All is Calm
Santa (Harbour) Claus x F!Reader
Summary: Nicholas returns home looking battered and bruised. A reminder of a past life you’ve shared that leads to him needing your comfort and joy. (I’m not sorry for that)
Wordcount: 2.8k+
Warnings: Smutty smut smut! Kissing, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Vaginal penetration, One butt slap, Mentions of spit, Cum play, Established relationship, Allusions to violence, Vague descriptions of blood, I haven’t seen Violent Night so I’m really just working from the gifs and trailer so i get the jist, Reader is female with a vagina but no descriptors or any sort, Santa is magical and David Harbour is large so he is strong and can literally pick up anything and everything within reason which includes reader of all and any size (this is HC and I shan’t hear otherwise, the man plugs his nose and shoots into a chimney)
Notes: ‘Tis the season and this man is doing it for me and inspired me to write. I also have a second part in the works for later this week with our favorite suburban murder daddy... because yes.
For fic updates, follow @cdt-writes
When he’d returned home, he started you with his slumped figure bathed in the navy light of the dawn turning a cool indigo against his stark white hair, pulled messily atop his head. The drag of his boots pulling slow, treading snow and dirt into your warm home. His usually brilliant red suit, tailored to his large frame clung to his body in tattered strips marred with muck and grime, caked rigid, drying in the wind that carried him home to you.
“Nick?”
Your voice alarmed against the gentle tingle of bells that followed him. They were usually a calming and charming sound, the sound and allure of the man that usually smelled of peppermint and warm chocolate. Now he smelled of smoke and gun powder, sharp and metallic in your snow covered home. His place of rest between the recurrence of the busiest time of year.
He grunted, the weight of night pressing heavy on his shoulders as he shut the door behind him, gentle despite his rough and wild appearance. His body was sore, drying cuts and bruises littered his skin under the suit you’d meticulously constructed for him. Sewn between the holidays to keep him looking his best. Leather cured and cared for meticulously by you hands as he worked with his crew to ready for the next year of presents and the upkeep of his list.
“Fuck.” He tutted, holding up the front of his jacket, which hung open revealing a wide chest and soft belly. Soft from the meals that nourished him and the treats he loved to indulge in. All made by you, at your insistence. Oh, but also the beers he’d had, lamenting the cheer and belief in the world that dwindled year by year. The Scrooges of the world taking over to strip the imagination and indulgences of the holiday from the world.
“Nicholas,” you snapped. Standing closer and scrunching your nose. You took him in with narrowed eyes which softened at his recognition. When had he returned home? He’d been so lost in thought, the night was so long and so violent. He couldn’t help but fight and stand up for what he knew was right even if it meant doing so much wrong. And he’d liked it.
Felt more alive than he had in years.
Sure, he loved his life of gifting the most deserving children of the world and making their dreams come true. He gave them something to believe in and he was happy to play the part. To be part of that youthful spirit and bring them happiness.
But tonight had been different. Unexpected and he felt the hammer of his heart in between his ears, felt it coursing through his veins, felt it settle deep in his belly. Not when it was happening, at least not the last part. But recalling it now, chest beginning to rise and fall as you stood before him in that ridiculously puffy robe that matched his own, he wanted to tell you everything and show you. Feel you around him as he hooked the bare leg that peeked out the front around his- “What happened? Where is your hat? Are the boys okay? Are you hurt?”
You’d pulled at his jacket with care, the filth he carried in with him now on your skin. He flinched at the sight, pulling the fabric out of your fingers and letting it drop to the ground. “No. No,” he grumbled and reached for you before you could step away, making sure to squash any doubt that might have arisen from his wanting to keep you clean from that.
“I’m ok. Most of it isn’t my blood, I think.” He swooped down, wrapping his strong arms around you. They were scratched and blooming with bruises next to the tattoos that adorned his skin, bared in the soiled Kevlar vest… the site of it startled you more. “The boys are fine, they’re in the stables being fed and cared for. We’re all ok.”
He ducked his head to yours, kissing at the worried furrow of your brow before pressing his split lips to the apple of your cheek feeling your body sag against his before tensing again. He was so so warm and solid against you, in one piece. You inhaled, hoping to catch the unfiltered and unbothered scent of him that set you on fire and buried itself deep in your core, but all you smelled was the gunpowder and blood, the caked dirt and smoke that had seeped into his skin. An offense to his brightness that you craved.
Bracing your hands against the black material, pocked and slashed open, you stammered out a question, “Who-who’s blood is it then?”
Did you want to know? You already knew what he was capable of. Knew what he could do with the body that carried him, making him larger than life in the final weeks of the year. The man who could end space and time to do his bidding, he was stronger than that. If he needed too, he could use every muscle to his advantage. And his hands… he was so skilled with his hands.
You met on one of his darker nights. Was it one like this? One where he-
You shifted closer, hands pressing firmly against his chest, needing the offending material gone and out of the way. He caught your shift with his hands now settled at your middle, the subtle press of your thighs as the skin he’d been so keen to touch shifted from his view.
He sniffed the air, taking you in and regarded you with a rumble of amusement. Your arousal unhidden to him, being magical had its advantages and this he would never tire of. Smelling the wetness that blossomed from you when he stepped close or chopped lumber in the yard, or opened a jar that you feigned the lack of strength to do yourself.
“Nevermind,” You sad, shaking you head and reached up to peck at his lips, it was chaste and reserved as you controlled yourself. Not wanting to drop to your knees just yet, but lingering at the taste of him and the familiar copper from the split in his lips. Still raw and chapped, slightly swollen. “Whatever happened, I’m sure they deserved it.”
“Oh, they deserved it.” His blue eyes seemed to glimmer in the warm light, the blinking string on the absurdly large tree reflecting against his growing iris, dark and eager. He pressed forward, walking you back until the ornate wood of the couch blocked your path. Large hands now shed of the familiar white gloves, knuckling at your cheek and over your jaw. Your eyes fluttered at the gesture, tender yet growing in heat as his fingers pressed into your skin, holding you there. Calloused thumb repeating a gentle stroke over your cheek and fingers settled at the curve behind your neck.
Everything about him was so big.
You were so kempt and clean, a contrast to his rumpled and disheveled state. Beard threatening to tangle and his long hair windswept, speckled with the same grime that he wanted to shield you from. But he saw his own look of lust and need mirrored in your eyes. Saw the need for him to bury himself deep until you shattered and shook against him. Like it was, before all of this. He was younger, as were you, but it was all muscle memory now.
“If you’d been by my side-”
“You’d still have a whole jacket, Nicky.”
He chuckled at your retort, knowing full well you were right. You always moved silently and with deadly accuracy. You left no witnesses and no evidence of your existence. He’d admired that and was thankful you indulged the theatrics he allowed himself to revel in.
If you’d been there, by his side, he would have bent you over in his sleigh. Your cries muffled by the plush of his bag of presents as he pressed into you, fingers digging into your hips and the winds of the world whipping around you, a coolness to the wet warmth of him that surrounded you. Reminding you both that you were alive.
Reaching up, your fingers tangled into his hair. The silver strands pulled into a bun that you pulled free before threading your fingers once more. “You need a shower.”
“Yeah, I do.” His voice darker a touch, the sound reverberating in his chest which pushed closer to yours and drawing a small sigh from your lips which his own met. Swallowing it down as he kissed you. Lips pressing and sucking at your own, tongue sweeping to taste the cinnamon sugar of your own, earning a groan from the man who held you tight.
Lips moving against yours, he pressed his hips forward. The need for you evident as his cock pressed against the seams of his trousers and between your thighs. Spreading wide, you moved your legs to accommodate him, lifting yourself and balancing along the back of the couch with his hands settling at home on your thighs. The kiss unbroken as this was well practiced and rehearsed, you always moved together so so well.
“You’re wearing too much,” his words were mumbled against your skin, moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck. Hands moving quickly, he pushed at the fluff of your robe baring your shoulders and chest. He followed the trail of skin revealed to him, sucking sweetly at your skin, sending shivers up your spine.
The familiarity of it washed over him again, he was home. You were home. Here was safe.
Back arching, pressing into the heat of his kisses, you moaned for him. Needing more from in, to bare himself to you as you were to him. Robe slung to your waist, held together by tasseled rope. Thighs spread wide and wrapped around his hips, cunt bared and pressed to his cock, still hidden to you and you hated it. Needing him now, inside.
But he wouldn’t do that to you, even if he wanted that too. He couldn’t help but build you up a little more.
Lips wrapped around an exposed nipple, the skin pebbled and aching for attention, rewarding with a harsh suck followed by the graze of his teeth and the lave his tongue. Your body hummed under his ministrations, fingers pulling at his hair, earning a playful nip at your skin before moving the other breast but not before pressing a chuckled kiss to the valley between them.
Dragging a free hand between the almost nonexistent space between you, he moved the back of his hands against the soft skin of your thighs. “Naughty,” he tutted, a string of wetness breaking from his lip and dripping down your skin, nipple hard and wet from his mouth.
“‘Tis the season, Mr. Claus.” You pulled at his head, pressing him back into your skin, his mouth not hesitating to suck at your delicate skin once again as he continued to drag his knuckles between the seam of your pussy, gently pushing between the lips and grazing your clit sending your skin alight once more.
The fireworks of your orgasm with the moments of sparks and brilliance before were his favorite to watch. The sight of your head tipping back, your eyes fluttering close, and the slight frown of your dropped mouth were a sight of beauty and burned into his memory. His only objective was this in this moment, when he held you and shattered you, tasting the sweetness and the tang between your legs and burying himself deep to feel you shake and squeeze around him.
Fingertips rubbing delicately, firm strokes where you liked it most alternating with a dip into your entrance, slick and warm, sucking him in.
“More,” you gasped, whining and moving your hips to chase his touch, guide him in deeper. He shifted then, moving his big frame from yours. The loss of his heat, the feel of his pants and the Kevlar vest gone, leaving you lonely for a moment. Had he not placed a lewd kiss on your clit you would have whined. Instead you hooked your legs over his shoulder, fingers pulling at his hair, silvery and soft in your hands. A contrast to rasp of his beard against your skin, delicious and hurried, starved to open you up, get you ready and the roughness of the vest at your calves.
He grunted then, groaning at the taste as you flooded his mouth. Feeling your tighten and flutter around his thick fingers. Legs pressing against his ears as you came just then, with him sucking and licking at your clit. The sensitive skin hot and bursting between his lips, against his tongue and hips riding against him, fucking his face as you shattered for him.
Raising to his full height, he picked you up, pulling at the belt of your robe to strip you bare. The shake of your orgasm still coursed through your muscles as he pressed his lips to yours, where you tasted yourself. Tasted yourself, tasted him and the treats left for him tonight. Tasted the beer and drinks he thought he hid, but you always smelled the whisper of on his breath. And tonight, you tasted the night of violence he’d had. The one that had him hard against you, had brought him to you like this. The one you were more than happy to indulge and reap the rewards of.
Setting you to your feet, he spun you in place, hips pushed to the back of the couch, hands fallen to the nearest cushion, keeping you upright and giving you leverage to push back against him.
With the quick rustle of fabric and the snap of his suspenders, he’d only managed one ‘fuck’ and batted away your hand when you offered to help him with the buttoned flap of his pants, instead pushing you back in place and quickly swatting at the round of your ass, he managed to free himself and palmed his cock. Larger hand slicked with your arousal and swiping over the head.
“Let me see.” He gruffed, voice holding the last remnants of self control as you spread your legs, shifting your weight forwards, you ass high in the air and your pussy bared to him. Wet and puffed with arousal, he ran the tip of his cock from clit to entrance. Coating himself further before pushing in and stretching you wide.
“Fuck,” you moaned in unison at the drag of him pushing in, disappearing into you. His hands a bruising grip on your hips and digging into the meat of your ass as he pulled back just a bit and pushed back in, filling you completely.
You squeezed around him causing him to grunt and groan, feeling him press deliciously against the spot that curled your toes and bowed your back. Bucking your own hips, he moved, positioning his hips into a patterned beat. The wet slap of him thrusting into you, moving you to rub at your clit once more, in tandem with his efforts.
He slid into you deeper, moving a large palm to the small of your back, watching your ass bounce and move as he slammed into you over and over. His breath ragged and hitching as he tried not to falter, needing to feel you come once more around him, slick him up further before he filled you with him.
Cheek to the soft plush of the couch, you drooled and whimpered, moaning at every pitch of his hips, slap of his skin, and the heft of him hitting you just right. Fingers moved deftly against the bundle of nerves, you felt yourself tip over the edge, his name pushed from your lips as you shook and writhed in his grip.
He thrust into you, working you through your orgasm, feeling you around him. So hot, so slick. With the final faltered pistons of his hip, he buried himself deep, draping himself over you as he filled you over and over, his eyes pinched shut as he came with a gritted groan of your name, his own cheek resting against the sweat slicked skin of your back.
Kissing at your shoulder, he lifted himself upright, slipping out and watching as his cum fell from your swollen lips. Delicate skin messed wet with both of you. He couldn’t help himself, taking a finger and pushing a dollop that threatened to spill.
“Nick, stop,” your voice floated to him. A playful giggle as you squirmed from him as much as the vulnerable position allowed. He laughed again, ripping the Kevlar vest from his body and helping you right yourself.
“Time for that shower and I’ll tell you about this hell of a night.”
“Mmm, yes please,” you hummed. Feeling limbless and pliable. Sighing, you slumped into his arms, letting him scoop you up with the strength he used to move mountains, spread joy, and bring merriment all around the world.
Thank you so so much for reading!
