Reading This With Cookies And Beer Is A Whole New Experience. Head Over Heels

reading this with cookies and beer is a whole new experience. head over heels 😮‍💨

✨️🎀Santa, Baby🎀✨️

🎀✨️✨️✨️Part 2✨️✨️✨️🎀

❗️❗️MINORS DNI X MATURE CONTENT❗️❗️

A/N: Wow! A lot more people enjoyed part one than I thought would and it means a lot! I just saw Violent Night last night and wanted to wait to write more cause I wanted my Harbour Claus to be a bit more Canon and attitude accurate. There are kiiiind of minor spoilers but nothing major. Just more accurate magic and 'tude. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🤶🎀

Pairing: Bimbo!Fem Reader x Jealous&Possesive!Harbour Claus.

Summary: You thought things couldn't get any weirder after banging Santa, but they actually did.

Cw: age gap ✨️ thigh riding ✨️  brat taming ✨️ oral (f rec) ✨️ kinda pervy Santa ✨️ slight degradation and praise ✨️ dirty talk w lots of Christmas puns ✨️ a small amount of fluff at the end if you squint ✨️ jealousy and possessiveness ✨️ edging ✨️ Sub & soft Dom dynamic ✨️ slight bondage ✨️ size kink (always)✨️

Part 1

✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️🎀✨️

It's been almost one year and a few men later, and the shocks and tingles you got from last Christmas Eve could not be replicated no matter how many men you went through. You thought maybe that sparkling stranger possibly spiked your drink when you looked away that night, causing you to hallucinate the Santa rendezvous. There's no way you fucked the actual Santa Claus, right?

Hallucination or not, you still found yourself dressing in yet another Mrs. Claus inspired outfit. A black corset and garters, with a white feather trim. Lipstick red, always red. You also decorated your home more than usual, hoping to keep the mood perfect.

Worst case scenario you were surrounded by more tinsel and Christmas lights as you ate your home baked cookies, drinking red wine and watching some Christmas movies by yourself. No one would know you basically set up a Christmas Eve date and no one would know if you got stood up by Father Christmas, so... why not?

What did you have to lose, besides your sanity? You kissed that goodbye when you saw Santa flying into the night last year.

You hummed along to 'Last Christmas' by Wham! As you poured yourself a glass of red wine, waiting for your cookies to finish in the oven and swaying your hips to the festive music. Truth be told, you were fantasizing about what happened Last Christmas and were hoping it was all real just so you could feel that magic once more.

You finished your glass of wine as 'Santa, Baby' By Eartha Kitt began to play and you couldn't help yourself from singing along to it. You checked your imaginary watch and there was only 2 more hours left of Christmas eve. Still no hooves clacking on your roof. You felt small disappointment, but knew the entire thing was crazy. Maybe it really was just a spiked beer and a Mall Santa?

Butwhat if it wasn't, would he be able to feel you start to disbelieve? Would that make him show up? How the hell did any of this work!?

You downed one more wine glass before grabbing your Christmas ovenmitts and pulling the cookies from the oven, still singing along to 'Santa, Baby' as you did.

"Think of all the fun I've missed," you sang to yourself as you headed toward the kitchen island to place the cookies. "Think of all the fellas that I've haven't kissed." You danced your shoulders back and forth as you made your way, your focus in the music and making sure the cookies were safe. "Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my Christmas list."

"That's reindeer shit and y'know it." A deep voice vibrated behind you which made you instantly snap around on your black booted heels only to be met with a much less cheerful face than you remembered. "Kissed a whole lotta fellas this year."

"Oh, jesus christ!" You shouted, trying not to drop the cookie tray.

"Nope, just Jolly ol' St. Nick." He stood proudly, no sign of jolly anywhere.

"Well.. fuck. Guess I'm not crazy..." You searched for the words as you set the cookies on the island and removed your ovenmits, looking up at him as his blue eyes peered back at you from over his glasses.

"Crazy? No. Naughty? Yes." He stepped forward with a heavy black boot, removing both his hat and glasses and discarding them on the island so you could get a better look into his eyes. "Very, very naughty." He squinted, no sign of cheer in his face anywhere.

"I- well, I wasn't sure if what happened was real!" You defended yourself, fearing he really did know everything.

"Mmh," he grabbed your hips, tugging you against his chest as he searched your face for any sort of remorse for your festivities this past year. "On top of being a bad girl, you're losing faith too?" 

"No! I mean-" You looked down at yourself then back up at him with a cocked eyebrow, as if to say 'really?'. "I don't dress this way for imaginary creatures, do I?"

"More lies, huh?" A low, three syllable, sarcastic chuckle left his bearded lips. "You love dressing up."

"Well, not like this!" You wriggled from his gloved grasp as you stepped back, ready to do a twirl to show off the outfit you picked specifically for him.

Before you could finish your turn, he grabbed your hands and pulled them behind you, bringing your back against his chest as he held your wrists firmly. Even though he was holding back, you could tell he was otherworldly strong. He examined your profile as he enjoyed your helplessness against him, his breath wreaking of peppermint schnapps.

Was he jealous? Why did you have a nagging feeling something was wrong? And why did you enjoy this shift mood from the Santa you met last year?

"You've been a very bad girl this year." His breath was hot against your neck as he pulled your curled hair to the opposite side, enjoying the sweet smell of fresh baked cookies on you.

"Have I?" You asked innocently, pushing your ass back into his crotch but it only caused him to tighten his grip on your wrists.

"Very bad. I waited a very long time for you..." You felt something snake around your wrists and it was plasticy? "Why didn't you wait for me, Sugar?" He finished his question with a firm knot of holographic tinsel around your wrists, making effective Holiday handcuffs.

As much as you enjoyed this, you couldn't help but notice the edge in his voice. A nagging part of you picking up on his every emotion, completely confused on why any of that even mattered when all you wanted was him touching you again. He wouldn't be as hasty to do that like last time, though. He intended on making you wait, just like he had.

"I tried, Santa. I did but," again, lost for words as your mind became hazy with lust.

"But what? You wanted that feeling back?"

"Y-Yes!" You sputtered, thankful for the way he seemed to know what you were thinking.

"And none of 'em could do what I do, huh?" He removed his glove just to trail his fingertip along your now exposed neck, a trail of tingles forming in the wake of your goosebumps. His touch truly was magical, and you were finally confident in thinking that.

"No.." You said in embarassment as you craned your neck to the side, allowing his fingertips to graze your jaw before he grabbed it firmly to turn you around and force you to look up at him. Even in your tallest heels, he towered over you. "Had better luck humping my pillow." You pouted, batting your lashes.

"Yeah, you did." He said confidently, a sneer in his voice.

"I mean, it gets the job done." You shrugged.

"Mmh," he stepped backwards before turning on his boot into the living room and making himself at home on the couch next to your lit up pink Christmas tree near your fireplace. "Come sit on Santa's lap and show him how it's done, Sugar." He spread his powerful thighs, patting the specific one he wanted you to straddle as he opened up and removed his jacket, then all layers under besides his brown overalls that hung on his massive, broad shoulders.

You tried to play off the shock on your face when you saw the muscles hidden under soft skin as he did, but more shocking were the tattoos and scars that decorated his chest and shoulders. Why was he so scarred up?

An instant flush over your cheeks the moment you processed what he was asking, and he reveled in it. He loved everything you did, but something about you feigning flustered innocence while knowing you were everything but really got him going.

"Bring a cookie while you're at it." He added, that wolfish smirk never leaving his lips as you tried to figure out how to grab a cookie with bound wrists. You quickly figured that out too and your flush only deepened from pink to red.

And like the good girl you were trying to prove yourself to be, you dipped your head down to gently bite a cookie between your teeth and made your way to him. A proud twinkle in his eye as you did, reaching for the cookie and placing it in his own lips. 

"Atta girl." He said as he removed both gloves, cookie still between teeth as he did.

You took note of what looked to be a wedding ring, remembering his words last year about Mrs. Claus not existing. Before you could question any part of the shedded layers, tattooes, scars and even ring, he yanked your hips down to straddle his thigh. He sat back into the sofa languidly, splaying his arms out as he took another bite of the cookie.

"Oh--hohoho. That's the good stuff. You listened." His cheeks perking up when he tasted the cookie, running his hand up and down your thigh lazily as he enjoyed both of his snacks. "They're perfect." He praised as he forced your hips to ground into his thigh, a gasp dropping from your lips when he did. His tone confident and casual, as if he wasn't forcing you to ride his thigh just to prove a point.

"Just because I was bad doesn't mean I didn't think about you." You tightened your thighs around his, suppressing a moan the moment you officially stabilized your core over what felt like steel.

"That so?" He actually sounded shocked.

"Well, you tell me. Don't you know everything?" You asked with a little spunk, a roll of your hips on his thigh when you did and a whimper to show for it.

"I see everything." He shot you a look that revealed how much he saw this year. "I don't know everything. Not a damn mind reader, Sugar. Who do you think I am, Jesus?"

"Coulda fooled me." You pouted, trying to hide the neediness forming between your legs but you just had so many questions you needed answered.

"Let's just say," he placed the half eaten cookie between his lips as he raised a hand to stroke a thumb across your cheek bone. "I know you better than y'know yourself, Sugar."

"And how long have you been watching me exactly, Santa?" He started to rock your hips back and forth, impatient with how long you were taking, your breath catching as you attempted to keep your composure to continue your investigation.

He just looked up at you with the smirk never leaving his face, cookie between lips and shook his head as if to say 'better luck next year' then sat back once more to finish his cookie.

"Really? That's your answer?"

"Less talkin', more humpin'."  He instructed as he pressed his thigh into you. "We don't got all night, Sugar. You want your gift, don't you?"

His purposeful aloofness was starting to get on your nerves but the moment he pressed into you and you felt those familiar shocks, your mind instantly went hazy.

He was right. You didn't have all night, and time with him was limited.

"I'm not done questioning you. I just," you whined as you rolled your hips, the fabric of your panties becoming an annoying, wet barrier. "I just really need to get off before you dissapear for another year."

"I know, Sugar. Y'just not too good at doing two things at once when I'm around." He cooed, jest in his sentence as he waited for your response.

You scrunched your brow and nose as you stood up from his lap, your wrists straining against the tinsel.

"Panties off." You demanded.

"Look at her, using words." He finished his cookie before he reached forward and tugged down your panties to help you step out of them. "'Bout time, gonna be needing another snack soon."

You sat back down over the already formed wet spot on his thigh and bit your lower lip to stiffle another moan, but it was no use. Instantly you went back to rocking your hips, the cloth of his pants feeling so much better than any stuffie, pillow or man ever could. Your wrists strained as you wished you could grip his broad shoulders for anchorage. 

"Not fucking fair." You whined as you hung your head back in frustration. 

"What's that?" He continued with that low, sultry, casual tone as he watched you struggle.

"Wanna touch you." You clasped your thighs tighter, the fabric not entirely being enough as you rocked desperately. "Want you to touch me."

He hummed and purposefully put his hands behind his head, pleased to hear how desperate you were. It didn't help that his biceps flexed as he did while his hard dick proudly strained against his trousers, only making your need worse. "That's only for good girls, and you were very bad." 

"Please, I'm a good girl." You begged, your hips moving faster as you searched for what you've been chasing all year on his muscular thigh. "I am! Please..."

"Prove it."

He reached down to free his cock from his trousers, slowly stroking up and down with a tight fist. He was punishing you for being bad and this didn't make you want to be a good girl. You felt frustration bubble where pleasure should have been, despite enjoying your own view.

"H-How was I supposed to know that you'd be watching like.. like some dirty old man?" A whimper between your words as you struggled to finish your sentence. "Pr-probably touched yourself just like this the whole time too!" You successfully got out as you watched his fist pump a little faster from your berating.

The thought of him doing this when checking in on you making the tension in your stomach tighten as you watched him. A deep moan as you started to feel yourself throb against his thigh.

He definitely did watch.

"Tsk, tsk." He tutted. "Only a bad girl would say such things." His tone was stern, but the grip on his now leaking cock was giving away just how much he liked it. This was the reaction he was looking for. He knew you were a brat, and he wanted it.

"And what if I am a bad girl, Santa?" You leaned back, bound wrists grabbing his knee to try and give him a nice view of your soaked cunt as you spread your thighs, batting innocent lashes at him with your chin dipped down. Now it was his turn to supress a groan as his heavy lidded eyes fluttered momentarily before reconnecting to your core then your innocent face. "Will Santa punish me?"

He snarled to himself as he removed his hand reluctantly from his hard on, replacing the tinsel between his grip. For a moment you thought he was going to take the restraint off.

You were quickly proven wrong when he instead just used it as an anchor to move you on his thigh the way he wanted. This was for his pleasure, not yours. And he wanted to remind you of that. You whined again as you watched as what you yearned for so badly lay neglected against his soft stomach, the sweetness you craved leaking in his belly button when it should have been down your throat.

This was your punishment.

"Wanna taste you so bad." You whimpered, chasing your orgasm that waited meakly in your tummy as you imagined sucking on him like a candy cane.

Sure, his thigh felt great, magic and all when he felt like using it but he knew exactly what you wanted. His dick twitched against his stomach as he enjoyed your whining and begging, not letting up on moving you on his thigh.

"Does Santa's little helper need some help?" He chuckled, ever so amused by his own jokes as his hot breath fanned your face. He smelled of your cookies and alcohol now, and as ashamed as you were to think it, you enjoyed the cheesy Christmas lines. Just those words edged you closer.

"This would be so, so much easier if I was on," your sentence broke with a moan as you raked your brain for anything to get him into touching you. "On y-your Sugar stick."

That got the iconic laugh out of him, his dick slapping against his stomach with each syllable and you could feel your mouth drooling.

"Sugar, don't you think you had enough of that this year?" His words a reminder of why you were being punished in the first place. "S'cute when you struggle to cum. Tell Santa, did you pretend they were him?" The more he spoke, the closer you felt yourself getting. His voice like spiced whiskey as he spoke inches from your face.

"Y-Yes!" Your knees pressed into his leg as you panted. "But it was no use! They kept fuckin' talkin' and none of it--" your sentence trailed off into a feeble moan as your mind became clouded the moment he wrapped his free hand around his cock once more, enjoying your confession.

"None of it filled you with Christmas cheer, huh?" He squeezed the head of his dick, letting the precum drip down which only made you more flustered.

"Oh, Santa..." You hummed his name as you felt your stomach clench, the words now easily forming in your head. "I wanna be filled with a whole lot more than your Christmas Cheer."

He let out a grunt through his nose, his own stomach flexing as abs hidden under soft skin made their debut. The nights of seeing you with other men and jerking himself off took their toll as he spilled all over his fist and stomach, his chest heaving heavily with each spurt. That was all you needed to find your own release, wishing all of his sweetness wasn't wasted on him and instead, inside of you.

"Fuck, fuck!" You ground your hips as he continued to guide you, still slowly stroking himself as he watched you with slack jawed lust.

"C'mon, Sugar. Give Santa his present." His voice husky and breathy in your ear. His hand was still behind your back, guiding your now jagged moving hips, keeping your pace for you.

You were already unwrapping the moment he used the nickname you've come to love, your mouth falling open as you tried to call his name but only whimpers being formed as the coil in your stomach finally broke. The past year of pent up sexual frustrations, the worst edging in existence and lack of Santa finally snapping.

"Good girl." He praised into your hair once you finished and collapsed into his chest, grateful for how comfy he was and the much needed praise you were looking for. "My good girl." 

You sat against his chest for a moment as you caught your breath. You waited for him to finally release your restraints and give you your present but he didn't have that in mind.  He swept you up from the couch and laid you down where he sat, tinsel restraints and all.

You were about to protest, frustrated you weren't able to grip his shoulders when he slotted down between your legs and ran his tongue flat against your slick. A low hum came from him as he tasted you and placed your legs on his shoulders.

"Hm, hm, hmmm.." He vibrated against you as his tongue lapped for a moment before he continued. "No point in cookies if y'can't have milk."

Even that one almost got a giggle out of you, but was quickly replaced with a whine as he sucked your clit into his mouth and circled his tongue. His long beard tickled your inner thighs and he kept glancing up at you, loving the pretty view of you being spent and overstimulated just for him. He couldn't help himself when he grew hard again, and he couldn't stop from stroking his cock while he enjoyed his favorite snack. You just tasted so sweet.

It only took him adding two fingers into you to cause you to once again unwrap around him, eyes rolling back and soaking his facial hair when you did. The combination of his view, you squirting on his face and the things you were cursing under your breath was all he needed to once again cum all over his fist, hips bucking as he growled against your core and continued to lap at the sweetness despite your overstimulated whimpers, enjoying himself too much.

Once he finished, he stood up to reach over and under you, lifting you up to so he can undo the tinsel. It took you by surprise when he leaned forward to press a kiss to your lips, your heart jumping for a moment before you were even more shocked to taste yourself. Why the hell did you actually taste like milk?!

It was almost like he had kissed you just to show you.

He deepened the kiss just briefly when he felt you tense up with realization, his palm rubbing gentle circles on the small of your back before seperating and freeing your wrists in one go.

"Looks like I ain't the only one who tastes good'round here." His smile was wide, as if something had just been confirmed for him and that jolly, warm look flooded his face once more.

His red cheeks returned as he licked his mustache and ran a hand over his beard. He picked up your almost boneless body and sat down on the couch, placing you back on his lap and holding you against his chest. Your mind no longer hazy, and the confusion from your own taste was quickly placed with another question you had as you stretched and rubbed your wrist.

"Where the hell is my present!?" You hit his chest, which felt like a break wall.

"Ooh," he rubbed where you hit as if to play hurt for a moment. "Got a swing on you, huh?" His sarcasm was palpable but you weren't biting.

"Where is my present, old man?" You raised your brow expectantly.

"You're not getting that present this year. That's for good girls and you've been very, very bad."  He sat back against the couch and put his hand lazily on your hip. "You'll get a present, though."

Your eyes widening when you realized you were still being punished and he really wasn't going to fuck you this year. Not till you learned your lesson and understood you were his good girl.

"So what do I get then.  Coal?" You retorted sarcastically as you crossed your arms over your chest, still breathing heavily.

"Trust me," he chuckled lowly, enjoying your spunkiness. "Y'don't want coal." He warned.

"I have," you grabbed his hand that had the silver ring and picked it up. You examined the inscriptions with a suspicious eye and then looked back at the tattoos and deep, welted scars on the man in red as he enjoyed what short moments you both had till work called. "So many questions."

"And maybe one day, if you're a good girl, you'll get answers." He pulled his hand from your grip with ease and brushed your unruly hair behind your ear.  He caressed your cheek before reluctantly sitting up with you in his arms and a groan. "It's about that time, Sugar."

"What? No! It's," you lifted your wrist to check your imaginary watch and whined loudly when you realized he was right. 5 minutes till midnight. "Fuuuuuuuuck." You pouted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, thinking that would keep him there. 

"I know, I know." He watched your wrist with narrow eyes and a small knowing smile before embracing you back, his arms tight around your waist. Careful not to hurt you, knowing his own strength. 

He turned around to lay you back down on the couch before he reached for his shirt, vest and jacket to redress for the rest of the night.

"What about my present?" You yawned, reaching down to remove and kick off your boots as sleep threatened to creep in and take what little time you two had left.

"Don't y'know how Christmas works?" He said as he grabbed his empty looking toysack and reached in, his arm almost dissapearing for a moment before he pulled out a pink wrapped package and opening it for you. A soft, baby pink blanket with a matching pillow in it. He laid it across your body and the pillow under your head.

"When y'wake up, it'll be under the tree. But not a damn second sooner." He said, making sure to let you know it was coming and these weren't your gifts. His eyes soft as he kissed the top of your head before standing up and looking for his hat and glasses, remembering they were by the cookies.

You watched as he made his way back but not without shoving almost all of them in his pocket and one in his mouth, mumbling to himself about "your cookies have always been my favorite" and how much he "missed cookies like these".

He didn't realize you could hear and weren't completely asleep just yet. Fortunately,  you weren't lucid enough to process it and your head was already spinning from your orgasms and the mystery that surrounded this gruffer version of Santa than the one you once believed in.

"Santa?" You said tiredly, your eyes struggling to stay open.

"Yeah, Sugar?" He reached over to you to tuck the blanket in, waiting for your words before he left.

"M'gonna miss you."

"I know, Sugar." He stroked your hair.

"Of course you do." You yawned as you looked at him with heavy eyes. "It's your job to know."

He smiled warmly at you quoting one the first things he said when you first met.

"Gonna miss you too, Sugar. See y'next year." He stood up, heading near the fireplace. "Be a good girl." He warned before he pressed his pointer finger to his nostril. Flames and golden sparkles completely enveloped him and a flame filled glittery haze zoomed up the chimney.

In an instant, he was gone.

Not soon after, sleep had won the battle as you knocked out next to your lit Christmas tree and fireplace burning, not even processing the hooves running off your rooftop. One the the most peaceful sleeps to follow before you woke up the next morning to Santa's present.

The fireplace was no longer burning and your Christmas tree's lights were turned off when you woke up. Nothing but one lone, holographic wrapped present under your tree waiting for you with a pink envelope.

You pulled yourself from the couch and rushed to the tree, feeling giddy to see just what you got. You placed the card gently to the side before ripping open the wrapping paper and opening the box to find bright red, classic Mrs. Claus baby doll lingerie and matching hat. Hidden under the lacy red clothes lay a black walkie talkie. That's when your attention was turned to the card that was signed 'Love, Santa' in script. You opened it slowly, eyes widening when you read it.

"Call me."

guys … they were roommates

JENSEN ACKLES as DEAN WINCHESTER SUPERNATURAL ⋆ Folsom Prison Blues

the amount of love i feel for this woman is indescribable 😮‍💨

give me one chance gwendoline please