#12daysofchristmas2024

Letting Astarion drink your blood had become a regular occurrence, one that developed its own routine. He’d let you get comfortable on your bedroll, crawling over your tense body with his sweet touch and even sweeter words encouraging you to relax. Then his fangs puncture the sensitive skin on your neck, pain coursing through your veins as your blood leaves your body. Astarion strokes your hair, runs his hands gently through it, bringing you back to the mortal fold. But you want more.

You want to feel his arms graze your bare skin. You want to feel his fangs on other parts of your body, his tongue lapping at more tender areas… You blink fast as if that would banish such thoughts. It’s scarier, somehow scarier than trusting a vampire to not drink you dry, so you leave it.

Yet Astarion seems to be able to read your mind, for his hands move from your hair to your waist, tracing the outline of your body, they travel first down to your hips and back up to the sides of your breasts. Something ignites within you and you lean into his touch, satiating that yearning in your belly. Then you place a hand on his chest and gently push him away, careful not to use so much force that he might rip your throat out. 

Astarion releases you and pushes himself back onto his knees. He’s towering over you, kneeling between your legs, but his eyes are soft, free from their usual malice or glint of mischief. He sucks in a breath before he speaks, “It seems I’ve crossed a boundary…” he sighs, “I apologise.”

He shifts his weight, moves to stand up, but you sit up with such speed that you nearly knock your forehead against his. Your vision splinters, scattered with sparks and stars as your heart works to pump more blood around your body. Astarion holds you up by the shoulders, taken aback by your foolish and sudden movement, “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t- I, uh, I-” pausing at the mess of words streaming from your mouth, you look down and frown. Why was this so difficult? You bite your tongue, think it through, and look at him again with determination. His eyes, blood red, flicker in the nearby firelight. They’re searching your face for an answer, and you nearly choke on your words again at their beauty, but you push through, “I-I want to, but, you know,” your cheeks were uncomfortably hot now but you refuse to let your eyes wander, “I’ve never done it before.”

Astarion’s eyebrows jump, his eyes blown wide and reflecting your face clearly back at you, “You haven’t?!”

“Um…” This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting, “...No?”

He smiles. A genuine smile; it’s faint and small and disappears in an instant, but it was there. “My darling, you are so beautiful, I thought you would have used it much to your advantage, but…” Astarion leans forward, threatening to push you back into the bedroll if it weren’t for one strong arm wrapped around your back and holding you in place. Your heart stutters at how close his face is to yours now. He continues, “I don’t think I deserve it, but the thought of being your first is exciting. To hear what vulgar sounds might come from your mouth, or how you might react if I touched you elsewhere.”

They were only words, but you could feel his touch already, his cold hands setting your body on fire. You needed him tonight, you were ready, “You do deserve it, but…” there was one small problem, “I’m just, I don’t know, scared?”

“You? Of pain?” he chuckles, his free hand brushing against the fresh wound on your neck still dribbling blood. Astarion brings his now bloodied fingers to his mouth, sucking up the remainders of his feast without breaking eye contact. Then he pulls his fingers away with a pop and says, “Would I ever hurt you, dear?”

When you shake your head - no, you could never hurt me, truly - he pushes you the rest of the way into the bedroll and adjusts the flat pillow behind you, making sure you’re comfortable.

And then his hands slip under your shirt, his ice cold touch sending shivers through your body as he travels further up. One finger traces a circle around your nipple, the other hand cups your breast and plays with it gently. You’re unsure what to do with your hands at first, so you place one at the back of Astarion’s neck and pull him close, kissing him gently.

His hands travel even further up, wrapping around your back and lifting you off the ground for a moment, breaking your kiss to pull your shirt over your head. Before the fabric is even on the ground, your lips are crashing against his again and your tongue is begging to go deeper. Astarion lets you in, and you’re so lost in your kiss that you don’t have time to shy your now bare torso from him. 

When Astarion breaks away again, he makes up for it by leaving a scattered trail of kisses, bruises, and shallow bites down your neck and then your chest. He’s planted his knees either side of one of your legs now, and when he latches onto your nipple with his mouth, he pushes his thigh into you at the same time. You let out a weak groan, but with each swish of his tongue against your tit, Astarion has you whimpering. 

He wants to hear you more, so he drags his tongue further down, his lips meeting the band of your trousers. When he looks up at you through dishevelled white locks, you don’t hesitate to nod your approval. He’s pulling your pants and underwear off in an instant, peeling them from your legs and letting you kick them off your ankles. You freeze up for a moment when you realise that you’re now fully naked and powerless before him, while he remains fully clothed. But there’s nothing you can do or say before he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, pushing the other to the side as he descends upon your needy clit.

You immediately feel a pressure building in your core, only much more intense than anything you’ve experienced before. You decide you want more and roll your hips forward in an attempt to feel more of him on you. Astarion obliges, parting your already sick folds as he pushes his tongue into you. The feeling is budding, it threatens to spill, wash over you and drown you. Astarion pulls away.

Cool air taunts your aching core, the pleasure you were chasing now regrettably subsiding. You grab at the fabric of Astarion’s shirt in a feeble attempt to pull him closer, and whine “Please…”. But he just smirks at you.

“You were so nervous just moments ago,” he teases, “but you’ve forgotten it all from just a few flicks of my tongue,” he’s toying with you, but he still pulls his shirt over his head and finally reveals himself to you. You get busy roaming his skin with your hands, exploring as much as possible, while he continues to taunt you, “You’re so beautiful when you writhe around underneath me like that.”

His lips are on yours again, his tongue fighting and beating yours in a futile game of dominance. Your face burns even hotter when you realise you can taste yourself on him, but you’re distracted again when you feel Astarion tugging at the drawstrings of his pants and pulling them down just enough that his already hard member springs free. He bites your lower lip playfully and drags it out as he breaks the kiss, shifting his weight to line up his dick with your entrance. It takes all your self-control not to push yourself onto him. 

“Are you ready, my love?” he asks. 

You nod. Astarion holds himself up with his arms either side of your face, eyes trained only on you as he pushes himself into you. You wrap your arms around his neck for support while he watches in admiration as your face twists in pain and pleasure. He stops when you let out a sharp gasp, watching you bite at your lip so hard you taste blood. Astarion stays completely still inside you, giving you time to adjust as he leans down and laps at the traces of blood pooling in your lower lip.

When you finally relax a little - welcoming him - he slips in further, groaning into your ear as he bottoms out in you. And when he begins to move, the feeling is strange at first: the pain of his cock stretching you open sets you on fire and leaves you wanting more, melting into tasteful pleasure. Everytime he pulls out, you moan into his lips, not wanting to lose him from you. 

Sounds tumble from your mouth, spurring Astarion to move faster and harder with each whisper of his name. You feel that tight pressure returning to your stomach, your walls clenching around him and drawing a grunt from him as he continues to thrust into you. He’s chasing his own high still as every part of you crescendos, pleasure crashing through your body in waves. Your body falls limp as you feel Astarion finish, too, inside of you, his cock twitching once, twice, three times in your cunt.

Astarion makes no effort to move, collapsing on top of you and burying his face in your shoulder. After a few moments of silence, punctured only by the dying fireplace and your harmonising and desperate pants, he mumbles into your ear, “You feel amazing.”

@12daysofchristmas

"i can't believe you managed to convince the instructor to let you go out," you muttered in slight awe as he made his way towards you, raising a hand in acknowledgement, "don't salute to me, i'm not your commanding officer, hiro."

"force of habit, i suppose," he hummed, taking your arm in his, "shall we?"

he led you through the city, expertly weaving and dodging the crowd heading the opposite direction, eyes shining fondly as he led you to the town square, which, as expected, was bustling with people.

"i didn't know it would be this busy," he muttered, glancing down at you, "are you alright?"

"i'm fine," you hummed, leaning into him, squinting up at the bright lights above you as they flickered, changing colours, "don't worry about it, hiro, really."

"are you sure?" concern flickered in his eyes as he looked you over. "i brought you out, i don't want you to not enjoy this..."

"i enjoy it," you reassured him, dragging him to a less stimulating place, "but let's move here for a bit."

he hummed, letting you drag him along into a quieter place, resting your head on his shoulder.

"i was hoping you'd bring us somewhere quieter," he hummed, taking off the guitar case - had he brought it along? you hadn't noticed - and grinning widely at your perplexed look. "why would i not bring it along?"

"it's christmas," was all you said.

"so?" he scoffed, adjusting it on his lap and tuning it, noting how your gaze lingered on his fingers, "i want to play for you, can't i play for you?"

"you can," you muttered, "but we're in public."

"music was always meant to be played for an audience," he murmured, continuing to tune it and strumming it with a hum, ignoring how a crowd had started to gather around the two of you.

but he wasn't focused on them.

after all, you were all he ever needed underneath the lights.

"i've always preferred playing for an audience of one," he hummed, playing a familiar tune, "i don't care about them."

your eyes were on him, only on him, and his heart fluttered with ecstatic joy at that fact, at knowing that you were his, his his his his his, all his, and nobody else's. he adored knowing that you only ever looked at him, that you only ever paid attention to him.

Mermaids, mermen, and fishmen of all shapes and sizes sang and danced before your eyes, the room threatening to burst with laughter and music and the rumble of feet on the floor. It was something you’d never forget, you hoped, letting the familiar post-battle relief seep into your veins and loosen up your muscles.

Up until yesterday morning, you hadn’t seen anyone for two years. Part of you was convinced that your dangerous yet thrilling life on the seas was over, and that you might not run into your long lost friends on Saboady. But of course they would never let you down. When you arrived at the Sunny, there they all were: beaming down at you as if nothing had changed. 

Perhaps nothing had changed, after all. The past few years without them were erased in an instant upon your frantic descent to Fishman Island, and it was business as usual - fighting then feasting then repeating. You took this rare moment of peace to admire your friends from afar, nostalgia aching and eating away at your heart.

Zoro already drank his fill and fell asleep, while you winced at the face stuck to Sanji’s face as he laid in a mermaid’s lap. Chopper was next to him, frantically scolding him for yet another nosebleed. Brook - the Soul King - started performing with the band while Franky taught some fishmen fellows his signature pose, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Suuuuper!” You couldn’t help but choke on your laugh.

Your esteemed captain, Luffy, was deflating slowly after eating so much food, waving his arms about and talking excitedly with Jimbe. Ever the social butterfly, Nami chatted away to Camie while Robin sat still and listened, a small and graceful smile upon her face. Usopp soon joined in, spinning his silly but entertaining little stories.

“Why are you crying?” you look up to find Luffy, his eyes wide with innocent confusion, his body already returned to normal. When you don’t respond right away, he tilts his head and asks again, “Are you still hurt from earlier?”

You shake your head, only just noticing how the tears stung your eyes. Frantically, you wipe them away with the back of your arm, no doubt rubbing your face a little raw. He plops down next to you, taking in the same views. You wonder if he’s thinking of the same thing as you, or maybe he’s just zero’d in on how much more he wants to eat - you can never tell. That’s your captain. 

You clear your throat and say, “I gotta admit something stupid.”

“Yeah?” is all Luffy can say. He doesn’t even turn to you, mesmerised still on what’s before him.

“I’m so happy we’re back together,” you smile, finally tearing your eyes from him, “Even though we’re still going to be bouncing from one place to the other, just like always, I still… I never want this night to end!”

He throws his head back and laughs, “It never will!” he announces proudly, “We’re pirates. We’re gonna live this good every day. I promise!”

Right then, a long-forgotten feeling blossomed in your chest once more. It climbed up into your throat and threatened to choke you, for you were finally back with your friends and your captain - the future King of the Pirates, and you didn’t have to fear what would come next. This is what the past two years were for.

As Luffy’s laugh died down, his wide smile still plastered across his face, you found yourself thinking that you love your captain, who bears so much for you all with no hesitation, so much that you could kiss him. And you do.

It’s quick, fleeting. You race forward and press your lips against his, the music around you fading into the background for a moment, but sense washes over you and sobers you up fast, and you pull away. To your surprise, Luffy doesn’t seem angry or confused. His eyebrows are twisted in shock and his mouth hangs open slightly, but at least he’s not upset. It only makes you feel even more embarrassed, twisting your body away from him and hiding your now red face. “I’m sorry!” your mind races to find the right thing to say, but Luffy’s response takes you out once more.

“Hey, can we do that again?” 

You freeze. Then you slowly turn back to him, only to find his face centimetres from yours. Scooting backwards against the floor to put some distance between you, your response is scattered as you fan the heat away from your face, “What do you mean?”

“That- It felt good! I wanna try it again!” he’s smiling again.  Of course, you huff. Luffy’s actions shouldn’t surprise you anymore. But you give in, feeling yourself lean in to connect your lips again, your hand flying up to cup his cheek and pull him in closer and keep him there longer. Luffy smiles toothily and clumsily into the kiss, reminding you again why you love him so much in the first place.

@12daysofchristmas

So, you enter his flat, turkey and brussel sprouts in hand, and sneak straight past his room into the kitchen. He’s so busy tapping away at his keyboard that he doesn’t even notice you - perfect.

It takes hours, of course, and you mentally prepare yourself for him to walk in before you finish. Yet, predictable as ever, he doesn’t step foot in the kitchen, nor can you even hear him leave his room. I’m not convinced he’s human, you think to yourself.

You’re taking the turkey out of the oven - the final piece of your festive endeavour - when you catch a flash of green in the corner of your eye. You nearly drop the oven tray on the floor.

You only regain your balance because you’d yet to take the tray out fully. Before a serious accident can occur, you carefully place it onto the counter and push it further inwards - for good measure.

Finally, you spin around on your heels to face your straight-faced boyfriend. “Surprise!” you exclaim, clapping your gloved hands together.

“I think I surprised you more,” his voice is steady and monotonous, the only emotion displayed on his face is the slight curve of his mouth into a lopsided smirk. He traipses over and plants a kiss onto your forehead, playfully rubbing it in as his hand messes through your hair.

Takeru glances at all the food laid out neatly on the table: crisped potatoes, assorted veggies, stuffing, pigs in blankets, and a space in the middle reserved, assumedly, for the turkey.

“So this is what you were doing?” he muses. For a moment you think that, maybe, he’s impressed. “I was wondering why you were making all that noise.”

Whoops. A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you turn your attention back to the turkey, carefully shuffling it onto a plate. “You knew?”

“Of course, I knew,” Takeru sighs. He plops himself down onto a chair, “You’re not very subtle.”

“Y-yeah,” you place the meat in the middle and sit across from him, your hands a tangled and panicked mess in your lap, “I wanted to do something nice for you, for Christmas.”

“It is nice,” you hear him say. When you shoot your head up, he’s smiling. It’s that rare one you hardly see - it’s not laced with cockiness or mockery, it’s just gentle. You smile back, “I’m glad.”

By the end of the meal, your brain is foggy with the sheer amount you’ve eaten. You glance over at your boyfriend, unphased despite eating most of the food, and grow a little envious. At least he enjoyed it, that’s good.

“So,” he rests his chin on his hand, “what’s for dessert?”

Crap. You were so distracted by how long your shopping list had grown that you completely forgot to add something sweet on there. That was rule number one with Takeru, how could you forget? You jolt awake from your looming food coma with adrenaline.

“I’ll make something real quick!” you announce. You could’ve sworn there were a few baking ingredients left behind from the last time you were here - perhaps that would be enough for him. 

When you try to scramble out of your seat and beeline to the cupboards, you don’t make it very far. A hand around your wrist yanks you backwards and you feel yourself fall, air whooshing past your ears at frightening speeds.

But you land in Takeru’s lap, his free arm holding you upright to face him. His expression is unreadable - all you can see is his face so close to yours, his breath warm on your lips.

And he kisses you.

Eyes wide open, you’re too shocked to react at first. Just a second ago you were trying to remember how to make sponge cake, or maybe cookies, and now Takeru’s lips were on yours, his tongue gliding through the delicious parting your surprise left him.

You let him in, melting in his hands so easily, and thread your fingers through his messy green hair in a desperate attempt to pull him even closer.

Takeru’s hands roam from your back to your soft thighs, he smiles into your kiss when you squirm at his touch adventuring further and further up your leg, under the hem of your skirt. He takes advantage of your little gasps and pushes his tongue deeper, wanting to explore you completely.

He’s the first to pull away and you follow for a second, unwilling to let go. His signature smirk makes you pout.

“You’re sweet enough for me,” he says.

Reaching up to cup his cheek, you pull him close again so that your lips are practically touching. “Good,” you whisper, and attack again. 

@12daysofchristmas

Akiko Yosano:

I would spend most of my time researching the nicest sake for her because I do NOT want to cross her

Atsushi Nakajima:

Doppo Kunikida:

It was way too easy for jouno to rip up your notebook - it’ll be harder this time.

Junichiro Tanizaki:

I had no desire to go find or make an example image because I would probably get him a Naomi body pillow just to make fun of him.

Kenji Miyazawa:

Doesn't he get cold?

Kyouka Izumi:

Demon Snow would be much cooler through a walkie talkie. Over.

Osamu Dazai:

Ranpo Edogawa:

I'd literally just take him to Wilko's pick&mix. It's only £1.