#fic: A Violet Christmas

[goatsandgangsters]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Last Binding Series - Freya Marske Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston/Alan Ross, Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston & Edwin Courcey, Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston & Violet Debenham Characters: Alan Ross, Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston, Edwin Courcey, Violet Debenham, Maud Blyth, Robin Blyth, Adelaide Morrissey Additional Tags: Christmas, Found Family, Fluff, Book 3: A Power Unbound (Last Binding Series), Post-Canon, Flirting, Light Dirty Talk, Sutton Cottage, Christmas Fluff, Friendship, Amicable Exes, Vignette, Post-Book 3: A Power Unbound (Last Binding Series), minor Alan Ross & everyone else, minor Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston & everyone else, POV Alan Ross, POV Lord Hawthorn | Jack Alston, minor Maud Blyth/Violet Debenham, minor Robin Blyth/Edwin Courcey, New Years, New Year's Resolutions, Canon Compliant

Summary:

Christmas, 1909. 

Alan was doing his level best to hide it, but his teeth were chattering. Jack could hear it like typewriter keys. He had his usual cap pulled down tight on his head, and a scarf that was clearly homemade tucked over his chin, so that his beautiful, insolent expression was all Jack could see of him. He looked like the world’s most indignant owl, and Jack had the ludicrous desire both to laugh and to become every branch on every tree, that he might perch upon. 

He settled for draping his arms over Alan’s shoulders and pulling him into his chest. Far more sensible. 

“Comfortable, your lordship?” Alan mocked, coat-muffled, as Jack’s cheek rested against the rough wool of his cap. 

“Hardly. I’m liable to develop a wretched crick in my neck.”

[theselfshippingwitch]

A commission of Ray and Violet I got from @roboraindrop!!! It's a picture of a scene from this story

and it's also my favorite thing i love it so much ray is so handsome

[newtonsheffield]

Violet looking at the foil wrapper she’s just found under the car seat next to a pair of women’s underwear and the scarf she bought for Kate when she and Mary went shopping together 2 months ago:

[badteavee]

Christmas With The Ticket Winners

Tws / Cws : None

Genre : Fluff

Word count : 2,451

Paring : Mainly the gtws and some content of their parents

The kids all grumbled and mumbled , slowly following Charlie out of the elevator as they tried to rub the sleep from their eyes. It was too early to be up and moving like this but Charlie was too insistent on it for anyone to tell him off for it , no one was even given the time to change out of their pjs or fix their hair , they were all a mess.

Mike and Veruca would side eye each other every now and again , inwardly making fun of the other as they weren’t awake enough to do it outwardly. Veruca wore a pink tee with matching fuzzy pants , her hair straight for once and a bit messy from the bonnet they were wearing that was now torn off. They wore no makeup which didn’t change much anyway , her face was still disgustingly perfect. Mike’s hair was completely flat against his head , making him look like he owned a MySpace blog , and he was wearing pjs completely covered in the captain knuckleduster logo. They both thought the other looked like the dumbest imaginable.

Violet was choosing to ignore what Augustus looked like , him wearing some cheap looking Christmas pjs she knew definitely matched a pair his mother , everyone had seen Augustus in his pajamas enough times to not judge so harshly. She , on the other hand , wore an oversized tee prototype of her own merch and some basketball shorts , not bothering to take off her bonnet since she couldn’t care less currently.

Charlie was tired himself , but his eyes still lit up with an inhuman amount of excitement. He wore a cheap plaid pajama set that matched with the rest of his family and his usual beanie to cover his unbrushed hair. He knew it was too early for most to be up but he was too excited to wait any longer.

He lead the tired mass to the doors of the candy paradise , where an unsurprisingly wide awake Wonka in a nightgown and nightcap stood with a smile. They all could tell whatever he had planned was not for the tired. Whatever’s up there save them.

Wonka gave Charlie a nod , cuing him to open the doors with him , revealing the wonderland that’s become of the room. A wave of perfectly temperatured air washed over them all , taking every hint of exhaustion they had and replacing it with awe and joy. They all shuffled like the first time they saw it , listening to the gleeful father and son point out every new addition. Festive cookies growing from twisting candy cane trees , yule log cakes piled in a holder like they were freshly cut down , cotton candy bushes growing tea cakes. Everything was coated in a perfect layer of powdered sugar.

In the midst of their awe , Mike stepped wrong , slipping on the sugary ground and falling back into the powder , sending a puff of it into the air. Veruca and Violet stopped to laugh , him in turn reaching up and trying to pull them down. Veruca fell with a squeal and another puff of sugar , Violet tried to stay up by grabbing onto Augustus but only ended up dragging him down with her. Mike cackled , pumping his hand in the air in victory. “Triple score !”

“Michael !” Veruca wanted to sound mad but truthfully , they couldn’t help laughing either , starting a chain through the rest of them. Charlie even joined in , laughing as he flopped down with them. It felt like joy was in the air , which was possible here in this factory but this was unprompted , maybe even pure. They were covered in sugar and sure to need a shower later but they couldn’t care about it right now. There was just something about this room that made it hard to feel bad.

They took their time calming down , eventually getting themselves up and attempting to dust themselves off as Wonka came to stand with them. “Follow me , there’s so much time and so little to see.”

He got a chorus of “Strike that , reverse it” from the group , he hummed like he was annoyed but that stupid smile betrayed him.

“You’re all so smart , aren’t you ? Nevermind , advance !” He pointed his his cane forward and practically skipped off , leaving the kids to carefully hurry after him. He’s surprisingly fast for someone so old. Wonka acted as a tour guide as they went , pointing out stollen mushrooms , lily pads made of chocolate chip peppermint cookies , shortbread chickens that laid cookie dough eggs. Charlie had gotten to pick out the treats for the holidays so he decided to honor his friends , he watched the others recognize their favorite desserts , all of them grabbing them as they passed by.

Nobody thought to think of where they were being lead until Wonka suddenly stopped , making the line all halt and stumble into each other. They all grumbled , rubbing their shoulders and arms as they muttered questions , shooting short glares at the older before spotting what they stopped for.

Ahead was a giant chocolate pine tree dusted in powdered sugar , decorated with sugar ornaments and string lights made of liquid sunshine and liquorish. Their parents were sat around the tree on yule logs , drinking from sugar flower mugs and laughing at whatever they were talking about. At the base of the tree were groups of presents , clearly color coded to each family’s signature color.

Time never felt like it passed in the factory , no one other than the Buckets had realized it was Christmas until now. Shit. It was Christmas. The kids all shuffled their way over to sit down near their parents , the regular groups being forced to sit together , Mike and Veruca , Violet and Augustus , Charlie and his parents. Nobody seemed too unhappy about the arrangement currently , everyone was distracted by the wonder.

Their parents exchanged ‘Merry Christmas’s with their kids and Wonka as they got settled in , the adults continuing their conversation they were having while the kids finished their desserts and chatted if they felt like it. Mike shoved the rest of the bit of peppermint he snapped off a tree into his mouth before elbowing Veruca.

“Bet this is a downgrade for her majesty , huh ?”

“I still have more presents than you , dumbo.”

“Nuh uh ! You have.. one !”

“Look closer , stupid ! I have two.” Mike squinted at the collection of presents , rolling his eyes.

“Whatever ! You’re still getting two and not thousands !”

“You’re mad you’re poor.” Poof. Screech. They shook their head like a dog , trying to shake off at least some of the sugar of her while Mike laughed in her face. Ethel and Oleg shared a look , so proud their kids made friends.

Violet rolled her eyes at the two’s antics , knowing she’d do the same to them given the opportunity , and continued her trade of treats with Augustus. She’d managed to grab a good few of the lily pads and was happy to trade some for an equal amount of Augustus’ mushrooms. Chocolate still dripped from the lilies but neither seemed to mind , too wrapped in a conversation about what stollen was.

Charlie kept himself busy with his shortbread chicken and a few tea cakes he grabbed from the bushes , adding a few things into the conversation his parents were having here and there. He enjoyed the joy everyone else was feeling, liking knowing that he helped cause this. It may just be the room but everybody seemed at ease , their arguing feeling like jokes between friends instead of arguments between lifelong enemies.

Wonka watched to see when the children were done with their shenanigans and eating before clearing his throat , gaining almost everyone’s attention. Mike and Veruca had to be nudged by their parents to stop shoving and throwing sugar at each other. They shot glares but stopped to listen , both looking like they took a nosedive into the layered ground. “Thank you.” The elder chocolatier smiled at the group , no hint of distain behind it. “Shall we open the presents ?” He passed the gifts to their designated person , yellows and oranges to the Teavees , Light pinks and Grays to the Salts and so on. The gifts all had one of the other kid’s names on the from tag , nobody other than Charlie had actual gotten another a gift. It’s apparently very easy to get someone to pick a gift for another if they’re distracted. Before Veruca could even take a nail to the tape , he spoke again. “We will start with Augustus.”

“We never took turns in my house..”

“We’re not in your house , stupid !”

“Shut up !”

Wonka pinched the bridge of his nose , always something with those two. “Now you both can go last. Good ? Good. Wonderful !” He motioned to Augustus. “Go ahead.”

Augustus opened his present , the tag saying it came from Violet , a Nintendo Switch with stickers to decorate the handles with and a couple gift cards for the shop. He grinned , absolutely over the moon. The switch caught the attention of Mike , of course it did. “You play games ??”

“Of course ! What else would I do in my room ?”

“Eat your food stash ?”

“That too !” That made. A lot of sense. Mike’s perception of people who were actually quiet in their rooms is very little.

Violet went next , hers being from Augustus , opening a magenta sweater with ‘Queen pop’ in purple rhinestones on the back of it and crown details on the sleeves. There was an additional bag of crown shaped hair charms to match the sweater.

Charlie still got to open a gift this round , this one was just from his mother , she’d gotten him a new , bigger notebook since she knew his old one was getting practically unusable by now.

Mike had to be nudged by his mother then shoved by Veruca to get him to look up from his tablet , he groaned and grumbled , pausing his zombie game. Before he could open his , Wonka spoke up again. “Veruca , you go too.”

“What ?!”

“Didn’t I say you both go last ?”

“It’s Tiny Teavee’s fault !”

“Nuh uh ! It’s Bad Nut’s fault !”

Oh these children will never stop no matter how much they grow , will they ? “I can take them back.”

“No !” They shouted in unison.

“Then get on with it.”

The two kids mumbled profanities , pouting but opening their gifts. Them obviously being from each other since everyone but them are convinced they’re best friends.

Veruca , of course , got theirs open first , it was a new tiara and matching pair of earrings. They felt real. Like <i>expensive<i> real. They would’ve questioned how the hell that neon freak afforded this but she was too caught up in how pretty it was , it looked like a genuine princess’ tiara , though they tried to look like they hated it because it was from Michael. Ew.

Mike opened his to see a <i>bunch<i> of Captain Knuckleduster merch , a few shirts , a poster , bracelets etc. Most of which he somehow didn’t have yet. He briefly forgot their shared plan to hate whatever gift they got , his eyes absolutely glittering with excitement , he’s loved Captain Knuckleduster since he became conscious. But of course , he shot Veruca a ‘disgusted’ glare , of which she returned , have to keep up appearances.

Veruca was then passed her extra gift , it unsurprisingly from their father. No one except Ethel , her father , and the Buckets were paying attention anymore , either enthralled in conversation or messing with their new things , but they didn’t care. They tore it open , rabid child , pulling out a new ‘mink’ coat , a direct copy of their old one since Mike ruined it with rain on one of his stupid escapades. They took a second to stare at it with starry eyes before , “Thank you , papa.”

It felt like the world stopped , everyone stopped their conversations , dropping their new things to stare at the ballerina with widened eyes and their mouths hanging open in shock. Even Mrs. Bucket looked bewildered , hand over her heart. The other kids looked to one another with did hell just freeze over ? looks , Nobody has <i>ever <i> heard her say thank you , they didn’t even think they were capable of it. Oleg shook off his shock , at least for a second , to grin softly at her. “You’re welcome , Verushca.”

Mike turned to face them , mouth still agape , and looked her up and down like she’d been replaced by someone else. “Who are you ?!”

“I’m still me , dumbo !”

“You’re not acting like it !!”

“Fuck off !” The argument eased everyones shock just a little bit , yup , that was definitely still Veruca.

Slowly conversation started back up , everybody going back to their own thing. Mike successfully begged his mom into hand him his switch , which he knew that she almost always had on her , and caught the attention of Augustus. “Hey ! I bet you can’t beat me in Mario Kart !” The two were instantly locked in a very competitive game , they both seemed like they were having fun.

Veruca and Violet would rather die than talk to each other in front of others , so the queen went off with her father to take pictures in her new sweater and the princess pranced off in their new coat , practicing some ballet moves they knew they needed to perfect. Amidst Mike loudly celebrating his win , he spotted Veruca wearing her new tiara , of course she would’ve waited until they were far away to put it on , and he smiled a bit wider. Stupid room and giving him good emotions.

Nobody but Charlie fully witnessed the parents opening their gifts , all of which suited their personalities pretty well , the most the others saw were glimpses of the men giving each other loving stares but got too disgusted to witness anything else.

Charlie had seemed to remember something once the adults opened all their presents , standing up to retrieve a a small gift with a specific kind of purple wrapping paper and bringing it to Wonka , he couldn’t let Wonka be the only one without something new. Wonka took it with a soft , questioning smile. “I didn’t want to exclude you !”

Wonka chuckled , patting Charlie’s shoulder as he opened it. “You’re sweet , kid.” He pulled out a small handmade bracelet in his colors and Charlie rolled down his sleeve , showing off the matching bracelet he wore , it being the colors of his usual sweater. The elder grinned , pulling Charlie into a hug , he smiled wide and returned the hug immediately. “Merry Christmas , Charlie.”

“Merry Christmas , Mr. Wonka.”

As if the others were paying attention , which they absolutely weren’t , they chorused merry Christmas’ from their places of the room before going back to what they were doing. They hope to never do that again.

[alondradina]

This kind of has spoilers for the end game? I think if you know the ending you'll get it, and if you don't know it then you won't. Which makes sense in my head, but I'm not sure if it'll make sense to anyone else. Sorry.

This was done for the 30+ December Holiday Event! It had to be less than 500 words (I had to cut from 813 and it was painful, let me tell you) and the prompt I chose was best Christmas morning ever.

Title: Save This Moment

Fandom: Pokemon Violet

Characters: Professor Turo and Arven

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43644670

-

Finger held to smiling lips, Arven's father led him past the lab to the waiting sky taxi. The five year old giggled, covering his mouth with both hands. He had been promised an adventure.

The boy squealed when the taxi took flight and a beam from the lighthouse blinded them. His father pulled him into his lap, wrapping him in a blanket.

"Sleep, little one. I will wake you upon arrival."

"Where?" Arven questioned, leaning against his father's chest. Tilting his head, he sent a radiant, gap-toothed smile above him. "Will there be food?"

His father chuckled, arms tightening. "I packed sandwiches. You may have one now, if you wish?"

"When we get there," the boy insisted, yawning. With nothing to do but sit in the dark, he drifted off.

A jarring impact woke him. He flailed — certain he was falling out of bed — before realizing he was still being held.

"Good morning," his father whispered. "What do you see?"

The boy peered out the window; breath frosting the glass. Hesitantly, he rubbed the fog away with a pudgy hand. Outside it was white.

"Snow?"

His father nodded. "You wanted a white Christmas."

"Oh," Arven whispered. He let the window fog again before facing his father. "Can I touch it?"

"Of course."

Huffing and puffing on bare hands, the taximan offered a coat. "My kid's about his size."

A gust swirled through Arven's pajamas, and he gratefully pulled the coat on. Buttoning it, his father handed him a pair of gloves. "They will be too big, and are not meant for snow, but will provide some protection."

Snow wasn't what Arven had imagined. It wasn't soft or fluffy, and tasted like water. Everything was cold and wet. He refused to complain, though.

Glancing over his shoulder, he discovered his father watching him — a strange look on his face. His father was always in motion; hands full and mind focused on his work. He barely noticed his son. But now, open lab coat whipping in the wind — unbothered by the cold and snow — his father had eyes only for him.

The warmth stolen from his extremities curled around his heart; encasing it in an unfamiliar feeling. It was indescribable.

His father's expression seemed to reflect it, though. Something uncertain; affectionate. A special feeling only for them.

Arven took a deep breath and forcefully expelled it. The giant puff it created warmed his cheeks before vanishing into the wind.

His father sighed, but no cloud came from his lips. "Come here, Arven. It's too cold."

He shuffled over without protest. The taximan opened the door as Arven settled into his father's arms; searching for a warmth he couldn't find.

His concern vanished when he spotted a maschiff quivering on the floor. Setting him down, his father nudged him towards the Pokemon. "You wanted a companion."

"Yes," Arven whispered, fingers reaching for soft fur. The Pokemon sniffled outstretched fingers before licking them. Giggling, he stroked its head. "We'll be best friends. You'll see."

[cheolism]

THE MONSTER IN THE CLOSET

✿ — incubus!xu minghao x reader ❀ — summary: there's nothing the demon in your closet loves more than when you fall asleep. inspiration from dpr ian's "don't go insane": that's when the lights turned on and you were just a lie. ✿ — wc is approx. 2.5k ❀ — genre: smut, incubus x reader ✿ — warnings: an incubus is a demon that has sex with someone while they are sleeping. as such, be mindful that this fic has themes of dub-con and somnophilia; it is stated minghao cannot have sex with the reader unless they give consent, though they are still sleeping. possessiveness, jealousy, innocence kink, dark!minghao. fingering, body worship. if you do not like, do not read. ❀ — rating: 18+. minors do not interact. ✿ — note: cameos by seungcheol n ian ^^

he watches as you prepare for bed. you’re so cute about it; you’re wearing those fluffy pajama bottoms that warm your legs and trap heat between your thighs; your sleep shirt hangs loosely from your frame. you adjust your pillows and push back the blankets before climbing in, humming along to the song playing from your phone speakers. 

you straighten out the blankets and pull them back over you, fitting them snugly around your form. no matter -- he can fix that later. for an hour he waits, watching. you watch some video on your phone, giggling softly every few minutes, brushing your hair back away from your face. 

eventually, you set your alarm and push your phone to the corner of the bed. you stretch out, humming. then you pull up the blankets all the way to under your chin, concealing your body from him. again, no matter; that can be fixed. 

it’s one of those nights where you fall asleep quickly. he watches as your breathing evens out, watches as your body fully relaxes back into the sheets. your face smooths out, sinking into a beautiful sort of innocence that makes his heart hammer in his chest. 

you’re completely asleep

minghao moves from the closet, though he doesn’t press open the door and the floor doesn’t protest beneath his weight as he moves to your bed. he’s been in this apartment long enough that it’s accepted him as part of itself. it does not reveal him from behind the closet door, does not squeak beneath his bare feet as he walks. minghao is part of the apartment, now, just as it is him. 

if he has his way -- and he will -- you will follow suit. 

you’re cute, he thinks again. your jaw is slack from sleep, and every few minutes your lashes flutter like butterfly wings. he wonders what you’re dreaming about. 

minghao reaches, and -- there it is, there’s your dream. you’re running through a department store with someone he doesn’t know -- and again he reaches -- ah, a high school classmate you haven’t seen since graduation. minghao watches as you grab a stuffed elephant off of the shelf. it’s a vivid violet. you turn to talk to someone and this time it’s just a face your dreams have conjured up. you look back to your arms, but the stuffed elephant had somehow fallen from your grasp and onto the floor. you reach down and pick it up, squeezing it. 

how cute. 

minghao couldn’t help but chuckle. you were so adorable, so innocent. your daydreams, though out of his realm of control, are ones he often finds himself enamored in. your daydreams are filled with a quaint house with flower boxes underneath its windows, of a lawn with green grass and a bird feeder so you can watch the cardinals and sparrows.

the last one daydreamed about a penthouse apartment and gucci purses. they hadn’t been as simple as you, as innocent. they weren’t as delicious to take. 

minghao kneels onto the bed, the blankets shifting beneath him. you have the weighted blanket you got for christmas thrown over your duvet. his fingers twitch. minghao likes the weighted blanket just as much as he likes those fluffy pajama bottoms, likes how it traps heat, likes how drowsy it makes you, likes how much easier it makes it for him to take control. 

minghao settles on your thighs. he can’t see the shape of you due to the blankets, but it was fine. more often than not you end up stumbling into the bedroom half naked or, delightfully, entirely naked, and he can just get his fill of you then. 

he pushes his hands through the blankets. just as he had presumed, your body is warm. he doesn’t yet push through your pajama bottoms. instead, minghao takes his time. he runs his hands down along your arms, grabs your hands and pushes them up to be level with your shoulders. 

your dream shifts according to his touch. there’s a man, now -- minghao wrinkles his nose in disgust. you never dreamt of him, of course; you couldn’t see him. you never have seen him. you can’t dream of him because you have never seen him. he can influence your dreams, sure; can fuck your cunt and your dreams will follow suit. your dreams will respond to what’s happening to you, but because your eyes are shut and you’ll never ever see him, he’ll just have to deal with the fact that as he smooths his hands down over your arms that you imagine some tall and handsome man with thick dark brows and plump lips. 

he hovers, dropping his face in front of yours. he takes you in. he tries to remember the exact color of your eyes, tries to imagine what they would look like as he bears down on you. 

minghao hums, voice dark and deep. “how’s this feel, angel? hm?”

you sigh in your sleep. your lashes flutter. you turn your face, unknowingly, towards him. 

“this okay?” he trails his fingers down over your stomach. “this all okay, sweetheart?”

you hum, a slight noise. 

minghao huffs. “you have to be clear with me, angel. it’s been months of doing this -- you know what you have to do by now.”

your dream shifts. the man shifts. he’s broad and lean, tanned skin and black hair that hangs around his face. he’s covered in tattoos, from the base of his neck to the tips of his fingers. he’s pushing down against you, large hands running over your body. 

your dream self mirrors your real self. you arch up into minghao’s touch, another sigh leaving your lips. softly, like the kiss of an angel, you breathe out a sweet “yes”. 

his body hums, coming alive. he can feel adrenaline and power sink into him, can feel his cells and blood come alive and throb. you’ve given your consent for the night, given your consent to be his. 

which means he can take. 

minghao lets out a breathy moan, and then he’s tucking his face into your neck. your skin is warm and smells like your body soap. he moves his hands along your body. he brushes past your sleep shirt, feeling your tits. he cups each of them, holding their perfectly heavy weight in his hands. you’re so warm all over, and your tits are no exception; they’re slightly sweaty from the heat trapped by your shirt and blankets. minghao shifts your tits in his hands, fingers brushing against the soft skin of your under boob, relishing in the velvet feel, in the heat. 

some nights when you don’t want to fuck he just does this. just holds your tits, let their weight ground him. just pretends. pretends he wasn’t trapped to this bedroom, pretends your innocent, wide-eyed looks were for him and no one else. 

but you gave your consent, and so -- 

and so his hands eventually smooth down your torso. he lays along your body, just feeling. some nights you get impatient when he does this, when he feels you for ages before fucking you. tonight, however, you sigh and seem to bloom beneath his touch. 

his little flower, minghao thinks. his little precious angel, his sweet little flower. 

minghao moves his hands further and further down your body. your knees shift beneath the blankets, knocking against him. he reaches -- you are faintly aware of there being pressure in your cunt, aware of the want that thrums through your body and seems to electrify your cunt, despite being asleep. 

his hands press against the hem of your pajamas. minghao runs his hands along the furry fabric. in your dream the man is pressing between your legs, hands smoothing over your bare thighs. 

minghao pushes between your thighs. you move just enough for him to fit, but it’s tight. no matter. he likes it when you’re tight. 

he slides one of his hands between your thighs. fuck -- if it was warm beneath your tits it was practically a heavenly blaze here, heat trapped and that electricity in your cunt, that lust, bubbling out and into him. 

you shifted again, thighs squeezing tight around his hand. he can feel it when you clench them, knows you’re clenching your cunt to try and alleviate some of that pure want. 

“poor angel,” minghao murmurs, “filled with so much lust. so sweet and innocent, so fucking needy.”

he sinks his hand forward, and then his fingers are pressing through your pants and underwear and sliding between the lips of your cunt. you were absolutely soaked, drenched in your pussy juices. minghao wonders if you would be humiliated by how wet you are just from him touching you. 

minghao pushes his hand just so, two of his fingertips slipping into your cunt. immediately you’re clenching, hips grinding down and searching for more relief. 

minghao drops his head against your chest, muffling his laughter. no one has ever been as reactive to his touch as you. he loves it. he adores you. 

he moves his free hand to your cunt. he doesn’t move his fingers in your cunt, keeping them just barely in your hole. you’re getting desperate -- he can feel it, can feel the desperation begin to color your soul and your dream. but then he presses his thumb against your clit, against that slick little bundle of nerves, and your mouth is dropping open and a loud moan bubbles out of your throat. 

minghao laughs, not bothering in being quiet. you won’t wake up anyways. you’re so loud and needy despite this all being, to you, a dream, despite him not being something tangible to you. he wonders what you would be like if he could really touch you, wonders if you would scream and cry under his touch as easily as you moan and whimper now. 

for a few minutes he just watches, eyes greedily taking you in. in real life, on your bed, your hips shift minutely, not enough to fuck yourself on his hand but enough for your clit to slide against his finger. in your dream the man is teasing you, fingertips just barely fucking into your cunt, and you’re so desperate. 

it’s so sweet. you’re so sweet. minghao wishes he could just have a bite --

he slides his fingers into your cunt entirely. your pussy is warm and wet and even though he’s never stepped foot into heaven he knows it’s not as good as your cunt. you squeeze around his fingers and he wants, desires, lusts, yearns so much. 

your pussy walls are tight around his fingers, clenching down. he knows, instinctively, were your core is. minghao fucks into your cunt with his fingers, striking that spot every time, his thumb flicking against your clit in rhythm. 

and fuck, you’re so cute. you’re whining in your dream, whimpering; small moans escape your lips in real life. your thighs are tight around him, and your cunt begins squeezing down on his fingers so tightly that he can barely move them --

and he wants so badly for it to be his cock in your cunt. 

minghao withdraws his fingers, slides three back in. your head tosses against your pillow. in your dream you’re moaning loudly, high and keening. you’re so beautiful and perfect, lust coursing through your veins and seeping out your cunt and minghao feels high, feels your want seeping into his veins and power stirring in his gut. 

you give him power like no one else; you deserve a reward. 

minghao pushes your thigh up and over his shoulder, fingers pressing into your flesh. he presses his face against your pussy, breathing in. you smell so wonderful here, too. he just wants to bask in it, wants to keep his face here, against your pussy, for millennia. 

he doesn’t, though. eventually minghao runs his tongue up your cunt, from where his fingers are wedged in your pussy hole still to your clit. you shiver underneath him. in your dream you’re begging for the man, hands twisting in the sheets. 

it’s a curse, sometimes, he thinks. minghao thinks it’s a curse that he can see how you’re reacting to his ministrations in your dreams, can see how you whine and beg and cry. he can see how you would react to him. but he can also see how even though you’re asleep your body, your real body, the one that’s asleep, still responds to him, pleasure so great that even subconsciously you’re seeking him out. 

minghao sucks at your clit, tongue rubbing against it. you whine softly, head turning against your pillow once more. your whines are so cute, you’re so cute. 

he moves his fingers in and out, in and out, of your pussy as he sucks at your clit. you push against his face. he can feel your walls flutter around his fingers, he can feel, knows, how your orgasm is beginning to build and build. the desire in you is so thick that he can taste it, both literally and figuratively, and it seeps underneath his skin. 

minghao begins kissing your clit the same way he would kiss your mouth if he could. he mouths against your clit, runs his tongue over it and suckles. in your dream you’re becoming frantic; on the bed you’re desperately clenching around his fingers, trying to grind down, trying to reach it, trying to throw yourself off the cliff and fall into the ocean, trying to chase your orgasm. 

you’re so beautiful, minghao thinks. he wants you, he wants to so fucking much. he wanted you last night and wants you tonight and tomorrow night and every night for the rest of your fucking life, he wants to devour you and trap you, wants to feel your flesh in his hands and your pussy juices on his tongue for the rest of eternity, he fucking wants --

there’s a loud banging noise as one of the stupid neighbors drops something in the apartment above you. 

you flinch -- you, on the bed, flinch, and then you’re awake. 

minghao is flung from your dream. he can no longer touch you. he’s still thrumming with power, from the lust your body had given him, but he knows it’s not enough, knows that he’s still so fucking hungry for you. 

he wants to fucking kill those assholes in the apartment above you as you push back the blankets and toss your feet over the side of the bed. you’re frowning, and he watches as you tilt your hips downward and rut against the bed. 

“oh,” you say, blinking. minghao watches from the bed as you stand, going to your dresser. he knows what’s there -- knows the vibrant gel dildo you keep -- and he thinks for a split moment that this isn’t so bad, that he’ll at least get to watch you fuck yourself. 

but then you hum and move past the dresser and into the hall, where he can’t follow. 

and minghao seethes with rage at your orgasm being ripped from his hands. your lust gives him power and your orgasms even more so, and beyond that he just wants to see you cry as an orgasm comes over you. 

he stands up from the bed, bare feet against the cold floor. he walks back to the closet, sinking into the darkness. 

ah, well. he’ll just have to try tomorrow. 

[basicrese]

(primarily) tasm!peter parker fic recs (pt.2)

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tasm!peter parker fic recs (pt.1)

one-shots

A Little Reminder by @lovelettersforthedamned

baby me by @p3terparker

Begin Again by @webslingingslasher

blooming showers by @lucky-bucky-boy

Care less by @webslingingslasher

doughnuts by @cosmal

Fight For You by @lovelettersforthedamned

girls night by @lovelettersforthedamned

infrunami by @thursdaygxrls

i’ll be right there, sweetheart by @urrockstar-xe

I’m With You by @blooming-violets

it’s always been you by @backtothefanfiction

let me be there, let me be yours by @lovelettersforthedamned

math test by @urrockstar-xe

movie night by @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

pleading through the bathroom door by @lovelettersforthedamned

somebody else by @beatlesbug

starstruck by @localrockstargf

Stupid In Love by @lovelettersforthedamned

tasm!Spiderman x fem!reader by @moonstruckme

the last time by @delicate-dorothea

the peace treat-y (comes with sprinkles) by @delicate-dorothea

Unpretty by @writtenbymoonflower

Unknown Sender by @webslingingslasher

valentine, oh mine by @literaila

walking back home by @parkerdoeswriting

winter formal by @urrockstar-xe

you deserve all the flowers by @beyondspaceandstars

you’re drunk, and he’s in love by @lovelettersforthedamned

series & multi-parts

a matter of time by @dameronology

merry christmas by @alloftheimaginesblog

happy new year

Neighbors by @reverieblondie

Starcrossed lovers by @frost-queen

U.N.I. by @webslingingslasher

[somewhere-in-the-rain]

Empyrean modern AU headcanons (part 2)

This one’s been in my drafts for a hot minute 😅

Violet is allergic to mushrooms. Unfortunately, she did not know this, so Xaden had to take her to A&E halfway through one of their dates.

Sawyer once downloaded Tinder and was bullied relentlessly for it by Ridoc. He got him back for it later though by catfishing him on Instagram.

When Aaric/Cam was eight, his brothers had him convinced he was adopted for a good six months.

Ridoc thinks potpourri is edible.

Whenever Violet and Liam get in a car together, they blast Christmas music no matter what time of year it is.

Jesinia loves adding notes to the beginning of her AO3 fics saying things like “Sorry I haven’t updated for a while, there was an uprising at my school so now I live in my friend’s boyfriend’s mansion with three hundred fugitives.”

Xaden had an Imagine Dragons phase when he was 12. His favourite song was Thunder.

Whenever Imogen buys tampons, she deliberately chooses the youngest male cashier just to watch him get uncomfortable.

Mira loves to move people’s bookmarks to piss them off. Her favourite targets are Violet and Brennan, but one time she got Syrena and had a pillow thrown at her head.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pretty Petals 26

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content including rape/noncon, kidnapping, violence, sexual acts (fingering, oral, anal, dp), coercion, bondage, and more tags to be added as the series progresses. PREPARE YOUR PANTIES, HOES.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You go on a self-improvement retreat, but not all is as it seems.

Girls and Flower Name List HERE!

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker, Curtis Everett, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Loki, Andy Barber, Hela, and multiple OFCs

Note: double chapter day!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all like birds love to appear everytime you are near. Take care. 💖

“It was so lovely to come see you all, to see how you’ve grown,” Hela preens as she stands at the head of the table. “Immaculate, every one of you.” 

Dahlia pokes her cheek with her tongue and Bucky snatches the fork she twirls in her hand. He knows her well. Maybe he even fears he’s at the mercy of the tines.  

You turn your attention back to your matron of dishonour. Her black bob is wavy and her skin freckled from the sun. She’s beautiful for someone so wretched. You can’t help but wonder if you’re the only ones. You know you can’t be the first. It’s all too orderly, too planned, too perfect. 

“Do make me proud, petals,” she claps her hands together and her pretty lips curl, “I may just return at Christmas with some gifts, eh?” 

Christmas. It’s still a ways off but the fall is setting in. The summer is in its last dregs and you find yourself shivering in the morning as the night cools. Not a single voice rises to answer her farewell. You all just stare, rather glare, at her. 

“Well, then, I’ll be off.” 

“Sister, I’ll show you the door,” Loki rises and beckons her away from the table, “I must thank you for coming so quickly and bringing a fresh stem...” 

His voice trails off and you glance over at Zinnia, sitting by his empty seat. She mashes down her eggs with the back of a spoon. The other girls keep there hands away from their plates. You don’t have much of an appetite yourself. 

“Boring,” Lloyd says suddenly. “How about we do something fun?” 

The other men seemed agitated by his suggestion. Strange how they seem to share the same malaise. Ransom’s arm drapes over the back of your chair, Curtis has Violet in his lap, Lee keeps jabbing Marigold and whispering at her. Your eyes meet Steve’s as he watches you in turn. You quickly look away. 

“I’ll clear the table,” you offer as you stand and lift your plate. 

“Ugh, boring,” Lloyd spits again, “Christ on a dildo, why are we sitting here playing Brady Bunch? Let’s get fucking wild.” 

“Shut up,” Bucky growls as Dahlia rubs her faded bruises. 

“Oh, shit, you know, I got the perfect fucking game, girls, follow Lily’s lead and clear the table.” 

The mustachioed man stands and breezes away. The other women look at each other. You nudge Azalea and she stands with her head down. She takes her plate and Lloyd’s. The other girls follow in a long train to the kitchen. Andy gets up to follow, keeping watch as you cluster together to divvy up the leftovers into containers. 

You hate to agree but it is dull as hell. You finish stacking up the dirty plates but none of you are eager to go back into the dining room. Only bad things happen there. The games they play aren’t much fun for you. 

“Go,” Andy demands. 

Dahlia goes out first, angling her head back and forth defiantly. Zinnia follows after her, Daisy, Rose, Violet shuffles noisily and clings to Azalea’s hand as she drags her, then you, and finally Marigold. As you come out, Lloyd stands in front of his seat, jiggling a pair of dice in his hands. 

The other men share your level of enthusiasm. Bucky’s arms are crossed, Ransom yawns, Lee rubs his belly, Curtis picks his thumbnail, Loki untangles a shank of his long dark coils, and Steve peers over his shoulder to stare at you. You don’t like that. 

“Right, simple rules, guys,” Lloyd rattles the large pair of plastic dice, “choose a girl, roll the dice, and let fate decide. I’ll go first since it was my idea.” 

You nearly let out a groan. You’re so tired. Ransom points you next to him and you sit. The others follow suit. Andy stands behind his chair and watches as Lloyd tosses the dice. 

You notice the imprinted images on the sides of the cubes. Various positions and words. You hold your breath and sense the rest of the room doing the same. 

“Hey, Zinnia,” Lloyd calls as the dice bounce over the wood, “how about we get acquainted?” 

The plastic cubes still and shows a man with his head between a woman’s legs as she sits on a chair. The other dice reads, ‘until orgasm.’ 

Zinnia whimpers and Loki sniffs. He stands and drags her chair away from the table. She grips the sides to keep from sliding off. He veers her around to face Lloyd as he struts behind the other seats. He snickers as he drags his hand over his mouth. 

“Come on, let me see the kitty, just wanna give her a pet,” he gets down to his knees and Loki catches Zinnia’s shoulders before she can sit up. She writhes helplessly as Lloyd’s hands crawl up her thighs. He tickles the front of her panties and glances over, “hey don’t let me have all the fun, unless you wanna watch.” 

There’s a moment of indecision. Then Steve reaches across the table and scoops up the dice. He examines each then cradles them in his large hand. Zinnia’s murmurs underline the lull as Lloyd growls deeply, his mouth making unsettling noises. 

“Lily, how’s it we’ve never had any fun?” He asks and tosses them. They only roll a short way before stilling. 

You stare at the top of the first dice. A couple in doggystyle. You clamp your lips and try not to shudder. You glance over at Dahlia and she shakes her head. The other girls slump and shrink, knowing their own turn is imminent. 

The second dice makes you blanch as it lands flat; ‘backdoor’. 

“Perfect,” Steve growls, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll be nice.” 

He stands, pushing out his chair and waving towards the seat, “get on your knees, I’ll be right back.” 

“The fuck, Steve,” Ransom sneers. 

“We’ll trade,” Steve offers. 

“Mm, thanks but I think I’ll try something new. How about you, Statue of Liberty?” He looks at ass, “you think you can stay awake for some good dick?” 

You get up as Ransom swipes up the dice. This is humiliating. It’s one thing to be dragged off behind closed doors but these men are as good as starting an orgy. For what? Because they’re bored? 

Steve helps you onto the chair. You brace the back as you sit on your knees, shaking. You don’t know if you can handle this. He rubs your shoulder, gripping it hard enough for the tendon to tweak. You wince and he lets go as he walks away. You watch after him as Azalea starts to snivel. 

You look over as Lloyd keeps his face buried between Zinnia’s legs, his hand on her tits as he devours her. She puffs and pouts and squirm as Loki pets her cheek and coos. Ugh, god! You can’t keep doing this.  

For now, you have to. You have to bide your time. You have to get rid of these necklaces and those damn cameras. You have to wait for these men to turn their fangs on each other instead of you. 

Steve comes back as Dahlia’s snarl rolls through the air. There’s a struggle behind you on the floor you can’t see. Andy’s no longer by the kitchen door. It must be him. His voice confirms it as he calls for Rose too. 

Shit. The chaos breaks out quickly. Steve startles you as he squirts a slick flow between your cheeks. You squeak as he pushes his fingers along your ass as rubs your tight hole. He clicks shut the bottle of lube and reaches to put it on the table. 

He grips the back of your neck and forces your head straight. You his and latch tightly to the chair. You sit on your heels as he bends against you, contorting so he’s flush to your back. He pushes his head next to yours and growls. 

He rescinds his touch for just a moment as he jostles around. His brings his firm tip up along your cheeks and presses against your ring. You babble and reach back to press on his hip. 

“Please, no--” 

He loops his hand around the front of your neck and chokes your voice away. You gasp and wheeze as he pushes into you. He stretches your ass just around his tip, just enough for your to let out a whistle through your tight throat. Ow. Oh shit.  

He rocks and dips a little further inside. Your eyes prick and you shake your head, grinding your teeth as you quake. He thrusts again, deeper. Several more times, sinking in as your insides burn. Even the lube can’t help the resistance of your body. 

He brings his other hand to your throat, crisscrossing his fingers in front of it as he forces your head up and back. Your spine arches as his pelvis claps against your ass and he grunts. The chair rocks with his motion, teetering dangerously as your tears stream down your cheeks. 

The pain is blinding. Your eyes roll back as you puff out shallow breaths through the constriction of your throat. He snaps his hips harshly and you spasm. Again, again, again. Each time crueler than the last. 

Steve shifts his feet and moves closer again. He bucks into you so that the agony radiates from your core. You would sob if your could breath. He adjusts his hands, wrapping them full around your neck. Your lashes flutter as your vision speckles with black dots. 

“Steve, take it easy--” you hear someone warn but you can’t make out their timbre. 

“Hey, whoa, slow down. She’s--” 

Your tongue lolls out as all the air traps in your chest. The heat in your lungs is as fiery as that in your ass. The slap of flesh and the cracking force mingles with the swirling in your head. Your eyelids close of their own volition as all resistance gives out and your body goes limp. The world fades though the pain remains. 

🌸

“You could’ve fucking killed her,” A snarl seeps into your ears, making them itchy. “What the fuck are you thinking?” 

“Whatever. We can get another--” 

“Fuck off. The new one’s already pissing me off,” Bucky’s deeper tone breaks through the veil over you. 

“Like you even like the one you got--” 

“Lily,” another voice drifts in and your eyelids part, your vision hazy as Dahlia’s blurry figure sits over you. 

“Keep it down,” Lloyd sneers, “some of us are trying to eat.” 

“Don’t be a jackass,” Andy barks as he stands behind Dahlia, looming over you both, “if we lose another one, maybe you should just sacrifice the tall one.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic. He was getting kinky--” 

“She’s awake,” Steve looks over at you, his pants still undone but his dick tucked away. 

“Fucking lucky,” Ransom shoves him and sidles through. “Lily pad, you okay down there?” 

You blink at him as Azalea sways nearby, twisting her hand around her finger. You look at the faces you can make out and Dahlia helps you sit up. You nod and rub your temples, wincing as your ass throbs. Oh, yeah... 

“Come on,” Ransom bends over you and hauls you up, “someone send that douchebag to his room.” 

“Who put you in charge?” Steve growls, “not my fault she can’t take it. Maybe you’re getting soft.” 

“Some of us don’t wanna fuck a corpse,” Ransom retorts as he wraps an arm around your back and lifts you. 

“I’m sure you do so much work, pillow princess,” Lloyd cackles from his knees. He has three fingers inside of Zinnia as she continues to squirm and squeal. 

Ransom huffs and carries on past the others. You lean your head against him, blocking out the rest of the room with his body. You can’t look. It hurts even more to see the rest suffer. 

He takes you into your room and elbows the door shut with a quick jerk of his body. He tuts and put you on the bed. You can’t help but curl up, hugging your legs as the ache pulses from within. 

You’re groggy with the aftermath of Steve’s strong hold. You rub your cheek, trying to get some sense back. Ransom paces, a hand on his hip, the other opening and closing in silent monologue. He’s uptight. You haven’t seen him like this. 

“I told him to stop. Fucker. Can’t fucking listen to save his life,” he snarls and stops, facing you as he stomps. “You heard me tell him to quit.” 

You bat your lashes and nod. Slowly, you muster your strength to sit up. You wince as you do. You stay balled up small as Ransom pushes his chin up and heaves once more. You consider him and his frustration; the words from before. How the men constantly battle for control, not just with you but each other. 

“He should listen,” you croak, coughing and rubbing your throat, “they should all listen to you.” 

He lowers his head and looks at you with an arch in his brow. 

“Sir, I’m sorry,” you drop your shoulders. 

“No, what are you saying?” He narrows his eyes. 

“It’s only... Maybe... if you’d been upstairs, you could’ve saved Iris. And... and if they’d all just listen it wouldn’t all be a mess. You always tell them not to... not to go so far,” you temper your words as you speak them, uncertain and yet you think that makes them seem more genuine. “They don’t listen. First Curtis with Violet, now this.” 

You chew your lip as he stares. Your heart pounds in your chest. Does he know what you’re doing? You’ve never been a very good liar. 

“They’re all breaking the rules but didn’t you all agree to them?” 

He comes forward and you fight not to cower away. He reaches for you and you expect a slap or a grope or jab. Instead he strokes your cheek and bends to meet your gaze. He looks you in the face, his blue eyes searching. 

“You know what, lily pad, you’re right,” he sits lightly on the edge of the bed and draws you close. “that’s why I like you. ‘Cause you know better. You listen.” 

He shifts and lays on his side, pulling you with him. You let him. You put your hand on his chest and rest your head on his shoulder. 

“You’re... you’re the only one who doesn’t hurt me,” you say. 

He hums and sucks his teeth, “I know, lily pad.” He exhales and closes his eyes, “this can’t go on. I gotta get these guys in check.” 

You nod and nestle closer. Not because he makes you feel safe. Not because you meant any of it. Because it makes him think you do. That sliver of doubt is under his skin, it will only continue to poke until he has to rip it out. 

[silcoitus]

Taking Risks

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Silco x f!reader, smut, sex pollen, workplace sex, handjob, penis in vagina sex

Word count: 4.3k

Posting a few hours early because why not! I've never been good about waiting until Christmas day to give gifts.

As one of Silco's scientists, it's up to you to research the local flora and fauna for anything that could be useful for the Eye of Zaun. When a mysterious red flower blossoms outside of Singed's cave, Silco gives you one week to find out what it can do. Against all better judgement and laboratory safety protocol, you personally find out the effects of the flower's pollen.

Read on AO3

A/N: I finally wrote a sex pollen fic! I wanted reader to be under the effects of it rather than Silco.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @beardedladyqueen @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

Join my taglist!

[theselfshippingwitch]

Ray x Violet - A Christmas Romance - Saturday, December 23rd

Ray reads the kids a bedtime story.

-

Ray had lit the fire in the fireplace and was sitting in the big comfy chair right across from it. The Christmas tree was all lit up and had all the handmade decorations the kids had made over the years. Calvin, now 5 years old, was sitting cross-legged in front of him, his red hair peaking out from under his Santa hat. George, who was three and almost four, was sitting on one of Ray's legs, the lights from the tree lighting up his cherubic cheeks and the highlights of his dark hair. And Sofia, who was only two years old, their first little girl, was sat on his other leg, her big brown eyes that reminded him so much of Violet's staring up at him from under soft brown ringlets.

Ray was wearing the Christmas sweater Violet loved seeing him in, the knitted red pattern stretched over his round tummy in a way she thought was oh-so-cute and cozy. She was carrying in her black cat, Estella, and her other black cat, Ligea, followed her. She put Estella down and she and Ligea snuggled up to the two dogs, Krypto and Rusty, who were sleeping by the fireplace. Violet sat down on the arm of the chair and wrapped her arm around the back of it. Ray began reading the book in his hands. "T'was the night before Christmas..."

The kids were soon fast asleep, and Ray and Violet tucked them into bed. Now, when Ray sat back down in his chair, it was Violet who sat in his lap. She kissed his cheek, and then his nose, and then his lips. She nestled into him.

"Merry Christmas, Ray."

"Merry Christmas, Violet."

[lilac-5ky]

Sex with a Ghost (TojixFem!Reader)

Chapter 2: Evening Newscast

Chapter 1 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests | AO3

A/N: Took ages to write, but it's here!

Tags: MDNI, Student!Reader, Ghost!Toji, Age Gap(reader 18/Toji early 30s), Oral sex (m.receiving), Manipulation, Loss of Virginity, Corruption Kink, Praise, Degradation, Spanking, Pet Names (princess, baby, does whore count?), Cowgirl, Toji being more of a mean dom this time around, this fic has so much filth idk if I'm leaving anything out.

Word Count: 6.8k of almost pure smut.

The first time your cursed technique manifested was at the tender age of eight, when your paternal grandmother passed away. It happened so unexpectedly fast that the thought didn’t settle until you saw her body being transferred in a bamboo box to the cremation chamber, the last bits of her scattering far into the Pacific Ocean on another impromptu family excursion to Hokkaido.

You remembered your brother, four, at the time, asking your detached father where granny went, his mind too juvenile to process or comprehend the concept of death, and your father’s stern reply as the sand comfortably sank below your feet: “To a better place.”

Back then, you didn’t challenge the existence of such a place. All you wanted to know was its location, because if somewhere better than where you lived existed, who wouldn’t choose to go there instead?

The answer itself came exactly 49 days after her passing, on a night when a crack in your hard exterior let the tears gush out like an endless torrent of sorrow, plangent cries spilling into the shabby teddy bear you claimed you had outgrown. Life seems so ridiculously easy when you are eight, that you keep trying to outrun it without accounting for the inescapable boss at the end of the game until it’s too late to go back to your previous save.

At least that’s what happens in your brother’s video games. You were no nerd.

Although, what you indeed were was a deeply hurt child who begged to apologize for errors not quite crucial, such as that one time you refused to give your grandma a kiss or last Christmas when you called her boring straight to her face. And her eyes—her beautiful violet eyes that you didn’t get to inherit looked back at you with adoration you didn’t deserve—adoration that haunted you even in your childhood bedroom’s windowless confinement.

Adoring, bright, and lively. More lively than they’d been during the entire final year of her life. Attached to the wrinkly apparition with the paper-thinned skin and the rosy nightgown—the very same nightgown the neighbors had found her in, ambient white noise at the end of her tightly gripped remote control—as it escaped from the bubbles of your eyelids and materialized next to your bedpost.

Her smile was gentle, and her scent was the same comforting mix of spring lilacs and freshly baked cookies. And if the notion of her turning into a ghost to haunt you for whatever sins you didn’t repent wasn’t debunked by those exclusive-to-the-living luxuries, finding solace in her snug embrace settled it.

You asked her, back then, where it was that the dead went. And she answered, No further than where the foam washes the shore.

It wasn’t until you were fourteen of age that the same topic was brought up in a most unexpected way; the boy with the unruly white hair and the grin that never ceased to beam brightly as the sun on his lips telling you there was nowhere for the dead to go.

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it with the likes of “they’re always in our hearts” or use a metaphor as complex as the one your grandma did. Instead, he spoke of curses and sorcerers—of an invisible line of energy that flowed in your body and the powerful techniques it fueled.

He explained the differences between ghosts and shikigami, the first of which appeared unregulated on their own, and the second of which depended on the raw energy input of your technique. He offered you a spot at an institution meant to curb your curiosity and further your potential, but more than that, he convinced you you were special.

Perhaps the reason why you despised Gojo Satoru with every fiber of your being and the reason why, after that fateful encounter, you kept running to him for answers were one and the same. Because you were a fool big enough to trust him.

And old habits are notoriously hard to kill.

“If it isn’t my favorite student!” Gojo exclaimed as he spotted you marching across the acres of pine trees, your steps slowing down once you noticed a child in his presence.

The kid seemed no older than ten years old, with tousled black spikes prodding out of every node on his head. An unamused look pooled in his emerald eyes, draining them into a pair of perfect slits as he slid behind Gojo’s back, discreetly meddling with the environment of trees and pebbles until he was completely out of sight.

“Meg—” The continuation of his name faded into a threadbare sigh, frayed from usage. You wondered what they were to each other.

“Rushing into puberty, I see,” Gojo mumbled, his attention eventually shifting to you. An icky smile spread to his lips, curling and curving with each word that followed. “How may I help?”

You arched a brow, your arms defiantly closing over your chest. “What makes you think I’m here to ask for help?”

Your mind was still on that boy, searching for an inkling of his presence, partly because you didn’t want others listening in and partly because you hoped your presence hadn’t intimidated him into running away. Although, being in Gojo’s company, you doubted anything could scare the poor thing out of his wits.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, “You have the kinda face that says ‘Help me, sensei. You’re my only hope!’ all over it.”

The motion of his fingers clasping around each other in a praying motion irked you more than his outdated reference and the high-pitched impression of your voice combined. He noticed that, similarly to how he’d also noticed the purple trace peaking from your uniform’s collar the moment you set foot on campus, but he didn’t comment on either. Instead, he leaned against the tree closest to him, his stance mirroring yours.

“So how did it go with Mr. Zen’in?”

A broken transmission of sinful moans intercepted your senses on demand, with the chilling sensation of a stranger’s tongue entrapped between your legs feeling a bit more tangible than just another fever dream—his taste too heady and vivid to dismiss as mere imagination.

“Fine,” you lied.

“Fine?” he repeated.

“Fine,” you insisted.

“Just fine?” he pressed.

“Just fine,” you confirmed, inevitably hissing at him.

Was it too late to ask for a change of mentor?

“So, who’s the kid?” You pointed away from the topic in the direction the kid had run off to. Smart boy.

“That’d be Megumi,” Gojo said. “He’ll be joining us in a few years.”

“Is he…?”

He nodded, confirming the first of your suspicions. Come to think of it, he—Megumi—looked awfully similar to the few Zen’ins you had the displeasure of meeting and, oddly, most similar to your one pleasurable acquaintance. They had the same eyes. Same stubborn scowl, too.

“He’ll soon be one of the leading forces in the Jujutsu world,” Gojo continued. Not under your guidance, he won’t. “Why not stay around till then? Watch your kouhai-to-be thrive?”

“The role of an upperclassman doesn’t suit me. Besides, I can’t wait until I’m out of this place.”

The blindfold he donned concealed about half of his reaction, though his frown revealed plenty. You found it hard to believe that parting with one of his biggest haters filled him with such profound sorrow, but then again, Gojo Satoru was a species of his own. In any case, you preferred his amiable look to this—whatever that was—and changed the subject yet again, paving the path toward the answers you truly sought.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if any Zen’ins kicked the bucket recently?” Your eyes scanned both heaven and earth nervously. “Any Zen’ins with a scar on the lower part of their face, let’s say?” You let linger.

“…Why are you asking?” A hint of suggestion grazed his question, his eyes surely glinting with mischief.

You stumbled over your own words, struggling to come up with an answer that didn’t involve sharing the finer details of the unnamed man’s biceps snaring around your body while his tongue ran laps around your pussy, drooling over you as if you were a chew toy.

No, you’d much rather Gojo found out that for a brief regrettable moment when you were fifteen, you may or may not have crushed on him rather than allow him a glimpse into your blossoming sex life.

And so, brute force was all that was left.

You padded toward him and shaped a rough circle with your index and thumb, the former losing momentum the closer you got to flicking his covered forehead.

“How many times are you gonna try that?” A shit-eating grin betrayed his amusement. “You know it won’t land.”

“I don’t want to make it land,” you retorted. “I just want you to feel my hostility.”

“I feel it plenty just by looking at you,” Gojo chuckled, repelling you without lifting a single finger.

Your frustration boiled into a low grunt as you slapped the air between you, mumbling incoherent slurs with your back eventually turning on him. This was pointless. You were better off asking Miss Ieri or that new Nanami guy; they’d be more helpful than this piece of—

“Zen’in Toji.”

As if the name wasn’t enough to make you freeze in your tracks, the hand that fiddled with your shirt’s collar had your feet rooting into the soil.

Maybe if you stayed still enough, you could eventually turn into a tree.

You braced yourself for the earful of the century and glanced over your shoulder, expecting the first round of reprimands to be fired any minute now, but nothing came out of his mouth. At least now, while your eyes scanned his bared pearly whites for hints of gunpowder.

“I know you won’t listen to your favorite teacher, but” How many times do I need to tell you that you aren’t? “don’t go around summoning dangerous men.

“Please.”

You returned home to four sets of untouched slippers and a sticky note hanging from the fridge, your mother’s handwriting informing you the three of them, squirt included, had gone off camping in Okinawa and wouldn’t be back till Monday.

Oh, and that they’d left some more of that lasagna in the fridge in case you felt hungry—a single portion to last you the three days of their absence. Even a pet would be pushed to starvation with that little food, and as expected, there was no pizza money in the key bowl by the counter either.

Great!

Leaving tomorrow’s worries to tomorrow you, you slumped down on the couch with the cold tupperware in hand. You flipped through the channels and settled for the evening newscast. Arsonists, murderers, and tax evaders—one more despicable than the other—yet you felt inclined to smile. If it weren’t for their generous contribution to society, half of the news staff—including both the anchorwoman and her fancy Dior suit—would end up on the street.

Perhaps that was the punchline. The same society that condemned dangerous men needed them to do dangerous things so a minority could be paid for pointing out their errors. Similarly, the value of Jujutsu sorcerers was dependent on horrible things happening, and in a curse-free society, even someone like Gojo would be useless.

You wondered if Toji had ever made it to the headlines or if, like you, he was merely an observer of the world’s fatalities. You knew he lied. He was neither the Ten Shadows user nor did he die over a hundred years ago, and as wretched as Gojo was, he didn’t dub people dangerous for no reason. Come to think of it, you’d never heard of him using that term before. He was too conceited for that.

Then there was Toji’s reaction when you mentioned your teacher, both instances pointing in the same direction; they knew each other. Well enough for each to be a controversial topic to the other, and poorly enough to guarantee no warm sentiments remained.

Judging from Toji’s outfit and Gojo’s current age, Toji’s time of death was estimated sometime during the previous decade—and that was about all the information you had on him. A dangerous impostor from the Zen’in clan with a knack for sweet-talking his way into your panties.

And maybe that should have deterred you from bringing out the crystal sphere, but it didn’t. You were most curious about the man’s identity, and as exalted as Gojo was, he didn’t have a pussy of his own. He didn’t know of the gates Toji opened for you with his tongue, and certainly wouldn’t understand if you tried to explain. You were putting both your career as a sorcerer and your relationship with him in line for dick.

You placed the ball on the coffee table and recited the incantation, revving up the sphere with cursed energy until the familiar silhouette of tight black and loose white appeared between the couch and the screen, looking as brilliant and pissed as ever. So very pissed that you could sense the fury in his eyes while staring at his feet, nearly wishing you’d listened to Gojo.

“Hey, Toj—”

“Some nerve you have.” The man’s gruff voice denied your squeaky calling of his name. “Did ya good and then ya threw me out—really?”

“I can explain—”

“Explain?” Toji laughed, and it felt like nails on a chalkboard. “Explain what, hm? You think I’m your personal fucktoy? That I’ve got nothin’ better to do than get this pussy off?”

“No, I—”

“Nah, you listen, kid.” He spoke the word with utter ridicule. “Been in this shit world longer than ya and got your type down pat. All prim and proper with your little Bambi eyes and pouty lips; all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no sir’ until you get what you want, then off to the next available dick you go—ain’t that right?”

It’s not.

You stuck your bottom lip out in complaint, your forehead begging to unite with your knees as you coiled into yourself, sinking deeper into the cushions, and Toji—he wouldn’t let you catch a break, wandering around the shrinking space while he spat his accusations, his stride eventually bringing him to stand in front of you, a proper executioner with a sharpened cleaver aimed at your neck.

“Thought I asked ya a question, didn’t I?”

You nodded where he could only see your shoulders move, lacking the strength to lift the weight of his contemptuous glare. You heard him sigh and witnessed him crouching, his fists caging you between the couch and his bulging arms—his warm breath inching closer, an indisputable evidence of life.

“Don’t let it go to that pretty little head of yours, but—” His forefinger tapped against your skull, the rasp of his voice mellowing into velvet. “I’m dead without you. Can’t even jerk it to my special girl from the other side.”

You finally peered at him, plump lips parting in awe at how easily he’d switched his approach. A man who’d stop at nothing to get inside your panties—who was willing to adopt a more amiable persona if that meant fooling you. The kind of man who believed ends justified means and was shameless about it, not caring whether his veneer crinkled around the edges or his wolfish smile reeked of deceit.

A dangerous man; sounds about right.

You planted your feet back on the floor and drew out your pout. People use each other all the time. “You really think I’m special?”

His brows knitted at the sudden change in your disposition, a curious smirk stretching his scar as he cupped your cheek. “Wouldn’t be ‘ere if it weren’t for you, sweetheart.”

A person’s worth is defined by their usage. “Am I special even though I’m always left behind? Even if I have no cursed technique to fight with—even when I’ll never be as valuable as Gojo Satoru?”

A fat drop of water gathered in your eye, picked up by Toji’s thumb before it had the chance to escalate into a downpour. So let me be useful to you.

“Gojo Satoru was born with every blessing in the world. Strip those off, and he ain’t no more than a privileged nobody, while you,” he stroked the apple of your cheek tenderly, the green in his eyes faltering behind soft-worn eyelids, “you worked hard to get where you are, didn’t ya?”

Let me be special.

You nuzzled his palm, a feeble nod to his query. You had tried so hard to keep up, and yet you felt you had no rightful claim to your efforts. When your classmates put a bit more soul into it, they advanced. When you busted your gut waving swords and three-part staffs around—even during lunch breaks—you simply retained. You were a weak sorcerer, but even this stage of weakness had taken your all.

“Not as if anyone gives a shit.” Toji dropped his hand to your shoulder, his intentions no good as he rubbed his way to your chest. “Gojo or Zen’in—they are both shit names.” His fingers worked on unbuttoning your uniform’s sleeveless top, discomfort contorting his expression while he fumbled with the golden buttons.

“Lemme fill you in on a little something. A name means nothing without strength, but strength means nothing without a name. The Jujutsu world won’t respect ya unless you possess both, and the world ain’t gonna thank ya for your service either way.”

“Then why did you say I was special?”

He smiled at your question, and for a second, you eluded yourself into thinking it was genuine. “Because you’re special to me.”

Your shirt came off, and his voice was silenced as he dipped forward, the tip of his tongue finding your mouth before his lips. You blinked slowly, while he pulled your breasts outside their confinement, your bra’s underwire poking at your ribs. He smiled again before he dragged his lips across your neck and collarbones, renewing each and every one of the marks he’d planted on your body the previous night, and with his doing that, your guilt was too renewed.

Your memory trailed back to Gojo and how he’d helped cover them up—the final please of his fueling you with so much anger that overpowered any pleasure Toji offered. He had no right to act like a guardian when it was because of him that you’d lost all respect for yourself. You once thought you were special because he told you so. You were brought into this world because of him, and like a flower that was plucked out and placed in a pot of different soil, you were doomed to wither.

It was all his fault—a series of wrongs that Toji’s touch meant to right.

The television droned on about stock rates behind Toji’s broad shoulders, his mouth skipping to your nipples. His tongue lapped at what his teeth bit, suckling hard on them as if they were the sweetest lollipops. He was much rougher than he was the first time, not caring that your whines were almost of pain rather than bliss.

You brought a hand down his choppy hair, and he glanced up, jade eyes boring into yours while his mouth parted to reveal his tongue swirling around your nipple.

“You don’t have to try with me.” Toji mumbled, his warm lips spreading pretty lies from one stiffened peak to the other. “No need to pretend a damn thing when your tits are so perfect.” He spoke with absolute certainty—a mere fact his teeth attested to, sharp canines bruising your plushy skin while the grip around his hair turned into a hesitant yank.

His large palm—bearing the scars and tribulations of his old life—clamped around your breast, squeezing it closer to the other until his face was buried in the middle, lulled-out tongue licking up a strip.

“Can squeeze such a nice little hole out of ‘em. Have my cum runnin all the way down ‘ere,” he paused short of your navel, his lips parting from your tummy with a gentle kiss. “Or be sloppy and—heh—spray it all over. ‘s all up to you, baby.”

If there was a time for you to say you had no preference because you couldn’t weigh either choice, that would’ve been it. But doing so meant calling out your bluff, and you didn’t want his praises to stop. You wanted them to keep coming and for him to keep showering you with his affection until you believed them to be true.

Toji got back on his feet, your eyes leveling with the prominent bulge in his pants, and you got an idea. Notably, not the brightest idea in the book, but one that easily roused his interest as your hands reached out to his hips, fiddling with the loose ends of his belt. You had never seen a dick up close, but you were about to have one in your mouth. You were going to prove you were worthy of his attention.

Your eyes shone brightly as you gave his clothed length a bold stroke. “I wanna see it.”

His head cocked to the side while he considered your request, holding off his reply until you were tugging at his belt. “What happened to your precious school project, hm? Don’t care if ya fail anymore?”

“I wanna try it,” you insisted.

He fought back a smirk from rising to his lips, wetting his slanted scar instead. “After what you did, you think I should let ya have my cock? You think you deserve it?”

You nodded, pathetically rubbing your cheek against his crotch with your mouth popping wide open and your flattened tongue tracing the hard outline from the base to where his pants grew baggier. You heard him kiss his teeth, a low chuckle escaping him. “You’re a real nasty brat, aren’t ya? You’d do anything to be my whore?”

Holding onto his hips, you followed the same route and gazed up at him. “I want more than that.”

“Oh?” Toji chuckled again, utterly amused by your conviction.

“I want to please you.” You ran both hands up and down his sculpted thighs. “I want to do well for you; I—” you trailed off, shameless in your admission. “I don’t want to give up.”

“That right?” A thin eyebrow questioned. “You wanna be my good girl?” The term aroused you more than it should’ve, with fire pooling low in your abdomen as greed. More. Give me more. “Then better give it your best.”

He stood proudly as you managed to undo his belt and pull down his pants along with his underwear, expectant of your reaction. Your first impression was about as good as your last. It was big—words you didn’t refrain from expressing with a soft gasp rounding your lips.

Granted, you had no means of comparison, yet you doubted he was by any means average. Long, girthy, and veiny, with a slight curve to it that didn’t make things any better for the knot in your throat.

“Scared already?” Toji asked in a mocking tone. “Don’t tell me you were all talk.”

Your hands moved shakily as you measured his length with your fists, mildly wondering how you could possibly fit him in your mouth when your fingers barely connected around the thick base of his shaft. Too big, you mused.

You started pumping him at a languid pace, gaining confidence the more you acquainted yourself with the feeling of having something warm and heavy pulsate in your grip. You weren’t sure how much pressure to apply or at what speed you ought to stroke, yet judging from the way his abs clenched under his compression shirt, you were getting the hang of it—that was until he shook your hands off and took over.

“Let’s put that little mouth to good use, mm?”

Toji tapped his cock head against your lips, prompting you to open wide for him. You did as you were told, welcoming the swollen mushroomy tip into the warm cavern of your mouth, a salty tang immediately flooding your taste buds. He tasted unlike anything you’d had before. Intense, but not quite overbearing.

“C’mon, princess. Relax your jaw a bit—know you can.” Toji slowly prodded his cock further in, his next instruction being to hollow your cheeks once you’d taken about half of him inside.

You swore you couldn’t fit in the rest; it was impossible. You thought your throat had capped, yet as he swayed his hips back and forth, you felt him gradually slide in deeper, filling every gap possible to the point where your tongue was lodged between your teeth and the thick underside of his cock.

Your vision of Toji grew misty, the profanities that evaded him urging you to follow his lead into bobbing your head at the pace he showed you. Nice and slow. Up and down. Atta girl. So good that his fingers gathered on your scalp to form a makeshift ponytail he kept as leverage. So good that he didn’t hesitate to call you a good girl—his good girl—over and over again, continuously praising every aspect of your body.

Especially your mouth.

“Such a good little mouth,” said Toji, his voice lax even as he fisted your hair into moving faster. “Temptin’ me to fuck it like I wanna fuck that sloppy pussy.”

You were pretty sure your gag reflex had lost its function all the while Toji stuffed his cock down your throat, the air in your lungs filtered by the few unruly dark hairs that led to the happy trail of his stomach.

You had to remind yourself to breathe through your nose, as you slid a flat palm inside his shirt, feeling out the steeled abs that shamed each and every sorcerer you happened to know. Basic workout routines were part of your training, but his body was in a different league.

Plain immaculate.

He caught onto what you were trying to do and lifted his shirt for you, his sneer shattered by the delicate vibrations of your throat on his cock until he, too, was inclined to moan, flinging his head back.

“You’ll make me lose my fucking mind, little girl.” Toji panted, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You hummed happily while your palms splayed further up his body, feeling him throb against your tongue. His breathing began to stutter and he went back to thrusting in your mouth, pressure building in the back of your throat as you choked on his fat cock head, tears openly streaming from your blown out eyes.

“Gonna teach ya to be the best, angel.” Toji grunted, your slobbering sounds complementing the natural gruffness of his voice. “You’ll—fuck, you’ll be the best for me, right, baby? Lemme make a—hah—mess out of all your holes, hm?”

Your nod barely registered over the raspy moan Toji let out when he emptied his load down your throat, ropes of sticky cum stringing your jaw together with his cock as he pulled out. You almost fell off the couch and onto his thigh, the limitations of your body finally catching up to you.

Sucking dick ought to be recognized as an Olympic sport, because this was harder than every unorthodox exercise Gojo put you through combined. Muscles you didn’t know existed felt sore, your slack jaw convincing you it’d never close again, until Toji shoved his thumb between your lips and you willingly cleaned up the last bits of cum.

Maybe this was your true calling. Maybe sucking dick was all you were good at.

The man drew back his finger and plopped down on the couch beside you, manspreading a seat on his lap—one he offered to you with a pat of his hand. He misinterpreted your stalling and asked if you were scared of “Mommy and Daddy” walking in on their daughter bouncing on his dick. That was about the last thing on your mind. What bothered you was the fact that he was still hard as a rock and the possibility of your pussy being split in half before your lie was even exposed.

“Aren’t you supposed to—you know—wait, before…?”

Toji followed your glance low over his body. “Ah, this?” he grinned confidently. Perhaps he’d been asked about it before; you wouldn’t know.

Unashamed, he gave his cock a number of long strokes, his thumb swiping over the slit. It looked far more proportional in his hand than it did in yours. “Ever heard of heavenly restriction?”

The trade-off on a person’s cursed energy in exchange for various limitations or improvements on their body. You’d read that passage in one of the books Gojo offloaded on your back the second you enrolled in Jujutsu Tech. It was one of the many questions you carried to this day, with him brushing it off as an insignificant detail.

“That ass-hat really doesn’t teach ya shit.” Toji rolled his eyes, and you couldn’t agree more. “Don’t mull it over. Just means my body comes with certain features. Extra stamina, bonus strength, and speed.” He smirked. “I could fuck ya all the way to the next week.”

A visible gulp parted from your throat, somehow believing the absurdity of his statement. You wondered what the actual trade-off was. Using his abilities only to fuck around just didn’t seem right. That itself birthed more questions, such as what did he do for a living or how did he do with exorcising curses—was that Megumi kid his?

Toji tapped again on his lap, and that was your last chance to catch the train. You’d come too far to chicken out.

You climbed onto his thighs, your hands grabbing the backrest and your knees planted on both sides of his. He gave a tiny smile before letting his hands roam behind your back, his palms spreading your legs apart. You were still in your skirt and tights. If you were to do this, he’d have to remove both—

A faint gasp escaped your lips as he thumbed a hole between your thighs and drew it out across your ass. You glanced over your shoulder to where your skirt was hiked over your hips; his palms the ones to dress your cheeks instead. He kneaded them roughly, play dough for his fingers, as he forced your entire body to roll against the stiff cock that lay between his stomach and your mound, marveling at the surprised whine his slapping them coaxed.

“Wear tights again, and they won’t be the only ones to rip.”

“These were new!” You protested. “So were the panties from yesterday…”

Your complaints were hushed with two fingers shoved between your nether lips, thighs clenching as he teasingly drove them in and out of your slick. “Leaking this much just from sucking my dick?” He asked once you’d gone back to facing him, following his hand to where it lathered up his cock with your wetness.

“You like being told you’re special; I’ll make ya feel really special.” He forced your hips to grind against him, his cock cupping your entire pussy. “Don’t really let others do that or—ya know.” He shrugged. “But you’re an exception. I need you to fuck yourself dumb on my cock. Think you can do that?”

He didn’t give you enough time to consider alternatives as his mouth crashed on yours, stealing the oxygen along with the sense from your brain with just his tongue. Every filthy kiss he delivered made your heart pound harder in your chest, and when you tried to so much as raise an objection, he kissed you again, whispering sweetly against your lips about how he felt your cunt drool all over him and how if you behaved, he’d eat you out later. In fact, he promised that he would.

You can do this—more than can, you will do this.

Wrapping a small hand around his shaft, you directed the tip toward your tight entrance—perhaps the last time you described it as such—and gently pushed it in. Even when you were drenched, fitting more than the head was a challenge—something he defied the next minute when he clasped your wrists behind your back and held your hip in place for him to thrust up.

A shrill scream bounced across the room’s four walls before it could be swallowed by Toji, his lips seeking to distract you from the pain. He wasn’t more than halfway in, yet the sting was so unbearable that your eyes remained squinting well after he’d kissed the tears off your cheeks.

“Aw, princess lied about being a virgin?” He cooed with fake sympathy, glancing at the ring of faded red that’d formed around his cock, trickling down his balls with the rest of your juices. Damn it!

His comment irked you enough to talk back to him. “And you’ve been so full of shit, yet you don’t see me making it into a big deal, Toji.”

The expressions on his face flickered faster than the channels on your television did—surprise in the way his green eyes widened; annoyance in how his nose scrunched up; and whatever sinister emotion his lopsided smile represented.

“You kept quiet so I’d fuck you?” Toji questioned, and coming from his lips, it sounded so humiliating that you wanted to run away.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. Perhaps that was the issue—you weren’t thinking at all, or else you’d broken the link and gone bawling under the covers of your bed. You felt so shameful rocking your hips forward, while he didn’t feel any shame slapping your ass again, knowing the sound would be louder than the one before.

“T-Toji!” You shrieked, involuntarily sinking lower over his cock.

“Let’s keep score, shall we?” He sneered, the recoil from your ass being spanked sending you to drop against his chest.

He’d let go of your hands; his attention exclusively turned to painting your walls white and your cheeks red as he picked up a mean pace, pounding you from below. You always thought sex would feel good, yet the pleasure he offered was heavily doused in pain, and you didn’t know what to feel anymore. You knew you preferred the softness of his tongue, yet your sobs begged to differ, shifting to full-scale moans you could no longer contain.

“Actin’ all prude when you’re nothing but a hungry cockslut—that’s one strike.” Toji landed another hefty thwack, not minding that it caused your fingernails to dig sharply into his chest.

“Leaving me to hang just because daddy came home—that’s another.” You bit into his shoulder when his balls joined in the action, slamming hard against your butt.

“Being that other brat’s fucking student,” he raised his hand without fulfilling the threat, instead opting to straighten you over his dick.

You were heaving for air, carrying an ugly wince from all the tension he’d subjected you to. His eyes momentarily softened, and he sighed to himself, removing the sticky-with-spit strands of hair from your mouth and then bringing both palms to caress the outlines of your curves.

“Guess that ain’t your fault.” Toji whispered.

You wouldn’t be receiving any apologies from him. That much he made obvious, but when his thumb found your clit and began circling around the little bundle of nerves, you could tell that was his own wretched way of making amends.

“No matter what you try, you’re never gonna reach that asshole.” His thrusting had come to a standstill while he zeroed in on your eyes. “You’re so pathetically weak that you’ll always be looked down on by others.” Your tears almost resumed, and you almost attempted a punch to his face when he scooped up your face in his fingers. “But ya shouldn’t take shit from any damn sorcerer—ya hear me?”

It scared you how he knew exactly what to say to bend you to his will, using even sincerity against you. He was a bastard—no better than Gojo was—and you hated that such a guy was taking your virginity in the same way you hated yourself for leaning down to kiss him, suddenly feeling so incredible that you matched the luscious rocking of his hips with sways of your own.

“Wasn’t lying when I said you’d make the best fuck,” Toji smiled and just like that, you forgave everything.

Your hands met behind his neck while his one arm snared around your waist, the fingers of the other rubbing your clit even after you whined for him to stop.

“Too much?” He’d slyly picked up a faster pace, fucking up into you until your walls rapidly tightened around him like a vice he defied, the tip of his cock coming dangerously close to kissing your cervix with every thrust. “C’mon, ya know my name now. Be a good girl and moan f’me.”

“‘s too good, T-Toji—ah!” Your cries of his name turned incoherent over the spasms of your pussy, as he ripped a shuttering orgasm from your body, much stronger and more violent than anything you’d ever experienced.

“Fucking shit, baby.” Toji grunted, nearly losing his composure as he frantically shoved your hips together, pounding you as if he wanted to break you in half.

Your eyes were crossed, your forehead drooped against his shoulder where you could only answer him with broken ah-ah-ah’s and long-drawn yes’ in a never-ending high, uncertain whether the aftershocks were a result of your first climax or quakes of their own.

“Gonna fill that tight pussy right up.” He slapped your ass, and you whimpered, soaking up pleasure from the pain like a sponge.

Everything he gave was yours to take, and while you’d previously taken offense at his words, it was exactly what you wanted—for him to be your personal fucktoy and you his. School didn’t matter. Grades didn’t matter. Gojo—he didn’t matter at all.

“Gonna pump ya full ‘f my cum and send ya to that shithead.” His veiny cock started to twitch, his breath uneven and his hips gaining momentum over the last few thrusts that drove him over the edge. “My cute little cumslut; signed, sealed, delivered. All ya hafta do is just fucking—uh, take it, Y/N.”

Your name spilled from his mouth in abundance, as generously as his warm cum spilled into your pussy, the creamy mix of your fluids streaming from the point where your bodies connected down to the turquoise couch covers. He came buckets, and you unwittingly milked every last drop, your walls fluttering around him right until he pulled out.

“Not bad.” He patted down your back.

Enough willpower returned for you to sit up on his lap, your knees jiggling like two big lumps of jelly. Walking would result in dropping, yet when he hoisted you in his arms and shoved you to the next pillow, you realized a fate worse than death by falling existed: the combination of coarse fabric and a sore ass.

You discreetly flipped on your stomach, pretending to check out Toji as he tied his pants in place and paraded straight to the fridge. He scratched the back of his head and looked around the drawers, coming to the same conclusion you did about an hour ago. He mumbled something under his breath and returned with two beer cans from your father’s stash.

You thanked him as if he were the owner of the house and you his guest, when in reality, you didn’t even like beer. He didn’t seem to like it either, judging from the way he cringed at the first sip. He dropped the can on the table and picked up your leftovers instead, content with munching on your half-finished lasagna while he zapped through the channels for something more entertaining than the weather forecast.

The awkwardness of having sex for the first time started to creep up on you. Was this what people normally did? Acted as if nothing happened and went along with the rest of their day, not minding that their seed was still oozing from the person whose brains they’d fucked out?

You decided not to ask; you didn’t want to be called butthurt, even though you literally were. You grabbed a bunch of tissues from the table to clean up some of the mess, your frustration boiling over when Toji had the nerve to chuckle at a crude joke from the sitcom he was watching.

“Who is Megumi?”

tags will be in reblog, comment if you wanna be added to the next part!

[the-lonelybarricade]

TheLonelyBarricade Feysand Masterlist

All works excluding drabbles are avilable on AO3

🌶️= Smut/Works with explicit content

A Court of Faded Dreams Masterlist🌶️ - acotar rewrite/timetravel fic. (WIP)

Darling, Let's Run 🌶️ - Cat!Rhys and his general trickery (Completed)

As the River Flows Masterlist 🌶️ - Regency Feysand with a magical fated mates twist (completed)

Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist - A slice of life chronicalling the adventures Grim!Rhys and his reluctant wife Feyre (WIP)

Queen of Thieves Masterlist 🌶️ - Con-artist Feyre makes an ill-placed bet with the High Lord of the Night Court (WIP)

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans Masterlist 🌶️ - Modern AU where Feyre gets pregnant from a one-night stand with a violet eyed stranger (WIP)

We Bleed the Same Masterlist 🌶️ - An acotar retelling where we cut out the feylin love story entirely (WIP)

The Other Side of the Apocalypse 🌶️ - A canonverse AU following human Rhys and Feyre as they journey through all seven courts (WIP)

Canon:

Hate Me If It Helps 🌶️ - Feysand angsty sex pollen fic.

The Most Magnanimous High Lord 🌶️- Rhys gives Feyre a reading lesson

Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) 🌶️ 🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand beast form, monsterfucking, breeding kink filth

ACoMaF Wedding Scene - Canon compliant Feysand wedding scene.

The Chains That Bind Us - Feysand are married and Rhysand’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else. 

When The Glass Shatters - Feysand are married and Feyre’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else.

A Conversation At Dawn - Rhys takes a quiet moment to reflect with his mother. 

Just Can't Prove It - Feyre meets a stranger on a flight

All By Design - What if Isaac Hale was Rhys all along?

-

AU:

It’s Nice to Have a Friend  🌶️ - part 1 ⟡ part 2 -  Modern AU best friends to lovers/accidental kiss.

Ten Past Five 🌶️ - plotty Feysand NYE meet cute

Snow on the Beach 🌶️🌶️ - Daddy kink, Feysand join the mile high club

Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself 🌶️🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand Sugar Daddy AU 

The Music of the Night 🌶️🌶️- Demon!Rhys visits Feyre in her dreams (dub-con)

Violent Delights 🌶️🌶️ - Feysand vampire smut (dub-con)

Be a Doll, Darling🌶️🌶️ - Feyre's Sex Doll comes to life (dub-con)

Cakes & Cupid - Birthday party meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Scaring Is Caring - Halloween themed meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Arrowmusings B-day Present - Lucien x Rhys x f!reader fluff (Modern AU)

Long Story Short - Feyre gets stood up in a restaurant. (Modern AU)

The Dating Game - Modern fake couple AU. (Modern AU)

The Outlier - part 1 ⟡ part 2 - Timetravel fluff / university AU. (Modern AU)

A Letter Never Sent - Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Caught Up In You - Rhysand Celebrity AU (Modern AU)

Don't Be a Jerk (It's Christmas) - Coffee Shop Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Down the Water Well - Eldritch Horror Vibes AU

if you ever think you got it wrong - modern hurt/comfort friends to lovers

Good Morning, Darling - Feysand & baby Nyx fluff 

Behind You - Batboy Snowball fight featuring Nyx

Like An Illyrian - Rhys and baby Nyx fluff

No One Has to Know What We Do - vaguely smutty angst

Every Time I Look at You, It's Like the First Time - Feysand fluffy proposal

Guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats - Feyre drunk at a party

[downbad4fyodor]

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x Fem!reader word count: 363 summary: Fyodor takes you to see the Christmas lights around Moscow warnings: none Tag list: @getousrep

Want more Fics for the Holidays?

The frigid embrace of Moscow's winter air wrapped around you and Fyodor as you embarked on an enchanting adventure through the city adorned in the splendor of Christmas lights. Fyodor had orchestrated a surprise evening to immerse you in the spellbinding beauty of Moscow's festive illumination.

Under the silver glow of the moon, the streets draped in a pristine coat of snow whispered tales of winter magic. Fyodor, with his tall and commanding presence, walked by your side, his violet eyes reflecting the soft radiance of the Christmas lights that adorned the city. The night promised a magical journey, and Fyodor's gaze held a mysterious allure that heightened the sense of anticipation.

The first stop on this captivating expedition was none other than the historic Red Square. As you approached, the iconic St. Basil's Cathedral emerged like a majestic ice palace. Its domes, adorned with a breathtaking array of twinkling lights in hues of red, green, and gold, transformed the architectural marvel into a mesmerizing spectacle that rivaled the stars above. Fyodor, his breath visible in the crisp air, squeezed your hand as you both stood in silent awe, taking in the dazzling display that seemed to defy the winter night.

"It's like something out of a fairytale, isn't it?" Fyodor's voice, a low and melodic timbre, resonated with the joy of the season.

You nodded, captivated by the radiance that enveloped the historical landmark. The lights seemed to pirouette in harmony with the delicate snowflakes that floated gently from the night sky, creating an ethereal dance of winter wonder.

Fyodor, his gloved hand still entwined with yours, led you through the snow-covered cobblestones, each step revealing a new tableau of luminous beauty. The avenues of Moscow glittered with a tapestry of lights, like celestial pathways guiding you through the heart of the city's festive spirit. The meticulous arrangement of lights on trees, lampposts, and buildings painted a landscape that seemed plucked from a dream.

The journey continued to Gorky Park, where the frozen lake reflected the brilliance of the lights like a mirror. The towering trees, now adorned with a kaleidoscope of colors, stood as silent witnesses to the festive transformation. Fyodor guided you towards a charming carousel, its lights casting a warm glow against the snowy canvas. Whimsical music and the laughter of children added to the symphony of the holidays.

As you and Fyodor boarded the carousel, the world around you transformed into a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of lights and laughter. The crisp air, laced with the scents of hot cocoa and roasted chestnuts, heightened the sensory experience. Fyodor's eyes met yours, a silent promise of shared joy and the magic that lingered in the moment.

The night unfolded as a captivating exploration of Moscow's neighborhoods, each one vying to outshine the other in a dazzling display of lights. Fyodor, his arm wrapped around you protectively, shared tales of Moscow's Christmas traditions and folklore, infusing the journey with cultural richness.

The grand finale awaited at the historic Bolshoi Theatre. The monumental building, a symbol of artistic excellence, now stood adorned with a cascade of lights that accentuated its architectural grandeur. Fyodor, a mischievous glint in his eyes, led you towards the entrance. As you ascended the grand staircase, the lights dimmed, and the façade of the theatre became a canvas for an enchanting light show.

Colors danced across the intricate details of the building, synchronized with festive melodies that echoed through the night. Fyodor, his expression a mix of satisfaction and delight, watched your reactions with unabashed joy. The lights, now painting the night sky with vibrant strokes, encapsulated the very essence of the season.

As the light show reached its crescendo, Fyodor turned to you with a tender smile. "Merry Christmas, my love," he whispered, his voice a warm embrace in the winter night.

The evening, a symphony of lights and shared moments, etched itself into the tapestry of your memories. Moscow, draped in its festive best, became the canvas for a magical journey orchestrated by Fyodor, your companion in this winter fairytale. The Christmas lights, now etched in your heart, whispered tales of love and enchantment as you and Fyodor embraced the magic of the season in the heart of Moscow's winter wonderland.

[bigmanroykent]

some royjamie fic & podfic recs

i've been trying to make my Grand Return to Reading Fics for months because i miss royjamie so much and i have so many fics marked for later that it makes me cry but turns out. i'm not doing so well reading from a screen these days and only manage physical and audio books which makes reading fic a bit more challenging. so this isn't the huge spreadsheet with recs i had prepared in hopes of sharing it but here are the few i did manage to put there these last few months (with a special thank you to podficcers as well!!), please enjoy them too if you haven't read them yet:

from the mouths of babes by Dyece - Phoebe says something devastatingly insightful, and Roy has a minor Feeling about it.

as weak as a violet by tooshyforthis - After Keeley shuts the door in your face, you stumble your way to the place you call church. Jamie follows you. Always does. When you stumble your way to bed, he follows you there too.

Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark by Blackmustache - Things are changing at Man City and somebody needs to convince Jamie to come home.

i don't know what it is but i got that feeling by aisjustrunning - Jamie has been invited to a party (?) and now he has to buy a present for Roy Fucking Kent.

What you'd do to me tonight by fangrrlsing - “Vanilla vodka.” He shakes his head and Jamie is frozen under his eyes. “Such a child.” There is a gasp stuck in his throat, a protest. It hurts even though it shouldn’t. What should he care what a washed-up has-been thinks about him? Except this is Roy fucking Kent.

Their Love Was There by things_renew_themselves - Jamie and Roy hang out after the bonfire. Shit gets real.

everything by swimmingfox. I'm not kidding, their writing is wonderful and their podfics have been a lifesaver and I already have them linked because I was preparing a podfic rec post before I remembered that I had some other fics ready in my spreadsheet:

A Windmill In Old Amsterdam - Extra scenes from Roy and Jamie's night-time bike ride. Soft and sweet. Four in the Morning & Babe - Starting from S3E4, but then going off on its own. First Time - Jamie and Roy talk about Jamie's experience with his dad in Amsterdam. Jamie has a panic attack, and Roy is there to help. The Death of James Tartt - Jamie arrives on Roy's doorstep with the news that his dad is dead. Roy helps him through the first day and starts to realise his feelings for Jamie have changed. Sweetness prevails! Date - Jamie asks Roy out to dinner. It's nothing special. Honest. Or: Roy finds himself accidentally on a date with Jamie Tartt. Set post-S03! Brazil or, Shag Marry Avoid - Jamie invites Roy to Brazil, and incredibly Roy agrees. Jamie keeps getting erections. They're very much about Roy. Smug Fucking Prick - Jamie and Roy don't go for a kebab after their fight. Instead, Roy turns up at four the next morning, as they've got one more training session. Jamie is not having it. A Cute Little Roy of Pitch Black - Jamie gives Roy another one of his very thoughtful presents for Christmas. It's more of a hint than the last one. Shameless Christmas fluff! roy who by armadillo1976 / original - “Never heard of Roy Kent?” Jamie’s nose scrunches up.

strong (and capable) like an elephant by jedusaur (podfic by Silverkat1620)

it’s a long walk home by antspaul, swordguy - “If there’s a big man coaching Richmond…” Roy gestures broadly—as insultingly broad as he can. “I haven’t seen him.”

Jamie looks unimpressed. Like he’d been waiting to be hurt but expected more. Looks fucking disappointed. Roy’s not done.

“All I see is a little boy, barely two years into a job he thinks he deserves because he’s got the loudest mouth in the room. With a cheap win under his belt because he probably got on his knees for the referee.”

first, violent love by liesmyth - “What, you think you’re the first young prick who’s come round begging for a fuck? I told you, Tartt. You’re not half as special as you think you are.” - All the lads are cursed to speak their minds. Jamie and Roy fuck about it.

Scentr by PGHumfort - Freshly retired, single, and a little lonely, Roy Kent, who hid his omega status throughout his entire career, lets Keeley talk him into trying out the new, exclusive, anonymous dating service for the rich and famous she’s doing PR for. The twist? It’s purely scent-based with the idea that the body will intrinsically know a good mate on smell alone. You’ll never guess who smells the best to Roy!

[ghostofskywalker]

Here's To A New Year

Peggy Carter/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,492

Summary: Working the night shift on New Year's Eve isn't really that bad, especially not when it's Peggy you're spending time with.

flower and meaning: mistletoe || love, good luck, healing

Note: this is my december fic for the @yearofcreation2023! i know it's technically 2024, but it's been so fun to write things for this challenge, and i really pushed myself to finally complete the year's collection. this month's flower was mistletoe, and i wanted to play on the meanings of it without necessarily doing something that includes the act of a mistletoe kiss, and i had fun writing this :)

Year of Flowers Masterlist • Peggy Carter Masterlist

No one ever wanted to work the night shift on New Year’s Eve, and you completely understood why. You didn’t work for the police, so there weren’t drunken celebrations to keep track of or traffic safety to worry yourself with, and you didn’t usually have cases that required constant attention at this time of year. You would think that people might try to use the distraction of the holidays to make enacting their diabolical plans easier, but that (thankfully) didn’t happen often. At best, the new year’s eve night shift was spent finalizing case reports, filing a few last minute things, and staring at the clock as you listened for the cheerful shouts at midnight.

Holiday shifts like these were usually traded throughout the year in return for favors and secrets, or they were shouldered by the newest agents hired. There were usually a small group of agents who didn’t celebrate Christmas or Thanksgiving, so lately those shifts weren’t bartered back and forth, but this one always was.

You weren’t even supposed to be here in the first place, but Daniel had called you at the last minute and explained that Jenkins had called out sick, and he practically begged for you to fill in. And after negotiating about what you would get in return (which was the next three days off, all fully paid), you finally agreed. But you would have said yes anyway the moment you found out who you would be working with.

And you were pretty sure that Daniel knew that when he asked you.

Although you had never talked about your feelings out loud, you could never deny that you were fascinated with Peggy Carter. Of course the two of you had spent a lot of time together, and since she was the only other female agent in the office she was the one who showed you the ropes of the SSR (and of course, little tricks and ways to make the best of working in this particular situation). You moved out west when Daniel opened up the office in Los Angeles, and you were overjoyed when Peggy moved across the country to work here earlier this year.

You had watched her knock out assailants twice her size without as much as breaking a sweat, and on more than one occasion gotten a little distracted because you were staring at her from across the room. You desperately wanted to tell her how you felt, but a fear of what might happen if she didn’t return your amorous emotions held you back.

You knew that Daniel had probably figured things out about your little crush by now. You knew for sure that his wife had her suspicions, and you wouldn’t have put it past Violet to say something to her husband and try to get him to help you out a little. But you knew that your affections were usually pretty blatant, so you didn’t really blame them.

The door to the office opened and Peggy stepped back into the room, a bag of takeout in her hand and a look on her face you couldn’t quite read. “What’s it like out there?” you asked. This would mark your second new year on the west coast, but it was her first.

“The traffic isn’t as bad as New York this time of year, but it’s somehow still just as infuriating,” she said, returning to where she had been sitting before, which was the desk the two of you had been sharing for the evening.

You laughed. “I’d love to say that gets better, but I really can’t.”

You could see a smile start to form on her face. “It doesn’t in New York either.”

As the two of you unwrapped the food and began to eat, you were the one to break the comfortable silence. “Now that you’ve been here for a little bit, how do you like LA?”

“It’s different than I thought it would be, but I’m happy I moved out here,” she said. “What about you? Have you completely forgotten what it was like to live on the east coast at this point?”

You smiled, pausing before you answered her question. “There are good things and bad things,” you said. “I like the warmer weather, but everything’s too far apart here.”

“I definitely agree,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever driven as much as I have since I left New York.”

“I don’t know if I miss the subway though.”

She scoffed slightly. “I definitely don’t!”

As the conversation moved on to other topics, you could feel the atmosphere in the bullpen get brighter. And for the first time all night, you hadn’t looked at the clock in quite some time.

***

The three hour time difference between New York and LA meant that by the time you had finished eating, you were too late to tune into the more official celebrations (such as the ball dropping in Times Square), but you didn’t really mind.

The slightly tinny-sounding radio that resided in one of storage closets was soon brought out, and you couldn’t help the way your heart lifted as music filled the tiny room. There was nothing else to do, and the two of you would be stuck here for quite some time, so what was the harm in having a little fun? After listening for a little while, you began to dance, at first moving your head to the beat of the music but soon having fully gotten up from your seat.

If there was anyone else in the room besides Peggy, you wouldn’t have let loose so easily, and you certainly wouldn’t have asked her to dance, but you did.

“Oh, I’m not any good at that,” Peggy said. “I think I’d step on your toes.”

“I’m not any good at this either,” you said, holding your hand out. “But it’s New Year’s Eve, let’s have a little fun.”

You didn’t give up, and soon Peggy was gently holding your hand as the two of you twirled through the room. It was not graceful or picturesque by any means, as you almost crashed into the desks on multiple occasions, but it was fun, and that was all that mattered.

An upbeat song ended and a slower one took its place, you paused, but Peggy didn’t show any sign of wanting to sit back down. It was a bit awkward to shift your dance to a slower tempo, but eventually the two of you got there.

She was so much closer to you now, and you could see every detail on her face. To you, every hair out of its usual perfect place was a symbol of the way she had let loose a little bit tonight, and you wanted to bottle this moment just so that you could keep it forever.

You didn’t know who moved first, or when the eye contact got a little more intense, but soon the music from the radio had completely faded into the background. You and Peggy were the only two people in the entire world right now, and you didn’t think anything could make this better than it already was.

Until she leaned in, stopping right before her lips made contact with yours. “May I?” she whispered.

“Please,” was your breathy response, and you didn’t even have time to act embarrassed about your forwardness before she had closed the gap between you.

You had dreamed about kissing Peggy Carter before, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t, but this put every single fantasy you’ve ever had before to absolute shame. You always rolled your eyes when people talked about sparks flying between lovers, but in this moment you were ready to eat every single one of those words. She was utterly perfect, of course her kisses would be immeasurably wonderful as well.

When you finally had to pull away for air, you didn’t know what to say. “Happy new year,” was what came out of your mouth, and it definitely wasn’t your finest moment,.

Peggy looked slightly puzzled. “Is it midnight yet?”

You could not try to backtrack now, even if it was only (your head snapped towards where the clock was hanging) eleven thirty. “It’s midnight somewhere, right?”

Your (not-so) suave line did not have the intended effect. “I don’t know, wouldn’t time zones-”

As she spoke you took a risk, and instead of trying to figure out the right words to say, you just leaned in and kissed her again. Any worry you had about her not reciprocating melted away after the very first moment, because she returned every ounce of passion that you poured into the kiss.

Yeah, there were still quite a few things that needed to be figured out with her, but right now, you were more than happy to just relish in the happiness of the occasion.

All of that other stuff would be next year’s problem anyway.

- the end -

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