SUMMARY:
Crowley dresses up as Santa Claus to deliver you a night of festive pleasure..
A/N BEFORE READING:
🎅🏻 fem!reader and established relationship
🎅🏻 word count: 2046
🎅🏻 fluff and Christmas-themed sexual humour
🎅🏻 content disclaimers: alcohol consumption and explicit smut (breast sucking, oral & unprotected penetrative sex)
creds to @thenaughtyrat for creating the Crowley bauble decoration!
thank you so much to @gigglingdonkeyy & to anyone else on the Crowley discord server for reading through parts of this fic and giving me feedback 💕
Here is the The Twelve Days of Crowley-mas Masterlist - I will be updating it everyday until the 25th of December!
ENJOY, AND HAVE A VERY MERRY 6TH DAY OF CROWLEY-MAS! 🎄
It is yet another December evening where Crowley is expecting your arrival in Hell. He has prepared another infernally festive surprise for you, one that captures the feelings that he can let loose without constraint.. lust and desire.
Crowley sits waiting for you in the main suite of his private quarters, draped against a plush velvet armchair with one leg crossed over the other. He made sure for it to face the door's entrance, so when you walk through, it is the first thing that you see.. him, in his unexpected get-up.
When you push open the door and your eyes lay upon the visual in front of you, your reaction's are ones that Crowley had expected. Your mouth drops open initially, with pure astonishment, before uncontrollable laughter rattles throughout you.
"What the fuck are you wearing?" you gasp out between incredulous chortles.
Encasing Crowley's usual pristine black suit, is a rather bold and gaudy red coat with a white fur-lined trim. An equally as garish red hat perches on the top of his head, its hem bordered with a white stripe all the way round and a woolly pom-pom at its end. The hat flops as he tilts his head, a smirk pulling at his lips.
"Ho ho ho, darling." Crowley smirks, uncrossing his legs to make room for you. "Why don't you come here, and sit in good ol' Saint Nicholas' lap?"
Your unruly laughter continues as you collapse into his open legs, the fur-lining tickling your arms as you snake them around his neck. "This is ridiculous."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you love," Crowley's lips twitch, suppressing his own convulsions. "Christmas is ridiculous."
"I don't know, it seems to me like you're enjoying it." you murmur playfully.
"I'll indulge in your festive spirit, if it means I get to indulge in you." Crowley thrums, and his eyes dip to your lips in temptation.. but he doesn't kiss you. Not yet.
You let your hands slip beneath the fur trim of the thick winter coat, to feel the radiating warmth there caused by building arousal.
"Now tell me," Crowley continues, his intonation a delicious drawl that intoxicates you. "Have you been naughty or nice this year, my love?"
"Maybe you should check your list," you challenge with a sensual simper.
"Hmm, let's see.." he muses tenderly.
Crowley shifts beneath you, urging you to stand to your feet.. and when you do, he presses his body against yours teasingly. One palm rests on your hip and the other slides slowly down your back until it reaches your ass.
"I think you've been a naughty, naughty girl." he purrs by your ear lowly.
His hand lifts and slaps your ass with moderate force, before soothing the sting of it with a delightful squeeze. You let out a gasp at the contrasting sensations, and you arch into him further, desiring more and more of him by the second.
You pull him back towards the bedroom, and he gazes down at you with a triumphant smile as your back pushes open the door to it. You stumble over the ridge that separates the room from the main suite, and he holds on tight to stop you from falling onto the concrete floor beneath your feet.
"Impatience," he states, a smirk continuing to pull at his lips.
Crowley coaxes you backwards and the backs of your legs hit the bed. He eases you down beneath him until you're sinking amongst the lavish silk sheets. The red coat that he wears cages you in between its fur trim, and the point of his hat plunges forward as he settles on top of you. The white woolly pom-pom hits you directly on the forehead softly, and Crowley moves it out of his vision before peering down at you with an amused expression as you giggle. Finally, he captures your lips in an desperate kiss that tastes of yuletide spices and traces of whiskey.
"Have you been drinking eggnog again?" you ask against his lips.
"With generous amounts of bourbon, yes." Crowley answers with a monotonous drawl.
You continue the kiss with equal fervour and he collapses to the side, bringing you with him. Your legs become tangled with one another, pressing impossibly close as you inhale each others ragged and wanton breaths.
The palm of your hand glides down his chest in the small space between you, until it reaches the growing bulge beneath his black suit trousers. Following your touch, he immediately becomes more rigid, and a strangled groan rumbles from deep within his throat.
"Is that a candy cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" you tease near his mouth with a victorious grin, squeezing his robust length.
"Clever," Crowley chuckles, his hips bucking against your hand slightly.
"You said you'd indulge in my festive spirit, didn't you?" you murmur, and press a lingering kiss against his lips once again.
"That I did, and speaking of which.." he digs around in the front square pocket of the costume coat, before retrieving a large red plastic bow from inside. "This will be the one and only time I cave into American holiday consumerism."
"What's that for?" you ask, peering down at it curiously.
"You know how much I enjoy foreplay, darling." Crowley purrs addictively, transferring the bow from his hand to yours. "Now.. place the bow where you want my mouth to be."
His thumb meets his forefinger and he snaps them together effortlessly. Your clothes vanish within an instant, and suddenly, your exposed skin presents several possibilities for where the bow could go.
First, you begin small.. your neck.
"A tame start," Crowley murmurs, lowering his head to mouth your neck with hot wet kisses, the opposite side to where you had placed it. The coarseness of his stubble scratches against your sensitive skin with each passionate press of his lips. You hold the back of his head, your fingers sinking into the material of his festive hat.
Seeking escalation, you peel the bow from the skin of your neck, and hover it over your naked body before pressing it against one of your breasts.
"You want me to suck your baubles?" Crowley asks you teasingly as he withdraws from your nape, his smirk widening proudly at the sound of you laughing at his innuendo. "Very well, dear."
Your breaths become shallow as the palm of his hand ascends up your body, and his calloused fingers trace the curve of one of your breasts. His eyes are steady on them, appreciating them fully, before dipping his head to drag his tongue over your nipple slowly. The tantalising caress sends a ripple of pleasure to your centre, and sweet sounds of satisfaction escape from between your lips.
"You like that?" Crowley breathes against you, the warm air spreading over the moistness. Tingles flutter beneath your skin in response.
"Don't stop," you instruct delicately, your fingers returning to the back of his clothed head to urge him back down towards your sensitized peak.
"As you wish," he nudges the bow fully out of the way with his nose. It rolls off your body and onto the wrinkled sheets beside you.
Now with no obstructions in his path, Crowley gets to work on pleasing you further. His tongue swirls around the pinnacle of your bosom whilst he sucks relentlessly.. and he picks up the pace when he feels the vibration of your moans reverberating beneath your chest.
Your eroticism increases as your body writhes in result of his titillating ministrations. With trembling fingers, you grapple for the discarded bow and follow the heat of where you're burning to be touched next. You position the plastic decoration at your groin that throbs with persistent need.
"Ah, my milk and cookies." Crowley muses when he feels you shift to change the bow's place.
His mouth retires from your breast and begins to slide downward over your stomach, leaving behind a smouldering trail of wet steamy kisses. You squirm and moan his name with each softly heaved breath.
Eventually, Crowley's reaches your core, where he retrieves the bow you had place there, tucking it securely back into his coat pocket. His determined tongue draws out a deliberate stripe over your folds, barely dipping past them to tease you.
You knock his festive hat clean off his head as you go to grab a fistful of his hair, coaxing his tongue deeper inside of you to titillate your pulsating nub.
"Begging?" Crowley chuckles deeply, and you can feel a prideful smug smile pulling at your sensitive skin. "Now that will get you onto my good list."
He yields to your pleading and your persuading hands that rifle through the soft threads of his hair. Crowley plunges deeper, the tip of his tongue circling where you need it the most. When he senses you teetering on the edge of release, he disengages from your centre, and his hot breath drags up your body. You taste yourself on his lips as he captures your mouth in a prolonged and lustful kiss.
Crowley shifts to lay beside you, and clicks his fingers together to remove his suit beneath the red coat that sheathes him. With it splayed open, he presents his bareness to you.
"It's like the North Pole." you gesture to his hard length with a sly grin, and Crowley titters at you.
He reclines against the cushions with a self satisfied grin of his own, retrieving the now crumpled bow from his pocket and positioning it at his tip. "Ride it like a reindeer, darling."
You straddle his thighs, and remove the bow before replacing it with yourself. You sink down onto his cock and a soft gasp escapes from you as he fills you up, your slickness guiding it in with ease. Crowley lets out a sharp exhale as you settle onto him, and you purposefully begin to grind against him slowly, which elicits a low growl of your name beneath his breath.
"That's Mrs Claus to you," you murmur near his ear, and he pinches at your ass in response.
The palms of your hands caress his chest and slide up to his shoulders. You allow for your pace to quicken, your breaths growing heavier with each thrust. His hips lift from the bed, seeking more glorious friction to drive you both towards the edge, and his usual low growls turn into almost pitiable moans that has your movements turning erratic.
The both of you lose your rhythm completely as you near the peak of orgasm, mouths drooping in anticipation and your eyes squeezed shut, utterly lost to the pleasurable sensation. You arrive at your climax first, and at the mere sight of your gratification, Crowley's body grows stiff as he spills inside you with a guttural groan.
You collapse limply against his chest, before rolling off of him and into the comforting crook of his arm. You nuzzle your face into the nape of his neck and place a soft kiss there, whilst his fingers trace idle patterns along your spine.
"I suppose you could say Santa Claus came to town." you sigh contently, an amused smile tugging at your lips.
"And I suppose you could say that I stuffed your stocking." Crowley chuckles, gazing down at you smugly.
"Do you think we share a lot of Chemis-TREE?" you bat your eyelashes with faux sweetness as you look up at him.
Crowley barks out an incredulous laugh. "Oh, that has to be the most shittiest line you've said all night."
"And you haven't said any terrible ones yourself?" you scoff in light defence. "What was that about me riding you like a reindeer?"
"Well, it worked didn't it?" Crowley pulls you to him with an affectionate shake.
"Yeah," you agree with a roll of your eyes before snuggling in closer. "Luckily for you."
"Luckily for me indeed." he mumbles to himself, his hand sliding down your back comfortingly.
Your eyes flutter shut, and you relax beneath the soothing caresses of the King of Hell. Crowley snaps his fingers together one more time, and a plush festive-print blanket drapes around the two of you to conceal your naked bodies. He doesn't usually partake in such mortal activities, yet he indulges in the act of allowing his own eyes to close as he rests his head back against the head board of the bed.
Crowley keeps his fingers working against your skin, lightly and delicately, as if you are as precious as an angel balancing at the top of a Christmas tree.
