#everyone knows yuletide

[unopenablebox]

yuletide discord server is really not succeeding at feeding me [social writing activity emotion that leads me to write] and i am instead wasting hours on [nonendorsed fic community server/archives] and it is making me irritable and also causing me to write using weird syntax as displayed here and i had like six hours to write my evil yuletide fic and didn't >:(

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[seafoamreadings]

big things that are coming

here are the next few astrological events i would consider extra serious, in case you like to mark your calendars or be otherwise prepared.

pluto into aquarius for real - i say for real because it's the last time we will see the ingress from capricorn to aquarius in any of our lifetimes, after much retrograding back and forth. global themes of technology humanitarianism, and perhaps revolution come to the fore in ways we've previously never even dreamed of.

mercury retrograde - the last retrograde of mercury for 2024 is ensconced in sagittarius. honesty is the way to go. people who don't know or think about astrology are going to be accidentally blabbing, even when they mean to be discreet. so keep your ears open and if you don't want the truth to get out about some matter just stay silent instead. no facades succeed in this time.

mars retrograde - less frequent than other retrogrades, the retrograde of this old malefic can be hard - especially around the station points. above all stay safe. also stay calm and stay kind! not everyone will do so - that just means it's extra needed, it doesn't mean we should all join the ranks of such people.

neptune direct - this happens practically immediately after the retrograde of mars aforementioned so be wary of deceit and manipulation and avoid doing such things yourself. be also very careful with substance abuse or even overindulgence and under no circumstances should you (ever but especially now) get in a vehicle intoxicated or with someone driving who is. maximize the good vibes of it by recording and being aware of your dreams, and daydreams. there will be messages in there almost for sure.

mercury direct - normally i like to do the mercury retrograde/direct stations in separate posts but so much happens in such a brief period that it's not super practical to do so this time. just as with the retrograde station, watch for freudian slips and accidental blurting of secrets. don't let it be you, and get what info you need when it happens to others. honesty is the best policy here but silence is also golden.

jupiter square saturn - kind of a difficult square for the yuletide season. this is a very social square. not in the sense of being particularly extroverted, but in that it won't happen so much on the personal level but within our tribes/communities/other social groups. the need to expand and the need to constrict must somehow be reconciled. it will take more than one person to figure out, but we can each do our part.

chiron direct - just before the dawn of the new year, the proverbial wounded healer resumes prograde forward motion. this station may bring healing revelations, new friends and helpful community members, or just a renewed motivation for healing and rebuilding after any traumas you've sustained, no matter how old or how new they were.

[quilleth]

I planned on trying to coordinate things with the community page and discord too, but Tumblr search hates the yuletide blog for some reason, so I haven't seen if nominations are opened yet ><

I will likely be nominating: scholar, Jasper, the Matchmaker, and Sayra

Are we coordinating Yuletide noms this year? If it's just me, I'll pick another fandom.

[aspionagee]

Update for fans of A Patchwork Family: I will be uploading chapter 1 of the sequel on December 1st or earlier, and weekly updates will commence from then.

I'm super excited, and I hope everyone else is, too! I'll be doing a title reveal soon, and I'll possibly post some other snippets in the run up to the release.

Since the sequel will be gaining steam around the Christmas season, I've written a little snippet of Harry, Draco and Severus engaged in Yule Ball preparations in honour of that. Enjoy! :)

Despite Severus’ considerable willpower, he was unable to prevent signs of Christmas festivity from invading his living quarters. Even though they had both returned to living in their respective dormitories during fourth year, Harry and Draco had joined forces to bring the yuletide spirit to their father’s rooms. Tinsel hung from the walls; a Christmas tree twinkled in the corner; stockings were suspended over the fireplace.

But as he stood in the bathroom on Christmas Day, Harry was beginning to wish he could banish any evidence of the dreadful holiday from his life. All it did was remind him of the impending Yule Ball.

For the hundredth time, he wetted his comb and raked it through his hair, only for it to stubbornly spring upright. Harry groaned loudly, and smacked his forehead against the mirror. He looked completely ridiculous! What was Parvati going to think? Even worse, what would Cho think when she saw Harry? She was bound to give him a pitying look, while inwardly congratulating herself on picking the right champion…

Severus knocked on the door and asked, “What on earth is going on in there?”

“My hair!” Harry said, dragging the comb through once more. “It just won’t stay down - bloody hell!”

Severus pushed open the door, clearly struggling to stifle his laughter.

“Stop it!” Harry said despairingly. “It’s not funny!”

“My apologies.” Severus’ lips continued twitching. “I’ve just never seen you act so very much like your brother.”

“Watch it!” Draco shouted from the other room. “If he was a bit more like me, Harry might know how to clean up properly in situations like this!"

“Bugger off!” Harry yelled back, whacking the top of his head with the flat end of the comb, hoping that blunt force might succeed where all else had failed.

Severus examined him inquisitively. “Since when does your hair bother you? I’ve spent the better part of a year imploring you to use a comb while you grumble at me.”

“Draco said I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge,” Harry muttered, patting more water onto his head.

“And I am certain your hair was also a complete bird's nest when you asked Miss Patil to be your… companion. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

“Eugh, companion?” Harry gave Severus a bemused look. “Who even says that?”

Severus sighed, and took the comb from his hand. “Harry, this is a losing battle. It’s time to head upstairs. Miss Patil will surely be waiting for you, and it’s rude to leave a date unattended.”

Harry finally conceded defeat and took a step back to look himself over in the mirror. He felt incredibly uncomfortable in the dark green dress robes he’d been forced to wear for the Yule Ball. They were stiff, and strange, and made Harry feel far too trussed up. Severus’ robes were also much finer than usual, but he was naturally still wearing his customary shade of black.

“I’d take the Horntail over this,” Harry muttered.

Severus rolled his eyes. “It’s a school dance, Harry.”

“Yeah, and I have to lead the stupid dance in front of everybody! It’s so embarrassing!”

“Somehow, I think you’ll live to see another day.” He scanned his eyes over Harry and scowled, reaching out towards his neck. “Why on earth have you knotted your tie like that?”

Harry batted his father’s hands away. “Stop fussing, it’s fine!”

“It’s completely askew -”

He took several steps back and raised his arms in a defensive barrier to avoid Severus’ continued attacks. “It’s supposed to be that way!”

Severus gave him a look of immense disdain. “Teenagers…”

“Harry!” Draco bellowed. “Get a move on, Cecilia is waiting for me!”

Harry pulled a face and began to shuffle towards the door with extreme reluctance. Severus clapped him on the shoulder.

“At least try to look as though you’re enjoying yourself, Harry. You’re going to a ball, not walking to the gallows.”

“Har har,” he grumbled.

[sorcererofsolitude]

Enid has really been trying to kiss Wednesday under the mistletoe, but the raven never seems to get the hint.

Enid tries tying it to doorways, putting it in Wednesday’s sock drawer, having Thing dangle it above them. Hell, she even "accidentally" slipped a page about the yuletide tradition in her notebook in case she wasn't aware of the custom. So far? Nothing.

Enid flopped dejectedly on her bed. Her mind came up with a thousand explanations as to why she hadn't been kissed yet, each more catastrophic than the last.

An amused exhale caught the wolf's attention. Wednesday was at her desk, staring at her hopelessly lovesick girlfriend.

Wednesday: You know, mí amor, you can always ask for a kiss. You don't have to flail around a fistful of foliage to get it.

Enid, eyes going wide: You knew this whole time?

Wednesday: Subtlety is not your strong suit. One of the many things I adore about you.

Enid playfully chases Wednesday around for the trouble, easily catching her. After some bargaining for Wednesday’s release, Enid finally got her very first kiss under the mistletoe.

Happy Holidays, everyone!

AO3: SorcererOfSolitude

[infinitystoner]

Underneath the Tree

AO3 | Masterlist

✨part of @sarahscribbles’ Christmas Collection; header by @inklore✨

Summary: You’re expecting to spend the holidays without your other half. So when Loki reappears the night before Christmas, you indulge in a little merriment to make up for lost time.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags/Content: Holiday Surprises Befitting the God of Mischief, Romantic Reunions, Fluff, Smut (Fingering, Cunnilingus, Anal Sex), Soft Dom! Loki, Established Relationship

Rating: Explicit; 18+

Author’s note: Here be the Yuletide filth! I realize butt stuff isn’t for everyone, but it’s actually really soft and sweet (and not overly explicit). If you like my writing, I hope you give it a chance. xx

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention as you pad across the kitchen floor, unnerved by the unmistakable feeling of being watched. You abandon your post-bath time snack on the counter, clutching at your bathrobe as trepidation gnaws at the back of your mind.

With the curtains drawn, only the glimmering lights on your Christmas tree illuminate the living room. It’s hard to see anything beyond silhouettes and shadows. A quiet night like this amidst the bustling holiday season is a rare treat, and you should be grateful and relaxed, but you just can’t shake the feeling that you’re not alone. 

You try to ignore the frantic beat of your pulse thundering in your ears as you inch closer to the tree. Did someone break in while you were in the shower? The rational part of your brain knows it’s downright laughable to entertain such a thought. A security breach is practically impossible thanks to Tony’s impenetrable tech. Unless…

“You’re back,” you say cautiously, voice no louder than a whisper. 

A surge of longing permeates your being, doing little to appease the rapid beating of your heart. The familiar shuffle of centuries-old leather catches your attention, all fear melting away as you turn to see a formidable figure emerge from the corner. 

Loki.

“I’m back,” he responds simply. 

He closes in, his gaze never leaving yours, the purposeful sound of his heavy boots on your hardwood floors resonating through the space. Loki’s presence is a solace you can’t quite articulate—but suddenly there’s a warmth filling the cracks that etched across your heart when he left. And there’s a calm wrapping around your solitude like a cozy blanket on the coldest winter night.  

You study the god before you, the Christmas lights casting a soft glow over his figure. His dark curls fall in waves atop his shoulders, regally framing his perfectly sculpted features. His brows slant upward as he drinks in the sight of you, a dimple appearing along his cheek as he returns your smile. When he slides his hands around your waist, your stomach somersaults at his touch.

You take a deep breath and reach up to cup his jaw, savoring the coolness of his smooth skin. Loki leans into your palm, closing his eyes and exhaling a deep sigh. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. You can’t resist the urge to pull him into a tight embrace, humming as his strong arms wrap around you in response.

He tenderly presses a kiss to your temple, tugging you closer against his muscular chest. The scent of ancient forests, leather, and musk—along with something sweeter you can’t quite place—invades your senses. Finally, he breaks the comfortable silence. 

“Did you miss me?”

Loki searches your eyes, a hint of apprehension marring his beautiful face. He’s only been gone for about six weeks—which is nothing compared to the months you previously spent without him. But how did you ever think you’d be okay spending the holiday without him? 

You glance up at him with feigned exasperation.

“Of course I missed you, you silly, gorgeous man. But did it ever occur to you to knock? Or call ahead? Perhaps send a raven?” 

A devilish smirk adorns lips. “Now where’s the fun in that?” 

“But what if I’d attacked you? I wasn’t expecting you back until after–” 

“Attacked me?” Loki chuckles, sitting on the sofa and pulling you onto his lap. “Now that I’d like to see.” 

“Is that so?” you ask, caressing the gold plating embellishing his chest and trailing your fingertips across the high collar of his leathers, stopping only when you reach the sharp juncture of his jaw. He peers up at you as you straddle his hips, and the glint of mischief in his eyes is exhilarating. 

“Mm, perhaps later, my little vixen.” 

With a flick of his wrist, a fire roars to life in your hearth. Beyond the crackles and pops of the blaze, a familiar Christmas song begins to play and you swear more twinkling lights appear on your tree. You’re not sure if the night can get more perfect than this.

“What is the phrase you mortals are so fond of this time of year? Season’s Greetings?” 

“Something like that.” 

“You know, we host a similar winter festival on Asgard,” he explains as you tuck his hair behind his ear, exposing the column of his neck. “It’s rather extravagant. Hedonistic, some might say.”

“So, you willingly left the decadence of Asgard. To spend Christmas on Earth. With me.” 

“Is that really so inconceivable, my love? I am, to borrow another turn of phrase, quite smitten, I’m afraid.” 

“Just wanted to be sure,” you tease, but a familiar tingling sparks in your core at his admission. Sometimes you can hardly believe this man—this god—fell so hopelessly in love with you. Of course, you have your issues like any other couple. Dating an alien who once tried to take over your planet does not come without consequence. But, oh, the way he’s looking at you now makes it all worth it. 

“And I believe this is a holiday spent in the company of those you care about, is it not?” he continues. “Besides, Mother quickly picked up on the fact I was more distracted than usual and blessed my departure.”  

“Must remember to thank Frigga for this Christmas surprise,” you joke, pretending to jot down a note. 

The curious arch of Loki’s brows soon contorts into an expression of ecstasy as you begin to work your lips along the column of his neck, nipping at his skin.

“Gods,” he quietly says, shifting beneath you and tightening his grip on your waist. His low rumble of pleasure is a sound you can happily lose yourself in. With a final press of your tongue to the erogenous zone below his ear, you lean back, but Loki is quick to capture your lips in a blistering kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close and savoring the taste of him. A trace of mulled wine lingers on his mouth, and you wonder if he left Asgard in the midst of the aforementioned Yuletide celebration. 

“So, are you going to tell me?” you murmur against his lips. “Or am I to believe it was only the thought of startling me in the middle of the night that drew you away from your royal duties?”

“What?” Loki’s brows furrow in sincere confusion, his mouth agape.

“You said you were distracted…”

“Oh, yes. That.” The knowing glance he gives you in response sends a jolt of arousal coursing through your body. He clears his throat, running his hands under the curve of your ass before rolling you over onto your back.

“I was distracted by you,” he says, pulling your robe open. “You infiltrated my every waking thought, you infuriating woman.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” you giggle, biting your bottom lip as he magicks away his armor. His alabaster skin is ethereal under the amber glow of the blazing fire, every dip of his chiseled torso cast in devastating shadows, muscles rippling beneath his taut skin as he leans over you. Your fingertips ghost over the fine smattering of hair below his navel, their sensuous journey interrupted by a band of leather. You whine, tugging at his trousers. 

“Patience, darling,” he snickers, kissing along your collarbone. His tongue flits along the valley of your breasts and a white hot heat coils in your hips. Loki tilts his chin up, darkened eyes piercing your very soul. “I’m not going anywhere.”  

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth as he moves against your skin. You arch into him with a gasp, fingers digging into the broad expanse of his shoulders, his lithe muscles rippling under your touch.

“And we’ve both been so very patient, haven’t we?”

A wolfish grin creeps across his face as he tenderly pushes your thighs toward your stomach, his hands pushing your knees outward as you offer yourself up to him. You’re completely exposed, but any hint of inhibition dissipates as you note the unadulterated lust in your lover’s eyes.

Loki inhales sharply, greedily consuming what little air is left between you. Within seconds his mouth is warm against your cunt, and a broken moan escapes you. You twist your fingers into his hair as your entire body shudders in response to his enthusiastic movements, your frenzied mind attempting to process the situation. Twenty minutes ago, you were content with the idea of crawling into bed with a tin of shortbread and a good book. And now? Well, if you’re not careful, you’re going to come before things even get started. Loki realizes this and lightly grabs your wrist, removing your hand from his hair and guiding it behind your knee.

“Here,” he says, his hand engulfing yours as he presses it firmly against the back of your trembling thigh. Your pussy clenches at his simple command as you obediently move your legs further apart, contorting your body to his will. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you—all of you—as you settle into the new position, your back relaxing into the softness of the cushions beneath you.

The soles of your feet brace against his clavicles as he dips back between your legs, sucking at the soft flesh along your inner thigh before returning his attention to your core. When his eager tongue glides past your cunt to circle the sensitive area further down, you nearly levitate off the sofa. 

Loki groans as he laps at you, his sinful slurps creating an intoxicating melody in your mind, the Christmas music long forgotten. You choke on air as the calloused pad of his thumb finds your clit, languidly rubbing circles as his tongue continues to explore your hole. The novel sensation is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

Thoughts of experiencing Loki this way had dwelled in the dark recesses of your mind for months now. You’d shamelessly pleaded for it during your last night together all those weeks ago while in the throes of passion. But Loki, with his silver tongue and roguish charm, was infuriatingly persuasive and surprisingly sensible. And so you had agreed to wait.

“Don’t tempt me, little one,” he had coyly responded as he slid the tip of his cock along the curve of your ass, trailing down until he made contact with your cunt. Yet the intensity with which his fingers dug into your hips as you begged for more let you know he wanted it just as much as you did.

“Something to look forward to,” he’d mumbled into your ear as he pressed his firm chest against your back, the sheen of sweat coating your skin intermingling with his as he buried himself inside your cunt for the third time that evening.

Your wait, it seems, is over.

“Norns, you’re divine,” Loki says, lifting his head to peer at you across your heaving torso. He continues rolling his thumb over your clit as he kisses along your stomach, his soft curls falling across your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Shall I keep going?”

“Yes,” you rasp, doing little to conceal the urgent need in your voice. “But don’t we need the–”

You nod toward the bedroom, alluding to the bottle of lube tucked away in your nightstand. But the words catch in the back of your throat as a cool, lubricated finger nudges where Loki’s mouth had just been. You glance down at the god, furrowing your brow as you observe a flash of seidr ignite the space between you. 

“Well, that’s convenient.”

Loki lets out a breathy laugh as he looks up from his spot between your legs, his eyes dark with desire. His raven hair falls in a curtain around his face as his gaze darts back down to your center. 

“I’m giving you exactly what you asked for.” Loki grins, slowly pressing his middle finger inside you. You nearly sob as your anticipation is engulfed by a rush of euphoria.

“I’m giving you all of me,” he adds, an exhilarating ache rippling through your core as a second finger joins the first.

“Oh my god,” you  cry out as the blend of forbidden and familiar pleasure overwhelms your senses. Loki’s fingers steadily move inside you while he licks a wide stripe through your folds and you toss your head back with a hiss. 

“Relax, love,” he says softly, wrapping a large hand behind your knee and guiding it over his shoulder. As you settle into the new position, Loki’s gifted tongue swirls around your throbbing clit, the skillful drag of it sending adrenaline searing through every nerve ending in your body.

“You’re doing so good,” he continues, his voice ragged and deep as he watches you squirm beneath him.

“S-so good,” you echo, keening at his praise. “Loki—fuck—you feel so good.”

He continues to gently move his fingers inside you, pushing deeper with each pump until you feel his palm flatten against your cunt. You slur his name, winding your fingers into his hair once more in an attempt to ground yourself. It doesn’t work. 

“More. Please,” you beg, the words tumbling from your lips without conscious thought. Loki responds by stilling his motions and removing his fingers from you. You huff, pushing yourself up into a seated position and forcing Loki to shuffle onto his knees to avoid sliding off the edge of the sofa. What the hell? 

“Loki…” you caution, your heart wildly beating in your chest as he tauntingly returns your gaze. He simply laughs, clearly amused by your little display of assertiveness.

“Feisty tonight, aren’t we?” he says, hands trailing up your thighs and around the curve of your ass. You both know you’re at his mercy tonight. “I knew I saw your name on the naughty list.” 

“You’re not playing fair.” 

No, he’s just playing on his own terms. Taunting you like he always does—a cat toying with his mouse. 

“I’m merely trying to determine exactly how much more you can take,” he drawls as he nuzzles his nose along your neck.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you respond coyly, running your fingertips along his leather-clad erection.

You know he can see right through you, can sense the way he’s driving you mad. And before you can give your next bratty retort, Loki tightens his grip on your ass and forcefully pulls you toward him. As your bare chest makes contact with his, a shiver rolls down your spine.

“Oh, I think you do,” he says, reveling in the power he possesses. You moan into his mouth as his hands roam your body with a hunger that leaves you breathless. All that matters is the feel of his tongue against yours, the touch of his cool hands on your heated skin. Your pulse quickens as Loki pulls away to admire you, his eyes glazed over with lust. You need him. All of him. Now.

“And I need to hear you say it.”

“I want this, Loki,” you concede breathlessly. “I want you.”

“Words cannot convey how much I want this—want you—in return, my love.” A reassuring smile spreads across his features as he coaxes you to lie back down. Your heartbeat thrums with excitement as you comply with his request, and as you open your legs for him once more, you feel his eyes burning into your skin like a fiery brand.

“You’re sure?” Loki asks quietly, dropping his mask of dominance a moment as he brushes a finger along your slit, skimming the delicate skin between your ass cheeks with the pad of his thumb. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper as he finally—completely—undresses himself in a wave of gold.

Stunning, you think, taking in the vision of Loki kneeling between your legs. His chest heaves with each shallow breath, his cock resting heavy against his muscular thigh. You let out a small whine when his hand leaves your body, wrapping it around the base of his shaft instead. He tosses his head back, and the small grunt that tumbles from his lips as he begins to stroke himself is positively sinful.

“Say it again. Please,” he chokes out, tugging the foreskin over the glistening, swollen head of his cock.

“I need you, Loki,” you say, shifting against the blankets and cushions.

He’s unwaveringly graceful as he guides your legs around his hips, positioning himself above you as the tip of his cock presses into your tight entrance. The pressure is beyond anything you’ve experienced before, and for a fleeting moment, your eyes widen in trepidation. 

“Breathe, darling one.” 

And so you do. Loki guides your breaths as he steadily stretches you to what you’re certain is your limit. You begin to lose yourself as the heady scent of sex wisps through the room like tendrils of Loki’s seidr, entwining with the heightened groans of carnal bliss. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay?” 

“So full. But… but good,” you manage to say, and it’s the truth. As your body relaxes into his movements, everything becomes more comfortable. Your hands graze down his back until they find the firm swell of his ass, pulling him deeper.

Loki growls out an old Norse curse as he bottoms out—his hip bones flush against the back of your thighs. You’ve never taken this much of him before, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You clench in response. 

“My perfect girl,” he praises. With controlled precision, he starts to rock into you and every throbbing inch of his cock drags against your walls in the most delicious way. Soon, his fingers are circling your swollen clit and the pressure in your hips becomes too much to bear.

“So perfect,” he repeats between grunts, your body writhing as he brings you closer and closer to release. Like a caged bird set free, you soar higher and higher, the world spreading beneath you in all its glory as you ascend toward the stars. With one final thrust, you come undone.

Loki presses his forehead to yours as a strangled whimper rips from his throat, his own orgasm quickly following yours. 

You stay like that for a while, a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths on your sofa. Eventually, everything comes back into focus: the fire, the music, the twinkling tree. 

“That was quite the gift,” you say as Loki settles beside you. 

“Certainly, you don’t think that was your only gift?” He tuts and casts you a rakish wink. “Your next surprise awaits you in the bedroom.” 

You giggle as Loki stands and scoops you into his arms. 

“Honestly. What kind of imbecile gives their love only one orgasm on Christmas Eve?” 

click here to be added to my tag list!

[kingkatsuki]

— when you play secret santa

Masterlist.

Warnings: kinda angsty, not proofread.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

There are a multitude of things Bakugou Katsuki hates about the festive period. The freezing temperatures that make it difficult to use his quirk and leave him shivering on patrols, the fake hallmark bullshit that corporations try to sell during the holidays (he deliberately refuses any Yuletide collaborations for this exact reason), the way people seem to only care now it’s Christmas, the crowds and one of the worst things…

Forced fun.

Every year the Dynamight agency arrange a secret Santa, and every year Bakugou refuses to participate. Just another bullshit, meaningless waste of time during the festive period, and he never has any idea what to get anyone anyway.

But this year is different, because this year you worked at his agency. Bakugou groans as he looks down at the piece of paper with a name scribbled on it, his secret santa.

When you asked him one evening as you were leaving if he was going to participate in the secret santa event, he was going to reply with a scoff. Wondering why on earth you were asking him such a ridiculous question, what would give you the idea that Dynamight would want to do secret santa? But it was the adorable, hopeful look in your eyes that had his throat going dry and his heart palpitating as he stopped dead in his tracks. The words leaving his lips before he could even stop it— yeah, I am.

Bakugou hated the way your cheeks seemed to glow at his response, how happy you looked that this year he would be participating.

And that’s why he now found himself with a piece of paper in his hands with a name that wasn’t yours.

He didn’t even know who the fuck it was! Apparently after searching his employee database it was a lady in admin. Now stuck with trying to find a workplace regulation gift in between the long holiday shifts, maybe he’d get one of his sidekicks to get a gift for her instead.

How foolish he’d been to think that he’d get your name, that after all the shit he’d been through in his life that fate would grant him a free pass this once and give him the gift of you. But as always, the odds were against him. Crumpling up the piece of paper with a groan as he threw it onto his desk, tugging his glasses off to rub the balls of his hands into his eyes.

But perhaps he could swap with someone…

Finding out who had you was proving near impossible, it had been easy to get his sidekicks to announce to him who they had for the secret Santa, but everyone else in the agency was proving to be rather tight lipped. Whether it was the fear of their boss, or the fact that one of them may have him, he’d near but given up hope of swapping to get you.

“It’s supposed to be a secret, Bro.” Kirishima shook his head as he tucked into his bento box, a mouthful of rice slurring his words.

“I don’t give a shit, who ya got?” Bakugou pointed his chopsticks holding a piece of Gyoza towards Kirishima before shoving it into his mouth.

“I can’t tell you! It’ll ruin the whole thing,” Kirishima shook his head, “What if I’ve got you?”

“You ain’t got me.” Bakugou knew who had him already, it was a poor man from the cyber security department who seemed terrified when he’d revealed the big secret to the man himself.

“How do you know?” Kirishima sat back in his seat, “Man, this is why you never participate isn’t it? You don’t like fun.”

“I like fun,” Bakugou scrunched his nose in mock offence, “I hate surprises.” He mumbled, and truth be told, he hated not having you more.

“Well, I’ve already bought my gift so I can’t switch.” Kirishima grinned and Bakugou raised a surprised eyebrow.

For how generous and altruistic Kirishima was, he wasn’t usually this prepared. Often ignoring deadlines and leaving things until the last minute which would often result in him racing around like a headless chicken.

“Why don’t you just get her a gift anyway, man? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

“I can’t do that.” He shot back, glaring across the table.

There was no way he could get you a gift out of the blue, even if it was for Christmas. Being the only person in the agency outside of the secret santa that he’d purchased a gift for would make it completely obvious that he’s in love with you, and the thought of your rejection made him blanch.

“Yeah, you can.” Kirishima continued, “You were gonna get her something if she was your secret santa anyway, so what’s the difference?”

It was a huge difference, it would mean the gift he’d give you separately was far more personal… Even if he would’ve gifted you the exact same thing.

“Doesn’t matter.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Just wait it out man, and think positive. She might have you!” Kirishima smiled as he took a long sip of his protein shake.

The thought of you holding a piece of paper with his name on it had Bakugou feeling all giddy inside, trying to stop the ridiculous smile from tugging on the side of his lips as he pictured you going out to shop for a gift for him. Wrapping it and writing his name on it to gift it to him on Christmas Eve.

It was the only thought keeping him sane the closer it got to the day, finally acquiring his gift late after one patrol as he bought an obnoxiously Christmassy gift bag to place it inside as he brought it back to his agency. Scribbling the recipient onto the tag as he left it with the other gifts sitting beneath the outlandish tree. Bakugou wanted to look for your name in the huge pile, wondering if he could find out who actually had you or what the gift was but instead he made his way to the locker rooms. Tired bones aching from his arduous patrol as he made his way to shower before the annual Dynamight agency Christmas party, refusing to wear a Christmas jumper as he opted for a plain cable knit burnt orange sweater instead.

Turning up to the party late meant that most people had already opened their gifts, the loud bustle hitting him as he weaved through the crowds. Reaching out to grab a flute of champagne as he took a healthy sip as he gave polite nods to his staff that wished him a “Merry Christmas” as he walked through, not wanting to make it obvious that he was looking for you.

Giving up as he spotted the familiar red mop of his best friends hair hidden beneath a bright red Santa hat as he made a beeline towards him. Bakugou’s heart instantly sped up when he noticed who was standing beside him.

His heart fluttered at the sight of you, a gorgeous smile on your face as you seemed to hang on Kirishima’s every word. Handing him the glass you were holding as he handed you a gift in return. Was Kirishima your secret Santa all along?

The familiar ache returned to his chest at the sight, something he’d never experienced until he met you. His adam’s apple bobbing as he watched you slowly begin to tear open the messily wrapped present. He could make out the garish paper from across the room as Kirishima leaned in to gage your reaction, a huge grin on his face.

Bakugou couldn’t even be mad that Kiri got you as a secret Santa and didn’t tell him because the way your face lights up at whatever Kiri got you makes his heart palpitate. You’re so beautiful.

But he can’t avoid the hurt that aches in his chest or the way he feels his throat tighten as he watches how happy another man has made you, wishing it was him that made you look that happy instead.

Lifting his glass up to his lips he downs the rest of his champagne before placing the glass back onto the table, ignoring the lone present sitting beneath the large Dynamight tree addressed to him as he makes his way out of the room, his head down to avoid catching anyone’s gaze as he leaves.

Maybe he should’ve got you a present after all.

But if Bakugou had stuck around the office party, he would’ve seen what Kirishima gifted to you as your secret Santa, and the real reason why you were smiling. The horribly wrapped gift was actually a framed photograph of you and Bakugou at a press interview for Dynamight’s agency. Your eyes gazing up at him in adoration as you both smiled softly at something the other had said while you both acted like you were the only two in the world.

[pursuitseternal]

“Wrap Me Up:” 🎀 A Merry (NSFW) for the Vampire Lord Astarion, “The Rogue You Were” Christmas Special 🕯️

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.”

[antimony-medusa]

Is that— bells ringing? Keyboards clacking? The sound of two thousand stressed writers pancing furiously about the floor? Ah yes, Yuletide.

Hello. MCYTblr. I am back again.

You are looking fine today as we move towards the end of the year. Is that a new cologne you're trying? New shirt? New glasses? It's working for you. How have I been? Well.

Well.

*I smack the wall, curtains spring aside, revealing my flip chart presentation that I've had lying in wait*

It is time for me to talk to you about Yuletide again. I was here earlier during tag nominations, but it's sign-up time, and I want to make sure everybody has a change to participate in this if they want to.

What's Yuletide?

Yuletide is an annual mega-exchange for small and rare fandoms. It runs in the close of the year, with a 1000 word minimum for gifts, with gifts revealed anonymously on the 25th of December and de-anoned on the 1st of January. It is easily the biggest exchange in multi-fandom-exchange-world, and last year more than 1,350 people signed up.

Why does everyone sign up?

Well, it's tradition, for one. There are a lot of people that only do Yuletide as their big exchange every year. It's a big holiday spectacle, it's really fun to see it operate and see pinch hits come out and get nabbed in minutes, and people kind of put on their holiday outfits and turn out for it.

For another thing, if you are in a small fandom, it's the one exchange where you can actually have a shot of getting a gift for an obscure manga fandom, or an out-of-print book, or a tv show from the eighties. If your fandom has five people in it, the odds are higher than average that two of them are signing up for this exchange, and hey presto, suddenly you're matchable in your fandom for an obscure podcast.

For another, and this is the biggie, the fact that this is an exchange for small and rare fandoms has led to a certain tradition and vibe for the fandoms that people nominate. People bring their most obscure and fun ideas, going, "hehehehe wouldn't it be fun if someone wrote a story about this", and into the tag set it goes. There is SUCH a spectrum of fandoms in the tag set.

This year there are 4,263 fandoms and 16,735 characters in the tag set. Let me just skim through and look at some of them.

There are commercials, web sketches, art pieces, songs, music videos, board games, podcasts, a dizzying assortment of anthropomorphising different places, items, and ideas, and RPF from a marvelous variety of historical periods (so, y'know, historical fiction if it was published professionally). There are people who nominated tik tok sketches. Twitter threads. A bridge. Book binding techniques. You ever wanted to write a romance between Knitting and Crochet? That's in the tag set, and someone wants to prompt you to do that. Happy Yuletide.

So if you are at all the sort of person who likes a prompt challenge, BOY is this one just a MARVELOUS one. I know I personally am going to be signing up for Humans are Space Orcs (tumblr post) and Fandom Exchanges (Anthropomorphic) amid my more traditional fandoms.

And as for my more traditional fandoms, and the reason why this post has the tags it does (I would get to it eventually)— there is a lot of MCYT in the tag set! I put out a post saying GUYS, the smaller fandoms might apply for this, and BOY did people show up for it. I scanned through it, and the MCYT (and adjacent) that made it in is:

Karmaland SMP

Legacy SMP

Lifesteal SMP

Moonlight SMP

New Life SMP

Outsiders SMP

Rats SMP

SMPEarth

SMPLive

Witchcraft SMP

Pirates SMP

Mianite

Slimecicle Cinematic Universe

SBI Rust

Generation Loss

You could make an entire sign up, 3 minimum requests and 4 minimum requests, and only select MCYT fandoms. The wild thing is that you can only select a max of 10 fandoms to offer, so you actually couldn't offer all of the MCYT. ZombieCleo Witchraft SMP is in. Tommyinnit SMPEarth. Clownpierce Lifesteal. Tubbo SBI Rust. Oli Rats SMP. A wealth of options for the block folks.

So come, join me! What's that? You say this sounds excellent, you're in? You want to know how to sign up? Well this post is already long enough so I'm putting the rest below a cut.

You sign up on the collection here, using fandoms listed in the tagset here. Before you do so though, I'd recommend you check out the blog, especially their "how to sign up" post here, because even if you're used to exchanges, the way Yuletide works is a little bit different. Let me do a quick breakdown here.

Requests

# of Fandoms

You have to select a minimum of 3 fandoms that you are Requesting (a gift that you want made for you), up to a maximum of 6 fandoms. Each fandom has to be unique. For each fandom, you can request between 0 to 4 characters in that fandom, and 0 means "literally you can hit me with anybody", and the up-to-4 characters are the people you definately want to show up in the fic.

AND MATCHING

This is one of the things that Yuletide does differently, because most fandom exchanges do "or" matching, where they match you on either characer A OR character B, (maybe you only offered character B) and you can pick among any of the selected characters on the person's request to write for. Because Yuletide does AND matching, you will only be matched if you offered every single one of the characters the person has selected, and then you get to write for every single one they have listed in their fandom, unless they say differently in their letter. If they requested character A and Character B, you get to deliver a gift that includes them both, according to the rules.

Bu like, in practice, a lot of people are a bit more like "you can pick only one of these guys if you'd like", because that is how everyone is used to things running in most other exchanges, plus people don't want to be too picky, so you can specify in your letter if you definately 100% want characters A, B, and C, or if you're fine with just A, or just A and C, or whatever constellation of characters you're chill with.

This year they have added optional freeform tags you will click on, that will specify either A) use every single one of these guys I selected. B) I have specified in my letter which guys I need for sure and which ones you can swap, C) Dealer's Choice Of Guys Go Crazy.

DNW and Optional Details

Yuletide is an "Optional Details Are Optional" (ODAO) exchange, so technically you could request (or receive) an offer that just has the characters and then you get to go absolutely buckwild for the two month writing period. Most people, however, do not want to do that, so that is where you'll put in Do Not Wants (anything that would ruin the gift for you, from major archive warnings to kinks that you don't vibe with to headcanons you loathe), and some prompts and/or likes for your person to jump off of.

DNWs absolutely must be abided by, and breaking a person's DNW is grounds for getting turfed from the exchange. Following a person's prompts or lists of likes is technically optional, but definately best practice, and y'know, part of the whole spirit of the exchange. Most people are doing their best to adhere to both the DNW and the Optional Details when they do their gift.

You can just format your DNW and Optional Details on the Ao3 signup page (easy, fast), or you can link them offsite in a letter (fancy, you can do formatting, people do them in google docs or dreamwidth pages (the traditional and more accessible option)). There's a tradition of people posting their letter links here, so that people can get an idea for what sort of prompts and signups people are offering, and make sure they're matchable to people with especially fun ideas. Note: you do have to duplicate the data if you're doing a letter, cause if you put your DNW in your letter but NOT in your Ao3, the mods won't enforce it.

And while we're here, that last link is to a community blog that includes a place where you can promo your fandoms to lure people into signing up for your guys, or participate in mini-challenges within yuletide for people who specificially want poly relationships (Three Doves Challenge), or characters of colour (Chromatic Yuletide), or horror/darkfic (Crueltide), or smut (Yuleporn), or art (Wrapping Paper), or even more. There's even a poetry challenge!

Offers

# of Fandoms

You have to sign up with a minimum of 4 fandoms, to a maximum of 10, for fandoms you are Offering (a gift you are willing to make). You must offer at least 2 characters for each fandom, to a maximum of 20— but there's also an "any" tick box if you want to go full "hit me, I like a challenge" and you'll write anything (in the tag set) within a fandom. Each of your fandoms must be unique.

Writing Period:

Signups are open through the 21st, with assignments out by the 23rd, and then you have until the 18th of December to deliver your gift.

Important Notes

You must be 18 or over to participate in Yuletide (because you might be matched with someone who requests smut), and signups close on 9pm UTC on Saturday, 21 October.

There's a known issue where the safari browser isn't letting people sign up properly, (when you get an exchange this big sometimes things break), so they say to either sign up on mobile or use a different browser. So that will be fun for me.

--

And that's it! Yuletide! Just under a week left to sign up, and 351 people have signed up as I write this letter at 1:30am. I just refreshed it and now it's 352. You can sign up on the Ao3 page here!

JOIN ME EXCHANGES SUCH FUN LETS GO.

[wordy-little-witch]

Imagine in the EoM campaign, Briggsy wakes up after a "dreamless" sleep in Druskenvald after the Yuletide one-shot events. He vaguely remembers bits and pieces, but it's mostly fuzzy.

Especially the memories about some cute, tall fella with eyes like topaz dipped in magenta glitter.

He also recalls something about bones, getting a date and gorillas, for some reason. Not the weirdest dream he's ever had, honestly, but still pretty out there.

Except he kind of remembers the runes that one guy gave him. It looked like a cat if you looked at it sideways.

Everyone else is still asleep when he wakes up, and he's tired, he's a pirate, and he does whatever the hell he wants.

He grabs his sendingstone, he pops in the number, and he sends a message.

Smth like this shit

And lo and behold... several minutes later, he gets a response.

Neither of their friend groups know quite what to do about/with this new development, but damn if it isn't hilarious.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

YULETIDE REFLECTIONS (nsfw)

word count: 2.3k

pairing: lottie matthews x fem!reader

summary: you get jealous of the attention lottie’s not giving you at a christmas party, so she makes it up to you

You’d never been so bored in your entire life. You had thought it would be an amazing idea when presented to you, but as you sat at the bar watching the seconds tick lazily by, you were second guessing all of it.

Lottie had decided to host a Christmas party at the wellness center. It was some ploy for new members, and while you were all for expanding the community and helping out, the process had proved horrendous. Parties made you nervous and you didn’t like being around such an excruciating amount of people you didn’t know.

It wasn’t to say that everything wasn’t beautiful — all of the holiday decorations were gorgeous, and everyone was cheerful and festive, but Lottie had abandoned you to go talk to possible new clients and out of boredom you had banished yourself to the bar. There were too many people for your liking, and being in the vicinity of the new clients and their skepticism almost made you nauseous. You hated work events, even when your wife was the one hosting them.

Lisa had joined you at the bar, and for almost an hour she had been pestering you with questions — you were one of the meditation teachers at the wellness center, and Lisa kept giving you random questions about chakras and auras and the placebo effect that you were getting a bit too tipsy to want to answer.

“So, the other day I was reading this book and basically it told me that auras are like clouds. People clouds.” She said, and the phrase ‘people clouds’ made you want to throw your wine in her face.

“I don’t know if that’s the term I would’ve used,” you said tiredly.

“What would you have said?” She asked enthusiastically. You sighed.

You felt a hand on your back and turned to see Lottie at your side, holding a glass of red wine. Relief overcame you, but you were a bit irritated with her for leaving you at the party alone. You had helped her put all of it together, and as soon as it had started she had left you.

“Lisa,” she said softly, and Lisa turned to Lottie as if God had spoken to her. “Will you go help the new clients fill out their paperwork?”

Quickly she nodded and hurried off. She would do anything Lottie said the moment she said to do it.

Lottie took Lisa’s seat next to you at the bar. She seemed to be enjoying herself despite all of the people, all of the chaos, the Christmas carols booming through the wellness center.

“Are you enjoying the party?” She asked. You were silent for a moment, not entirely knowing how to respond — you didn’t want to ruin the night for her, you knew she had been looking forward to it, but you had been in hell the whole duration of the party and you were irritated with her for abandoning you in it.

“It’s nice,” you said, a bit dryly. She raised her eyebrows skeptically, so you tried harder. “The decorations and the music, it all fits well together, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves… What about you, are you enjoying it?”

She nodded, smiling softly. “I think it all turned out beautifully. We’ve gotten some new people to sign up, too, for after the holidays.”

“Good. We need that.”

She didn’t respond for a moment, choosing instead to watch you as you took a sip of your wine. You were acutely aware of her gaze bearing into you, of every breath she took and every breath you could hardly take yourself. You knew she had figured out by now how much torture the party had put you through.

“What are you thinking about?” Lottie asked, and you tensed slightly. You didn’t want to tell her you only thought horrendous parties like this were bearable in her presence — you didn’t want to tell her that you had been thinking about her all night. That you had been thinking about how gorgeous she looked in her golden dress and kaftan, with jeweled necklaces draping down her neck and chest and her hair hanging in flawless waves down her back.

You didn’t want to tell her you had been excruciatingly envious of everyone she’d come into contact with that night that hadn’t been you. That all you wanted was her full attention, for the two of you to go back to her cabin and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“You hate it, don’t you?” She asked, and you realized that you hadn’t responded to her question.

“I don’t hate it,” you said quickly. “Everything’s gorgeous, I just wish I’d spent all this time with you instead of fucking Lisa.”

She smirked, nodding, pleasantly surprised by your confession. “Jealous, then,” She noted, false sympathy lacing her tone. Your gaze dropped to her left hand fiddling mindlessly with the stem of her wine glass — her nails a deep shade of burgundy, one of her favorite rings on almost every finger.

“I’m not jealous,” you breathed, but the way it came out disproved your point. You averted your gaze, taking another sip of your wine. You felt her stand from her bar stool and come up behind yours, and after a moment her hands found your shoulders, trailing down to your hips. “Lottie…”

“I can’t even leave you alone for a couple of minutes,” she said condescendingly, as if it hadn’t been more than an hour. “What do we need to do to get you feeling better, hm? I can’t have you here sulking all night, baby…”

I’m not sulking, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t tell two lies in a row, not when you both knew the truth.

“Get up,” she ordered, and immediately you complied. You turned to face her, and to anyone else it would’ve looked like a perfectly normal conversation — you were the only one who knew her tells, the only one who could see the hunger in her eyes, the desperation ruled by dominance.

You let her lead you away from the bar and the small crowd that had accumulated around it. You weaved through the festivities, the hundreds of people getting wasted and partaking in the ‘Christmas cheer’ you had yet to find this year.

You heard someone calling Lottie’s name through the crowd. The two of you stopped, and you sighed, already knowing who it was before she joined you.

“I have the finished paperwork!” Lisa said cheerfully, and tried to hand it to Lottie, but the look you gave her made her pause. “Is everything okay? Your aura seems a bit-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, shaking your head. “Leave me the fuck alone, Lisa, I don’t have time for this.”

Her hurt expression told you every bit of how much you’d offended her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The party had made you miserable and the wine had made you unfiltered and all you wanted was to be with Lottie without interruption.

Lisa hurried away, and apart from a few stragglers from the party, again you were alone with Lottie in one of the hallways of the wellness center.

Lottie pulled you forward sharply, and then to the right, and then she was shutting and locking the door to the single bathroom in the middle of the hall. She stalked forward, pressuring you to step back so that the end of your lower back was pressed against the sink.

“What was that?” She asked sharply. You shrugged. “You should’ve seen her face when you said that.”

A smirk played at your lips. “I did. I’m not sorry for it, I’d say it again.”

She shook her head, watching you with the same hunger she’d had before, the same intensity. She brought a hand up to your jaw, tilting your head so that you’d meet her gaze. You felt your heartbeat quicken, a wave of warmth washing over you, settling between your legs.

“Such a naughty girl,” she murmured, and you ripped your eyes from hers, her gaze too intense to hold. “Acting like this to get attention. So desperate for mommy, aren’t you? Let me help you, baby.”

You nodded quickly, breathing a small ‘yes’ before pulling her into a kiss that though you initiated, she dominated. Her hands slid around your legs to the hem of your dress, and she pulled it up over your hips, out of the way.

Without warning she turned you around. Your hips pressed sharply against the sink, and when you met her gaze in the mirror above it, you shivered. You hadn’t realized that she’d slipped her golden kaftan off, and while not much of her had been revealed to you still you were in awe of what you could get, the way her dark hair was draped over one shoulder and the way her necklaces fell against her chest, and how strong she looked as she held you against the sink.

“Mommy, please,” you whined, squirming slightly as you stood.

“I know, baby,” she cooed, her tone laced with false sympathy. “You need mommy to take care of you, don’t you?”

Any response you were planning was lost when her lips met your neck. She kissed your pulse point gently before beginning to suck a mark, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“Quiet,” she shushed. “We can’t have everyone hearing how desperate you are, knowing how you’re such a little slut for me that I have to fuck you in the bathroom because you don’t think you’re getting enough attention.”

Her words made embarrassment flush through you, but something deep in you liked it, wanted more, anything she would give you.

And though she dominated you entirely, you felt a sort of satisfaction that you’d driven her to take it this far — she had spent the night away from you but at the end of it she was yours, and she would sacrifice everything for you. It was a point you were proving to everyone at the party with every passing moment that she held you there, her lips on your neck, one hand trailing up your dress to grope at your chest and the other sliding between your legs.

Your attention split between her touches — her lips on your neck, alternating between soft kisses and harsh sucking and biting as she marked your neck. Her fingers sliding through your folds, her touch centering on your clit. Your breath hitched as she began to circle it languidly, whispering praises in your ear as you tried to keep silent but we’re unable to help the whimpers and short whines that escaped you. You looked back into the mirror at the two of you and felt your heart beating furiously.

“You’re doing so good, baby, being so good for mommy,” she praised, and a whimper escaped you, louder than you would’ve wanted, but you didn’t care anymore. Let everyone hear — you were too focused on Lottie to give a damn about what anyone thought.

You moaned when she slipped two fingers into you, hardly giving you a moment to adjust before setting a quick rhythm. The heel of her hand pressed against your clit and the sensation of it all was enough to have you euphoric, eyes falling closed.

You didn’t realize you were being so loud until Lottie brought a hand to your mouth to subdue your moans. It only made you more eager, you could only imagine how wet you must be by now, and another soft flush of embarrassment washed through you.

“You’re mine,” she said, “and I’m yours, and that’s the way it stays.”

You nodded quickly, trying your best to hold back a moan at her words. You opened your eyes, looking into the mirror, and when you met her gaze you whimpered.

“Good girl,” she praised. “My pretty little slut, so close to cumming for me, aren’t you?”

Again you nodded, holding her gaze for a moment before letting your vision slip down to her hand between your legs. You couldn’t see her fucking you, but you could see the way the muscles in her arm flexed with every movement, and that alone was enough to have you reeling.

“Look at you,” Lottie said. “So fucking gorgeous, and all mine.”

You moaned, your eyes falling closed for a moment, hips involuntarily bucking into her hand.

“Cum for me, baby. Show mommy how pretty you are when you cum for her.”

With a gasp you came, her hand still pressed against your mouth to silence you as she worked you through your orgasm. You leaned into her, letting her hold you up better than you could hold yourself up on the sink, and when you looked into the mirror you could see yourself unraveling at her touch. You could see, too, the reverence in Lottie’s eyes, the adoration and hunger with which she watched you, and it was everything.

When you came down from your high, she turned you around again to face her. You wrapped your arms around her, fatigue washing over you heavily, but when she held you it was the safest place in the world for every bit of your exhaustion, a place of rest.

“You did so good for me, angel,” she whispered, running a hand through your hair. You let yourself be overcome with every sensation of her touch. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” you replied. You were silent for a moment, but then she let out a quiet chuckle, and confusedly you looked up at her. “What are you laughing about?”

“It’s nothing,” she said, but when you gave her an imposing look, she folded. “I was just thinking about how this is the scene they never show in Hallmark movies.”

[elierlick]

Wishing everyone a joyful transmas! I know the season can be difficult, so I hope this all-trans nativity scene can make your yuletide a little bit gayer. Here are three fun facts you probably didn’t know about Jesus:

Jesus spoke vocally in support of people we may now know as queer/trans (Matthew 19:12).

Jesus didn’t have a biological father and thus had XX chromosomes. Jesus would have been a trans man.

Historical Jesus was a radical Palestinian communist who likely would have worn a keffiyeh.

[weird-obsessed-girl]

Harry Potter fic rec Time travel/dimension travel

Organised by word count. This rec list involved time travel and dimension travel, not really alt dimension/au. This will include multiple ships like Drarry, Tomarry, Jegulus and Wolfstar.

masterlist

Ouch you landed on my hand and somehow we are in the past - Gravepizza

Scorpius/Albus, wolfstar, Jily meeting the family | G | 1k

Fucking with the future - plecotusauritus

Wolfstar time turner used for inappropriate things, smut, Remus certified DILF | E | 1.6k

Changelings - TreacleTeacups

Tomarry time travel, kid fic, humour, established relationship, mamma bear harry | T | 1.7k

He Who Knows Too Much (and I, Who Knows Nothing) - coribbit

Tomarry time travel, fix-it, seer harry, obsessive tom | T | 1.9k

Everything and Nothing - XxTheDarkLordxX

Drarry post-hogwarts, time travel, hurt/comfort, angst | T | 4k

A Perfect Night for Trick or Treaters - PhantomGrimalkin

Wolfstar time-loop, first war, 1981, angst | T | 4k

Draco at Nineteen - birdsofshore

Drarry Time Travel, Age Difference, Hogwarts 8th Year, First Time | E | 5k

Our Little Life - tackytiger

Drarry post-hogwarts, time travel, dream sex, falling in love, past lives, idiots in love | M | 7k

The Soldier - woobyo

Wolfstar sirius fix-it, bamf sirius, harry is not a horcrux | M | 9k

Quick as a Flash of Lightning, Unhurried as Eternity - babooshk_art, onbeinganangel

Drarry Post-War, Time Travel, Auror Harry, Domestic Fluff | E | 10k

Fifteen - mysid

Wolfstar time travel fix-it, alternate realities, veil of death/opportunities | T | 11k

Brevem Conspectum - Lauren3210

Drarry Kid fic, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Short Time Travel | E | 12k

Eudaimonia - duplicity

Tomarry time travel, child abuse, angst, age difference, happy ending, harry kinda helps raise tom | E | 15k

tempor · al | ary - asterismal (asterisms)

Tomarry time travel, established relationship, voldy wins, threesome | E | 16k

Yuletide Discussions - J_L_Hynde

Tomarry time travel, discussion of wizard politics, tom lusting harry, alt reality, auror harry | M | 18k

Relativity. - Ideasofmarch

Tomarry time travel, fix-it, BAMF harry, morally grey harry, slytherin harry | M | 18k

Draco Malfoy and the Mirror of Ecidyrue 

Drarry PTSD, Time Travel, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Character Study | M | 20k

Enoument - Accipitae

Tomarry master of death harry, harry grows up with tom in orphanage, time travel, homophobia, angst | M | 22k

We Shall Not Cease from Exploration - krabapple

Jily, Wolfstar golden trio time travel, Lily working for the order | T | 23k

The Devil’s White Knight - orphan_account

Drarry Time Travel, Alternate Timeline, Everybody Lives, No Voldermort | E | 24k

Just a Matter of Time - gracerene

Drarry Post-War, Time Travel, Unspeakable Draco, Age Difference, First Time | E | 24k

Draco Malfoy and the Letter from the Future - DracoWillHearAboutThis

Drarry time travel, POV draco, harry potter series retold, draco and harry friendship, draco questioning parents beliefs | G | 33k

More Than You Know - moonscone

Wolfstar friends to lovers, oblivious sirius | G | 47k

If we could turn back time - MBlack93

Tomarry master of death harry, magically powerful, time travel, fix-it, sane tom, slytherin harry, bamf harry, knights of walpurgis | E | 54k

Time is of the Essence - Leaslemoon

Jegulus time travel, fix-it, angst with happy ending, slow burn, friends to lovers, sibling bonding, OOC snape, canon divergence | M | 58k

The Guest - BummedOutWriter

Drarry kid fic, time travel, get together, mrpeg, truth serum, 6th year, seer draco | M | 60k

Heir Apparent - MonsieurClavier

Tomarry time travel, sane voldy, voldy adopts harry, pseudo-incest, powerful harry, possessive behaviour, enemies to friends to lovers, humour | E | 61k

The Devil's White Knight - orphan_account

Drarry dimension travel, no voldy, time travel??, enemies to lovers, post-war trauma, everyone is gay | E | 65k

The Lesson of You - thecouchsofa

Drarry accidental chil acquisition, getting together, family feels, kid fic, fluff, time travel, smut | E | 65k

Everything Black - General_Jellyfish

Drarry Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, BAMF Harry Potter | T | 66k

Game On, Your Move - Ailora

Tomarry time travel, crack treated seriously, obsessive tom, sassy harry, time loop, eventual happy ending, enemies to lovers | T | 75k

Tip of Your Tongue - Spork_in_the_Road

Tomarry time travel, fix-it, morally grey harry, dumbledore critical, slow burn, mystery | M | 78k

The White Pawn - Soupy_George

Drarry time travel, romance, adventure, disenchanted draco, relive sixth year | T | 81k

At the end of every road - sassysquatch

Tomarry time travel, obsessive harry and tom, mutual manipulation, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, class issues, politically motivated marriage | M | 84k WIP 1 last chapter

Into the Dark - PhantomGrimalkin

Wolfstar also drarry, time travel, established relationships, first war, slow burn drarry, suicidal thoughts, manipulative dumbledore, canon divergence | T | 89k

Into the Dark - PhantomGrimalkin

Drarry time travel, first war, slow burn, suicidal thoughts, hocrux hunting, established wolfstar | T | 89k

where are you (my lion)? - harrysblueshirt1

Drarry time travel, canon divergence, jily sent to future, fix-it, emotional hurt/comfort, good draco, professor harry | 99k

That'll Be The Day - Waterloo

Drarry time travel, friendship, hogwarts redo, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, pov alternating, wolfstar raise harry | M | 112k WIP

Far From The Tree - aideomai

Drarrys kids time travel to hogwarts, pre-relationship, down and out draco, dom draco | E | 112k

you belong to me (i belong to you) - Child_OTKW

Tomarry time travel, slytherin politics, mind games, auror harry, slytherin harry, master of death harry, PLS READ ALL TAGS | 112k

Turning Leaves - Kbrick

Drarry time travel, pining draco, slytherin harry, angst with happy ending, harry is bad at feelings, drunk sex, auror harry | E | 113k

good night, darling - purplemineralwater

Tomarry time travel, fix-it, master of death harry, slytherin harry, knights of walpurgis, possessive tom, sane tom, hurt/comfort, slow burn | E | 138k

Bewildered - SparrowGrim

Drarry dimension travel, canon divergence, a/b/o, magically powerful harry, top draco, happy ending | E | 148k

When you are ready to go on... but you go back - Sakura521

Drarry time travel, fix-it, harry heir of house black, slow burn, good malfoy family | M | 166k WIP, 1 more chapter

Always Already - aibidil

Drarry time travel, post-hogwarts, department of mysteries, drarry go back to marauders era | E | 171k

Praeclarus Anguis - KaedeRavensdale

Tomarry time travel, slytherin harry, possessive behaviour, tom has met his match | M | 172k

Diablerie - Oceanbreeze7

Tomarry bamf tom, sane tom, time travel, ptsd, book 5, mental health issues, canon divergence | T | 176k

47 Days to Change (a translation) - snow_owl01

Tomarry time travel, slow burn, dubious consent, alt universe | E | 200k

What He Grows To Be - Severus_divides_into_H

Tomarry unhealthy relationships, obsessive and possessive tom, master of death harry, time travel, tom raised by harry, self-harm, psychological torture | M | 266k

What Souls Are Made Of - Emeralds_and_Lilies

Tomarry golden trio accidently time travel, angst, mind games, unhealthy relationships, slow burn | E | 278k

[dramioneasks]

Christmas Fics 2023 (Part 1):

Hermione's Holiday Healing by Fawkes01 - M, WIP - Upon deciding to end her 'relationship' with Krum, Hermione also chose to remain at Hogwarts for Christmas. She knew everyone would be disappointed when she didn't arrive at the Burrow, but she needed time to herself. Little did she know that Malfoy had also chosen to stay at the castle for the holidays. It surprised her even more when they began to grow close.

Christmas Treats by cleotheo - T, one-shot - As the Christmas festivities get under way at Malfoy Manor, Draco Malfoy has a special treat for his family. However, he isn't the only member of the family with a Christmas Surprise up their sleeve. Fluffy, festive Dramione one-shot.

Christmas Magic by Darcy M. James - K+, one-shot - Hermione takes a holiday to France to enjoy the Christmas market, dealing with the after effects of the war. She happens upon someone from her past and her day takes an unexpected turn for the better. One-shot. Hermione & Draco. Slight fluff (there's some hard-hitting moments though).

The Library Liaison by Anonymous - E, WIP - When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy realise they’ll need to ring in the New Year by fake-dating, they think that’s just what comes with the job. Little do they know that they’re going to get far more than they bargained for.

To Woo a Witch by MyDelphi - E, WIP - Single father Draco Malfoy adored his son. And had decided that for his first Yule, Scorp deserved a priceless gift for being such a good little boy. And what was more priceless than getting him a mother? Getting him Granger as a mother. (Which would be a very convenient present as Draco Malfoy was terribly and irrevocably in love with her.)

Under the mistletoe by hazzapresents - E, WIP - no summary

The Christmas Prank by Ashabadash - M, WIP - Someone at Hogwarts is in the fun and festive mood and Christmas pranks centered around the 12 Days of Christmas have been popping up all throughout the castle, much to the dismay of several professors, including Transfiguration Professor Hermione Granger and the newly appointed Potions Master, Draco Malfoy. Will solving the mystery of this Christmas Prank put these two in the romantic holiday mood? Or will it Scrooge their season?

Twelve Spells of Christmas: The Yuletide Revelations. by Helledore - T, one-shot - Draco and Hermione exchange twelve enchanted notes. What will this Christmas bring?

All I Want For Christmas Is You by leopoldfucker - E, one-shot - hristmas Eve is a special day for Draco and Hermione, and it’s about to get even more special. That is, if Hermione says yes.

[sonofthedunes]

to all my lovely followers, merry christmas….or should i say, merry slutsmas? yes, i have prepared for you a naughty yuletide treat, a thanks to everyone who has joined me on this wacky trip through revitalized star wars fandom and luke stanning. so below the cut, partake in a peek at our boy engaging in some “self-care.” italics are his fantasy, regular text is the real world. i’ve kept descriptions of his partner vague so that you can use your imaginations. whether you’d like it to be yourself or an oc, to frame this story as before the pair hooks up or during a time when they’re separated—i’ll leave that up to you! here’s to a hilarious, horny, heartwarming 2024. may the force be with you. enjoy!

(MINORS DNI)

this gentle art

He can picture her so clearly, as if she stands before him now in the darkened confines of his room. Her hair, her eyes, the smile on her lips: all lovely—and all making his heart beat that much faster. He swallows, staring back at her wide-eyed. Can she tell, he wonders? Can she sense how much he wants her, how desperate his need has grown?

An involuntary groan of relief escapes him as his hand finally encircles his cock; freed from the confines of his trousers, throbbing and angry-red, it twitches and leaks a single clear drop. Teeth digging into his lower lip, he slicks his length with his own essence. He settles back and allows his eyes to drift closed as he begins teasing the head. All the better to focus on his fantasy….

She sits on the bed beside him, runs a hand over his blushing cheek. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” she says softly.

“No!” he insists. “No, I…this is fine.”

“Good.” She leans forward and kisses him—quite faintly at first, then more ardently as he eagerly responds. Their mouths open, their tongues slide between their lips like keycards in a lock. He gasps a little when she tugs his body closer, the combined heat sending a thrill up his spine. Daring to lay her hand against his aching groin, he receives a delighted moan in response. “Stars, you’re so hard…need you inside me.” He’s more than willing to oblige.

He’s fighting his own urges, knowing he could finish by fucking his fist quicker than an ash-rabbit. No, he wants this to last…every delicious moment of it will be his. So he drags his fingers up and down the shaft at a measured pace, huffing and cursing under his breath at how unbelievably right it feels. Of course he indulges in a bit of self-pleasure now and then, most young humans do, but…it never feels as satisfying as it does when he thinks about her. So sweet, so soft, everything he could ever desire.

Their clothes are fumbled off into wrinkled heaps on the bedroom floor, and he helps position her on his lap. The tight, warm wetness enveloping his cock as she sinks onto it—surely no feeling in the galaxy could compare to this. “Oh fuck,” she whimpers. “Feels so good…”

His head is swimming with rapture, his hands gripping her hips. “You don’t…you don’t know how long I wanted this,” he manages.

She giggles breathlessly. “I can guess.” Slender arms drape themselves around his neck. With a slow roll of her pelvis she begins fucking him, and he swears through gritted teeth with an energy that surprises them both. His fingers dig into her hips, guiding her forward and back, and he leans in to sloppily kiss her collarbone.

At some point he opened his eyes and now finds himself gazing on his handiwork: left hand curled around his swollen cock, caressing it from root to tip, occasionally smearing precum around the head. His chest heaves with every breath, occasionally accompanied by a small “hah,” and he can feel his sweat rapidly cooling in the room’s circulating air. This is what the mere thought of her does to him. And he loves it.

The dull slap of flesh against flesh fills the bedroom, mixing with their moans and hoarse words of praise. “Fuuuuck, right there,” she begs, driving herself down to take him deeper; he decides to help and moves with her, angling at precisely the right spot to draw forth a broken cry.

“Like this?” he asks rhetorically, hands wandering and mouth ghosting at her neck. She whines lustfully as he bucks up into her. A moment later she shudders when he lowers his head to her breasts; he kisses them, then sucks a nipple into his mouth and rolls his tongue around the peak, not switching sides until it’s like a diamond between his lips. And all the time they fuck, giving and taking in equal measure.

What he wouldn’t do for just five minutes with those perfect tits! Imagining their softness, the way they’d bounce with every thrust, is enough to tighten his grip and increase his speed. But he’s been nearing that point regardless. His patience is paying off: the slow embers of his climax kindle in his lower belly, his balls heavy with their unspent load even as clear drops dribble down his shaft and onto his hand. Eyes squeeze shut again in concentration. A strangled “mmmm” at the pressure. Almost there…

“Almost there,” he groans, fingers scrabbling at her back. “Please can I cum inside, really want-“

“Yes,” she grants him permission in an airy voice. “Touch me?”

Without disrupting the rhythm, his left hand snakes between their damp bodies to the juncture of her thighs, thumb seeking and finding the little prize. Rubbing tiny circles over the nub, he delights in her arched back and trembling pants. It serves to fuel his own growing passion, and he begins thrusting faster. “That’s it…take what you need, take it, take it,” he murmurs, wholly devoted to his tasks. Is he speaking to her or himself?

“Yes,” he hisses, “take it.” His hard-on kicks against his palm and he grunts at the sudden shock of pleasure. He can’t possibly hold out much longer.

“So fuckin’ close,” she shivers, rocking on him as though she’ll never get this chance again. “I’m so close, baby…”

“Cum for me,” he orders (though not unkindly), thumb still massaging her tender clit. “Wanna hear you, sweet girl.”

He’s properly fucking his fist now, the very thing he swore he wouldn’t do at the start of all this, but quite frankly he doesn’t care. It feels incredible, the closer he edges to the precipice.

She falls apart with a scream, clenching around him, her hands yanking on his hair or lightly pressing his throat. By contrast, he almost sobs when he finally blessedly lets go: his hips jerk as he fills her with his seed, his brain empty of any thought but the urge to hold her and keep her.

Somehow, he has the presence of mind to cover his mouth with his unoccupied hand as he cums. He knows how loud he can be…and selfishly, he wants no one else to hear him moan her name. If he can’t have her tonight, he wants that sound.

Afterward (how long has it been? A few seconds? An hour? It’s hard to tell when your bliss is so great), they collapse on the bed. Their high dissipates gradually: breathing evens, hearts slow. Neither makes a move to clean up or dress just yet. Simply to lie together, exchanging kisses and tracing patterns on flushed skin, is more than enough.

There are a million things he could say, a litany of poetics he could charm her with…but all that emerges is “I love you.”

“You do?” she grins, brushing hair back from his forehead.

“‘Course I do. If I could have anyone in the galaxy, I’d choose you every time.”

Hooking a leg over his hip, she snuggles against his his chest. “The feeling’s mutual, starlight.”

He hopes it always is.

“Oh, shit….” He’d had a suspicion his orgasm would be intense, but…when was the last time he’d cum this much? Thick, pearly ropes of the stuff splattered across his stomach and chest, some oozing onto his hand (still clutching his softening cock like his life depends on it). With a groan of effort, he fishes in the drawer of his bedside table until he finds a spare rag and wipes himself down. It takes a few passes, but eventually he’s clean enough to put off bathing until morning.

Rolling onto his back, he stares at the ceiling, an acute wave of loneliness pulsing through him. In the midst of his fantasy he could forget it, but now the bed feels rather empty and cold. To have her there would be his only wish…but for all the Force can accomplish, it can’t teleport people just by thinking of them.

So he drifts to sleep on his own for another night. But before he does, he whispers her name like a prayer to the shadows…and then:

“Love you.”