Tumgik
#holiday special fic
denaliwrites · 7 months
Text
When the Crypt Doors Creak
Tumblr media
Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader
Summary: The Doctor takes you to the most popular haunted house attraction on Earth after finding out your favorite holiday is Halloween. Turns out he might have ulterior motives for the trip, though.
Soundtrack: Grim Grinning Ghosts by Creature Feature
Requests: Open!
Warnings: Jumpscares, Canon-Typical Peril.
A skeleton dropped from the ceiling, its cheap plastic teeth chittering mockingly when you let out a bleat of terror. The Doctor shot you an amused look, apparently unfazed.
"Does nothing frighten you?" you asked, stepping around the skeleton with a miffed whine.
"Oh, plenty frightens me," he sighed, sidestepping a haphazardly placed dummy meant to look like a bloody corpse.
"Like what?" You startled at the sound of a mournful howl echoing around you. Eyes shot to the Doctor for comfort, but instead found him giving you a shit-eating grin.
"Nothing that can be found in a haunted house on Earth in the year 2375," he assured you.
The two of you rounded a corner. Immediately you yelped, confronted by a giant robot with round, hollow black eyes. Somehow, that seemed even creepier than glowing electric eyes.
The Doctor stopped beside you, staring up at the robot with a perplexed expression. "I stand corrected," he said after a moment. "So that's what the TARDIS scanners were picking up."
"What, this thing frightens you?" you asked in disbelief, though internally you admitted that it frightened you too... You were unsure why. You were so busy thinking about it that you missed that he hadn't actually brought you here for a fun outing.
The Doctor pulled out his sonic and gave the robot a quick scan. "Well, at least it's dormant," he said to himself as he read the scan. "But this is wrong. You shouldn't be here..."
"What is it?" you asked, blinking up at the thing.
"Nothing you need to worry about right this second," he tried to reassure you, his hands guiding you by the waist away from the robot.
You continued through the haunted house, but you could tell from that moment that the Doctor's mind was elsewhere. You tried to catch his attention a couple times, but he was fully engrossed in his thoughts. And, occasionally, his sonic scans.
Around another bend, you came across a different robot. This one was much cuter upon first glance, but something about it drove you to stand far away. The Doctor, however, approached without hesitation and did another scan.
"This is all wrong," he sighed, turning to look around the room. It was dark, and at least you were having trouble making anything out other than the dummy ahead of you. "Where are they getting these things?"
You edged the room, trying to keep as far from the thing as you could. "Doctor, I want to leave," you moaned, hands desperately searching the dark wall behind you for an exit.
He didn't seem to hear you, continuing to scan and talk to himself. The last thing you saw before accidentally falling through an exit door was the doctor scratching the back of his head, and the last thing you heard was him saying, "You shouldn't be here."
You weren't sure how long you fell, or when you landed. You'd gone unconscious at some point. All you knew was just that you woke up in some sort of cell.
"Hello?" you called out, rattling the bars in various locations in the hope that they might give. You were disappointed to find that they were pretty solidly in place.
"Hello?" you tried again.
This time, you were answered by footsteps that echoed across the walls as they got closer. "Ah, you're awake," a displaced voice said, and you got the distinct impression that whoever had spoken was not a particularly nice individual.
Though, maybe the whole "being locked in a cell" thing should've given that away.
"I was wondering when the hypnosis would wear off." With that, the source of the voice stepped into view. You were surprised to see that it was just an ordinary guy -- well, a rich guy, going by the fancy suit he wore and the way he was immaculately groomed, but. Otherwise, perfectly ordinary.
"Hypnosis?" you asked, trying to think back to when that could've possibly happened.
"Yeah. Nothing particularly strong or damaging. Needed to get you from Point A to Point B and you were... well. Uncooperative."
It was then you noticed a fresh cut on his lip. Nice.
"Well, I'd say sorry," you started, your voice mocking, "but I'm pretty sure kidnapping is a little higher on the list than punching the guy trying to kidnap you, as far as grievances go."
"Mm," was all he offered by way of response, starting to pace.
"What am I doing here, anyway?"
"Oh, yes, let me just tell you my whole grand plan so that you can formulate some clever way to stop it."
Ouch. Okay. He had you there.
"Don't know what kind of idiots you've been dealing with, but I'm not falling for that bullshit."
"Oh, I wouldn't call it bullshit," the Doctor's voice came suddenly from somewhere to your left. You turned, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Curious, this one," he continued, referring to you. "Asks all sorts of great questions."
"You call that a great question?"
"Well, give it a minute. The hypnosis is probably still wearing off."
"Uh, Doctor, where are you?" you asked, as if you hadn't just been insulted by one man and complimented by another.
"See, that's a good question. Where am I?"
"You're the one that's supposed to answer that, Doctor," you sighed, eyes still scanning around trying to find him.
"See, the thing is," the Doctor started, and you heard the sound of a switch flipping. "That Cyberman, and that Dalek. They're just dormant. Not dead."
You had no idea where this was going, but by the look on the face of your captor, you knew that he knew exactly where the Doctor was and what he was doing.
"And, well. All dormant things wake up eventually, don't they? Hmm, I wonder what this button does."
The sound of an alarm filled the room, and a robotic voice began instructing patrons to evacuate the building.
"Well, at least you had the decency to give them a chance to get out. Couldn't afford the lawsuits?" the Doctor asked, something in his voice rather cruel.
You looked to your captor, almost laughing at the panic on his face.
"Now, you managed to capture a Dalek and a Cyberman and who knows what else is in the parts of that maze we didn't see. What do you think they'll do, now that I've turned off the machine keeping them under? I wonder..."
The man made to leave, but the Doctor stopped him with a tut. "Let my friend go, Jeremy."
Jeremy (apparently) hesitated, then threw the cell key to you and ran for the exit.
"Oh, good enough, I suppose," the Doctor sighed.
You let yourself out of the cell and turned towards the exit "Jeremy" had run through.
"Ah-ah," the Doctor chided gently. "Not that way."
"Why not?" you asked the air around you, looking around for any other way out. There was none.
"That's where all the monsters are gonna be."
Oh, right.
"Then where am I supposed to go?"
You heard him make that weird sound that came from the back of his throat. "Well. The TARDIS, obviously."
"The TARDIS isn't here, Doctor."
"Sure she is. Look in the loo."
You blinked stupidly for a moment, then turned and, indeed, found a restroom sign. Stepping through the door, you were met with the beautiful deep blue wood of the Doctor's ship.
"Have you been in here the whole time?" you asked the open air.
"Come in and find out, won't you?"
You stepped inside to see the Doctor smiling at you from the console. You ran to him and threw your arms around him. He hugged you back, holding on tight as he buried his face in your hair.
"I'm glad you're okay," he murmured, placing a kiss to your temple.
You pulled away from him, softly clearing your throat. "Shouldn't we help Jeremy? Or, at least, get rid of all those 'monsters.'"
"There's no helping Jeremy now," the Doctor sighed. "And all those monsters will self-destruct or go live out the rest of their lives in solitude once they realize they're all alone."
"That's... sad. Shouldn't we take them back to where they belong?"
The Doctor looked contemplative and sad for a moment. "No."
You wanted to press him on that, but something told you not to. Something about the haunted expression on his face.
"... Can we go to a normal haunted house?" you asked instead. "One in my time."
"You wanna do that again?" he asked with a stunned laugh. "You were terrified the whole time!"
"Doctor, that's the point!"
127 notes · View notes
sp0o0kylights · 6 months
Text
Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.
It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 
Worse?
It was short.
Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 
The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 
“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 
Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 
“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 
Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.
‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’
“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 
They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.
Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 
Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.
(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.
 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 
The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 
Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.
Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.
Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 
“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”
He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 
To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 
None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.
Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 
Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.
Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 
“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 
A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.
“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 
Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction
“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”
“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!
“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 
As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.
Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 
“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 
It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 
Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 
Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 
(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 
The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 
It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.
Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.
Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.
“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 
He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.
Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.
(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)
“You know who doesn’t look scary?”
Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 
“Steve!”
Eddie’s left eye twitched.
‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.
Cartoon squawking and all. 
“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 
So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.
“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”
Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.
There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 
Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 
One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 
(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”
“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 
“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 
“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!
 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 
He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.
“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 
A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 
“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 
This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 
Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!
He was right!
Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.
“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 
Because King Steve? Play D&D?
'Ha!'
“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 
“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.
Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 
Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 
The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 
As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.
“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.
"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 
 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table
Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 
The dick.
“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.
He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.
Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.
3K notes · View notes
bones-of-a-rabbit · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
(it was, in reality, not fine) fic holiday special,, but it’s a comic n not writing lol sorry 😭
Also I am so sorry for my handwriting and the overall messiness of these doodles I have no excuse wheeeeeeze
946 notes · View notes
Text
It’s 1998 and Steve Harrington is waiting in line at a local department store’s Black Friday sale. The new gameboy color was just released a few days earlier - he figures it’ll be the perfect Christmas gift for all of his little dweebie friends.
Eddie Munson is standing directly behind Steve in line. He’s waiting to buy a new guitar amp - been saving his tip money for months and still can’t afford one at full price; he desperately needs any discount he can get.
After about the first hour of waiting, Steve notices Eddie mumbling to himself. Counting, then re-counting the money in his wallet. Steve Harrington has never re-counted money in his life. Never had to worry about not having enough. Especially not like this guy.
They spark up a conversation in the third hour of waiting. Steve compliments Eddie’s industrial bar piercing in his left ear. Eddie compliments Steve’s beaded hemp bracelet. Steve explains that his best friend made it for him after their first summer apart from one another.
By the final hour, they’re both tipsy. Eddie brought a thermos of spiked hot chocolate and offers to share it with Steve. Both of them tell stories about their worst hangovers and reminisce about their most memorable Christmas mornings as kids. They’re both buzzing and giggling at the stupidest shit. Buzzing so much that they don’t even comment on the fact that they’re huddled close together under the wool blanket that Steve supplied. Thighs touching. Arms overlapping.
Steve has finally worked up the courage to loop his pinky finger around Eddie’s when the line begins to move. He’s more than a little disappointed, but they both gather their things and enter the store.
Luckily, Steve is able to snag enough gameboys for his entire crew of nerdlings. As he gets in line, he watches Eddie studying the price on the amp he has been saving for. He re-counts his cash once more, before hanging his head and walking away without his item.
Not wasting a goddamn second, Steve jumps out of line and grabs the amp box off the shelf. Eddie looks back at him, shaking his head.
“Hey man, you don’t have to do that.” Eddie pleads with him.
But Steve has never had to worry about not having enough. Not even once.
“I know I don’t have to.” Steve shrugs, lugging all of his items to the checkout counter. “But it’s the season of giving, or whatever hallmark shit they say.”
Eddie protests a few more times, but Steve is adamant on doing this. It feels right.
As they walk out of the store, Eddie digs in his back pocket, pulling out a wrinkled neon flyer.
“You should come see my band next Friday.” Eddie hands the paper to Steve, then motions to the amp. “You know, to see this beauty in action.”
Steve nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”
The sun is starting to rise as they both load up their cars. Steve is about to turn the key in the ignition when he acts on his impulses. He runs up to Eddie, who is closing the trunk of his van.
“Here.” Steve grabs Eddie’s wrist and pulls out a black ink pen. He scribbles his phone number there, only legible enough for Eddie to read it.
“Just in case you want to see me before next Friday.”
Steve walks away before he can see Eddie’s reaction, good or bad. He’s brave, but not that brave.
“Hey, Steve!” Eddie calls back.
“Yeah?” Steve takes a deep breath, then turns around. Can’t avoid his reaction now.
"Thank you for this." Eddie winks. "All of this."
He waves his wrist, the one with Steve's phone number sprawled all over it.
"Anytime." Steve answers back. He heads back to his car full of gifts. Smiling the whole ride home.
Eddie calls Steve that Sunday night and they spend their evening just like they had on Black Friday: talking until the sun comes up.
3K notes · View notes
pursuitseternal · 5 months
Text
“Wrap Me Up:” 🎀 A Merry (NSFW) for the Vampire Lord Astarion, “The Rogue You Were” Christmas Special 🕯️
Tumblr media
Ascended Astarion x F!Reader | E | 5.6K of thawing his “Scrooge-ish” heart with bondage and ice play
Based on “A Christmas Carol,” because Astarion would be a total “Scrooge”
Part 2: “Yuletide in Faerûn”
Summary: He hates Yuletide, a time where he is haunted by the ghosts of Yuletides past, but you won’t let him remain so cold, not when all he needs is a little warmth and pleasure to thaw…
CW: Bondage, Ice Play, temperature play, Dom/sub tones, face fucking, nipple play, breast biting, blood kink, sex as healing, face the ghost of Yuletide past, make him look towards the ghosts of Yuletide present and future with you
AO3 link | Read “Rogue You Were” | Masterist
🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊🔥🧊
Cazador was dead to begin with…. His palace redone, reclaimed by your love, your master. No longer some distasteful, neglected home of a miser and monster. It is the toast of Baldur’s Gate, the lavish, decadent crowning jewel of the city, and home to the man all admired and feared. Astarion, Vampire Ascendant.
Your love. Your Master. Your spouse.
But even still, as the streets of the city filled with snow, wet and heavy from the sea, as the air filled with the sights and sounds and smells of Yuletide, your home remained cheerless.
Cazador was dead, and so was the infamous Yule Ball he hosted in his decrepit halls—forbidden by its new lord and master. Astarion had no wish to carry on any of that monster’s legacy. A gala event meant to make his spawn work all the harder for victims at the risk of torture… a night of sumptuous darkness, where victims were aplenty, a prize for their master.
And so… Yuletide was banished. Halls were bright, but no more shining than usual. No evergreens or music or mirth. No gatherings or carols or banquets or dances.
And no… gifts. Those were his orders.
Orders that you understand, but ones that make you grieved. That make you wish to show him the true meaning of Yuletide. And you will show him tonight. To do so, you have been sneaky, subtle, deceptive. And above all… disobedient. But that only makes this plot of yours all the more delicious.
He’s been away all day, corrupting officials and threatening the right people. Turning the powerful into puppets, ensuring everyone pays their tribute to the most powerful being in all the realms. In fact, you think as you begin to peer out the window looking down into the drive, banks of snow scattered to the side and torches flaming to await the master’s arrival, he has been extraordinarily ruthless of late. These last weeks leading into Yuletide, he’s been extorting more money, squeezing favor after favor from the influential, securing all the wealth he could to line his own coffers. And all the while, he grinned that brilliant fang-toothed smile, laughing to be such a menace before the festivities.
Little did he know what you are doing in his absence. Your little secret.
It wasn’t easy to keep. You had to block out his mind, the little ways he liked to check on you from a distance, swirling into your thoughts down your bonded minds as master and bride. You were careful these last few days. Conveniently sending him only thoughts of how much he pleasures you… his hands gripping your ass, his fangs in your throat, his cock shoved to the hilt between your thighs or down your throat, the slick feeling of his cum or its rich and bitter tang….
And once he was satisfied, his presence would leave you, back to your own devices.
Even when he was home of late, he spent much of his time in the treasure vaults, counting and recounting your wealth… until he wandered back to your bed for sweet words of praise and pride in your victories… and for all the carnal ways he loved to consolidate that power with you.
And so, you were free to continue your little plan. You are free to complete your plan.
The eve before Yuletide, and you place a few finishing touches around the library. His favorite place. Not only because he was fond of books, but it is a room all of his own creation. A room free from the ghosts of Cazador’s abuse and violence.
A room all his own.
And now, you made it… festive. The air smells of fresh evergreen and holly, spiced rum punch and sugared sweets, candle smoke and… him. Of citrus and rosemary, that makes your mouth and your cunt wet. Your eyes peer out from the slit in the curtains, watching the snowdrifts billow up in the wind and weather, more flakes of white falling heavy in the night. All that soft, fresh fallen snow muffles the rattle of Astarion’s carriage as it glides up the drive.
Your heart leaps, your hand pulling the curtain back, making sure the light illumines behind you. Making sure he sees you wait for his return, his most beloved spawn in his most beloved room.
He is like shadow incarnate, his black cloak wrapped tightly around his body as it still flaps in the icy winds. Those crimson eyes catch your figure, backlit by the glow within, intrigued, suspicious, his smirking grin makes your quiver, even at this distance.
“Little love… whatever could you be up to?” His voice caresses your mind, sultry and purring to warm your soul.
“Oh, don’t be so cold, my love,” you throw back down the bond of your minds, “why not come and… make yourself warm?”
“Make myself…” he continues to purr even as he strides inside the doors to your palace, “…or permit you to warm me?”
“Come and find out, my darling…”
You can feel his approach, as if you travel as his shadow. Sensing the moment he undoes his clasp, the wet wool of his cloak flopping to the tile. Riding the movement of his legs as he climbs the stairs two at a time. Hearing the sniffs of that aquiline nose that makes a little growl resonate in his throat.
“What have you done?” he hisses into your mind, a pulse of rage and suspicion flaring down your bond.
“It will please you greatly,” you chide in reply, “as long as you overlook my loving disobedience.”
His presence pulls away, only because his hand tears the handle from the library door, the panes of its dark wood flying open to reveal him.
Where he fumes in the entrance.
Crimson eyes glow as he takes in the sight… the fresh scent of spices and sweets and evergreens making his nose turn up in disgust… his gaze scanning from the decorated mantle to the table of sweets, to where you await him near the window.
“My… defiant… little… consort,” he speaks steadily through his grit teeth. “Do you wish to tell me the meaning of all this before I punish you or will it be an extra sweet revelation I pry from you… during…?”
“Or, consider this, my love,” you give him a warm and sultry smile, “you let me, your beloved bride, your treasure, lavish you with some festive joy,” you gesture to the mantle and the table of spiced punch and sweets, “bestow upon you some adoring gifts to show my undying love for you,” you point to the two, small gift wrapped boxes waiting on the table, “and of course some very… merry… entertainment…” You would blush harder if it were possible, your hand tracing down the deep cut of your silken dressing gown. His crimson eyes darkening and dilating as it follows your touch on your own skin.
“You, of all people, my darling should know the dangers involved in tampering with the ghosts of the past that still haunt me…” he crosses the room in what feels like a single bound, his hands closing on your upper arms, his warm touch crushing you against his chest. “You are on some very thin ice… darling. Tread. Very. Carefully.”
“The Rogue I love wouldn’t shy from a fight, even against facing the ghosts that once tormented him,” you smirk up at his enraged face, you can feel his heart racing in a heady mix of emotion, see it throbbing in the veins of his neck. That powerful ascended heart. “Won’t you… at least open my gifts? Let me spoil you for once this Yuletide, as you have never been spoiled before…”
A single brow raises at that. “Well,” he sniffs, tilting his head, eyes falling to the boxes impeccably wrapped before him. “I do rather like being spoiled.” It was a quiet, begrudging sort of acquiescence. “And…” he sighed through his frowning, open mouth, “I suppose you did make a huge effort… even if it was a secret…” he hisses, suddenly giving you that gaze as if you are his next, most delicious meal, “…and disobedient… and deceptive sort of effort for me…”
You smile, such a saccharine look of innocence. “I’m glad you’re beginning to see it, my love.”
His hands fly to your chin, clasping around it before slinking down to claw gently around your neck. “I still expect much from you, darling, to make reparation for your… defiance, as loving as it might be.” You laugh, letting your throat vibrate beneath his touch, as he brings your lips in for a consuming kiss.
However brief.
He presses against your throat, breaking with that dark, conceited grin. “Now, my dearest pet,” he purrs, “impress me with your festive spirit…”
You give him that slightly pouting smile that seems to lower that haze of lust over his eyes. You keep his gaze locked, reaching for the large box,
wrapped in golden paper, tied with golden ribbon. He accepts it into his hands, sifting its weight, shaking it just a touch to feel something hefty sliding inside the container. Then, you see it, almost like the first trickle down an icicle as it starts to melt, the corner of his lips turns just a little higher.
His fingers grip the end of the bow, slowly unraveling it. “What is it?” he asks, a skeptical brow raised.
“The gift to help you chase away the ghost of Yuletide past, my love…” you grin, feeling so confident, so sure of your choices, of your knowledge of him more than he would even admit to his ascended self.
That wins you a twist of those full lips. Those crimson eyes flicker up to yours briefly as his long, dexterous fingers lift open the lid. “Is that a… crown?” pure amusement, voice tickled with the flattery only a perfect gift could give.
You reach your hands in, lifting the metal circlet from its box, the little interwoven strands of dark metal rising into little spikes. “Elegant and vicious,” you hum as you take it between your hands and raise it to rest on his tousle of silver hair. “Just like you, my roguish love.”
“Well if this is your idea of spoiling me with festive cheer…” he raises a brow, turning his head to test out the weight upon his head, “you’re exceeding my expectations.” He turns to the wall behind you, where you have draped boughs of holly leaves and blood red berries around the ornate and gilded mirror on the wall. A fixture in every room now, so he may bask in his own reflection when he wishes. He primps and preens before the glass, turning and twisting to view every angle.
“And I must say, you’ve really captured my power and prestige with something so deadly and…” He pauses lost to the silence as he lavishes in his own reflection, rubbing a finger over the sharpened edges of the points.
You sneak up behind him, where he is lost in his own reflection, that piercing red stare meets yours in the reflection. “A gift, reforged from the past… your old, sadistic master’s dagger, melted down to make you into the sovereign you have always deserved to be…”
He pouts, dramatic and whining and most of all, fake, “A dagger for a crown?” Sighing, he turns quickly to capture you in his arms. “I’ll say, it is the only acceptable repurposing of a blade. You’re lucky I love you so much, if you’re going to be turning my weapons into jewelry…” He presses his lips against your neck, “But even a crown worthy of my handsome head won’t spare you from your own recompense.”
“For my loving disobedience,” you laugh, arching your neck to expose even more of your skin. “And perhaps, you should open your second gift, my love, before you settle on any ideas of exacting such delicious… retribution. Especially now that your chilled heart seems to have thawed.”
“Me?” he rasps into your ear, “cold? Chilled? Cheeky little pup… do you forget that my heart beats now, my skin warmed over as your ascended lord?”
“Hmmmm,” you sigh, “why don’t you open that second gift, a little something to help you embrace the spirit of your Yuletide present and future with me, your own… forever…”
“Oh,” he smirked, wicked and ravenous, “if you’re my gift… and all the many ways I can play with you, I doubt you’ll fit in any little box, darling.” he gave a loud giggle, “but I can imagine how festive you would look… all wrapped up in ribbon…”
You feel his hands wandering over your body, his touch seeping its warmth through the fabric of your dress as he does wrap you in arms and presses you against his unyielding body.
“My little treat, ready to be unwrapped once she’s been very… very… good to me,” he growls in your ear. Shivers racing down your spine as you giggle. Your stomach flips upside down, despite the months of this… of being his, forever. Your body still gives you away with each encounter.
And you grin like a lovesick fool, reaching to the table beside you for that second, smaller package.
He palms its wrapped sides in a single hand, the other remains clutched firmly around your waist with his hand curved hard over the swell of your ass. He smirks, dark and playful, as he bites into the end of the bow and tugs the black silken ribbon apart with those gleaming fangs. The silk slides, no resistance as the bow comes apart in his mouth.
You know that feeling all too well. Of coming apart at the command of those teeth or lips or tongue… You love that feeling. Crave that feeling.
He lets it drop from his teeth to flutter to the floor, a finger flicking open the top of the box to fall to the same fate. Then his brows furrow, he lips drawing in a smile so wide, those perfect teeth glint in the flickering warmth of the firelight.
“My, my…” he purrs, lifting his touch from your backside to fish out the gift within.
It’s coiled, wrapped around itself, this long strand of thick and smooth, a long velvet ribbon, as crimson as his own eyes.
“Perhaps our minds are shared more than the bond formed when you made me, my love,” you taunt, a lilt in your voice as you press into him harder, letting the curves of your breast flatten, the panting of your belly push into his. “Now… are you going to finally let that cold, beating heart of yours be melted by Yuletide warmth?”
He cocks a brow, tilting his crowned head at that rakish angle, hand returning to claw around the base of chin. That free set of eager fingers slipping the gifted ribbon from the box. You gasp as those fingers pull you against his lips. He sucks and caresses with all the hunger that flares under his touch and behind his eyes. “I think I’d rather watch you melt, watch you puddle on my fingers and come when I say, my consort, beloved but also naughty.”
“Sounds like you’re burning to use your gifts, my love…” you growl between his lips. “My lover with the warm touch and the ice in his heart, a bit different than before, my love….” You rake your nails into his hair. “Now I can make you warm all over.”
He chuckles, his grasp easing around your throat, winding to the back of your neck to tilt you open for his tongue all the more. “Sounds like you’re missing that icy touch of your undead rogue, my treasure,” he snaps in return, biting down on your lower lip just enough to draw blood.
“And what are you going to do to remedy that?” you reply, a little moan coloring your voice as his hands begin tearing off your clothes.
“Shh, shh, shh,” he taps his thumb over your swollen lips. “Not a sound, not if you wish to earn my forgiveness, and perhaps receive a little sort of gift of your own in return…” you shudder in his arms, the only reply needed for him to flash you that feral, twisted grin. “Then lay down, my love, and warm yourself by the flames of the fire.”
A hand tugs apart the last laces from your dress, sliding the sleeves from your shoulders. “Oh, and you won’t be needing any of that now…” Your silken gown becomes a silken puddle around your feet. Your skin turns to gooseflesh as he scores his nails down your sides. He snaps his gift, your velvet ribbon, between his hands. “Get comfortable, my treasure, while you still can…”
His gaze scalds you, intensity beyond even your expectations. He is about to enjoy this… and you are too.
He lets you settle on the puddle of furs, the thick white skin of some animal that lines the floor before the fire. Back turned on you, he busies himself at the table of sweets and punch, the clatter of dishes enough to make you smile; he is indulging. You lounge, letting the light flicker over your flesh, letting the fire warm your skin, a cascade of heat over your back and shoulders and ass. One that almost rivals the heat that puddles and pools between your folds.
“Hurry,” you mewl, rubbing your thighs together. “I’m burning for you…”
“Don’t worry, my greedy pet,” he snickers from the table of refreshments, his back to you, purposefully hiding just what he is busying his hands with. You hear the silver spoon stirring the bowl of punch, the clatter of metal and the clacking of ice cubes as he chuckles to himself. “I’m confident there are many ways to cool that lust in your veins, darling.”
He turns slowly, his face leering at you, you see why he has suddenly begun a low rumbling laugh in his chest, a small glass holds a few of the cubes of ice, your velvet ribbon hangs over his wrist, and his eyes glow with that simmering power that crawls beneath his skin. Stalking towards you, you flash him your own fanged smile, running your fingers through the lush fur that cradles your naked form.
Astarion steps over you as you lie on your back, settling down to straddle your belly, making you work for every breath beneath his weight. “Now, for the toughest decision, just what sense to control as your reparation for such a willing… if loving… transgression.” He sets the ice down at his side, the silk of his breeches strained taught with his arousal as he covers you with his body. “Do I take away your sight to awaken all your other senses, do I gag that pretty little mouth of yours to make your screams deeper and richer… or do I bind your hands and make you crave only my touch for your release.”
He trails the soft, fluttering edge of the ribbon up and down your belly, your eyes following it, drawn to the way it makes your gaze flicker to his own straining cock. You snigger, gripping your nails shamelessly into his hips, running them down his thighs hard enough to score his flesh. Stopping only once you cup that erection you crave.
“I guess that seals your fate, my love,” he licks his lips, gripping your offending hands by the wrists to stretch them overhead. The velvet caresses your skin, soft and cool as he snugs it around you, tethering them together and binding them around the leg of the chair nearest you.
It wouldn’t hold you captive, not for real, but this… this was for fun… delightful divertisment to help him rekindle his… festive spirit.
And as he leans over you, satisfied with the work of his skilled fingers to bind your hands above your head, you moan when he slips his legs between yours. Prying you wider, grinding that confined erection against you, the slippery feel of his silken pants soaking with your arousal.
Wet and warm before the fire, every nerve ignites under his attention, flaming with your need to have his skin against yours. “Seems unfair,” you try to whine as your voice ripples more as a whimper, “for me to be so… unwrapped and ready for you to enjoy.”
“You’re going to have to beg and plead more sweetly than that, my darling,” he smirks against your whining mouth, capturing it with his. You taste the burst of flavors on his tongue, the sweet and spices of the punch, his tongue cool in your mouth from having imbibed it.
Just like old times. You shudder and moan to feel it tangle with your own, that flavorful concoction, the tingle of alcohol spiking your senses. “Mmm, delicious,” you moan against his fangs.
“Not as delicious as it will be as I taste you, my pet. Be a good little consort, plead so prettily, and you’ll get everything you desire tonight.” He gives a little extra, hips undulating into your slick, his breeches undoubtably ruined by your arousal. You groan at that ferocity, that untamable hunger. And you, you buck your hips to ride that friction. You give him what he wants, a loud mewl of your pleasure to tickle his punch-coated tongue.
“Very good,” he smirks, raising back to his knees. “I’d ask you to help me…” he taunts, rubbing his hand down the front of his decadently embroidered jacket, slowly letting his buttons free one at a time. “… but you seem already… tied up…”
“Oh, you must be feeling merry to throw such taunting puns at me, my love,” you smile.
“Hush, love,” he grins wickedly, tossing that jacket to the side, the firelight dancing over his ivory skin, rippling over all the rises and ridges of his torso. “Or if you insist on that insolent mouth teasing me, I might just have to find something with which to gag you.”
You smirk, hungry and defiant, as you stick out your tongue. A taunt. And an invitation.
“If you wish,” he growls happily, hands quick to unbutton his breeches. A split second, and he frees that cock, drips of his seed already seeping from its tip. You keep your tongue dangling as he scoots forward straddling your shoulders, until your mouth has nothing more to do than let him in.
With a groan, he thrusts into that familiar wet. Head thrown back, but not so far as to risk that magnificent crown to tumble off. He’s slow, languorous, savoring the way you’ve taken him so well. “Such a good little consort, earning your penance and more…” One hand knots in your hair at the crown of your head, the other you can’t see.
But you hear his movements, that dull clank of ice cubes on glass. And suddenly, you gasp, that frigid cold in his invisible grip, trailing its cold up your thigh. He’s so quick, his face scrutinizing your slacked mouth as he continues to fuck your throat, a twist of total delight on his lips as you shiver.
That is your only warning, the only inkling of his devious intentions before he slips that cube of ice between your folds. His mouth grins so wide, you see every tooth, his pleasure cemented as he thrusts between your moaning lips. Your body fights against his pinning weight. Thrusts begin to accelerate, timed with the swirls of that ice as he circles faster over your clit.
You feel the water beginning to drip, same as your slick, and your body shudders, heated by the fire and his body, frozen between your thighs as he still sweeps the melting ice through your seam.
Wave after wave consumes you, total swept away by the play of hot and cold, the merry dance of ice and fire that crashes through your body. It makes your buck and writhe, panting and choking on his cock between your cheeks. He withdraws a bit to let you savor your pleasure, pouring those praises over you once more, “Perfect, my treasure, coming for me so hard and beautifully.”
He chuckles, stroking his fingers through your long hair, lifting your head for a few really slow, really deep thrusts. Ones that you curve your tongue around and suck hard until you gag.
“Yes…” he growls, taking his cock back in his hand as he withdraws it from your now swollen lips, “good girl, so delicious… I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson of loving disobedience.”
“Savored the fruits of it, more like…” you grin, sultry, desirous, licking your lips clean of his juices that have already snuck out to coat your lips, your tongue.
That ice, so much smaller already, skates up your mound, your belly, settling it in your navel. “Astarion,” you screech as he leaves it there, as the chill settles over where you crave the heat and weight of pelvis, where you wish for him to crush you and fuck you.
“So greedy, little love,” he purrs. “And isn’t I who should be the greedy one? Denied any semblance of Yuletide joy for so long?”
“Then be… greedy… be naughty, and I will be very, very nice,” you giggle, deep in your throat as you watch him sliding down to settle between your burning thighs.
But not before he sneaks another ice cube from the cup. You lose track of it… until he grins with his mouth spread wide, his gleaming teeth biting down on that piece of ice, shining like crystal in the firelight. You shiver in anticipation. Waiting, watching for just what he might do next.
Angling down agonizingly slowly, his eyes lock into yours, his mouth aiming that fragment of ice for your already straining taught nipples. You scream again, bucking and writhing as the cold shoots right through you, racing down your every nerve. He laughs, taking that cube back inside his mouth, swirling that ice-cold tongue now over your flesh, sucking it hard between his lips.
“I will be undone, my love…” you groan, arching under his tongue.
“That’s the point,” he laughs darkly taking out that cube to rub over your other aching nipple as he teases and toys with it, “be undone before you’ll be… unwrapped, my darling.”
It steals your breath, making you writhe and tug against your binds as you feel every shiver down your spine consuming every sensation. Then he sets the ice, nearly gone back in your navel.
Heavy-lidded, Astarion licks his lips, dragging his tongue over his fang, announcing his next desire loud and clear.
“Hungry? Then get to it, greedy love,” you squirm and squeal as he gives a bite on your breast, just enough to bring a little blood to the surface. “Hgnf,” you groan as he drinks from you, those little hums and noises he makes as he feeds bring even more arousal pooling between your thighs.
You feel his cock hardening even more, as if that was possible, the union of your bloods, that tremor down your bond as he feeds from you, chin red with your essence. It makes him grind against your mound, cock twitching, a mind of its own to find that wet and clenching pressure he craves more than anything.
You feel that slow undulation, the tip of his length slipping into your folds, teasing just an inch inside you. The chair above your head scrapes across the floor, the ribbon snapping as you struggle against your binds. “Please,” you beg, “free me. I want you… I need you.”
“And why should I release you early?” he asks, barely raising his head from the pillow of your breast as he still laps at your blood. Eyes closed. As if he is too preoccupied to watch your agony. Even though you feel his smiling lips against your skin. “Just what would you do… if… I set you free?”
“Touch you…” you pant, feeling his cock dipping in and out again, shallowly. But he stills, unsatisfied.
“And?” he goads, slowing his tongue, eyes flickering up briefly at last.
“Cling to those powerful scars on your back, trace them since I know them all…”
Another dip inside your channel, slowly still but deeper as he withdraws equally slow.
“…and?” he smirks, licking his bloodied lips and chin.
You give a laugh, heavy with your need. “Clean your face from my blood, you messy thing…”
“Hmm,” he smirks wider, the lights catching in the red of his eyes as he scans your pale skin, where you pant and squirm beneath him. “Tempting, but…”
“Worship you,” you interrupt, “caress every inch of your ivory skin, grip hard into the clenching power of your ass as you fuck me… finally, run my fingers through your hair to keep that perfect crown on your perfect head…”
His lips twitch just once, a single arm reaching for that ribbon as the velvet release from your wrists. You groan, finally… finally touching him again, your voice rasping in your throat as he sheathes himself in fully. Already he commands a punishing pace, but you are so on fire for him, you crave it. You ride it all, legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your hands clutched into his hair, pinning that crown in place.
A good thing too, his body shaking as he loses all his control. His rhythm is feral and driven, giving no regard to anything other than filling you with his cock and making you burst with his cum. But he watches, arms pressed into the floor as his eyes drink in that sight of you. The way your bosoms sway, coated in his spit and your blood as they glisten in the soft light. The way your eyes lock into his, flickering every now and then to watch the way his pale cock spears harder and harder into you.
You snicker, a wicked idea in your head as you glance to the last cube of ice in the glass. “You wouldn’t dare…” he groans inside your head. But it’s too late. You’ve already snagged that chilling, hard lump, tracing it down the planes of his belly as you reach between you.
“Oh, I would…”
You have to be quick, but he lets you… his flawless reflexes could stop you… if he wants.
But instead he just groans so loudly as you press that ice at the base of his cock. Caressing whatever length of him doesn’t thrust inside as he fucks.
He shivers, his arms shaking as he lowers down on top of you. That crown falls into the furs at your side, but he doesn’t care. His mouth devours yours, his grunts and pants as you bring him to climax deafen you, reverberating inside your mouth.
And as the melting ice drips to your seam, you follow him into that wave of pleasure. Heat and ice, fire and cold blast through your bodies. His thrusts are merciless, slamming hard against the end of your channel, the pain adding to the heady mix that steals your breath and sends his name screaming from your lips.
He stills inside you, your greedy walls squeezing out the last of his cum, working against the twitching pulses of his cock. Resting his hot, damp forehead in the nook of your shoulder, he struggles to catch his breath. Nuzzling closer, you feel his warmth saturating your flesh, your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders as he lays on you and in you.
“I… should thank you, my love,” he whispers, that tenderness he saves for your ears alone. “You never give up on me, never allow me to remain trapped, haunted by those ghosts of my past… however tormenting they may be. You have… done more than make my heart to beat again, to teach me how to love again. For centuries, at this time of year… I wanted nothing more than to take one of those stalks of holly and ram it like a stake through… his heart.”
Cazador’s. He won’t say it. Can’t say it.
“But with you, perhaps it is something just the two of us may… enjoy. To savor…”
“My love,” you whisper, placing a kiss into those silken, gleaming silver locks, “you don’t need to use Yuletide as a reason to wrap me up in pretty ribbons.”
“It is rather pretty, isn’t it?” he chuckles as he raises his head, “not as magnificent as this, however…” His hand closes around that metal circlet, replacing it crookedly on his silver hair. On that head made for a crown. “Seems like you’ll need one of your own, my little consort.”
“I’m open to all sorts of gifts from you…” you purr, catching his chin to bring his mouth to yours.
“Perhaps you need me to give it to you again, my darling?” he speaks into your lips. “Another lesson for me in finding the warmth of Yuletide? I might still feel a bit frozen in the heart, if you’re not thorough, you know…”
“Avernus would freeze over before I abandon you to such a fate, gods bless it…” you catch his lips in your mouth, a good long suck in that thick lower one as you nip it gently in your fangs. Tasting the richness of his blood, the thrumming of his power that rides his essence.
“Then gods bless it,” he growls, hand catching tightly around your chin, a slight drag of his still hardened cock inside you, “every time.”
179 notes · View notes
gilears · 5 months
Text
my brother: [has never read any of my fic ever, barely knows what d20 is, but has been sitting with me playing stardew while i do final edits on o&2]
my brother: you're like these peoples jigsaw
70 notes · View notes
cissyenthusiast010155 · 5 months
Text
Daddy’s Bunny ~Daddy!Alex Cabot xFem Bunny!Wife!Reader ~Holiday Bingo
Tumblr media
Summary— Alex comes home while Readers working on some holiday cards, but Alex has other things on her mind…
Previous Day <—found here!
Holiday Bingo <—Here!!
Tumblr media
Mommy… Master List
Requests & Prompt-List
Prompt— Holiday Cards
Warnings: NSFW, smut, clit stimulation, teasing, implied oral sex, daddy kink, bunny play, light pet play, teasing, taunting, physical affection, stress, stress relief, implied future smut, etc.
Enjoy (;
You sat at your dining table, unwrapping your holiday cards that had newly arrived after the new year, as you heard the front door creak open.
The sound was proceeded by the door being closed and locked, and your wife walking into the kitchen. She came up behind you, placing her hands on your shoulder, bending down and giving you a kiss to your cheek.
“Mmmmm hi Alex” you hummed, leaning into her close presence.
“Hi Darling…” she hummed back.
Alex then pulled away to put her things down and take her coat off, before coming back to you and joining you at the table. Her hands were intertwined and placed on the dining table, and her eyes watched you as you were stuffing your holiday cards into envelopes.
“Holiday cards came…?” The blonde asked.
“Yep” you said, nodding and then looking at her.
Alex reached out her hand to you, offering her help to put the cards in their envelopes and write the corresponding addresses on them. You nodded with a smile, handing the woman the stuffed envelopes, a pen, and the list of names and addresses.
“How was work?” You asked.
“Long…” Alex sighed, “You?”
“Fine.” You sighed yourself, “Wanna talk about it…?” You asked caringly.
The woman shook her head. You sighed and nodded in understanding.
“That’s alright, babe. It’s okay” you reassured the blonde.
Alex broke my sighed and nodded.
“Thank you…” she mumbled, stopping her administrations to the envelopes for a moment to meet your gaze.
You tilted your head lightly and nodded.
“Of course.”
You then brought one of your hands out and over the table to Alex’s closest hand, enveloping it with your own and squeezing it reassuringly. Alex closed her eyes and sighed in relief at your touch.
“Why don’t we take a break? Do this later…? You look like you haven’t eaten all day…” you concerningly suggested.
Alex waved your suggestion off with her hand and her shaking head.
“Can’t eat right now… But…” She stopped mid sentence, halting her words from leaving her tongue, but not stopping working on the holiday cards.
You now took both of the woman’s hands into your own, making her stop and look at you.
“But…? Talk to me, baby… what’s up?” You gently pled with the woman.
“But, I could use my bunny’s help…” Alex whispered.
You gasped lightly and your eyes widened a little. You immediately nodded in understanding. You got up from your chair and walked around the table, then swiveling Alex’s chair, so that you were right in front of her. Dropping to your knees, you looked up at the woman.
“Your bunny would love to help Daddy…” you purred.
The fact that you immediately understood and just went into a power position for the woman made Alex already start to feel better. Her hand went down to your chin, cupping it to crane your head farther up.
You happily purred into the woman’s hand, happy to have any and all contact with her.
“Why don’t we move to the couch at least, bunny hmmmm…?” Alex cooed, her eyes darkened.
Your eyes were eager and your heart was racing. You nodded vigorously, immediately getting up from your knees and scrambling to the couch. Your eagerness made Alex smile.
You sat yourself on the edge of the couch, sitting on your legs expectantly for the woman. Alex sat in the middle of the couch and patted her lap, commanding you to come to her lap. You nodded and practically scrambled into her lap. You then looked at her expectantly, awaiting for her next command.
But instead of telling you to do anything, Alex’s gaze takes over your frame. You could feel her eyes taking their time in enjoying every part of you. Then you felt her fingers slip under your shorts and past your underwear, two of her digits soaking themselves in your slick.
You shiver as her fingers ran up and down your increasingly wet core. Her entire deamnor of exhaust seems to sweep away as she felt your core.
Her bunny always made Alex feel better…
“You’re already wet, bunny…” Alex sighed, “Tell Daddy who’s it all for…” she purred with a darker edge to her tone.
“You Daddy!” You chirped, ���All for you”
Alex smirked and chuckled lightly.
“You are daddy’s good little bunny… hmmmmm…?” Alex hummed lustfully.
You bit your bottom lip and nodded enthusiastically, humming eagerly in response.
“Mhmmmm yes…! I’m Daddy’s Bunny—”
Alex’s digits picked up some of your wetness from your entrance and then brought it up to your clit, starting to make tight yet teasing circles around your bundle of nerves.
“Good bunny.” Alex purred, praising you.
You sucked in a gasp, sitting up straight at first, but then the pleasure hit you, and you collapsed on top of your wife, your hands grasping at her shoulders to hold you steady in her lap. You let out a desperate, breathy coo of delight and pleasure, as your hips started to jerk and grind against Alex’s hand.
Her fingers began to tease your entrance, making you whimper and coo even more. She continued to go back and forth between teasing your entrance and teasing your clit, making you wetter and wetter…
“Daddy loves watching you get all riled up” Alex cooed, “Bunny looks so pretty for Daddy as Daddy unravels you…”
You groaned into Alex’s shoulder as her words were breathily whispered into your ear, and her fingers teased you harder and faster. Your body began grinding faster against Alex’s hand as a result, until your eyes were rolling to the back of your head and you were quickly approaching your high.
But before you could even begin to beg for it, Alex removed her hand from in between your legs. She popped her fingers in her mouth and groaned as she licked them clean. You looked at her with shock and a pout.
“But… Daddy…” you pouted.
Alex gave you a pointed and wary look.
“None of that. Daddy’s bunny takes what she’s given like a good girl…” Alex warily purred.
You frowned but nodded.
“Yes Daddy…”
“Good. Now bend over my lap, bunny” she ordered.
You immediately followed her command, bending over her lap and sticking your ass up in the air expectantly for your wife.
But instead of the spanks like you were expecting, Alex’s hand spread your legs further and came in between your legs from behind. Her digits slipped underneath your clothing once more and found your soaked core, beginning to tease it once more. You whimpered and cooed out in pleasure as her torturous teasing started back up again.
It didn’t take long for you to get close to the edge again… and this time, she did want to hear you beg.
“D-daddy— daddy please…!! Please Daddy—!” You whimpered and pled.
“Awwww, poor bunny… But you haven’t earned it… You haven’t helped Daddy…” Alex cooed tauntingly.
Your lips trembled and you fought the urge to cum surging inside you like a tsunami wave. Tears were starting to well up in your eyes.
“P-please… can’t hold it Daddy…!!” You sobbed desperately.
Suddenly, Alex’s hands were gone, her touch’s ghost to your body.
“No Daddy no!!” You yelped, immediately sitting up in the woman’s lap and gaping at her in shock.
But as you met her gaze, Alex eyes sparkled… She had tricked you. You were so fucked… The blonde woman smirked wickedly.
“Bad bunny…” she scolded you tauntingly, “Daddy has a bad day and all you do is be selfish and try to make Daddy please you…”
Your breath hitched and you went red. Your gaze looked down and your lip trembled again.
“Mmm sorry Daddy…” you whimpered.
Alex gave you a mocking pout in response, tilted her head and better her eyelashes at you.
“Poor bunny…” she mocked you, then chuckled, “On your knees.” Alex commanded, indicating that you get off the couch and kneel right in front of her.
She then grabbed your chin and held it up to her gaze.
“Make Daddy feel good and you might be allowed release…” Alex cooed wickedly.
You gulped and nodded, going to open your wife’s legs.
~~~
Next Bingo Fic <—Here!!
Tumblr media
Alex Cabot Masterlist
Holiday Bingo 2023 Masterlist
Tag List: @storiesofsvu @aemilia19 @tryingmybest233333 @willowshadenox @lunala-rose23 @principal-weems09 @athenodora-sulpicia-writer @vexed-jade
101 notes · View notes
thelovelylolly · 6 months
Text
Mistletoe
Tumblr media
Summary: But I'ma be under the mistletoe... Warnings: none :) Notes: OKAY OKAY I KNOW ITS A JUSTIN BEIBER SONG BUT LIKE IGNORE THAT OKAY? OKAY
It was Robin who had dragged you to Steve's holiday party. Knowing Steve, you expected a packed house with alcohol and decorations being trashed, but you were wrong. It was just your friend group, along with some of the younger kids. It was nice to just relax and enjoy the holiday spirit with all of them.
But you could tell something was up with Robin. You had known her since middle school, so you could read her like a book. She seemed to be a bit more...on edge, maybe? She kept glancing around the room, bouncing her leg and biting her nails. She constantly kept looking at Steve, who would just nod towards her.
Your best guess was she planned something with Steve and was just anxious to make sure everything went right. Now, you just had to figure out what it was.
You excused yourself from your conversation with Nancy to refill your cup. You went into the kitchen and started to pour some punch from the punchbowl into your cup. You heard footsteps approach and you glanced up to see Steve.
"Hey, Steve. This is a nice little get together," you said with a smile, leaning against the counter.
"Yeah, glad you could make it," he replied, filling his own cup up with punch.
"Probably wouldn't have come if Robin didn't convince me."
Steve took a sip of his drink then turned to you. "So, uh, what do you think of Robin?"
You giggled. "She's my best friend, I love her to pieces. Why do you ask?"
"Umm, no reason, just curious," he quickly replied. He glanced at the living room and you followed his gaze.
Robin was looking at you two, and when you caught her, she quickly looked away and started talking to Nancy. You smiled.
"Yeah, I love her to pieces."
----
The party/get together went on and some of the younger kids had to go home as the night dragged on. You floated from conversation to conversation, just sipping your punch and enjoying your friends' presence. But tiredness caught up with you and yawns slipped in. Eventually, you decided to go home.
"Let me walk you to your car," Robin quickly said after you stood up and said goodbye.
You smiled at her and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Robin stopped in the doorway of the entryway while you started to wrap yourself up in your coat and scarf. You paused, looking at her.
"You okay, Rob?" You asked softly.
"Oh, um, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"It's just...you kinda seemed off tonight," you stepped closer, "like, a little on edge."
Robin sighed. "Do you want me to be completely honest?"
You nodded, and she went on. "It's just...I finally worked up the courage to tell you something, but when you got here, it all went out the window. I mean, I even planned something with Steve to help with telling you, so I couldn't really not do it."
You glanced up at the door frame and tilted your head to the side. "Robin-"
"All night, I've been trying to find my courage again, but seeing you just being yourself made things hard. Not in a bad way, of course, but...I didn't want to mess things up. I didn't want to ruin your night, or anyone's night."
"Rob-"
"I guess I'm trying to say that I have something to tell you, but I don't know if I-"
"Robin! Look!" You cut her off, pointing up at the door frame. She did and saw the mistletoe taped to it.
"Oh, so that's where he put it," she said.
"That's where...? Robin, is this what Steve helped you with? Is this why he asked me what I thought about you?"
You both looked down and met the other's gaze. You could see Robin start to blush, and you smiled.
"Do you wanna kiss me?" You asked, stepping closer.
Robin nodded her head. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her close before smashing your lips to hers. You could tell she was hesitant, so you pulled away after a second.
"You okay?" You asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good- great. I'm great," she answered with a laugh. "It's just...I don't know, this is all kinda crazy, I guess?"
"Crazy how?" You started to play with the collar of her sweater, smiling at her.
"Never expected to be kissing you."
"I can say the same thing, but here we are. And, uh, you said you'd walk me to my car."
Robin smiled. "Right, yeah, but one more thing."
"Hm?"
"You can tell me if I'm going too far with this, but I feel like this is the perfect time to tell you that...I love you. And I have, for a while."
Your hands fell from her shoulders and you intertwined your fingers with hers. "I love you, too, Rob."
You both smiled as you led her out the door and walked to your car. You two were both giddy from the kiss and from just each other's presence. When you reached your car, you let go of her hand and grabbed your keys from your pocket. You opened your door and turned to her before you got in.
"By the way, the mistletoe was a cute idea," you said.
"Really? I didn't want it to be too cheesy," Robin replied, hugging herself in the cold.
You took a step closer, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Y-yeah, okay."
You got into your car and left. Robin stayed out in the cold, watching your car disappear into the night. She smiled to herself, blushing as she kicked some snow on the ground. She wondered back into the house, eager for your call tomorrow.
--------
lovely's holiday special
65 notes · View notes
writing-hat · 5 months
Text
I wrote some lava fluff.
it is basically Kai and Cole overcoming their fear of water! Since Cole used to be a ghost, and Kai is just. terrified of that.
And they do that together<3
enjoy!
52 notes · View notes
instantpansies · 5 months
Text
WOAG!!! TWO CHAPTERS BE UPON YE!!!
happy new year!!!!!! read the enemies to lovers angst hurt no comfort 200k hellsite hall of fame x perry the platypus holiday special HERE!!!! (starting at the first new chapter)
@hellsite-hall-of-fame @hellsite-hall-of-girlfriend @hellsite-hungergames
39 notes · View notes
Text
CFWC Holidays 2023 - Week 6
Tumblr media
✒️= Fanfic | 📱= Text Fics/Edits | 🎨= Fanart Ⓜ️ = Mature Content 18+ | 🔥 = Explicit/NSFW 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 = LGBTQIA | 🌟= Holidays 2023
BIG SKY COUNTRY
The Christmas Tree ✒️🌟| Sawyer Oakley x MC - @eadanga
THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY
The Christmas Gift ✒️🌟| Cole Stone x F!MC - @eadanga
BLADES OF LIGHT AND SHADOW
Beneath the Mistletoe ✒️🎨🌟| Blades F!MC, MC - art by @callmebeem fic by @storyofmychoices
CRIMES OF PASSION
Airport ✒️🌟| Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @stars-are-within-me for @jerzwriter
Angel ✒️🌟| Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @stars-are-within-me for @jerzwriter
Cookies ✒️🌟| Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @stars-are-within-me for @jerzwriter
Out of the Rain ✒️🌟| Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @trappedinfanfiction
Trystan Thorne x F!MC Fanart 🎨🌟 by @fairymatchmaker
Trystan Thorne x F!MC Holiday Fanart 🎨🌟by @hydn-jpg for @a-cloud-for-dreams
Trystan Thorne x MC 🎨🏳️‍🌈🌟by @choices-ceri
Well Timed Levity ✒️🌟| Trystan Thorne x F!MC - @moominofthevalley
LAWS OF ATTRACTION
The Blizzard ✒️🌟| Gabe Ricci x F!MC - @eadanga
Partner ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Joaquin Morales x NB!MC - @noesapphic for @hydn-jpg
THE NANNY AFFAIR
Christmas Romance ✒️🌟| Sam Dalton x MC - @eadanga
OPEN HEART
A Cozy Christmas ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Ethan Ramsey x M!MC - @storyofmychoices for @peonyblossom
A Tall Order ✒️🎨🌟| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Art by @weetlebeetle Fic by @jerzwriter for @zealouscanonindeer
Among Presents ✒️🌟| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @ladylamrian for @peonierose
Falling for You ✒️🎨🌟| Tobias Carrick x F!MC - art by @weetlebeetle fic by @jerzwriter
The Greatest Gift ✒️🎨🌟| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - @storyofmychoices
Holiday Cheer ✒️🎨🌟| F!MC, F!MC, F!OC Art by @weetlebeetle Fic by @storyofmychoices
Impossibly Perfect ✒️🎨🌟| Bryce Lahela x F!OC - art by @/artsy-elii (IG) fic by @storyofmychoices
Lahela Christmas 🎨🌟| Bryce Lahela x F!OC by @/artsy-elii (IG) (C:@storyofmychoices)
Oh, Christmas Tree ✒️🌟| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @socalwriterbee
Rafael Aveiro Holiday Art 🎨🌟 by @sazanes
Santa (or not) ✒️🌟| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @trappedinfanfiction
The Secret Gift ✒️🌟| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @zealouscanonindeer
You're All I Need ✒️Ⓜ️🔥🌟| Ethan Ramsey x F!MC - @liaromancewriter
THE ROYAL ROMANCE
Auld Lang Syne ✒️🌟| Drake Walker x MC - @angelasscribbles
Ball Drop ✒️🌟| Drake Walker x F!MC - @angelasscribbles
Blame it on the Mistletoe | Liam Rys x F!OC - @kristinamae093 ✒️🌟
Liam Rys x MC Holiday Art 🎨🌟 by @rosefuckinggenius (C: @kristinamae093)
CROSSOVERS
Immortal Desires / It Lives Anthology
Jouluyö - Christmas Night ✒️🏳️‍🌈🌟| Various Pairings - @aallotarenunelma
22 notes · View notes
loslotharios · 2 years
Text
The way that Mantis jumping into impersonator!Captain America's arms implies that that's how she'd greet the real Steve
Tumblr media
AND THAT IMPLIES they became bffs in the short time between the Endgame fight and him going back in time?????
286 notes · View notes
bookishbrigitta · 2 months
Link
If you were curious about where my recent Might-as-well Monday and WIP Wednesday posts were going...
Only a select few frequencies were allowed to bypass the ‘do not disturb’ setting and only in truly urgent circumstances. She stumbled out of bed and answered in a panicked haze. It wasn’t until she had picked up and began to hear the caller that she even registered who it was.
“Lumpy?”
The one where our favorite heroes get the “I’m at a party, and I’m too drunk to drive home and too scared to tell my parents” phone call from their nephew Lumpawarrump.
6 notes · View notes
aces-and-angels · 5 months
Text
WIP Wednesday
on a saturday- bc time ain't real 😗✌🏼 ty @starlight-starfury for the tag!
i've got a few that have been in the vault for quite a bit- might as well unleash them out into the wild. here's a few snippets for abel x mc, jocelyn x mc, and lincoln x mc:
---
abel x f!mc:
"Did she like the conchas?"
Abel had his phone wedged between his shoulder and ear, his hands occupied with grading his latest batch of term papers. "Yes, Mercedes, she liked them," he chuckled faintly as he marked an error he found with his red pen. "How many questions are you gonna ask me?
"As many as I can think of! I can't believe you told Cesar that you had girl over before you told me," she whined.
"He called home first. And I did not 'have a girl over,' I just had a friend visit. That's all."
"At night," she added suggestively.
"She went home."
"But you wanted her to stay, didn't you?" She teased in a sing-song voice. He took one second too long to respond. "Ha! I knew it! You like her."
"I do not!" Abel felt his cheeks grow warm despite his protests. Suddenly, he was very thankful that they were talking over the phone. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice a touch softer than before. "But...What if I did?"
A high pitched squeal rang through his speakers, making him jerk his phone away from his ears.
---
jocelyn x f!mc:
“You really get up at 4 AM... to run?” Rowan stared at Jocelyn, perplexed. 
“Yep,” she answered plainly.
“Every day?”
“Uh-huh,” she nodded, taking a sip from her water bottle. 
“On purpose?”
“Burke, do you have a problem with how I spend my day?” Jocelyn spat out defensively. 
“N-no,” Rowan squawked, “I’m just- y’know, impressed.” 
She cocked an eyebrow at them. “Why?” 
“Most people don’t have that kind of discipline.”
“Most people are idiots,” she countered flatly. Rowan laughed at her dry tone. Jocelyn quickly turned her head away, but not before Rowan caught sight of her lip quirking upwards. “I, uh- I gotta get to class,” she muttered, slinging her backpack over her shoulders. “See you around, Burke.” She waved over her shoulder. 
“See ya,” Rowan mumbled, watching Jocelyn's hair bounce slightly with each step. 
---
lincoln x m!mc:
“You never went to prom?!” Rowan shrieked, his eyes wide with disbelief. A few heads turn in his direction at his sudden outburst. He shrunk back into his seat, mouthing ‘sorry’ to the disgruntled restaurant patrons. Clearing his throat, he lowers his voice to a more appropriate volume. “Why not?” 
Lincoln simply shrugged, unbothered. “Couldn’t even if I wanted to. I spent the last half of my senior year at a military school. They weren’t big on throwing social events. Or any events really.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, averting his gaze. A bitter taste lingered in his mouth- he hadn’t meant to bring up such a sore subject. Especially not while they were on a date. The familiar weight of Lincoln’s palm on his cheek brought his eyes back to him.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “It’s just one night. Now c’mon or we’ll miss the movie.” He slid out of the booth and offered his hand expectantly. 
With a small smile, he laced his fingers through his. “Alright, let’s go.” Hand in hand, they made their way out to his motorcycle parked out front. Like clockwork, they both slipped on their helmets and swung their legs over the seat. 
“Hold on tight, love.” Lincoln’s voice is slightly drowned out from the roar of the engine revving to life, but Rowan hears him just fine. Wrapping his arms around his frame, he pulled his chest tight against his back, relishing the warmth of his body. Only when he gave him a small squeeze did Lincoln pull out of the parking lot to drive to the theater. A comfortable silence fell between them, which allowed Rowan’s mind wander as the sounds of traffic faded from his focus.
Memories of his own prom night come up to the surface. Originally, he hadn’t planned on attending. But Amalia’s persistence was a very powerful weapon. He smiled to himself as he remembered how she all but dragged him to the mall to buy a suit. 
“No best friend of mine is missing out on senior prom. Especially not one who helped me plan the whole thing. Now go try this on.”
The punch was watered down, most of his song requests were ignored, and his suit was hemmed one inch too short. But he loved every second of it. For one night, he was a regular teenager; Someone who danced the night away with his best friend until they were both tired and sweaty. It was the first time since that day in the mountains where he really believed he could have a normal life too. 
Then his thoughts drifted to Lincoln, the man he truly adored. He was sweet...
“Oh!” A small yelp escaped from Rowan’s lips as he felt a pair of cold hands slide underneath his shirt.
“Sorry,” Lincoln chuckled softly, kissing his cheek multiple times but making no move to remove his hands. Instead, they wandered aimlessly over his bare chest as he continued to cook breakfast. His lips moved from his cheek to his jaw, then his ear, before finally seeking purchase in his neck. “You’re warm,” he mumbled into his skin. 
“And you’re distracting,” he teased affectionately, leaning into his touch anyways.  “You should be in bed.”
“Mm, you weren’t there,” he yawned. His nose nuzzled further into the crook of his neck. The stubble of his beard tickled his skin. “Can you make my eggs over-easy?”
“Already on it, babe.”
Supportive... 
It was 1 AM. A single lamp lit up the otherwise dark living room. Several opened textbooks were scattered on Rowan’s study table. He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to focus on what he was reading. But finals week had him running on fumes, so the words jumbled together on the page into a haze of black and white. Groaning in frustration, he buried his face in his hands. The sound of something being set on the table caught his attention. 
“I made you some coffee,” Lincoln whispered, moving behind him to rub his shoulders. He let out a soft moan as his hands kneaded his tense muscles.  “How’s the studying going?”
“Terrible,” he complained. “There’s no way I’m retaining any of this crap.” The notes he had been taking got progressively sloppier the longer he studied. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to read his own handwriting.
“Don’t say that. You still have two days left.”
“But babe, I’m so behind. I can’t-”
“You can,” he cut him off before he could spiral any further. “You’ve been working non-stop for a week. You’re smart, capable, and you’ll do just fine.” His tone was sincere, absolute. Like he wouldn’t entertain any arguments. Rowan’s heart felt warm in his chest. Taking off a hand from his shoulder, he placed a tender kiss to his knuckles.
“Will you stay up with me?” he asked softly, holding his hand close to his chest.
“Anything for you, love.” 
Sexy...
Rowan’s eyes were glued to Lincoln’s muscles as he continued to deadlift weights in front of him. The veins on his arms had become more prominent, which only made them look more enticing. A tendril of sweat rolled down his face, dripping down to his sharp jawline. The low grunts he made each time he lifted his weights had Rowan thinking things that he shouldn’t while they were in the middle of a public gym. “Babe?” 
“Yeah?” he huffed, slightly breathless. He lifted up his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, exposing the abs underneath. Another thrill shot through Rowan’s body. His mind was made up: he wanted him. Now. 
“We should get going,” he urged. Hastily, he packed their things into his gym bag and made his way over to the weight station. 
“Why? I thought you wanted to- mmph-” Rowan’s lips crashed into his before he could finish. 
“I just thought of another way we could get our workout in,” he whispered suggestively in his ear. A knowing smirk spread on Lincoln’s face.
“Lead the way, then.” He laughed as he eagerly dragged him by the wrist out of the gym. 
And made him feel just like he did on his prom night: happy. He only hoped he made him feel the same as he poured himself fully into every kiss, every touch, every I-love-you. But there was always some part of him that wanted to do more; something a little extra to make him smile the way he only did when they were alone together.
“We’re home.” Lincoln’s voice broke him out of his trance. He had been so lost in thought he hadn’t realized that they were no longer moving. 
---
passing the torch to @linkysmommy, @saibug1022, @lovehugsandcandy and anyone else who sees this and wants to air out some ol' wips 🖤
11 notes · View notes
I haven't written anything (at least not to completion) in a very long time. Now that October is basically over, and we're moving into my least favorite season, I thought I would give Holiday Bingo a glance to encourage myself to write as a distraction from the long, cold months.
Most of the bingos for the winter holidays have the same 6 or 8 ideas on them, none of which appealed to me enough to make me feel like writing. So, for the first time ever, I brainstormed my own bingo card of ideas.
I don't have any expectations of anyone else using my card, but if you see something you like, feel free to write it. All I ask is that you DM me a link to your fic so I can do a Master list post. ☺️ Other than that, I don't really have any rules for others' use.
As for me, for this bingo, I will write
- Rolivia/Rolivia + Barba
- Cabenson
- EO
I am not taking any other ships/ship combos at this time. Happy writing, and holiday cheers!
❄️☃️ HeartEyes4Mariska
Tumblr media
@thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu
19 notes · View notes
miseries-mistress · 1 year
Text
ᴅᴀʏ 1: ꜰʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ | ᴀʀᴀɢᴏʀɴ ʰᵒˡⁱᵈᵃʸ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗ ²⁰²²
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⋆꙳·❅*‧ READING BY THE FIRE WHILE IT SNOWS ‧*❆ ₊⋆
warnings: gender-neutral reader, all fluff. w/c: 815 
event masterlist ❄︎ lotr masterlist
Tumblr media
The fireplace crackles, the warmth of the heat embracing you in its tenderness. The slow monotonous fall of snow gathering outside the room draws your attention away for a second, and you take this time to admire the gentle caress of snowflakes against the window pane as they soundlessly drift, carried away by the slightest breeze, to a new destination. 
Your body aches with soreness from the trudging you and Aragorn did through the valleys of snow-packed dirt. It was a simple scouting quest, nothing arduous or eventful, but you seemed to have forgotten how demanding it was to travel in such conditions hence your soreness. When you two returned to the sanctuary you call home, your clothes had been soaked, and you laid them by the fire to dry. Fresh clothes awaited you in your chambers, and upon return to the fire, you spotted Aragorn lying across the sofa with a book in his lap; the black waves of curls damp with melted flakes of snow. It was easy for you to settle beside him as he returned to his book once more, with nothing except the fire light illuminating the worn pages. Only when you found your spot against him did he indulge you in the adventure plastered in finely written letters. 
Your gaze had befallen the window where it was easy to get lost in the book's tale, subtly admiring the grace of elements as you did so. You turn, averting your stare from the window and returning to the moment, nestling your head further into the crook of Aragorn's neck, with the flames licking shadows across the wall, distorting the shade of the holiday decorations scattered across the room. His facial hair deliciously scrapes the side of your face as he presses the faintest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you can't help but slide into his warmth, enjoying the creamy threads of clothing against your bare face. 
His voice picks up once more, his eyes skimming across the worn bindings of the book, the faintest crinkling of the page as he turns it, only adding to the atmosphere you two have created. The couch you are lying on, huddled in blankets, gives way underneath you in just the right amount to be achingly comfortable. 
The soothing riches of his voice never falter or stutter over the old ink beneath his fingertips, and before you know it, his voice has become an incomprehensible lull in the background. Your eyes grow heavy with the weight of sleep, drowsiness attempting to pull you under her spell. Yet, you feel warm, safe, safer than you've ever felt before. There are no demands, no expectations to uphold, or judgments to be thrown your way for your lack of etiquette, just Aragorn. 
His hand that was previously running up and down your swaddled arm has mapped its way to your hair. While worn with the price of war, his fingers are gentle as they lightly scratch your scalp, and you feel yourself falling into the clutches of rest. It's almost impossible to keep your eyes open, but you will them to, will your mind to sear this innocent memory into your brain. These moments are far and few. Just being seems like the closest you can achieve to some semblance of a normal life, one in which people's lives don't fall into your hands. 
It's nice, you think, watching the flames dance in the stone chimney. You blink once, then twice, before your eyes reluctantly flutter closed, and at that moment, sleep has never found you easier. 
Aragorn's stare falters from the text, his eyes finding you practically melted to his side, and an easy expression befallen your delicate features. His hand strays from your hair and slides down your cheek, his knuckles met with the grace of your relaxed muscles and the slow rise and fall of your chest. He smiles unwittingly to himself, selfishly taking a moment longer to admire each line and dimple the fire has cast a moving shadow over. It is such a simple thing, yet he takes pleasure in it, for nowadays, seeing you so freely relaxed is a rarity. 
Aragorn sets the book aside, his movements careful not to disturb your sleeping figure. You stir at his position change before settling back into the natural dip of his body, the blanket sinking from your shoulder. His fingers trail to the blanket, his palms wrapped around the soft fabric before pulling it back up your body. They flatten across your shoulder before he sighs to himself and lets his head fall to the side, the temptation of sleep becoming too strong to stave off, and it's then that he allows himself to succumb to a dreamless state with you securely wrapped in his arms.
Tumblr media
94 notes · View notes