’t get enough of the feeling of this man on top of you, making you feel needy like never before. With his large frame, glistening with sweat and strong arms holding him up at your sides as his hips drove you higher and higher, piercing blue eyes roving over your face. 

“Yeah, come on, go ahead. Been such a good girl for me. Such a good-”

His words cut off as you exploded around him at the praise, a long wail of ecstasy coming through your mouth, before you pulled his mouth back onto yours for a desperate kiss. After several more thrusts, Nicomund groaned as one of his hands shifted to your hair and formed a fist in it. He tugged at it to expose your jaw to breathe against it as he fucked in and out of you at a fast pace. Still overwhelmed by your second orgasm, you let him move you the way he needed and only linked your arms tightly around his shoulders, small, pleasured whimpers leaving you. When he came, his whole body shuddered over yours, his hips jerking repeatedly as he emptied himself inside you with a long groan. 

Neither of you moved as you simply rested for a few minutes, savoring the afterglow while you gently combed your fingers through his hair. 

“Mmh… this was definitely worth waiting a whole year for,” you mumbled sleepily, the long day catching up to you at last. 

Nicomund chuckled warmly and raised his head from where it had been resting against your shoulder.  You grinned up at him and stroked your fingers along his beard before letting them trail down his shoulders, your eyes following their path, as he moved further up. 

“Nicomund the Red,” you muttered quietly, swirling an index over a circular tattoo on his chest. They were all gorgeous and reached down to both of his arms. 

You felt him go still under your hands and met his stunned gaze. You smiled softly, keeping up your exploration. 

“I like research,” you explained with a small shrug. “Didn’t find much, really, but I couldn’t…” You looked away from his face. 

“Couldn’t what?” he asked in a quiet rumble. 

“You read the note, Nicomund… I didn’t start thinking about writing it only yesterday,” you hedged. 

This was as much as you wanted to reveal about how often you’d thought about him this past year. Sure, you’d been attracted to him from the get go and had fun with all the wordplay, but you’d also been genuinely intrigued by him. 

Nicomund didn’t say anything for a beat, but then shifted your bodies until he was slipping out of you and rolling you to your side to face him. 

He cleared his throat. “Well… I was kinda wondering if you’d be at your friends’ again.” 

You uttered a small, happy laugh at his admittance and closed your eyes. The feeling only lasted a moment as you realized that he wouldn’t be staying, however. Nicomund was still Santa Claus, for crying out loud. Your smile turned sad as you fully realized that this couldn’t go anywhere. Opening your eyes and staring at his chest, you kept tracing the tattoos quietly, thinking. 

“Will you come back next year?” you finally brought yourself to ask, your eyes still downcast. 

A warm palm stroked over your jaw and tilted your head up to meet warm blue eyes. 

“Only if you stay off the naughty list,” he said, going for humor to lift the suddenly heavier mood, but his smile was slightly off. 

You couldn’t help but snort anyway and gave him a small smile, the implications of his comment clear. You’d always been on the nice list, so surely…

“No promises,” you whispered, having him huffing out a small laugh this time, while his fingers ran along the back of your neck in a wonderfully soothing way. 

Your eyes slowly fell close, your fingers stopping their path on his skin as his touch lulled you to sleep. You were completely unable to fight it and soon, the last thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead. 

With no surprise, you were alone the next morning.

One week later. 

Two hours past the new year, after your friends had left, and you’d put the night’s dinner leftovers in the fridge, you sank onto the couch with a glass of eggnog. You stared at the liquid with bleary eyes, smiling to yourself as you thought of Nicomund. It was a bittersweet thought, but you tried to keep any sadness away whenever you thought of him. Still slightly tipsy, you berated yourself for missing the opportunity to make a bad joke with eggnog. Maybe you should write it in next Christmas’ note. You could already see him rolling his eyes at you and grinned. 

Taking a sip and leaning your head back over the couch, you let your mind drift to the moment when you’d been lying face to face, his hands in your hair. 

A whoosh of air suddenly went through the living room, having you gasp and sit upright again. Your mouth fell open at the now familiar golden sparks coming through the fireplace. A few seconds later, you were looking into Nicomund’s face. 

“Happy new year?” he rumbled tentatively. 

Standing and looking at your glass, you put it down on the coffee table and tilted your head at him. 

“I should really, really leave off the eggnog,” you said as you approached him. “I’m starting to see Santa at New Year.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me at Easter too,” he smirked, leaning towards you as you cupped his face to kiss him. 

[nicomundthered]

I saw the gifts from violent night and he is🥵, I know it’s may but what you say about a story with our Santa daddy, thank youu

Santa May-be?

pairing: Nicomund(Santa) x fem! reader

summary: you are being very naughty, and Santa decides to make a surprise visit.

tags: 18+ this is mostly smut, a little fluff, but it’s really just smut.

word count: 7k | ao3

a/n: just going to be completely honest here, I don't know where this came from. Apparently I've been neglecting David because damn! I got carried away. I hope you were asking for smut because this is f*cking filthy. Like really this is only my second attempt at smut and…I am kinda scared.

Anyway thank you for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

masterlist

18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+ 18+

Even Santa gets horny in May as it turns out.

Which was unusual. Nicomund has been Santa Claus for over a thousand years now. Time was different for him. One day out of the year felt like weeks, while the other 364 flew by.

That was at least until he started sleeping with you.

It had become his favorite part about Christmas which in retrospect was unfortunate. It used to be solely–unselfishly, for the kids but now…now he could not wait for his present. Which just so happened to be you.

Yes, since you entered his life he struggled through the other 364 days.

It didn't help that you were being unusually active this week. He sat in his workshop and had your notifications turned up loudly on his naughty/nice list. With each naughty deed you did, Carol of the Bells played loudly in the wrong key- indicating that you were in fact, being naughty.

At first he found it amusing, but after the third time just this morning he was getting pissed.

He knew what you were doing. You weren't a bad girl, at least not in the literal sense. No, you only pinged up naughty when you pleasured yourself or had sex. And that wasn't normal for the list. It normally kept zero tabs on people's sexual encounters. He wasn't exactly sure as to why it focused on yours.

Well he might have an idea – you see he and the list were…connected. And the things that he deemed naughty became naughty. He had that power and he himself had no clue how to control it, it just happened.

And for some reason, whatever did control it, had fixated on you.

He didn't have the tendency for jealousy, but he had grown quite enamored by you. It started a few Christmases ago when he heard you soft gasps as you were masterbating in your bedroom. He wasn't being pervy or anything, but the only thing you wanted that year was a toy. And he had it wrapped and in his hand. He only wanted to help you (at least that's what he told himself).

You were shocked at first but then saw the large and attractive man, and invited him to show you how it worked. He stayed for far so long that he had to practically throw the rest of the presents down their respective chimneys as he quickly darted around the rest of the world.

The year after, he brought you a new toy. One that he had made himself, out of a cast of his own erect penis. He’ll never forget how entranced you were by it. The way you told him how big and beautiful it was. The way you wrapped your fingers around it while making eye contact with him.

And it wasn’t until the Christmas after that that he even fucked you. When you held his cock in your hand the first time you muttered in his ear, “I knew it was yours”.

And last Christmas things had escalated. After three rounds and a few hours, he had told you his name. And then for a reason he had absolutely no fucking clue why, he told you about his past while you were satiated and playing with his chest hair.

It was domestic and he didn't do domestic. He was an ancient mythical being, not a human.

In short he had no clue what you were doing to him. You were always on his mind and you were making him very jealous and painfully horny in May. A point in his year that usually flew by, came to a sudden standstill.

If this happened in July at least he could use Christmas in July as an excuse…but May??? It wasn't even halfway until Christmas.

His head snapped as he heard Carol of the Bells again and just like Pavlov's dog, his cock responded to the sound. Blood quickly engorged his member and his balls tightened as if already ready for release.

He had it bad.

He pulled his cock from his red silk pants. He was already leaking and he knew this wouldn't take long at all. This was his fourth painful erection of the day and he was red and sensitive.

He annoyingly looked over to his trash bin and saw all of the used tissues just from today, mere hours in fact. You were turning him into a damn sex puppet is what you were doing.

He didn't bother wetting his hand as he roughly gripped his aching cock. He wanted the burn, he welcomed the pain. Maybe if he jerked off enough like this it would have an adverse reaction and stop him from getting SO damn hard everytime he thought about you.

It took seven, maybe eight rough tugs, all he had to do was think about you enjoying the toy he made you. Then he cried out as his painfully throbbing member spilled his seed- shooting it out all over his hand, pants, and desk.

This time there was very little satisfaction, he sought this release out of necessity because he didn't have the self discipline to not think about you. His cock was very raw now and he grunted and shuddered as he carefully placed himself back in his underwear.

After his breathing and wandering mind calmed down, he put himself in a bad mood picturing you at someone else's house. He angrily smacked his desk and then threw his stein- still full of steaming hot coffee against the wall of his workshop.

He huffed, dramatically crossed his arms, and sat back in his chair. He thought he was above this but as it turns out he wasn't. He opened his desk drawer and rolled out his large map. He spoke your name and his magical map located you.

Miami, Florida.

That explains it, he thought. At the beach, on a vacation…with whom he wondered. Who was so good that you had to be with them four times in a day?

Turns out you were with a couple of friends, all of which he knew of. But then he came across somebody new. Well not new to him, but most certainly new to you.

And this dude made Nicomund’s skin crawl. He had been on the naughty list his whole life, and not because of something particular that Nicomund just happened to make up. No, this guy was actually by the literal definition naughty. Most alarmingly, he's been known to treat women poorly.

Oh no, this won't do.

You were an angel and deserved to be treated like one. You were way too good for this piece of shit and if Nicomund was thinking clearly, he'd have noticed just how possessive he was becoming over you.

But he wasn't. He changed his clothes with an angry scowl on his face.

Now where was his sunglasses?

You were having an ok time. Your friends were already on the beach and your boyfriend was out buying alcohol for tonight. So you were enjoying a little, much needed alone time.

And by much needed, you mean – you finally got to cum.

Your boyfriend had fucked you three times this morning. Once he came so quickly and you didn't even have time to become lubricated. The second time he got into the shower right after he finished. You had enough time to grab Nicomund’s dildo from your bag, and god did you come quickly as the fullness stretched you.

The third time, if you even count it as such, he just wanted you to blow him before he left. You got on your knees and took his average dick down your throat and had him cumming in under four minutes.

As soon as he left you got out the dildo again and came even quicker than he had. It was nowhere near as satisfying as the real thing, but it most certainly was better than any alternative.

Little did either of you know that the cast he made of himself was magical. And that everytime you used it he could feel the phantom grasp of your wet pussy and you could feel his warm velvet hardness. What he attributed to his Pavlovian response or his imaginative mind was actually just your magical cunt. And what you thought was just being properly filled was actually his perfect erection.

You'd both eventually figure this out and make proper use of it and maybe find out new abilities, but at this time you were both clueless.

You cleaned up your mess. You always flooded any surface you were on when you used the toy. And then you put on your bikini. It was red and the bottoms showed…a lot of your ass, but this was for the most part an adult beach so you didn't find yourself embarrassed or worried about children's eyes.

Just as you grabbed the sunscreen there was a loud banging at the door. On first instinct you grabbed your phone and a heavy sculpture of a seahorse to use for self defense. Which looked ridiculous but you knew how people robbed these beach houses. Then you walked over to the door.

You desperately hoped that it was just one of your friends needing to use the bathroom or your boyfriend with his handful of groceries, but you knew that it hadn't been long enough for that.

The banging happened again, this time louder and more persistent.

“Who is it?” you said as confidently as you could manage.

“Open up,” the voice was muffled through the thick door but it was still loud and to be honest scary as fuck.

“Not until you tell me who it is.”

You could almost hear a growl through the door, which sounded oddly familiar. “If you don’t open this door right now you wont get anything for Christmas this year.”

It only took your brain seconds to put the pieces together, “Nic?”

“Yes, now open up or I’ll break down the door.”

You complied quickly and swung open the door, almost dropping the heavy seahorse in your hand.

Your eyes widened when you saw him. He was wearing a short sleeve red and green Hawaiian shirt and black shorts that almost looked like swim trunks. He had on sunglasses and his hair was in a bun.

This would be funny – this should be funny. Santa Claus in Miami dressed to go to the beach should be humorous. But it soooo wasn't.

It was rare you two were ever standing when you were around one another and if you were, he was holding you up, so you sometimes forgot just how tall he was.

His arms and shoulders looked absolutely massive. You practically gulped when you remembered just how strong they are. He looked a little leaner to you. Probably because of the time of the year. You wanted him healthy but you almost frowned – you really liked his belly.

But what was most striking to you was his skin. True you had seen him naked many times but always at night, with soft lighting. Now you could see just how milky white he was in contrast to his numerous tattoos. How absolutely soft and smooth his skin appeared, which you knew was factual. And now the smattering of dark gray almost black hairs on his forearms stood out.

He made your mouth water.

But when you had snapped out of your daze you got worried. Why was he here?

“Is everything ok?” you asked with true concern displayed on your features. Your only contact with him was on the night before Christmas. What was he doing here in May?

He looked like he was snapping out of a daze of his own, “No, everything's not ok,” he ground out through his clenched teeth.

He opened the door further and stepped inside.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” you knew who he was probably talking about but your brain wasn't exactly functioning currently.

“You know damn well who I'm talking about.” He called out a few times and looked around. When he was satisfied he looked back at you.

Oh, he was jealous. The thought made you press your thighs together.

He noticed and it made him take a deep controlling breath in. He threw off his sunglasses not caring in the slightest where they landed.

“Shut the damn door and come here.”

You turned quickly and shut the door, but struggled to lock it because of what all was in your hands.

You heard him hiss. You then blushed as you realized your almost bare ass was now facing him. You then heard his heavy footsteps behind you.

“You are having such a naughty year,” he grabbed both of your ass cheeks that were hanging out of your skimpy bikini bottoms.

He smacked them a few times and watched them jiggle, he felt himself immediately harden. “On full display for the world to see. Do you have any idea how many people you'll put on the naughty list wearing this?”

He suddenly yanked them down your legs and pressed your front half hard against the door, while bringing your bottom half up and closer to him. You dropped both the seahorse and your phone. Both shattered but thankfully missed your feet, you didn't flinch, there was only one thing on your mind.

He shoved his face into your crease.

With your face to the door you didn't even notice that he had gotten on his knees, and you moaned in surprise and absolute delight as he put his face into you from behind.

He lifted his face by the smallest of margins from your center, “When I passed you I could smell him on you,” he went back to your crease momentarily and hummed, “I only smell you now.”

“Oh gah,” you felt a wave of moisture flood you. You may be naughty but he was dirty, and man was it a turn on for you.

“I was worried,” he used his nose to run through your folds, “Don’t want you to smell like anyone else.” He had no clue what he was admitting to you, you didn't either- you were far too aroused.

“Nic–”

He suddenly added his tongue to the mix. Licking you up and down, “You don't taste like him either,” he lapped at your entrance tasting your wetness, “Just taste like mine.”

You moaned sinfully, “Let’s go to the…”

He lunged his tongue into your tight wet little hole. It made you arch back and jam your ass hard into his face.

“Yes, just like that.” he groaned loudly, vibrating your core. You could barely hear him over his face being absolutely suffocated by you. You weren't worried for him though, he loved it when you sat on his face. And the amount of times he's asked you to do it…you knew that his lung capacity was very good.

Juices and his drool were flowing down your thighs and down his chin soaking the collar of his shirt. The wet lapping of his tongue and your ragged breathing were the only two sounds.

His tongue went farther and somehow farther still, until he started poking at your favorite spot. You start clawing at the door, and you almost couldn't believe it – you were about to come on his tongue.

Now you could blame it on many things, after all you were extremely sensitive and yearning from a day of unfulfilling activities, but regardless, when his tongue started poking your g-spot you started squirting all on him.

He was absolutely relentless until he got a somewhat heavy flow started and then he just opened his mouth and drank you in.

“That's a good girl, give it to me,” he said as you continued to rain down into his mouth.

Your legs started shaking and you suddenly felt like you could no longer stand. He read you perfectly and stood lifting your trembling soaked body up with his.

You put your arms around him and looked at him in such a pleasant daze. You softly gasped as you saw how blown his pupils were, more black than blue. His beard was absolutely soaked making it look a couple of shades darker, and he had a smirk on his handsome face.

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him, tasting the salty-sweet tang from yourself along with Nicomund’s wonderfully delicious mouth. And then you pulled away from the kiss and smacked at his frim chest.

“What do you think you're doing?”

He laughed and started walking you to the bedroom.

“You can't just fuck me –”

He threw you to the center of the large bed. That only shut you up for a second.

“I have a boyfriend you can't just —”

He laid halfway across the bed just so he was face to face with your drenched swollen cunt. He roughly parted your legs. “There she is,” his voice was low as he complimented your pussy.

“Nic…OH!”

He roughly pressed his face into you again. Though this time since he is facing it, his tongue and nose kept brushing your overly sensitive clit, making it a very different experience.

He used his hands for the first time and reached up to grab your covered breasts. His large hands covered them as he not so gently massaged them. Your nipples were already painfully hard and that made him hum into your core once again.

“Take this off,” he commanded as he started to make out with your folds. The smacking sounds of his skillful lips just made you wetter.

You complied quickly, jerking the top over your head. You propped yourself on your elbows so you could look down at him.

His mouth then began to suck. He sucked each fold, and then not as an afterthought, but instead to build the anticipation he finally finally sucked your clit.

Your eyes rolled back a little and you gave a throaty exhale.

He paused and chuckled into you. He released your breasts and moved his hands underneath you to slightly tip your hips up for him. “Hold your legs out for me.”

You did as he requested and held your ankles and spread your legs as wide as you could. You felt your muscles stretch but wanted to give him as much access as you were able to.

He tilted you up a little more, and then started moving you up and down on his face as he continued to lick. The rocking motion was helping him reach the whole length of your crease quickly. The sloppy wet sounds kept getting louder as he kept moving you against his face.

You were moaning like crazy now, and just when you felt your legs start to ache from the stretch he pushed your legs together and pushed them up and back towards your head in a half-backwards roll. He held your legs together tightly.

From this position he could tell just how pink and puffy he had made your pussy, “You like this baby?” he playfully smacked your sensitive cunt a few times. The smacking sounded wet and little drops of your arousal splashed all over the bed and drenched his hand.

“Yes!” he barely gave you a chance to yelp out before he pushed his middle finger inside of you.

“Oh sweetheart you are already gripping me like you're about to cum.”

His voice shot straight through you making you grip even tighter and flutter around his large digit. He pumped in and out a few times, moving slowly, driving you insane. Of course now he'd choose to play with you.

“Give me my finger back baby,” he laughed and slowly pulled it out of you. A long strand of your arousal followed and he slurped it all into his mouth, “I’m not done eating you yet. You taste so damn good.”

He pushed your legs back farther behind your head and held your hips high up towards his face. He was now kneeling on the bed, with a huge tent in his shorts, you desperately tried to grab it. He moved his hips just out of your grasp, “Not yet. You don't get what you want yet. You've been a bad girl.”

He held your cunt so high up now he barely had to bow his head to reach it. You crossed your ankles behind your head as he started to move his mouth against you roughly. Your own body was bent far and weighed down by your lower half, it made it hard to breathe, but the constricted airflow somehow turned you on even further.

He sped his licking, with one hand keeping your legs together while the other occasionally smacked your ass. His beard was beginning to burn you in the best way possible.

“Nicomund pleeeaseee.”

It was the sound of his full name that made him give you pity. If this were up to him he would continue to lick and suck you for hours. He loved your taste and smell, and just getting it once a year was nowhere near enough.

Almost reluctantly he slowly placed two fingers inside of you, you moaned at the stretch, and then he focused on sucking your swollen clit while pumping into you, curling his fingers with each insertion.

It took absolutely no time and you exploded on his fingers. Gravity caused your cum to dribble down your stomach past your breasts. You felt the sheets beneath you soak. And this time your vision did fade out but only momentarily.

As you came down you were still pulsing, and then all of the sudden you felt the pressure again. All of the sudden it felt like too much. He was still licking, even quicker it felt like. You desperately tried to back away, the overstimulation was extreme.

“Nic, st- stop.” you kept trying to slide back but he held you firmly. You weren't going anywhere.

His licking and slurping became even more intense, and in record time your eyes rolled way back into your head and your body shook violently. You tried to push his head away, but by the way you were cumming he could tell that you didn't mean it.

When you finally started to come down from your third orgasm he dramatically slowed down his sucking and moved back to slow licks up and down your slit.

You jerk slightly every time he made it past your clit but it was bearable. He was slowly coaxing you down, almost lovingly you thought.

When you finally could open your eyes, you looked up at him and smiled. He gave you a suck on your inner thigh that would leave a mark. You knew that he did it for one specific reason, but you didn't really want to think about what this meant for your relationship…if you could even call it that. But that was to think about later…

After you’ve had his cock.

“Hey,” you said as he slowly laid your lower half down and then crawled his way up your damp body. He was still fully clothed and as he laid gently on top of you and gave you a deep kiss, you had the thought that he was soaking up your juices with his shirt for later. That's how he was, dirty.

“Hey,” he said after the breathtakingly sweet kiss.

“What are you doing here?” you moved a strand of hair that fell from his bun out of the way.

“Christmas is too far away.”

You looked at him as if to say yeaaaah?

“I- I missed you.”

You smiled and kissed him again.

“I missed you too.”

“Did you you?” he looked at you skeptically, his brows furrowing, “Seems like you've been filling your time with –”

“Shut up,” and then you chuckled.

“What?” he said, almost annoyed.

“I am making Father Christmas jealous. Who woulda thought it?” you laughed again.

“It’s not funny. He's not a good guy.”

“I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself,” you reached down and grabbed his hard as steel cock.

He visibly shuddered as you started slowly moving up and down his clothed erection, “He’s- he is not…been on the – for all, of…his - life.”

“Shhh it's ok,” you soothed as he struggled speaking. “Let me take care of you now.”

He nodded, completely silent except for his deep breaths in and out from his nose.

This was unusual for him and you filed it back into your mind to bring up later. He was normally rough and dominant, which to be fair he has been, but suddenly he had given you all the power. Like he desperately needed this but was too proud to tell you that.

You slid down his shorts and gasped at how purple and engorged he seemed.

“I've had an- eventful day as well.”

You grabbed him softly because he almost looked like he was in pain, and you didn't want to hurt him.

“Don’t you dare. Grab it!”

You did firmly, and his head bowed and touched your forehead, “Fuck you have no- no idea how- how good that feels.” he kissed you again, you bit his bottom lip and he groaned into your mouth.

“Lay back,” you whispered.

He did and your hands left his cock and started unbuttoning his shirt. He grunted in displeasure, “Get back down there now,” he yanked the shirt off buttons flying everywhere and the material ripped in two.

You pussy pulsed at the sight. He was just so fucking strong.

You moved down him slowly wanting to tease but knowing by the look of his purple leaking member, he wasn't up for that.

And besides, now you knew that it was time to treat him. Little did he know that for the past five or so months, ok it was after you begged to suck him off last Christmas but he didn't let you, since then you've been practicing on his dildo. You could now take almost all of it down your throat and you couldn't wait to show him.

You took him in your hand and gave his leaking slit a lick. He was salty and musky just like you liked him.

His hips jerked up and you playfully said, “I believe after what you put me through –”

“Please don’t, I ne- need you now.”

You realized that for him to ask this he was desperate. And judging by the look of him, he was in pain.

You nodded your ok and his shoulders relaxed a little.

Then you laid on your stomach and propped yourself up on his thick thighs. You gave him a few firm strokes and then licked the underside of him. He groaned and you smirked, you were about to blow his mind.

You sucked on his tip and he squirmed. He opened his mouth to beg again, you knew it, you could see it in his body language and so you abruptly opened your throat and swallowed him down.

His upper and lower body jerked up like he was trying to do an abdominal exercise. His eyes shot to you, wide and shocked, and he hissed out “Oh fuck!”

You stayed all the way to his base. Your nose in his curls and your chin pressed to his balls. You counted to fifteen slowly.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't know what to do. His fists gripped the sheets roughly, peeling them from the mattress. His breathing was almost embarrassingly loud and his sole focus was on not spilling down your glorious throat.

You slowly sucked your way off of him. Spit connected you to his cock even as you pulled away to smile at him.

“I can't take much of that baby.”

“Much of what?” you smirked and launched him down your throat again. This time with his cock sheathed you moved your tongue and lapped at his balls. You were proud of yourself and only slightly gagged once.

This time he was better prepared but only just, “Your boyfriend teach you that?”

You knew that he was desperately trying to keep from cumming. He was wound tighter than you'd ever seen him, his muscles were flexed and shaking, but for some reason he didn't want to cum yet. You imagine that mentioning your boyfriend did bring his arousal down a few notches.

“Nope,” you said as your mouth popped off of him. “I've been practicing on your dildo for your Christmas present.”

His mouth opened in disbelief. Naughty!!!

“That’s very –”

You went down again, but this time continued moving at a slow pace – all the way to the tip of him, down all the way to his base.

That sparked something in him and he put one hand on the back of your head and one caressed your throat. He pushed your head up and down roughly, while simultaneously feeling his cock make your throat swell. Believe it or not this was the first time that he'd actually experienced true deepthroat.

Others had tried but he was too long and girthy, but you, you naughty thing- were taking him like it was your only mission.

Controlling your gag reflex made your eyes tear up and turn red. Spit was pouring out of your mouth now and puddling at his base. He was being rough but it was the good kind of rough. You wanted him to enjoy this, you had practiced a lot for this moment.

And by the looks of him he was most certainly enjoying it. More hair had spilled from his bun. His skin was tinged pink and had a thin sheen of sweat. Every line and wrinkle on his face was amplified by his scrunched up expression, fully concentrated on what you were doing.

He had kept your mouth off of him for the most part in your previous encounters. That was because he enjoyed being inside of you so much he didn't want to waste a minute. But what he just found out was that he was still inside of you this way. And it shocked him at how much you seemed to be enjoying it as well.

You pulled away needing a breather and to give your jaw a little break. You gasped for air a few times and spit all the saliva pouring out of your mouth onto his cock.

You went back down quickly taking him off guard this time. You wanted to feel him spill down your throat, and by the way his head shot back and his balls tightened you knew that any second now you were going to get what you wanted.

“Off,” he practically croaked.

You kept sucking, your sounds were getting ridiculously sloppy.

“Get off,” you could tell that his heart wasn't in his command. He tried to move your head back but you stubbornly fought back, taking him deep.

“STOP IT!” his yell made you still and he pulled your head from him, you sucked as hard as you could on the way up. “Fuck!”

He pulled you to him so your mouth was nowhere near his throbbing member. He took a couple of deep breaths and tried his best to get off the edge. He managed but only just, and only with his eyes glued shut.

“Did you like that?” you cooed as you rubbed his broad-heaving chest.

“You know I fucking did.” He pulled you down for a kiss. You lost your balance and landed on top of him.Your lips were sensitive from the work they’d just done, and his beard lightly tickled them.

Then he absolutely claimed your mouth, every nook was his.

He never enjoyed kissing this much, but kissing you was different. There was something he liked about it, a little too much. He loved your soft lips and when your tongue danced with his it turned him on so much.

“I need you to get on all fours. And I need you to cum quickly.” You continued kissing him and made your way down his neck. “You hear me?”

He rubbed his hand on your lower back as you continued to nip and suck on his neck. You made your way to a scar on his clavicle. He hissed and then smacked your ass, stopping your descent.

“Hey!” You whined.

“I said, did you hear me?”

You shook your head no and moved back in for a kiss. Your eyes were heavily lidded and your own arousal was back at full volume. You were so far gone you couldn't concentrate.

He held you back, “Hey, look at me.”

You did. You blinked at him almost lazily, and bit your lip.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.” His thumb caressed your bottom lip as your teeth released it. You suckled at his digit. His eyes darkened even further and he slowly said, “I need you to get on your hands and your knees and I need you to cum quick sweetheart.”

You complied and slowly got into position. You were thankful that he wanted you this way. You never lasted long when he took you from behind.

He sat up and damn near passed out. There was too much blood heading south and not enough heading to his brain. He waited until his head rush went away and scooted behind you.

He rammed into you suddenly. You were both so well lubricated he knew that he could without causing you any pain, well real pain at least.

“Nic!”

He took no mercy. He was gone, long gone. His cock disappeared into you fully. He pistoned into you with short, rough strokes. Hitting you right where you needed to be hit repeatedly.

You rested your upper body on the bed, sticking your hips higher. Which made him ram into your spot even harder. You put your arms behind you and he held on to them tightly.

You were going to cum if he kept up his pace. You felt yourself begin to flutter around him.

“That’s it baby. You're such a good girl, listening to me so well.” His hips were smacking into yours with a wet slapping sound that seemed to echo throughout the room.

“Please please please.” You started pushing back into him desperately as he pushed forward.

“I’ve got you.” He reached around and started circling your clit.

“God, I’m gonna, Nic I’m gonna — ”

“Cum for me.”

And you most certainly did. You strangled his cock with your contractions and practically screamed, “Nicomund!”

He almost sobbed at the feeling of you cumming around him. It’s what he’s desperately needed for five long months. He felt your cum coat him as you screamed his real name, and at the last squeeze of your intense orgasm, he came.

He came so hard he yelled your name loudly. His hands grabbed your hips roughly and he wished he could let up, he didn’t want to bruise you, but he needed something to tether him to the earth – to keep him from passing out on top of you.

You made him cum so hard he was dizzy.

He spurted into you, filling you up fully. You felt his hard cock twitching inside of you and you felt his warmth flood you, gushing out as he continued to ram into you.

He came for so long that you were impressed. His cock seemed to twitch inside of you for minutes.

As he slowly regained his senses, he gently attempted to sooth your hips – where he had held on for dear life by softly rubbing them. He pulled out slowly and you both hissed at the loss.

But you knew to stay absolutely still.

He bent down and watched some of your mingled cum pour out of you. Then he licked you clean. Normally he would clean you by eating you out until you came again, but he knew that you were absolutely spent, so he kept it to the bare minimum. Lazily drinking what he could, as you squeezed out what he left behind.

He sighed contently as he laid on the bed and pulled you to him. You immediately snuggled into him and placed your hand on his chest.

You both laid there in a comfortable silence. You felt so at peace when you were in his arms. So very safe and warm. It was your favorite place to be. You cared for him, and you didn’t think that he knew that.

But you also felt like that this whole relationship thing, or whatever it was, was his call. He knew more than you did, and had more riding on it than you. Though, you couldn't help it, you really wanted to tell him what he meant to you.

How you felt when he was around. How you thought about him throughout the year. How you couldn’t wait for December. How he was making you wish your life away by always wanting it to be Christmas Eve.

“What are you thinking?” His voice was so soft and gravely.

“Nothing.”

He lifted his head up and looked down at you, raising his eyebrow in disbelief.

“I just — this was fun.”

He rubbed your back, “It was.” He was silent for a second and then continued, “Listen, maybe we need to come up with a way to do this more than once a year.”

You looked up at him and your face was absolutely beaming up at him. “That sounds good.”

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“Yeah. That would be great Nic.” You moved your hand down to his belly and gave him a hug.

He pulled you tighter into the hug and kissed the top of your head.

“I have one condition.”

You tensed a little having no idea what he was going to say. “What is it?”

“You're mine alone.”

You took a moment to really decide if that was what you wanted. It didn’t take long in all honesty, you just didn’t want him to know just how much this meant to you.

“I’m yours.”

He looked shocked and something almost sinister clouded his eyes, he felt possessive again. Hearing you say that snapped something in him, or rather, maybe it tore something down.

“Can I request the same from you? I- it’s ok if — ”

“You’re it.”

You smiled again, he could feel your cheeks move against his skin, and you pressed a kiss on a deep scar on his chest.

The two of you laid there for a few more minutes. When your eyes became heavy and your breath deepened, he gently shook you.

“I have to leave.”

“I don’t want you to go,” you held him tighter.

“I don’t want to go. Believe me, but I have to.”

“I know. I’d never keep you from being Santa Claus.”

You both slowly sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. He looked over at you seriously. His brows furrowed and his hands gripped his knees.

What you had said affected him so deeply.

When you had mentioned him being Santa it was like throwing ice water in his face. He would never stop being Santa Claus, and you only had a couple decades left of your life. He fought the sudden urge to walk away from it all, and stay in this bed for as long as you had left.

You moved in front of him and stood between his legs. You pulled his head to your chest and you rubbed the back of his head lovingly. He wrapped his arms around you and looked up at you.

“Whatever we can have Nicomund. That is what I want.”

His damn eyes teared up and you leaned down and kissed him.

“I don’t want you to but you need to go. You have a lot of work to do.”

He laughed, and then sighed, “It seems like it never ends.” He was thankful you had quickly moved on because he was a heartbeat away from giving you absolutely everything.

You backed away from him. “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to have to invent a way for us to communicate.”

“No phones?”

“Not at the North Pole I’m afraid.”

“Oh…”

“But don’t worry, I'll think of something. It’s kinda my thing.”

You laughed and he stood up and towered over you. Gosh he was so tall. He kissed you again and then smiled at you.

He put on his shorts and slid on his shoes. He found both halves of his shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He used magic and cleaned and straightened the bed.

You walked him to the door where he used his magic to fix your phone and the stupid seahorse sculpture.

“Why don’t you just fix your shirt?”

He smirked at you, “Oh you know why.” He tilted his head, pressed his nose into the fabric, and took a deep sniff.

You reddened and were about to say something when the son of a bitch touched his nose and disappeared.

He wouldn’t get away with this, you’d make sure of it.

THE END

[piratesfromspace]

Brandy & Gingerbread (Nick 'Santa'/Reader)

Nick 'Santa Claus' (Violent Night) x fem!Reader Rated: Explicit 1.2k words

Nicomund the Red and the Tooth Fairy meet again on Christmas day. Fluff and smut ensue.

This is my Christmas gift for @gipsydangerzone 💖

Content: mention of food and alcohol, implied violence, magic healing, Santa Claus kink (is that a thing?), smut, thigh riding, Christmas fluff, fem!reader, established relationship. This happens just after the end of the movie. Look at me expanding on the lore of this Christmas masterpiece that is Violent Night.

MASTERLIST

gif by nick-offerman

“Well, well, what do we have here? Isn’t that the Tooth Fairy herself?” The familiar gravelly voice has you shiver before you even see him.

“What are you doing here?” he continues as you swirl back to face him. Here he is. In all his glory, red velvet and white fur and the gray of his fluffy beard. Gold sparks of magic still floating around him.

“Nick! Nice to see you again! How am I doing? Fine, thanks for asking!” you answer sharply.

He seems unbothered by your sarcastic greetings.  “You know it’s actually my night, right, sweetheart?” he croons, taking a step toward you.

“Well, it happens that the kid in this house lost a tooth today, so it’s also my night. I work all year round, Nicomund, I’m not some lazy old man who manages to complain while doing shit for most of the year.” you snap back. 

“Oof, darling, no need to be so mean. You don’t want to end on my naughty list, don’t you?” He takes one step further, crossing slowly but surely the length of the living room. The place is cozy, old fireplace but modern floor, new sofa but vintage quilts. The tall christmas tree is a real one and it smells like pine and spice and sugar. Like Christmas. Fairy lights spread across the place bathe the room in a soft warm glow. Seeing him in such a decor, it feels like a freaking cheesy Holiday movie. Except you know him, know what he’s capable of, and he’s far from the lazy old man you accuse him to be. 

“Well, I don’t have time to play games Nick, so unless you’ve lost a tooth yourself, I have to go.” you don’t sound as sure of yourself as you’d like. That’s his fault, he unsettles you, makes you dream of domesticity, of chocolate and marshmallows, of cuddles in front of the fire, of all those soft other things you don’t have time to indulge in. 

“Oh sweetie, you won’t believe me, because actually I’m afraid I’ve lost a couple teeth earlier tonight.” He rasps, and behind the sirupy lull of his low voice, you notice for the first time the thin hint of pain. Now that he’s closer, you actually take the time to really look at him. There is a split on his right cheekbone, specks of dried blood on his jaw, spots of red on the white fur of his collar. His usual stupid hat is absent, and his hair hastily tied up in a bun. The tiny round glasses are nowhere to be seen. His sleeves are bunched up, showing off the dark swirls of ink under his skin, meeting the blue-black of fresh bruises. 

“Nick, what happened…?”

Flashbacks of wars long lost invade your mind. Nicomund the Red and his hammer. Bathed in blood and mud and death. The stench of it clinging to the inside of your nose for days after the battles. Ears ringing with the screams of your dying enemies for countless nights. Your own sword covered in gore. 

“Hey, you with me, sweetheart?” Nick’s hand lands on your shoulder and you’re suddenly brought back to your senses. To now, to the cozy living room and the smell of Christmas candles. He’s the one injured, yet he focuses on you. It’s not the first time. It’s been going on for millenia now.

“It’s a long story, but I’m fine.” he adds now that he has your attention. 

“What about you?” he asks, and he cups your cheek, eyes the color of iron - moody skies - scanning your face. His palm is hot, rough pads against your delicate skin. You circle his wrist and nod in reassurance. He said he was fine but you can’t miss how he flinches under your touch, a muffled groan of discomfort escaping him. 

“You’re still a bad liar, you know that, Nick? Let me see. My magic may help.”

He sits on the sofa, large thighs slightly open and strong feet on the ground, while you’re perched on one of his legs. You had opened his jacket, and traced his naked chest in search of every cut and bruise, blue sparks at the tip of your fingers, healing them on your way. You remember doing the same thing a very long time ago, when you both did not have your magic yet. It’s intimate. Weirdly familiar. His warm body under yours strangely soothing. 

You push the jacket even lower, revealing his broad shoulders, hard muscles under the soft curves of his body. Runes and sacred symbols itched in his skin, reminding you of home. You shift on top of him to reach his back and powerful hands fly up to your waist to help you keep your balance. The heat of him warms up your core, and you find yourself not wanting to leave his embrace. 

Once you’re mainly done, you sit back, and stare at his face. His hands are still on your waist, burning where they meet the sliver of bare flesh between your top and pants. It’s unconscious, your body reacting on its own, but you ground yourself on his leg, your cunt pressing against his thigh in search of something you’ve denied yourself for too long. He notices of course - arched brow and knowing smile - and the iron of his irises melt to a deep night blue. Your fingertips ghost over the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, smooth over the silver strands of his beard, just enough time for you to gather your courage and finally take the bait of his lips. 

You press delicate kisses on his mouth, until he parts his lips. He tastes like gingerbread and brandy and it pairs surprisingly well. Nick keeps kissing you and strengthens his hold on you, brings you down on his thigh and flexes the muscle. He drinks your sudden gasp with a low chuckle. Bastard. 

“You like this, mmh? Come on, take what you need my little fairy.” he whispers in your neck, his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle softly. He repeats his move, encouraging you to find your own rhythm. Warmth builds and builds between your legs, you can feel how wet you’re becoming while you seek the delicious friction of his thigh against your swollen flesh. 

Nick is drowning you in filthy praises between two deep kisses, tongue tasting the roof of your mouth like you’re a sugary treat. Your hands are buried in his long hair, yanking him to you when he dares to leave too much space between you two. You’re close but it’s not yet enough, and you wish he would give you more, let you open his pants and really ride him. 

It’s like he can read in your mind - you don’t understand how the whole wish thing works, maybe he is - and he rises from the couch, holding you in his arms in an impressive display of strength, before he spins and lays you back down on the sofa, landing on top of you. 

“I guess you deserve a gift too sweetheart, you work so hard, it’s your turn to be taken care of.” He dips his head, kisses you once again, and there’s a devotion and a passion that wasn’t there a moment earlier. He smiles against your lips and his voice is like molten chocolate, decadent and rich: “Merry Christmas” he rasps, before sliding lower and bringing down your pants with him.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

Sticking this on here even tho it's a general Sitewide Problem - I'm sick of people making excuses for retroactively adding more bigotry into tf2. It feels like people are only capable of thinking about marginalized people (especially "in the past") as our suffering, so writing a gay character, or a trans character, or a black character, or etc. must involve them suffering somehow. People go to such fucking lengths to pull hypothetical marginalized people out of their ass who LOVE writing about characters like them experiencing hate crimes as "coping", but In My Opinion your coping should not involve publicly making a bunch of joke characters from a comedy video game get called real slurs that affect people in real life. Even if your point is "bigotry is bad", not every single fucking thing that has a black character or a gay character in it has to be About Bigotry. You all let white characters just be characters, but the minute you wanna put Demo tf2 in your fanfiction you need to take some great stand against racism and choose to do this by portraying him suffering. I don't care if it's to show that Racism Bad - you NEED to learn to love marginalized people more than you hate bigots. Never mind everything I could say about how actually no, it would not be "period accurate to the 1960s" for everyone to constantly be spewing or facing racism and homophobia. Acceptance and taking stands against bigotry aren't new concepts. Your "historically accurate" tf2 fanfic has done absolutely nothing except show a bunch of already marginalized people that our suffering is more important than our joy. In My Opinion

[lavender-long-stories]

After writing 6,000 words of notes today, I am ready for a good chapter writing night.

[barbedbetty]

….pretty sure my type is just “The Bad Guy”

and now there’s Santa

My therapist would have a new car with all the unpacking this would cost me 🤣

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Night Eggscapades

Featuring Pedro the Easter Bunny!

Does this count as fanfiction? Maybe. This is my take on Pedro as the Easter Bunny. I was definitely inspired by Narcos. I've done this in the style of a film script as it felt the best use of this crazy idea.

Warnings: typical action violence, some swearing, smoking, Pedro being a rabbit(?)

EXT-WARE HOUSE IN UNKNOWN JUNGLE-NIGHT

A truck is being loaded up by a bunch of goons. It is unclear what is in the boxes they are loading but judging by the time and location, it can be assumed that it is not legal.

A smartly dressed man in a hat is yelling at his goons, making them hurry their activity.

HAT MAN: (in Spanish) Hurry! Hurry! We have a schedule to keep here

One of the goons loading the truck stops what he's doing and looks into the distance

GOON: (in Spanish) Someone's coming!

The light reveals a lost looking man wandering over to them. He is wearing a beanie which seems out of place in the warm climate.

BUCK: Excuse me? Excuse me?

HAT MAN: (to himself) What the hell?

BUCK: (in broken Spanish) My car broken. Do you have a telephone?

He mimes a telephone with his hands. HAT MAN scoffs at this, clearly it's some stupid tourist who's gotten lost and his body will easily be disposed of.

HAT MAN: No telephone

The Hat Man's second in command wanders over to stand next to him. He is holding a dangerous looking gun

SECOND: (in Spanish) Who is this idiot?

HAT MAN: Some stupid tourist. Just dump his body in the usual spot

SECOND: Sure thing. Probably too stupid to notice. Who wears a beanie in the middle of the jungle?

BUCK: (in English) Oh the beanie is just to protect my ears

They both realise that this man understands them. They both stop and look at this man.

BUCK scratches the back of his head and wanders over to the truck. Everyone is too confused to do anything.

BUCK: (in Spanish) So what have you got in here?

He takes a sniff of the air and hops up into the back of the truck. A goon who is in the back of the truck looks almost frightened and moves away. BUCK opens one of the boxes and takes out an object. He hops back down and walks over to the Hat Man and his second. In his hand is a foil wrapped Easter Egg which he is sniffing like a wine connoisseur.

BUCK: (in Spanish) Corn syrup, vegetable oil, bare minimum cocoa and lots of artificial flavours. Oh, and what's this?

He opens the egg to reveal a bag of white material. All the goons start getting their weapons ready.

BUCK: Really? You trying to smuggle drugs in kids Easter Eggs? You can't smuggle in Kinder Eggs so you think you can smuggle in these eggs? Oh, the kids will be so disappointed.

All the goons point their guns at him. BUCK looks amused, shrugs his shoulders and suddenly jumps away. Everyone looks shocked as no one can jump that high.

RANDOM GOON: Where'd he go?

HAT MAN: Find him! Kill him! I want his body now!

Everyone starts searching around the truck and surrounding area. The lighting makes it harder to find anything at all.

One GOON has wandered by himself to one side of the truck. He hears a loud noise behind him. He quickly turns around for him to see BUCK, who puts his fingers to his lips and lifts his fist.

A small noise is heard which alerts the other goons. They slowly move towards the sound. A shadow is seen behind the one at the back of the group who grabs him and drags him off.

This happens until the group is down to one goon who realises that he's alone. He is terrified as he turns around. There is no one there. The shadow that has been taking everyone out returns behind this remaining goon. Hands come around this guys mouth and drags him away into the dark.

HAT MAN and his SECOND are standing by themselves. They realise that none of the goons have returned and that they must face this threat on their own. The light reveals BUCK returning from his escapades.

HAT MAN, who is clearly a coward, pushes SECOND in front of him, trying to protect himself from this unknown threat.

HAT MAN: Get him!

SECOND moves towards BUCK. This man is clearly more experienced in fighting. He takes a few swipes at BUCK. A good fight is put up. BUCK seems almost impressed that he has a worthy adversary and even takes a few punches. One attack lands close to BUCK'S head and SECOND grabs at his beanie.

A scene is shown of SECOND looking at the beanie in his hand. He looks up and is confused and horrified.

BUCK looks nonchalant as it is revealed that his beanie has been hiding a pair of rabbit ears. They twitch in accordance with the expression on his face. He just shrugs while SECOND is looking at the ears.

BUCK: Guess that rabbit is out of the burrow

He lands a hard blow to SECOND who hasn't had time to defend himself. He promptly falls down hard. BUCK shakes his hand and walks towards HAT MAN.

HAT MAN is at the peak of scared and tries to slowly walk backwards but trips and ends up just crawling away. BUCK is casually walking towards him.

BUCK: It's people like you who bring a downer on the happy population.

He gets up close and personal to the face of HAT MAN. BUCK reaches into the mans pockets, revealing a set of matches and a rather nice looking cigar. He nods in appreciation and pats the man on the shoulder.

BUCK: Don't worry bud. I'll make sure these cheap ass, barely approved chocolates won't go near the mouth of a single child.

BUCK stands up, putting the cigar in his mouth. He lights it and throws the still lit match into the truck. The contents magically set alight in a wild blaze of fire. BUCK retrieves his beanie and tucks it into his pocket. He walks away from the fire engulfed truck happily smoking his cigar.

HAT MAN looks at his truck and is sad at his loss of cargo. He turns to the man who destroyed his livelihood.

HAT MAN: (out loud to himself) Who the fuck was that guy?

[parfaitblogs]

never grow up ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you are at the age you never thought you'd live to. 

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff! tags: established relationship. (very brief) mentions of r not eating. depression. non sexual nudity. mention of a past suicide attempt. reader is codependent on spencer #anxiousattachment!! mini argument not really because he loves you a lot!!! please know your triggers ♡  word count: 2.2k a/n: this was a vent write. LOL! i think i switch tenses a lot in this? i tried to fix it. this is why we don't write fanfiction while we're crying!!! i love u i love u i love u and i am so so glad you are the age that you are!! continue to grow please!! life will become beautiful!!!

Depression is a funny thing.

Sometimes you are forgetting there has ever been a version of you out there that fantasised about death and longed for an escape from this world you deemed so cruel, so invasive. Other times, you are sat naked on the cold floor of your bathroom rocking back and forth, clawing at your skin and ripping hair out of your scalp because you are sobbing so ferociously. The world spinning around you and your cries, so violent, are making you lightheaded and you wonder if you pass out here if anyone will ever find you. 

Clearly, tonight, you are the latter.

It started as a small pit in your stomach that morning, that you braved through and ignored to the best of your ability, even as you said gentle 'no thank you's' to food offered by your co-workers and forced your brain to focus on work and not the never-ending abyss of dread in your abdomen. Then, it became a tear or two on your way home, that you vehemently wiped away and pretended was never there because it couldn't be. 

Then you were showering to get your mind off things — a stupid decision, really. For your brain was latching on to every awful emotion it had felt thus far today, and you were stepping out of the shower with an even heavier heart, and your hands were wrapping around your now goosebump riddled body, as you were sinking to the floor in a ball.

And maybe hours passed by you. Maybe days — it certainly felt that way. Maybe it was only a mere five minutes. But your loud sobs felt like they took an achingly long time to slow and quiet down, until they were falling into ugly sniffles of the snot on your face, and a raging headache behind your eyes. 

Loud sobs — scream sobs, really — had a lot of disadvantages. The aftermath feeling of embarrassment of screaming at your brain that refused to simply shut up, the scratch at your throat from every sound you ripped from it. The audio block it gave you from the rest of the world. For you truly were in your own universe when you were howling alone in the comfort of your bathroom walls.

So much so, that the familiar sound of a door opening and closing, and a bag being placed down by the side of it, went entirely unnoticed to you. Footsteps against your apartment's wooden flooring weren't picked up, nor were the first two knocks on your bathroom door. By the third, you were blubbering through saliva and snot, and you had heard it. Followed by a very gentle calling of your name, that had your heart clenching within your chest for a new reason. 

He had said he was coming home tomorrow. Which almost always meant he wouldn't be home for another three days, and so, in your mind, you thought bawling that night could be a secret kept between you and your tiles. 

Apparently not. 

He called your name again when you didn't reply, an added hint of desperation in his voice. Trembling, you stood, your limbs feeling as though they were creaking while you straightened them out. And you didn't bother about the towel sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, nor the pile of your clean clothes sitting on the countertop. In fact, you didn't bother about anything as a shaking hand twisted the doorknob and pulled it open.

In an instant, his worried frown deepened, and eyes that might usually drink in the sight of your naked body beautifully, now didn't wander further than the scarlet scratch marks along your neck — blood vessels risen to the surface from how fragile that part of you was. He exhaled, and took a hesitating step towards you. One you welcomed by remaining planted in your spot — you didn't know if you could move, though. 

"Can I ask what's wrong, or do you simply want a hug?" 

Both, you wanted to say. Both, but also neither. 

You didn’t say that. Instead, you said, "Hug."

He hardly took a second to register what you'd said before his arms were wrapping around you. If he found the slightly damp state of your skin annoying, he didn't comment on it. He didn't say much at all, as he enveloped you into his body, a hand securing itself on the back of your head, and his chin resting atop your head. 

Water dripped uncomfortably to the floor, splattering on the tiles and his shoes, being the only sound aside from your irregular hiccups and sniffles. His button-up was wet from your tears and your body, and you could almost hear his complaints about it, if this were any other day. 

Minutes passed, and even though you didn't want to, you pulled back, feeling his hands slip around to your waist and hold you benevolently. Your own hands reached up to your face to wipe away tears, an embarrassed laugh escaping your lips. 

"This is pathetic," you said, fingers digging into the corners of your stinging eyes. 

"How?" he asked you.

"I didn't think you'd be home to see me having a mental breakdown."

A smile that didn't quite reach his eyes appeared on his lips. "Well, I am." Fingers squeezed your waist reassuringly. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

You shrugged, wordlessly, your eyes dropping from his face to the damp spot on his chest from where your face had once been, heart stuttering. 

"We don't have to, honey," he said. "But it might help."

"I know it might," you muttered. 

He was silent, as were you. A few more beats passed between you two, before you were turning around to pick up clothes you had left for yourself on the counter. You didn't really feel any different under his watchful gaze as you dressed yourself. Accustomed to the act, or simply too overwhelmed with another emotion, you didn't know. 

He followed you into the living room when you walked out there, and he sat down next to you on the couch you curled up on. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, and he lifted his head on each intake of breath you had, as if about to say something. But you never did. 

So, he took over.

"Did something happen today?" You shook your head, and he nodded his own. "Okay. This past week?" You shook your head again, because other than missing him while he had been stuck in Texas for a case, nothing had actually happened. 

You wished it had. Truly, you wished you had experienced a murder on your way to work, or a distant family member had passed away so you could blame this feeling on something other than memories simply resurfacing. 

You sniffled again. "You know," you began, voice thick and wobbly from the lump lodged in your throat. "When I was fourteen, I didn't think I'd ever be this old."

Your gaze lifted from your lap to look at him, and you let a helpless tear fall from one of your eyes when you locked eyes with him. He was confused, unsurprisingly so.

So, you continued. "I tried to kill myself. When I was fourteen."

He readjusted his posture, eyebrows falling into a more concerned state, and he was silent for so long you wondered if this was when he decided you were too much and too complicated for him to deal with. 

He didn't. "I didn't know," he said, instead. 

"I don't exactly advertise it," you replied, and even if it was an attempt at being light hearted, it fell flat. "I just realised I never thought I'd be this age," you continued when he hardly reacted, "and I've been really anxious and down all week, so I think that realisation kind of sent me over the edge."

"Are you happy you're at this age?" 

Hesitantly, but surely, you nodded your head. "I got to meet you."

His lips twitched, but a smile never crossed his face. "You should be happy for reasons more than just me."

"You are my reason for being happy," you argued. 

"And I'm glad to hear I make you happy, but I cannot be your only reason."

"Why not?"

"Because that's dependency." 

You short-circuited, and he sighed upon realising the way you were taking his words — maybe not the smartest thing he could've said to his still tear-stricken-faced girlfriend. 

"What I mean is you should have other areas in your life that make you happy. Not just me."

"I like my job," you mumbled, gaze relocating to your lap. "And my friends."

"Great," he said, and you could feel his weight shifting on the couch as he nudged closer to you. "As long as I'm not your reason for living."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "You've been my reason for living since we started dating. Why is it different now?"

"I didn't know I was your reason for living until now."

"So if you are, then what? You leave me?" 

"No," his response was so immediate you were sure you could feel the whiplash, and he ran a hand down his face with an exasperated sigh. "I don't want to fight with you when you're like this."

"I don't want to fight with you either," you agreed, fidgeting with your fingers in your lap. "I'm sorry I'm co-dependent."

He didn't respond for a while, mulling everything you two had shared and now, your apology, over in his head. You sat, anxiously, as minutes ticked by until he was puffing his cheeks to let out air, and standing up from the couch. 

He turned to you. "I love you, you know that," he began, and even before he had a chance to finish, you were already drowning him out, world crumbling around you as tears welled back up in your eyes. Maybe if you weren't as emotional as you were that night, your vision wouldn't have already gone blurry, and your heart wouldn't be shattering in your chest already. 

"But?" you countered, a sob escaping you at the end of the word.

He froze at the sound of it, his eyebrows turning in to each other, "Sorry?"

"You love me, but?"

"I don't understand."

"I'm sitting here, sobbing really violently and I look hideous, and you've just discovered I'm co-dependent, and you don't like that about me, so now you're telling me that you love me, but this isn't going to work out, and I need to work on myself before I get into another relationship, and you hope I can find happiness, and—"

"—What are you talking about?" he cut your ranting off, blinking a few times, confused. 

"Is that not what's happening?" 

"No?"

"Oh."

You stared at him, and he stared at you, and you felt your heart slowly pick itself back up from the pits of your stomach, each piece mending itself back together. He wasn't breaking up with you.

"I wasn't going to say that at all. Please don't put words in my mouth."

"Sorry," you said, though it wasn't very sincere. He crouched down in front of you, hands finding your fidgeting ones to hold them.

"Can I finish what I'm going to say before you cut me off this time?" Wordlessly, you nodded your head, and so he continued. "I love you, and you know that, and I don't want you to think I'm upset or mad at you for being codependent. You're allowed to not know how to navigate a relationship. But—"

"—There it is—" he glared with no real heat at you, and your lips twitched "—Sorry."

"But I need you to communicate with me. I'm going to inevitably do things that upset you, because you're co-dependent. We need to figure those things out, because a lot of the time you will respond unhealthily, and knowing what I know now, I don't want to be a trigger in any way."

"You won't be a trigger," you mumbled, and he shot you a pointed look, and your shoulders deflated. "I just feel stupid communicating things like that. Like, oh, I'm sad because my boyfriend is out of state for work and he's super busy and not responding to my messages so I think he might hate me."

"That isn't stupid."

"Yes it is!"

He said your name, eyebrows risen, and he shook his head. "You're upset about something. That isn't a stupid thing at all."

"It feels stupid."

"Okay, well, how about the next time I'm away on a case and not replying and you miss me, which is what that crazy, sad, completely reasonable phenomenon is called, by the way, you communicate that with me, and you see how I respond?"

"What if you tell me to go fuck myself?" 

He didn't even need to verbally deny your words for you to know that that response was completely out of character for him. All it took was one simple look, and you were diffidently smiling and averting your gaze, mumbling a quiet, "Okay."

And yes, the next time he was out of the state and you missed him, as he so kindly put it, you told him. And he spent three hours on the phone that night with you, reassuringly expressing how much he loved you, and how little he hated you.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[aupoe]

Nighttime stress

Pairing: Keegan x F!Reader. Warning: Nsfw, Somnophilia, Porn with plot, Breeding kink, Body worship, Praising, Pervert Keegan, English is not my first language, Keegan is a simp for us, Nakadashi, Obsessive Keegan.  Words count: 3.5k Pic credit: @/callsignmint on tt

Keegan knew he was fucked. 

Waking up in the middle of the night with his cock painfully brushed against the top of his pants. The tip was leaking precum forming a wet patch that could easily be noticed without the lights even on. There was so little stimulation that with each shifting of his legs, Keegan let out a deep groan from the way the cotton pressed down harder on his sore, redden, sensitive tip.  He swore he could cum right at that moment when the fragments of the dream slowly pieced together in his brain. You looked so gorgeous, wet and inviting as Keegan felt his cock twitched at the thoughts. 

Being a gentleman as he was. Keegan usually scrambled to the bathroom to jerk off with his little fantasy about you. Hands going up and down in frustration in hope to recreate the feeling of having your cunt wrapped tightly around his member, squeezing out each seed Keegan only had for you.  Sometimes he let his cock get the better of him, making him just start humping onto the pillow as his eyes rolled back into his skull from pleasure. 

But how could Keegan control himself when the first thing he saw while sitting up was your soft, peaceful body next to his. 

Wearing only panties and his shirt which hung onto your body for dear life because of how tiny you're in comparison to his figure. The sight was so inviting that Keegan gulped down his watery mouth unconsciously. The sleeves were pulled down onto your forearms as your left breast spilled out and Keegan welcomed the sight of it very very much. The bottom of the shirt was pushed up, revealing your tummy that he constantly kept his hands on for no particular reason. He loved the texture, the softness so much that it became his stress ball once he got home from work. Oh to be able to hold it right now, Keegan could faint from the pleasure.

He let his eyes wander before moving downward, staring at your thighs and the little panties that worked its best to keep your cunt from spilling out the side. Those thighs that he repeatedly requested to lay on or even better, squished between now were bare for only him to see. He remembered the time when he could kiss them, bite them, show them his love and desires as he held you down from squirming away from pleasure. It was and will forever be his greatest achievement, marking you up with bites after bites, kisses after kisses when your eyes rolled back into your head, tongue stuck out so he could lean in and kiss you 'till his heart content. 

All those horny thoughts only worsened his condition right now as Keegan felt his cock twitch violently. He groaned as he moved slowly to sit up on your left.  He watched as your chest raised up and down steadily, taking in as much air as you wanted, completely oblivious to how hot and bothered your boyfriend was. That face, that innocent, peaceful face, Keegan swore he could just jerk off to your sleepy face with no issue and smeared his cum across your puffy lips, or maybe tried to push them. In which, your hot tongue would obediently licked his cum off his fingers and sucked on them greedily like how he always praised you for. 

In the back of his mind, he can hear the sound of multiple strings snapping while leaning in closer to your unconscious body. Keegan flicked his tongue, letting out a string of curse words as he pinched the bridge of his nose. It's almost like you had him under a leash, like a damn horny dog he was. The more he tried to reason with himself, the more the situation got worse. 

You also want this, right? 

He knew how your brain worked. How many fanfictions you had read about this scenario. How you talked about it with great interest and hid your phone away when he tried to take a peak. He was a gentleman and forever would, if you asked nicely, with your eyelashes fluttering and a reddened cheeks, he would pin you down, kiss your knees and give you the pleasure you always crave for. But the fact that you tried to keep this side hidden from his naked eyes made him even more furious. Maybe it's just the way his horny brain worked right now but for the first time, he felt scared. 

Why distance your true self from him? 

Was he such a terrible lover? 

Has he not showered you with enough love?

Or maybe he was that bad of a fucker that you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him? Was his dick not satisfying you enough?

Therefore, he promised to worship you better tonight. Or just to have a reason to fuck you dump tonight. 

He was shaking when he leaned down closer to your face. Keegan could barely brush your cheeks or hair like he normally would, not because you’re fragile, a porcelain doll like how you would call you, but in fear of waking you up. Keegan swallowed his saliva before pressing his lips on your forehead. He could feel the heat inside of him quickly transfer to your body when his lips connected to your skin. Gosh, he wished that he could spread the heat onto your skin, making your sweats dripped down to the bed, rolling out of your chest as Keegan held you closer to his chest.

Trembling, he moved down onto your lips. Keegan sealed your lips away with a tender delicious kiss. He wanted to push his tongue in, dance around while pushing his saliva in and watch them trickle down from the corner of your mouth. That was his greatest pride. Yet, he let out a hiss as he forced himself to lean back, holding back his desire, dumping them down his throat in order not to wake you up. He was in so much pain, yet for you, he would suffer for eternity. 

As he moved downward, planting various feathering kisses like how you would tease him every time to your neck, collarbones, each of your breasts, tummy, navel. He swore, your skin was so soft that he wished to bite down and mark every inch of your body, taking in the sensation of having your legs around his back, caging him and edging him to go deeper and deeper. You were his drug, his addiction and he would happily comply. When his mouth reached your black panties, Keegan bit down onto the middle and pulled the polyester down to your kneecaps while keeping his eyes on your face, stopping every so slightly when your eyes twitched. Keegan took the black panties in his hand, rubbing the fabric like second nature only to find your slick covering his fingers. The moment his eyes laid on the sight, air quickly escaped his lungs in a sharp gasp. The wet, sticky substance heightening his sense along with the bulge that greedily grinds against the bed sheet as he pocketed the panties for later.  His cock was already dripping wet, precum leaking from the top as he wished it was your hot watery mouth that wrapped around his dick, rather than the cold sheet on both sides of his thighs.

“Fucking hell…” Keegan slurred, shaking his head to keep himself focused on the task. He trailed quick kisses from the feet to your inner thighs. His strong biceps that he trained for hours on end now served its greatest purpose, to hold your thighs apart so he can taste your alluring cunt.

Keegan brought out his tongue, giving your folds a kitten lick before blowing air into your cunt. He watched as your body shivered and chuckled to himself. You’re so hopeless and it’s feeding into his brain, nurturing the desire to fuck you dumb, using you like a cocksleeves exactly how you would beg him to. Keegan thoroughly pushed his index and middle fingers through your puffy lips, he tugged and turned so that a  good layer of your saliva could be seen once he drew his fingers out. With his left hand, Keegan formed a V shape with his fingers to spread your cunt apart, taking in the sight your walls contracted, matching his own breathing rhythm. Keegan pushed his fingers in slowly and your hot, humid walls immediately responded to the sudden invasion by squeezing him harder, making him suck a breath in, almost whimpering due to how delicious your tight hole was milking him in. 

With his fingers scissoring in, stretching your entrance out, his tongue lap around the clit, circling, sucking and biting down on it just to see your body tremble from pleasure. He drank on your juice, letting it drip over and covering half his face while he fucking his tongue in, lapping on every juice that spilled out of your pussy. He made himself a thirsty man, dumb on drinking you up like his finest meal in the middle of the night. Keegan was mesmerized by the taste, salty but yet so sweet like how he had always daydream about. His icy blue watched as your thighs shaken, as he was reaching his own climax. He held both your legs open, keeping his left hand on your thigh, the other holding down on your stomach, pushing it downward as his thumbs rub against your clit. The deeper his tongue reached, the rougher he became and a rhythm was found with his hip thrusting into the sheet underneath him. 

Until he noticed that your walls were clenching more so often that he pulled himself out of you. Keegan wanted you to cum on his cock, not tongue for tonight. Huffing, he looked down and to his surprise, his cock slowly sprang up again, slapping against his stomach as if he didn't just leave a trail of cum shot on the bed a second ago. The white trail led from his knees to almost reaching your cunt. While he was familiar with the sight of his transparent, almost liquid-like cum dripping down from your cavern, to see how thick, chunky and white it was tonight could explain how long he had went without your pussy milking him to the verge of tears.

As much as Keegan wanted to eat you out throughout the night, he, himself, could not control the itching and soreness of his cock, having to cum dry as he gave it a few strokes. Hissing ever so slightly, teeth clenched together each time his thumb touched the angry tip. With a quick, smooth stroke, he pushed the foreskin downward as it stood in its glory. The member was a combination of length and thickness, with a pink mushroom tip and a little bump in the middle that could deliciously brush against your G-spot everytime he pushed himself deeper, or bottomed out. 

Keegan knew that his size was larger than what you're used to, it's proven its power every single time he can get his cock inside of your tiny, small, delicious little cunt. Keegan made it his life long mission to make you feel good on his cock, and only on his. He would whisper praise after praise as he had nothing but sweetness to offer you while his hand ran down your body, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh, addicted to the feeling of your skin spilling out between his fingers. 

Carefully, Keegan lined up his dick with your entrance, his left hand spread your cunt out for him as he watched himself sinking in, slowly disappearing into you. 

“Agh, fuckfuckfuckfuck…..” Stream of curse words fell out of his mouth as the tightness and hotness of your cunt made his brain freeze. The contrast between the cold bedroom and your warm walls result in a speechless Keegan. He fell onto his forearms on either side of your head while biting his lips in an attempt to keep himself silent. He knew how his whimpers and moans did to you, and he was afraid that you might wake up to the sight of him so sensitive that he could not push himself any deeper inside of you. 

Keegan sinked his weight down on your body, pushing it deliciously against the mattress when the heat of our body sent electric shots to his brain.  Thus making him clench down on his teeth, face buried into the  middle of your chest. His lips opened and closed, kissing and sucking the spot lightly as he rolled his hips until he finally felt himself  fully inside you. His angry cock throbbed, he could feel the veins brushed against your humid pussy, making you clench down even harder. In which, making him feel even more dumb and horny. 

His pace wasn't slow, yet wasn't fast as a result of his mixed up brain. On one hand he wanted to brutally fuck you stupid, while the other was scared that he could hurt you. 

He slowed down, bottomed out and pulled his cock out only to witness the of your cunt getting oh so attached to his dick that your meat was dragging off outside with a loud ‘pop’, as if begging not be departed from his cock. Keegan immediately slammed back in without hesitation as he slurred. Mouth watered as he pushed himself forward to trade some of his saliva with yours, mixing them up like cocktails in your mouth before slurping them back down his throat. 

Keegan got himself into a rhythm of just bottoming out, slamming in that he found himself lost in pleasure yet again. The pace got rougher and rougher as he pushed your body upward, back arched up like you were inviting him to destroy your inside. You accommodated him so well, so responsive that he suddenly felt doubt that you're faking your sleep. Because how could you possible asleep with how he was fucking you right now. The room was filled with skin slapping sound, your cunt made a sloppy sound when his dick came back in, the air was humid with the addicting sex smell and the bed cricket ever so slightly. 

His cock continued stretching you out, molding your pussy into a shape that could take in whatever he gave you. Keegan dreamt of rearranging your inside so that he could forever pinning you down and slid your panties off easily like this. His cock would be kissing your cervix again and again. At some point, he was thrilled to think that it might open up widely soon so that he can dump his cum inside while you continuously sucking them in. Your juice overflew, forming a delicious white base around the base of his cock as he watched your cunt flutter open for him. While the tip was teasing your cervix, his little bump in the middle was doing its magic while constantly stimulating your G-spot. Sometimes, he caught your moaning and panting. If he was the person 5 minutes ago, he would slow down but now, he would love to take that risk. Maybe the sight of you waking up to the sudden soreness of your core, eyes filled with shock then shifted into the back of your head when he slammed back in, rocking your body backward had him giggling to himself like a madman. 

His cock exited and entered thus his thrust became more and more sloppy. Keegan could feel his climax in the back of his mind as he held you closer, one hand on your back, pressing your chest onto his as he pounding on your faster and faster than before his cock vibrated violently inside of you. 

"Agh… yes yes, t-taking me in so well, sweetheart. You're so good~... " Keegan slurred as his seed, thick and creamy, spilled out of his cock started to fill you up, painting your wall luscious white. He rolled his hips a bit more, despite his exhibition in an attempt to keep all his semen in your small and tight pussy before pulling out. His hand caressed your tummy as he felt it swell from how much cum he stuff you with as he leaned down to kiss it.

"Oh, fuck fuck so good, so goddamn good" Keegan hissed as he tried to regain his compulsory and release your body reluctantly. The way he laid you down so gently was a great contrast to the man that pounded on you like an animal minutes. But Keegan was so wrong, thinking that this might be the end because the moment he saw your cunt made a slurp sound before dropping globs (?) after globs of semen onto the mattress got his dick hard again. 

"Fuck this shit, you did this on purpose right?  Got me fucking under your spell right, doll?~" He groan, a moan of both frustration and pleasure as he hold your body up, turning your around. Your face was pushed into the pillow and his arms pulled your ass up for him. The sight was so lewd and he was fucking glad to be the only one to witness your body getting destroyed without you noticing. How could anyone imagine that the tough, cold, icy soldier was such a whore for his lover at night? Drinking in their sight or maybe kissing the foot that they step on him. 

His cock throbbed back alive as the sight registered into his brain, transmitting the horny sensation back down to his dick. Giving it a stroke while leaning downward, Keegan kissed your cunt. His tongue moved carefully to collect off the dripping seed in order to push them back inside of you again. He took a big suck in your clit, leaning back not without releasing it with a big, vulgar 'pop'. With one hand holding your ass up, Keegan gathered his saliva and spit on your cunt as well as his cock. He tapped your entrance with his tipped lightly before sinking back in. 

" ‘m-… god, you're still s-so tight doll" Keegan groaned as he held you by the tummy. His head buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling every single scent that you offered him, the other snaked around to hold onto your hip. 

This time he didn't feel shy anymore as he start his pace strong and forward. With each slapped of his balls against your ass, he could feel the bulge on your stomach reappeared and disappeared. His hand pressed down on it more and more aggressively as the pace picked up. 

His semen and your juice now join together in your tiny cunt that he loved so much. His dick glided effortlessly in and out, yet, didn’t exclude the power and strength. Each thrusts brought out a delicious moan from you that made his brain go mush so completely. Though your body had grown familiar with his animalistic thrust, the juice wasn't, as it still flowed out of your holes each time he went deeper. It glided down from your inner thighs to the sheet, or maybe just dropped down like rain. Either way, the sight only fed into Keegan's mind, edging him to manhandle you more often. 

Because would you look at that? Your body was so weak and fragile, pressing against his abs and solid build. He flipped you over and carried you around like a doll while your face remained the pure and naive look, getting more and more horny the more he kissed your cervix with his dick. When you rapidly squeeze around him again, Keegan rasped and pounded as deeply as possible, mouthing at the crook of your neck, kissing all the previous marks that he left on you when he got home. His cock tilted up as he readjusted himself so his hip had the best angle to get you dump. Drools dropped down from the corner of your mouth as the spine of his dick scraped onto your G-spot again and again.

“Look what a lovely mess you’re for me~” He melted on top of you as he kissed off the sweat that trickled from his chest to your back, cleaning you off or just coating you with a layer of his saliva from inside to out. His hand around your tummy tightened as he reached his high, hips sloppily thrust in. Keegan let out a cry of satisfaction when another pump of his loads got released inside of you as your body happily sucked them into the cervix.

Keegan breathed out slowly as his eyes went watery from how overstimulated himself was for you. He kissed the back of your neck again when laying you down, spooning you in his hand. Chest touching your back in a position that he deem would protect you from the outside world threats but not to his thirst for you.

Keegan smiled happily and intertwined their legs together, he brushed your wet hair away from your face. His cock still buried deep inside as he mumbled praises after praises in his sleep.

What a simp..

[straystarr]

Baby Daddy Minho!

BabyDaddyMinho! Who gets in an argument with your three year old son over who gets to hold your hand when you go out for a walk. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who places kisses all over your face despite your son's protest, claiming his mommy is for him and him only. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who has his hands on his hips, reminding your toddler that you belonged to him first and sharing mommy is something they are gonna have to settle on. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who has his hands crossed over his chest, mirroring your son as they stare at you, declaring for you to pick one over the other after your son simply said ✨no✨ to the offer of sharing. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who sulks as he watches you smother your toddlers cheeks with kisses, announcing that you love them both and there was enough love to go around. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who begins to fake cry which only causes your toddler lip to tremble before tears start rolling down the three year olds face. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who immediately picks up the toddler into his arms, swaying back and forth as a stream of apologies leave his mouth. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who pinky promises your son as the toddler whispers not to tell you that he actually loves daddy alot, sometimes even more than mommy, but not all the time he adds. 

BabyDaddyMinho! Who wraps his arms around your waist after putting your son to sleep for the night, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before saying that he thinks your son needs a sibling and he wouldn't mind more competition for you with a smirk on his face.

(becaused minho WOULD fight with a child (non violently ofc), in my humble opinion)

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[yandere-sins]

Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Suspicious

G/N. So so stupid.

Your boyfriend is indulging in suspicious behaviour.

More and more, you catch him smiling sweetly at his phone, chuckling. At times you think you might have heard a squeal. He's always staring into it late at night, first thing in the morning, hiding his screen away from you.

Which usually would put you on edge if he was anyone else. Leave your imagination running wild, cause your insecurities to rise to the surface.

But you know Goo. He would have no problem kicking you out of his bed, his apartment, his life if he didn't want this anymore.

Except this isn't that. He's still as clingy as ever, still a mischievous menace. A brat, feral and needy, showing his own brand of affection and fondness.

You're almost certain that if you asked, he would shave his head for you. His precious blonde locks. That's how much he loves you.

However. The behaviour is peculiar, odd. You don't know what to think.

.

.

He's engrossed in his phone even more than usual this evening.

He didn't hear you come through the door, pad through the apartment, sneak up over his shoulder, almost breathing into his ear, eyes briefly scanning over his screen until-

"What's this?"

Goo yelps. Jerks away violently and with such force his glasses clatter onto the floor.

"Shit!" You hear him mutter under his breath as he tries to discreetly click his screen off and bend down for his glasses.

You're pretty certain you saw what you think you did.

…Really? Is this what he's been hiding from you?

Tentatively, because it's obvious this guy is touchy as hell about this, you ask, "Is that-"

"Nope!" He snaps, a very uncharacteristic blush blooming over his cheeks.

"Goo," You grin, eyes crinkling. "Are you embarrassed?"

He puts his glasses back on, adjusting them as he peers over haughtily at you, regaining some of his composure. "No cupcake, I don't get embarrassed."

You put your hand on your hips, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. That's why you've been sneaking around with your phone."

"I have not been sneaking."

"Sneaking."

"I-"

"Sneak. Ing." You emphasize each syllable, then ready your fingers at his forehead. "I may have thought you were up to no good." With that, you give Goo a light flick that he grossly overreacts to and screeches.

"So what?" he rubs his forehead with a pout, "I'm always up to no good."

That's true. You admit it with a sigh.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, clicks it back on sheepishly. "They just... They love each other."

"I know." You tread carefully, not sure which of his manic moods he's rapidly approaching.

"And they both die in the manga." You swear you see Goo's lip wobble, "I just want them to be happy."

Ok, that was definitely his voice cracking you heard there as he shows you his browser, tabs upon tabs of fanfiction open-

Really, goddamn. That is a lot of fanfiction. Although you understand the grip of a hyperfixation all too well.

Maybe you should have seen this coming. You know Goo loves his manga and anime, and you know he loves this particular one. You just didn't know how much. You didn’t realise he indulges in fandom activities.

But-

Did he not realise you loved it too? The amount of fanfiction you gorge on? That there was no need to hide this from you? You wouldn’t have ever made him feel ashamed of this.

"Hey,” You give him an encouraging smile and a nudge, “Did you read the college AU one? Where they're both-"

"PROFESSORS AND MARRIED!" Goo interjects, eyes widening in realisation. 

"Cupcake!" He purrs, any embarrassment or hesitation a thing of the past. The distant past. He throws his arm around you. Ecstatic at finding new common ground, starts to ramble and talk about his favourite fics, his least favourite. The tropes he loves, the tropes he hates. Mouth running a mile a minute.

When he finally pauses to take a breath, he smooches you on the cheek. Reading between the lines, as a way of apology for his suspicious behaviour.

And continues, until you interrupt him and tell him that your favourite ship is actually these other characters and-

"Ugh. Tasteless." Goo scoffs, removing his arm from you and stepping away as if your terrible taste will infect him.

[diorgirl444]

seven minutes of hell or dallas winston and his soc! rival are stuck playing seven minutes of heaven together

warnings: bad writing! (girlies i’ve never kissed anyone or flirted so my expression only comes from writing fanfiction so it may not be the most realistic i’m afraid), fem! reader, very self indulgent, i’m also aware that realistically socs and greasers probably wouldn’t be round the curtis brothers house together but like if you wanted realism you wouldn’t be be reading dallas winston fanfiction would you considering he’s canonically dead lol 😭, weak ending, 903 words <3

you’re going to strangle Cherry Valance after this. when she invited you and your other friends out for the evening not once did she think to mention that you were going to that side of town…

not that you have anything wrong with the Curtis brothers, they’re all lovely and very nice-looking. nor do you have a problem with any of their other friends who despite what you might think are all very sweet apart from the insufferable Dallas Winston. and you suppose it makes sense because if she had said that he was going then you would have spent another night reading shitty romance books alone in your bedroom. but still, there is no one you can’t stand more than Dallas Winston. he’s snarky and callous and violent - and beautiful.

yes, you’re not blind even you can recognize that he’s exactly your type but he pushed your buttons like nothing else with the way he patronizingly calls you “princess” and takes every opportunity to drive you absolutely up the wall. you two bicker like night and day whenever you cross paths so you honestly don’t know what Cherry was thinking. and despite that, you assumed it couldn’t get any worse. what could be worse than a party with the boy who makes you red in the face and with a desperate urge to wrap your arms around his neck and - let's not go there?

well, you were wrong anyway it can get worse and it did. because as Daryl’s taking Ponyboy to bed some wise guy (two-bit) suggests that the rest of you play seven minutes of heaven. it is quite possibly the most juvenile thing you’ve ever done and you and every intention of sitting out till surprise, surprise Dallas makes a snarky comment.

“what too good to kiss a greaser is that it princess?”

you flush angrily clearly the fact that you’re at this stupid get-together should prove that you don’t harbour any of that foolish class nonsense. you roll your eyes as you take a seat. fine, you’ll play one stupid round of this silly game you think as you spin the bottle hoping to get it over and done with. with any luck, you’ll get Johnny or something who won’t want to do anything but talk.

but no that would just be so easy so instead the Coca-Cola bottle reaches its final spot right in front of the worst person it could ever be. even he has the decency to look embarrassed with the tips of his ears tinging themselves red and taking a long swig of his beer.

“I can spin again” you shrug awkwardly not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

“you can’t cheat the bottle girly” he tells you as he sets his drink down and stands up expecting you to follow after him. you can feel everyone’s gaze on your neck as you silently walk into the small cupboard with him. you hear the click of the lock and you're plunged into total darkness. your back presses up against the wall and his tall frame awkwardly clashes against yours. you can hear him muttering various expletives under his breath. god, you’re not that bad surely. the silence is loud and awkward. you swallow heavily before speaking.

“Why do you hate me?” you ask softly before you think it through. cheeks flushing so you’re grateful for the dark.

he scoffs “You think I hate you…” he says it as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

you feel insecure as you speak again, voice small and weak as you try to explain why. “well like you call me stupid things and you make fun of me and-“

he interrupts you before you continue “I call you princess 'cause you remind me of one. I wind you up because it means you look at me and you get this cute little flush on your cheeks. I don’t hate you and man I hate all that sappy stuff but I do seriously like you doll”

“wow” is all you can manage, taking in what he’s saying.

”you know this is the point where you say that you like me too sweetheart” he teases you but you’re sure theres a small twinge of insecurity in his voice and you haven’t heard a more wonderful thing in your life. he likes you.

you kiss him of course. you pull him down by the collar of his leather jacket and press your lips against his and it’s perfect. his hands wrap around your waist and he tastes like the beer and it’s perfect. you want to stay like that forever. you can hear the beach boys playing on the record play in the other room and idly you wonder why it sounds like it’s getting louder and why the room seems to have gotten brighter.

”seven minutes is up lovebirds” you hear Soda’s teasing voice ring out.

immediately you jump out of Dallas's grip like you’ve been burnt.

all your friends are gathered by the doors and are watching as Two-bit hands a dollar over to Cherry who is saying “told you they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other”

before you can say anything else Dallas snaps at them that the games are over and he shuts the door plunging you into two obscurity again as he pulls you in.

“eager are we?” you say laughing against his lips.

“very” he says faux seriously before kissing you again.

you decide that you’re eager too.

hope you like it! xoxo, flo <3

[elodieunderglass]

C, the friend for whom I am writing an entire Dungeon Meshi/His Dark Materials crossover fanfiction, sent me a little message along the lines of “I love your chilchuck. I think it’s because you’re so strong on hobbits. What would the LotR hobbits think of him?”

So I go, naturally “they’d loathe him on sight! They wouldn’t recognise him as the same species.”

(Summarise the following small digression on how I don’t really agree with Peter Jackson’s choice to give the film hobbits pointy ears, as they’re meant to be our <human> closest relations, plus a small infodump on how MUCH Tolkien’s hobbits would want to kill chilchuck on sight)

Me: Well, Bilbo in his younger years would actually be desperately into that. And the more progressive generation of the fellowship hobbits would be a little more accepting, largely because of their societal shift towards tolerance and their possible acceptance of Chilchuck as an extraordinarily short fallohide/Took. Except Merry. merry would be like hello! This is Indiana jones!?!!?!! How come nobody else has noticed that this is definitely a hobbit and also tiny Indiana Jones

C: Chilchuck is tall for his race!

Me: you think I don’t know that? After doing all this for you? They aren’t hobbits though. Hobbits are for one thing a lot taller

C: he’s a hobbit!

Me: he is not! Hobbits are 4 feet average, and chilchuck, despite being tall for his race, is materially MUCH shorter and not a hobbit.

C: sorry what

Me: (slightly drunk and aggressive with it) How quickly we forget that the bullroarer, Bandobras Took, was four foot five !!! He could ride a horse!

Me: A fact that I absorbed when being four foot five and an aspiring equestrian only allowed on quite small horses. remember how in the psychological assessment I had when I was six they devoted so much time to me wanting to be a jockey??? I will know these things

Me: Pippin’s a whole HEAD taller than your guy

Me: apologise to me

Me: how quickly we forget

Me: not a hobbit

Me: Merry is still VIOLENTLY into that though

Me: despite his creepy rock climber feet

C: who (dr glass?) <has creepy rock climber feet>

Me: (now Friday night at the local pub drunk) no doesn’t chilchuck have creepy weird rock climber feet in canon? He binds his feet for that right

C: those are his socks. Is that a rock climber thing??

Me: yeah you know!! They do that to fit into CREVASSES. Or they did when Dr glass was young. In the paleolithic. Or is he a flat arch hiking bitch like me

Me: those aren’t socks

Me: socks are defined by sockishness

Me: is that not physiotherapist prescribe tape slash creepy competitive rock climber feet

C: what are you talking about

Me: you only bandage your feet like that to tape up a flat foot like mine for hiking support or because you’re a little pissy rock climber

[cinnamonest]

I assume this is because I criticized Kamala Harris in my last post.

I want to address this because it's important to me and frustrations currently consuming my life, and I'm very emotionally unwell right now. I want to share my experiences and make a point I feel is important at this time.

Once again, this is very unfitting of the smut fanfiction blog and will be deleted later, even though I'm sure this is a huge follower-losing post, but whatever.

Forgive me for rambling so much, but I encourage you and people who think like this to read in entirety.

I realize things are tense right now in the US.

Part of the reason for my inactivity the past while (besides multiple hospitalizations) is that I'm glued to my screen every night now because I'm very scared. I've been spending all my time researching, watching videos from economists, etc.

(Preemptively, sources for everything I'm about to say: the FEMA Privacy Act Statement itself, the official CPB database, Helene People Finder, United States Council of Foreign Relations, Samaritan's Purse, NYC.gov, Starlink, Politico, ABC, CNBC, georgia.gov, nc.gov, tn.gov, my own life)

The US is an extremely high-tension, polarized political climate, largely due to the bipartisan system.

However, no one should be immune from criticism.

All politicians should be criticized when they do harm. I am allowed to criticize her, and I will.

Criticizing one candidate is not the same thing as endorsing/supporting their opposition.

3,000+ Appalachians are missing. The current death toll makes this the deadliest single event in the US since 1862. A higher death toll than Hurricane Katrina, a higher death toll than the events of 9/11/2001, a higher death toll than any mass shooting.

However, it is largely going completely ignored, and mainstream news media has barely acknowledged it, in part due to elections, but largely because the people who live in Appalachia are poor, rural people. And the harsh reality is that poor people's lives are not treated with the same value as people of higher classes.

FEMA continues to do nothing, and the feds are now threatening to take children away from homeless parents... yet they blocked donations of trailers and campers from nearby areas that would help those people to, you know, not be homeless. A kind group of Amish have come down from Pennsylvania to build shelters, and FEMA may tear them down too since they don't have "permits."

Harris had the opportunity to do something, and has the authority to order FEMA agents to act differently, but she chose to exploit the situation for publicity, then leave and otherwise ignore them. She then went on to pay Beyonce $10,000,000 to speak for 5 minutes.

That deserves to be criticized.

Her campaign continues to claim a good economy and job market, when inflation and cost of living has peaked, and just this month, their policies actually have officially led to one of the worst employment outcomes the United States has seen since the Great Depression, disproportionately affecting low-income workers.

That deserves to be criticized.

She has a bad track record during her time in the judicial system for the way her actions harshly affected underprivileged people, especially Jamal Trulove, who was terribly wronged.

That deserves to be criticized.

Furthermore, the reason FEMA/the government does not have money for Appalachia is for a few reasons, all of which were ordered, facilitated or allowed by the current administration:

1) we've sent over $100 BILLION to the IDF so they can keep blowing up hospitals and kindergartens,

2) we sent $175 BILLION to Zelensky so he can keep sending young men into violent deaths even if its against their will,

3) we just sent $100+ million to Lebanon even after the hurricane crisis, meaning the federal government explicitly chose to prioritize foreign aid over its own people,

4) money was taken directly from FEMA reserves for crises like ours, and used as part of a whopping $150,000,000,000 spent on mass migration — including free flights, a $20 million welcome center with a free-use "game room" with dozens of Xboxes plus free food/lodging, and in NY, an average of $1400 prepaid debit card per individual each month.

Meanwhile, Appalachians get a one-time $750 per family, and if you have insurance to cover anything, it's a LOAN you have to pay back (many "fact-checkers" are claiming this is false when its literally in the FEMA eligibility statement). Many of the independent line workers FEMA hired for repairs are reporting they have not been paid AT ALL since starting.

In other words, the money that was specifically reserved for saving lives in times of crisis was spent on video games and free money handouts.

That, holy hell, deserves to be criticized.

Secondly, I want to address the message itself.

I realize that a lot of the american tumblr userbase is 1) people young enough that they're still partially financially dependent on parents and/or 2) are, like most of the US statistically, earning middle-class incomes, and live in fairly population-dense environments.

Most people outside the US, on the other hand, are getting their perceptions of life, politics, etc in the US from the posts/narratives of people within the aforementioned groups, popular culture, and their own local media, so their perspective is often quite limited, to no fault of their own. I'm sure my perspective of life in other countries is also very limited.

Most of you live in places other than where I live, and live very different lives from mine. As humans, we are naturally prone to subconsciously assuming the lives of others are not too different from our own, and do not naturally stop to consider how various factors might affect people's lives and decisions.

We are social beings, prone to adopting the beliefs of others who have the same experiences and thereby the same limited perspectives as us, especially in ideologically homogenous environments.

However, I have just as much of a voice as anyone else.

My hope is that I can use my words and experience to foster empathy for one another between different people in a very polarized climate at a very tense time.

I'm originally from a fairly rural community of about 8,000 people, largely low-income, low-education, evangelical blue-collar workers and farmers, in the Bible Belt.

It is well-known that this demographic overwhelmingly voted for Trump. I don't deny that. I visit home a lot, I see the yard signs everywhere, flags hanging from pickup trucks and farm fenceposts, lots of red hats.

There is a reason for that.

The administration of the past four years has utterly destroyed many rural, low-income communities.

It caused a huge spike in job layoffs, leading to homelessness, drug abuse, hunger and poverty for many already low-income people, and for select communities, violent crime.

I'm fortunate enough to have had parents better off than most of the community, but I'm self-sufficient now, and I am in the bottom 20% of incomes in the US, even with a degree. I could write endless paragraphs on how hard it is to get by, but to summarize for the sake of shortening — it's very, very rough.

Everything has become drastically more expensive, very rapidly over the course of a few years. Groceries are 3x their 2021 prices. I had to get a guarantor for a one-bedroom apartment.

Many rural families resort to drastic measures to get by. Small farmers are being financially strangled out of their way of life.

The actions of the Biden-Harris administration is the reason a huge portion of my extended family was laid off and now face total destitution, as there are simply no jobs left available.

The Biden-Harris border and crime policies are responsible for the brutal rape of a significant number of women and girls in this geographic region. Statistically, these rapes have quadrupled compared to the previous administration.

A woman was raped and stabbed to death about a mile from where I live.

Our nearby neighbor, a cow farmer back home, was attacked on his own property.

I have personally faced multiple instances of sexual harassment and aggression, some of which were very frightening. I know other girls nearby experienced the same or worse.

Alcoholism and hard drugs due to the spike in unemployment and poverty has ruined many lives, and help is often hard to access in rural regions.

A woman my mom was acquainted with ended her own life in 2023 because her children were taken from her due to her drug addiction and poverty. People I played with on the church playground as kids are now unemployed heroin addicts.

I've watched my mom driven to tears after realizing how drastically her income tax increased, and how little she has left after them despite working around the clock.

All of these can be traced back to the policies and actions of the current administration, and the current Harris-Walz platform's proposals will drastically increase it all — largely voted for by people who live in economic situations and locations as such that they are fairly unaffected by these consequences, so they may not understand how it affects these people.

I could write endless paragraphs of all the people I know who have been at best negatively affected, at worst utterly ruined, by the current administration.

Since I have the unique background of understanding these people whilst having more liberal values as an individual, with a broad range of people I interact with now, I have tried to have discussions on this over the last year or so, in real life and virtually. I believed that raising awareness would make people on the left-leaning side empathize with them, and inspire dialogue to work to implement ways to account for the concerns and needs of the rural poor, and incorporate that into their existing proposals.

I was incorrect. I've been very polite and respectful in how I address others in these discussions. In the vast majority of interactions, I was not given the same in return.

A few were receptive, which I appreciate, but in most of my experiences, the same group that is known for encouraging empathy, apparently doesn't apply that philosophy to people they dislike — no matter how I presented it, they immediately rushed to demonize, censor, humiliate, shame and gaslight me, and expressed callous apathy at best, if not active contempt, for my people.

They say "that doesn't happen," and I think they genuinely believe that due to limited perspective — but the reality is that they're simply in a position of privilege as such that it isn't happening to them.

Similarly, what you have to understand is that from the perspective of many rural people in red areas, their experience is that more privileged people inflicted this suffering on them by voting for it, then silence and shame them for speaking out about it.

Likewise, they also have a limited perspective — for them, the issue I see is that they adamantly believe the "other side" is already well-aware of the effects their choices have on others. I don't think this is true, I think many on the other end are unaware of these issues.

This dual lack of understanding creates mutual resentment and bitterness, which fuels tension.

I will say that trying to explain how girls in my community were assaulted or my own harassment, only to have it spammed with replies along the lines of "don't care" or "deserved" or calling me a liar, seeing posts mocking or wishing harm on people like my family accumulate tens of thousands of likes, having people I care about referred to as "trailer trash," passive-aggressive statements implying I'm too unattractive for a man to harass — this, along with other distasteful actions I've seen, has pushed me away from the left as a community, and I don't think that's unreasonable.

Similarly, labeling people you know nothing about as bad people, without making any effort to understand their circumstances or what they actually believe and why, will drive people away and make them resentful.

My community is multiracial, women are highly valued in southern culture for various reasons, and they themselves are marginalized and underprivileged. They're kind people who have been good to me.

I haven't really met any people who are hateful, nor is hate the reason for their votes — they're all voting as they do because they are scared, exhausted, grieving and desperate. A lot of people in the area never voted before, but are now registering to vote in droves because they feel their backs are against the wall, so to speak.

Moreover, Orange Man himself redirected $14 million dollars to Appalachia, continues to raise awareness for them in speeches, and Musk, who is associated with him, has a team working to help Appalachians. He's also the only noteworthy figure that has acknowledged certain issues affecting them.

They realize that the situation in Appalachia could just as easily be them in the future, that they'd be given the same treatment.

This has resulted in a lot of rural poor people feeling that he cares more for their lives, compared to Biden/Harris who more or less neglected them. Which, considering that, is a fairly reasonable conclusion on their end.

Finally, it is true that blue voters tend to be in favor of abolishing or ruining crucial aspects of our way of life that, I say this politely, they do not fully understand, while the people here want to preserve their way of life.

So, while I have more liberal values that differ from most people back home, I don't believe they are bad people. They are reacting very reasonably to the circumstances they're in.

All I ask of others is to consider, no matter where you are or what beliefs you align with, and no matter what happens tomorrow, that the "other side" to your own may not be the evil people you have been led to believe they are, but are humans whose lives are simply different from yours, and they are acting in accordance to their experiences, circumstances, and fears.

The growing trend of demonizing political opposition with no attempt at empathy, only creates more pain in the world. I hope this has helped to foster better understanding, and that people can be kind to one another.

That is all I wanted to say.

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Christmas Eggpectations

A Christmas Story featuring Pedro the Easter Bunny

This was inspired by those Subway ads and I came up with this idea last night

Done in the style of a film script

Some swearing at the end

INT-TREE HOUSE-DAWN

BUCK is at his desk, squinting through his spectacles, at an unfinished Easter Egg which he is halfway through painting. He is wondering where to put the finishing touches to the coloured egg.

A knock is heard at his door. He turns towards the door and wonders who is calling him at this time of day as he is not expecting any visitors at this time, being the Christmas holidays and all.

BUCK puts down his glasses and heads towards the door. He opens it to find a familiar figure at the door. He leans against the doorframe.

BUCK: Fancy seeing you here. Though you’d be busy?

SANTA: No, no, just finishing up here. You?

BUCK: Just getting started here

SANTA: That’s good. I’ll have to get started once I’m done here.

BUCK: Yeah, yeah. Good to get an early start

SANTA: So…just you here?

BUCK: Yeah, Flopsy is spending time with the wife and 22 kids

SANTA: 22 now?

BUCK: This year

SANTA: Wow…

An awkward pause happens between the two holiday figures

SANTA: Well…I ended up with too many of these cookies and I remembered that chocolate was your favourite

BUCK: Oh thanks, yeah it is

BUCK takes the box of cookies from SANTA

BUCK: Are you sure?

SANTA: I’ve already had a few

BUCK: I’d ask you in, but I don’t want to take you away from the Mrs

SANTA: Oh, she puts up with me 364 days of the year, she can survive without me for a bit longer

SANTA reaches into his sack and pulls out a bottle of a nice looking whiskey

SANTA: I hear this pairs well

BUCK: I hear it does

BUCK gestures to SANTA to come into his tree house as their conversation continues

SANTA: Some rich fucker left this out instead of milk

BUCK: Instead of?

SANTA: Well he forgot the milk and left some cheap as shit cookies and no carrots

BUCK: No one ever thinks of the reindeer!

SANTA: Exactly, so I decided taking this way easier than leaving a lump of coal

BUCK: Good call

The door to the tree house closes as two good friends enjoy good company and cookies paired with good whiskey