#like don’t make him look like the asshole

[starkeysprincess]

the annual christmas sorority date auction༉ೀ

warnings — frat!rafe, sorority!reader, date auction (for charity), rafe being competitive, jealous rafe, oral (m. receiving), praising, tit sucking, nipple biting (for like 2 seconds), spanking, sex in lingerie, unprotected sex, creampie wc — 1.7k a/n — merry christmas + happy new years !! got the date auction idea from the movie, white chicks + ib @rafeyscurtainbangs concept in her kinkmas fic ‘holidate’

“not that i’m against the purpose of it, but do you have to be in this year’s event?” rafe huffed, looking around at the stage setup . “i would skip it if i could, but they think having all of us in the event will benefit the fundraiser,” you sigh. “yeah…well, these guys willing to bid to win a date with a girl is a bit pathetic, it’s stupid,” your boyfriend grumbled, making you raise a brow.

“oh is it? you didn’t seem to think it was stupid last year when you bid on getting a date with me. you know…the same date that led to us dating.” rafe knew you were right, but that didn’t mean he liked the idea, “i know, but i don’t want to even think about how many of the guys from the other fraternities will try to bid on getting a date with you.”

“guess you’ll have to outbid them, huh?” you tease. he rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of, “i shouldn’t have to bid just to go on a date with my girl,” under his breath. “that’s too bad, i was hoping to give you one of your christmas presents early if you win the bid,” your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “yeah? and what would that be?” rafe grinned as you plucked his hat off his head, turning it around and placing it backward on his head.

“there’s only one way for you to find out,” you whipped your head around at the sound of your sorority sisters calling your name. “it’s about to start. i have to go before london rips my head off for not being ready,” you gave him a rushed kiss on the cheek, your gloss sticking to his skin, before heading towards the stage to get in position.

as the event started, rafe became antsy, waiting for your turn as your sorority sisters appeared on stage individually. members of fraternities bidding against one another in hopes of landing a date with any of the girls had him on the edge of his seat.

he fidgeted in his seat when london announced your name, his jaw clenching at the sound of the men hollering when you stepped out onto the center of the stage. you gave rafe a playful wink while london introduced your name and interests to the crowd of fraternity brothers before the bidding started.

he figured no one would try to place a bid, knowing you were his. but rafe couldn’t be more wrong when he heard “$100”. he sat up in his seat, snapping his head toward the direction of the voice. “you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he scoffed, he glared, his eyes landing on chad, a member of his rival fraternity, who had his typical, stupid smug look on his face.

“$200,” rafe called out, and it didn’t take long for the two to start calling out numbers, trying to outbid the other. you nervously shifted in place, your eyes darted back and forth between rafe and chad, anxiously shifting in place as the number increased, nearing $800. your eyes widened at the number rafe blurted out, he knew his father would be furious once he found out how much money he blew off, but knowing no one could get their hands on you was worth it. seeing chad’s dumb grin on his face fall was purely a bonus.

after the event, you walked off stage, where rafe was waiting for you by the stairs. “thought you said you shouldn’t have to bid to go on a date with me?” you mock. he chuckled, dipping his head down to capture your lips with his, “like i said, you’re my girl. you didn’t really think i’d let these assholes take you from me, did you?” you giggle, “no, but you’re dad might kill you for how much money you dropped, which was a ridiculous amount.” rafe shrugged, “the old man will be fine, you know i don’t care how much i spend when it comes to you.”

“plus, i wanna know what my present is,” he grinned, “you can’t blame me for wanting to know when you’re the one who mentioned it.” you give him a playful smack to the chest, “you’ll see what it is when we’re back at my apartment.”

as soon as those words left your mouth, he practically dragged you out of the building. once the two of you made it to your apartment, he tried to pull you into your bedroom, only for you to shove him onto the couch, “be patient,” you warned. “baby, you know i’m the most impatient man when it comes to you,” rafe complained, groaning at the look you give him, “okay, fine.”

“wait here,” he watched you disappear around the corner and into your bedroom. he looked around at your apartment's walls which were adorned with pictures. his ears perked at the sound of your bedroom door opening, accompanied by your voice, ”close your eyes!” you poked your head out, ensuring his eyes were closed before walking out.

you stood before him, lowering your head to press your lips onto his in a messy kiss, climbing onto his lap, your legs straddling either side of him. rafe wrapped his arms around your waist, his tongue slipping into your mouth. he let out a strained groan as you suck on his bottom lip, a string of spit connecting between your lips when you pull away.

“holy shit…” rafe rasps, his eyes blinking open, raking up and down your body, taking in the red and white candy cane lingerie. “god…you look so fuckin’ sexy,” his hands ran up and down your thighs, fingers playing with the embellishments on your stockings.

you kiss along his jaw to his neck, sucking and biting at his skin. you roll your hips into him, grinding your clothed cunt against his bulge. rafe’s hand entangles in your hair, tugging your head back to pull you in for another kiss. he nips at your bottom lip, ”as much as i love this on you, i wanna see those pretty tits,” his hands snake behind your back. he unhooks the clasps of the corset, pushing the straps off your shoulders, and tossing it aside. your eyes flutter shut, his lips trailing down your neck to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses.

your hands pull at the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head, before gently shoving him to sit back. “i’m supposed to make you feel good tonight,” you slipped off his lap, settling yourself between his legs, your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. rafe lifted his hips, helping you pull his pants and boxers down to pool around his ankles, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. you look up at him, wrapping your hand around his length, stroking it slowly before licking at his tip, sucking it into your mouth.

he watches you take more of his cock into your mouth, and he leans forward, grabbing your hair and bunching it into his fist. “fuck, just like that,” he moans, his hips rolling, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth, pulling a gag from you when his tip repeatedly kisses the back of your throat. you blink up at him, tears threatening to spill and drool slipping out of your mouth, “always makin’ a mess on my cock like a good girl, just how i like it,” his praise making you press your thighs together.

his jaw goes slack, watching your lips slide up and down his dick, “fuck…you like makin’ me feel good, don’t you? always wanna please me no matter what?” you hum around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock making it hard for his eyes to stay open. he pulls you off of him with a wet ‘pop,’ “if i’m gonna cum, it needs to be inside your sweet little cunt.”

rafe yanks you up from your knees, and you hurriedly try to remove the garter belt and thigh-high stockings. “no, keep ‘em on,” he demands, pulling you down onto his lap again. you rest your hands on his broad shoulders, raising your hips to let his fingers hook into your thong to pull it to the side. “jesus, sucking my dick always gets you this wet, huh?” he chuckles, planting a hand on your hip to keep you steady.

he guides his cock to your drooling hole, biting back a groan at your walls stretching around him, sucking him in deeper. he presses his head into the cushion of the couch, staring up at you in awe as you roll your hips. ”takin’ me so deep, your pussy is always greedy f’me, isn’t she?” his hands ghost up your plush thighs to your ass. you whined when he delivered a sharp smack. “c’mon baby, you can do better than that,” he coos, encouraging you to move up and down, bouncing on his cock.

“good girl, just like that…” rafe grunted, leaning forward to capture your nipple into his mouth. his fingers dug into the flesh of your waist, “rafe–” you yelped, the pain and pleasure of feeling his teeth sink into the sensitive bud sending jolts through your body. you whine as he pulls away, “oh, you like that, huh?”

he pulls you forward, your face burying into his shoulder and his hands grip the fat of your ass, holding you still to pound into you. you cry out, your nails biting into his skin, his thighs smacking against your ass with each harsh thrust. the head of his cock persistently hits your cervix, pulling a sharp gasp from you.

rafe removes one hand to slip between the two of you, the pads of his fingers circling your puffy clit. your eyes roll back, whimpering into his shoulder, “gonna cum f’me, baby? gonna make a mess all over my cock then let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum?”

“y-yes!” you sob, his fingers pinching your clit, sending you over the edge. “shh, just a little longer,” he groans at your walls squeezing around him. you pant against his neck, squirming on top of him. his hips stutter, pushing himself deep inside you, moaning your name, his cum spilling inside your cunt, painting your walls white.

“don’t know how you’re gonna beat next year’s present, this might’ve been the best christmas present yet,” rafe panted, kissing the side of your head.

taglist: @oceandriveab @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll @cameronsprincess @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysbabygirl @nemesyaaa @rafesangelita @rafesbabygirlx @fallbhind @zyafics @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @whytheylosttheirminds @ilovefiction4lmen @jjslaybank @whinyangel @rafeysangelbaby @momoewn @kazanskied @saintlike05 @coco-cinnamon @blckbrrybasket @wearemadeofstardust0 @starkeysbebe @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @starkeysheart @littlelamy

[synvil]

Recording.. // Pornstar! Rafe Cameron x Pornstar! Fem! Reader

a/n: welp, this will be interesting. there’s so many ways this can go but let’s see which one i came up with.

synopsis : getting to work with the famous, most current top rated star in the porn industry was a dream. Let’s see how it turns out for you. pornstar! au!

warnings : explicit content! penetration, choking, cunnilingus, afab!, multiple orgasms, roughness, squirt, etc.

“[Name], thank you for coming. Did you get the email regarding today’s content?”

Shaking hands with the producer, you share a smile and nod, pulling away. “Yes, I read through it. I’m alright with it all.”

“Great, and I take it you’ve already showered and cleaned up before coming? Any questions?”

You nod again to the first part before thinking for a moment and parting your lips to speak. “Actually, I just wasn’t sure who I would be working with today. That wasn’t clear in the email.”

The producer exhales in understanding and hears the door opening, “Actually, we needed confirmation that he was willing to come in today,” and a tall, muscular and toned male steps out, a towel around his neck and in nothing but boxers and some gym shorts. “And there he is. Cameron!”

“Cameron..?”

The male who steps out looks up as he ruffles one end of the towel against his head of hair. “Yeah?” Almost immediately, he locks eyes with you.

Holy shit.

THE Rafe Cameron. The highest rated star in the industry, where every man and woman alike would kill to meet the handsome stud, much more, to work with him.

Must be a fever dream.

When you first auditioned to be part of this industry, Rafe was only beginning to take off.

And now that you were one of the top stars alongside him, Rafe was the highest rated one, and every woman who ever had the chance to work with him, could never be the same.

Thing is, you had no idea what he was like. Was he rude? The pompous kind of asshole? Or was he charismatic and sweet? But if he was, was it just for show?

Many thoughts begin to flood your head until you realize the producer and Rafe have been talking, and now he’s coming over to you, hand extended out.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Y-Yeah, same.” You mentally curse yourself out for your anxiety and shake his hand but even more for the fact that you have yet to make eye contact, still glazing over his dripping wet bare body.

Rafe follows your gaze and gives a small chuckle, a charming smirk following it as he pulls away. “Sorry, thought I’d get a quick shower in before we start our filming.” He explains but you just manage a small nod. “R-right.”

The producer comes over and pats both of your shoulders. “Alright, now that we’ve done introductions, we’ll go over the scene once more with both of you and we’ll get started. Rafe, why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll get [Name] prepped?”

Rafe nods and gives you one more glance, his smirk still shining at you. With a wink, he turns away and takes his leave.

That smirk.. it sends a certain thrilling feel of desire in your stomach and you swallow thickly before attempting to focus your gaze on the producer, who begins to instruct the scenes.

Here you are..

“I can’t believe you!”

You shout as you slam the front door behind you, just for it to open a second later and Rafe coming in. “God, you’re insufferable!”

The current scene was you and Rafe coming home from the bar, celebrating a night of a special occasion, you had gotten a promotion at work.

And now you were rushing inside, having caught your on and off boyfriend of two years, openly flirting with another woman right next to you, once again.

At least that what it looked like to you, but your boyfriend has cheated before, and you weren’t going through it again.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?!”

Rafe’s voice follows after you while you take off your heels and throw it his way. “Don’t fucking talk to me!”

He narrowly dodges the heels thrown at his face before the expensive bag in your hand is also aimed for his head.

“What are you doing?” He asks, catching the bag with a scoff as you retreat to the kitchen.

“Take it back. I don’t want it anymore, we’re done.”

“Done? So you’re just giving all the things i bought you, back?” Rafe looks at you in disbelief as you begin to take off the jewelry on your person and drop it on the counter with a clink.

“I’m done with second chances, you asshole. You can’t just do one nice thing for me, one night.” I curse, slamming my hands down on the countertop as I turn to face him.

Rafe calmly sets the bag down as he stands opposite of you of the counter and sighs softly. “Baby, you’re not thinking straight, just let me explain before you-“

“Before I what? Break up with you for the final time?” You pull off the bracelets until you’re finally free of any jewelry and slide it towards him. “Take it all back.”

This time, Rafe can’t help but curl his lips into an amused smile, as he watches you return everything on you that he had bought for you.

“All of it?”

You tsk and point to the doorway. “The heels are back there.” You remind him though he was obviously aware.

“Alright, everything.. then the dress is included, right?”

. . .

“W-What?-“ Clearly taken back, Rafe’s lips forms a smirk at your clear surprise.

“Last I checked, I bought that stunning black gown you’re wearing tonight.. to celebrate.. remember?”

His words cause you to purse your lips and you’re aware of his slow advances towards you as he rounds the island counter in the kitchen. Rafe doesn’t break eye contact, keeping his eyes trained on you as he does this.

Tensions are high and you know he’s right, but you also know what will happen if you take off the dress.

However, behind the facade, behind the cameras rolling, your inner self is ready to burst. Your cheeks are beginning to flush and you can feel the intensity of his gaze on your body, trailing up and down your figure. Whether or not he was in character was unclear but it still made you wet with arousal at the sight.

Reluctantly, you bring your hands up to the straps, pulling it to the side of your shoulders and down slowly.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily takes in your fully naked form, you weren’t even wearing panties.

Your lack of undergarments weren't part of the script, which you can tell catches Rafe by real surprise momentarily, but it quickly dissipates into a smirk instead.

“No underwear?.. How naughty of you..” he murmurs as he finally makes it to your side and you fight the blush that’s threatening to spread and darken further.

“Shut up-“

Rafe just chuckles at your reaction as his hands sneaks around your bare waist. He looks down from his height with a certain glint in his eyes. “Hey, i’m not complaining..” He says as his head moves to your neck, kissing your collarbone softly. “it's kinda sexy..”

What the hell, I can’t respond.

He’s so hot.. i need to talk.. but im speechless..

My heart is pounding so hard— Relax, [Name], this is all just acting- Rafe Cameron is just acting.

You’re overthinking, stay professional!

But the next thing you knew, Rafe Cameron’s lips were smashing against yours in an intense, heated kiss.

And the faint whimper that escaped your lips wasn’t fake.

Needy hands roam your body everywhere, his lips planted on your neck and kissing every inch of your skin. He raises his head up to your ear and whispers, his breath hot. “You good?” It was quiet and subtle, not loud enough to pick up on the microphone hanging near us.

You nod faintly, and he grins, not waste another second ravishing you.

All the prior anxiety and worries you had faded and you found yourself melting into the kiss, Rafe’s muscular arms lifting you up by the waist and placing you on the counter, the cold touch making you gasp.

That gasp was enough time for him to allow his tongue to slip in, the muscle exploring inside your mouth, making you moan lightly.

Every movement was full of passion, Rafe fondling your breasts, giving each mound a full squeeze. His fingertips pinch your buds, a gentle twist causing you to send a breathy sigh. Your hands find their way to his hair and tangle your fingers in the locks of his dirty blonde locks.

Rafe's low chuckles reaches your ears again as he travels up to nip at your earlobes. His right hand goes down to dip between your thighs, his index finger planting itself right at your clit. He rubs it a few times before whispering, "So wet.. I can't wait to taste your pretty pussy.."

It's almost a growl when he says it, sending rushes of adrenaline through your body and the boost of arousal grows further in you.

The Rafe Cameron gives you one last kiss on the lips before he slowly slides down to his knees, muscular hands grabbing a hold of your thighs tight and firm, and being face to face with your already glistening pussy.

He licks his lips and doesn't hesitate to dive face first, tongue taking a long lick to your folds before going down on you. "O-oh, fuck-" Your eyes flutter shut at the wet sensation, a sharp inhale slipping out.

Holy shit, it felt incredible.

Rafe's tongue moves in circles around your clit a few times before continuously slurping up your juices that leaked from your folds, devouring your pussy like he was starved.

Your hands prop up your body by placing it firmly on the surface under you, but you can't help the hand that goes to tug on his hair and push his face deeper in, which causes him to chuckle deeply, the action creating vibrations through you.

"Oh god, Rafe." You breathily pant, his grip forcing your thighs to remain spread while his tongue prods at your entrance, pushing in and out. "Shit.. you taste incredible.." He mutters as his nose buries itself against your clit. The feeling is enough to send you into overdrive, your head tossing back and a tightening in your stomach makes you cry out.

"R-Rafe, I'm so close-"

Grinding your hips against his face, you illicit a loud mewl of pleasure, your body sending shocks throughout as you tremble from a hard orgasm.

Despite your fluids gushing down his chin, he continues to delve deeper in, overstimulating you, causing your thighs to shake as you cry out again, making him laugh.

“Aw, was it too much for you, sweetheart?” He grins mischievously and you flush, ignoring the way your heart flutters at the nickname as you attempt to catch your breath, watching as he licks his lips and stands up straight, ripping off his button up.

You can feel your mouth going dry at the sight of his toned, chiseled abs, the sweat glistening on his skin but what widened your eyes was the sight of his hardened bulge through his trousers, and you reach for the hem of his pants and pull him close, wrapping your legs around his torso.

Remembering you’re still on camera, you speak, “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.” You mutter, staring into his eyes while your hands palm him softly, working to unzip his zipper. But your words only cause him to flash a smirk as he helps you undo his trousers. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart, by the time i’m done with you, you’ll forget about tonight.”

Crashing his lips with yours, you grunt but let him pull you even more towards the edge before pulling you down to the ground, his hands pulling the waistband of his pants and boxers down.

He strokes himself a few times, your eyes unable to help itself to the sight and you swallow thickly.

“Something wrong, baby?” He hums in amusement and you turn away a bit bashfully. “Not at all.”

Turning you around so you faced away from him, he breaks into a smirk as he wraps his arm around to give you a hand necklace, your throat firm in his grasp. Lining himself up at your entrance, he leans in close and speaks lowly. “Good, because I don’t intend to stop.”

Without warning, he inserts his length inside and you cry out a noise of pleasure. Your back at arches and he tightens his grip on your throat, but not enough to hurt you. “Heh, shit, you’re so fucking tight..” It almost seemed like it was actually Rafe saying this to you, instead of his character, but you didn’t have much time to think about it after as he begins to thrust into you from behind.

“F-Fuck-!”

One hand goes up to grab ahold of his arm that was holding your neck, and the other holds onto the counter for support. Every hard thrust causes your breasts to bounce as you two move in sync, Rafe doing deep but slow thrusts. His other hand is firming holding your waist but it travels up to grope your right breast, squeezing it hard.

Strings of moans are filling the room, and you momentarily forget the audience and cameras on you as all you can focus on is Rafe’s cock penetrating you hard.

He’s so deep.. i-i can’t think straight- it’s too much..

i’m so close- no wonder he’s so popular..

Rafe pulls away from your neck to use both hands to hold your hips firmly, his own picking up the pace as he begins to fuck you fast, the wet juices squelching each time your skin makes contact.

His hand goes down and his finger flicks your clit and it’s starting to send you over the edge. “Rafe..” Whimpers escape you as you dip your head down, clenching your fists on the countertop tightly.

“R-Rafe, fuck, you’re so deep.. i-i’m gonna cum-“

Rafe just smirks as he rubs your clit further, continuously thrusting you harder and faster until he feels a gush over your release and he pulls out, watching as your pretty glistening pussy squirts all over the floor.

“Fuck.” He bites his lip at the sight as he feels his own building up, and he spins you around while you’re panting. “Get on your knees,”

You fall to your knees to his command, and watch as he strokes himself fast and seconds later, his cum spurts its white salty liquid over your face, painting it like a canvas.

He pants heavily, catching his breath while you do the same, eyes fluttered shut at the warm liquid drips down.

“And cut! That was great, now get cleaned up you two!”

“You alright, [Name]?”

Still on the ground, you barely register a voice is talking to you while you appear dazed and confused.

Rafe has some skin-sensitive wipes in his hands, gently rubbing your face to wipe off any of his fluids before carefully helping you to your feet. “Did I go too rough on you?”

“I’m alright, thanks..” You whisper, feeling the exhaustion take over you. You lean onto Rafe, who holds you securely against his chest. “If it’s any consolation, today was fuckin’ amazing..” He chuckles lightly as he presses a tender kiss to your temple before guiding you to the couch where you can rest for a bit.

“Yeah?.. I think i understand why so many women gush over you after working with you.” You giggle weakly, sending an appreciative look when he sets you down gently, placing a blanket over you. He also chuckles lightly. “Yeah, but I think i’d like to work with you again, sometime soon. Maybe we can talk about our next filming together over dinner?”

Your stomach feels as though butterflies are doing flips inside you at the assumption of his words. “Are you asking me out, Rafe Cameron?”

Rafe merely shares a wink before pecking your forehead and getting up. “I’ll let you figure that out. Meanwhile, I’ll head to your room and draw you a bath to clean up.”

He takes your hand to press a soft kiss to the back of it before smiling your way and then turning to leave. Maybe he wasn’t acting the whole time.

“.. Rafe Cameron just asked me out..”

Best filming job ever.

a/n: hello all, hope you enjoyed! :) merry christmas. i shall have the first post of my camgirl series out soon!! <3

i’m sorry if this seems like such a rushed abrupt ending but i wanted to finish this in time for christmas :)

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.2 first move

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: and the game begins…

masterlist

You were still thinking about the party as you got back to your apartment, shaking off the strange vibe that lingered after your conversation with Sukuna. He wasn’t exactly rude, but something about the way he talked, the way he acted so sure of himself, rubbed you the wrong way.

You threw your jacket over the back of your chair, saying goodnight to Shoko as she walked into her room. You plopped onto your bed, pulling your phone from your bag.

You opened Instagram, scrolling through posts finally loving the peace.

Until a notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You sat up in shock, staring at your screen. Sukuna had followed you?

Your thumb hovered over the notification, the tension building as you debated your next move. Block him? Ignore him? Or… stalk him?

The smarter choice would’ve been to block him, but knowing yourself, you clicked on his profile.

His account was exactly what you expected.

Post after post of candid photo, Sukuna at some party. A drink in his hand and his arm slung casually around a girl who looked like she’d won the lottery. Sukuna leaning against his car, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

He had thousands of followers. The comments were full of heart emojis and flirty compliments. He had only followed 20 people, mostly his friends and family.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the growing curiosity. He didn’t follow anyone unless they were important, so… why was he following you?

Ignore it, you told yourself, he’ll get bored eventually.

As your stared at his profile, a second notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen sent your a message.

Your stomach flipped.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: took you long enough to notice me

You scowled, your fingers itching to respond. He was so full of himself that it was almost comical.

2:40AM You: is this part of some weird social experiment?

His reply came almost instantly.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: what me following you? nah just curious

2:41AM You: curious about what?

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: about what kind of stuff you post don’t worry i won’t judge… much

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your headboard. the nerve of this guy.

2:41AM You: wow, lucky me

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: relax sweetheart i’m just here to see if you’re as boring online as you are in person

Your jaw dropped. He had to be kidding. You stared at the screen, debating weather to let the conversation die or put him in his place.

2:42AM You: bold words for someone who posts the same three poses over and over

This time, there was a pause before replying. When it came it was shorter than you expected.

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: touché

For a moment, you almost smiled.

2:42AM You: now that you’ve satisfied your “curiosity” you can go ahead and unfollow me

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: nah i’ll stick around

You sighed, swiping away from his message leaving him on seen. You stared at the screen, the notification still visible: Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You glanced at his profile one more time. The same images, the same cocky smirk in every picture.

With a deep breath, you pressed follow back.

For a moment nothing happened, you set your phone down and let out a slow exhale, almost feeling dumb for replying to him.

Just as you were about to close the app and convince yourself it doesn’t matter, your phone buzzed.

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: i knew you couldn’t resist

You rolled your eyes, a smile hugging at the corner of your lips.

2:50AM You: don’t get too cocky

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: too late already am

2:50AM You: your unbearable

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: only when i’m around you

You stared at the screen, for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was good at this, good at getting under your skin, making you react, and you had to admit it was starting to feel like he wasn’t just messing around.

2:51AM You: we’ll see how long that lasts

2:51AM: Sukuna Ryomen: i’ll be around as long as you let me.

A little shiver ran down your spine at his words, but you pushed it aside. You weren’t ready to admit how much you were starting to look forward to whatever this way.

Sukuna was following you everywhere. You meant it everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if you were grabbing a coffee, sitting in class, or heading to the library, whatever you were doing he was there. Sometimes he would be leaning against the wall, staring at you as you walked by, other times he would be scrolling through his phone like he just happened to be in the same place.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. After all, it wasn’t like you owned the campus. But by the fourth time in a single day? Yeah, no. He was definitely following you.

You were midway through highlighting your notes when the chair across from you scraped against the floor. The sudden sound made you glance up, and there he was. Sukuna Ryomen.

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked, glancing back to your notes.

“Stalking is a strong word,” Sukuna's voice drawled, too close for comfort. “We just happen to be in the same place at the same time.”

You sighed, as you spun back to face him, he’s leaning back casually on the chair, one arm draped over the chair next to him.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Pretty sure we already had that conversation. Last night.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Yeah, but you didn’t say anything interesting, figured I’d give you another chance.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” there was something about the way he was staring at you, like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you even bothering me? you’ve got half of the campus eating out your hand, and i’m not interested in joining the club.”

Sukuna leaned forward, just enough to make your knees touch. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t care.” his tone was softer now, the change caught you off guard.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “how tragic for you.”

he grinned. “See that’s why I like you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit. What was he even talking about? he didn’t know you.

“You don’t even know me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” he said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” you said bluntly, closing your notebook with a snap.

You stood up, gathering your things quickly, but Sukuna wasn’t done. As you walked away, his voice followed you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“I’m telling you, he’s obsessed. First, he’s showing up wherever you are, second, he’s following you on Instagram. classic Sukuna move.” Shoko says as you guys are seated at a small table in the student lounge.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, and now he’s everywhere I go. It’s like he’s trying to prove something.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “Maybe he is. I mean, it’s Sukuna. He doesn’t exactly follow people around for no reason.”

You scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? He follows around half the campus trying to get in their pants.”

“Yeah, but those girls usually throw themselves at him. You…” Shoko gestures vaguely at you. “…don’t. He’s probably intrigued.”

you snort. “Well, he’s wasting his time. I’m not interested.”

Before Shoko can respond, Sukuna’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Ouch. That hurts.”

Both of you look up as Sukuna strolls over, his signature smirk firmly in place. He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand, the other resting casually in his pocket.

Shoko grins and leans back in her chair, clearly ready to enjoy whatever’s about to happen.

“Talking about me?” His voice carries just the right amount of smugness as he stops by your table. “I can feel the love from here.”

You glare up at him, unimpressed. “Love? please your delusional.”

Ignoring your sarcasm, Sukuna slides the bag closer to you. “Here. Thought you’d like this.”

You looked at the bag like it might explode. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Open it,” Sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, watching you carefully.

You side-eyed him before reaching for the bag, you’re fingerings brushing against the paper as you peek inside. Your favorite snacks are in there.

You looked up at him confused. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

Sukuna shrugs like it’s no big deal, “I have my ways.”

You narrowed your eyes, a mix of suspicion and frustration bubbling up inside you. “That’s not an answer. Are you really stalking me?” It all felt too strange to ignore. First, he found your Instagram without you ever mentioning it. Then, he seemed to show up wherever you were. What was next—was he going to start lurking outside your house?

He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Stalk you? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You don’t buy it for a second. “The kind who’s trying way too hard.”

“Or the kind who pays attention,” Sukuna counters smoothly, his voice dropping a fraction as he leans forward.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and even Shoko raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show.

You stiffen but recover quickly, crossing your arms again. “You really think this is going to work? Snacks and flirty comments?”

“It’s a start,” Sukuna says with a lazy grin, standing up. “By the way, there’s a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

You don’t hesitate. “Not interested.”

Sukuna shrugs, completely unbothered by the rejection. “I wasn’t asking. I’ll see you there.”

He winks, turning and walking away without waiting for your response

Shoko finally speaks, her tone laced with curiosity. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing the bag into your tote. “Nothing. He’s only doing this to try to get me into his bed. It’s his thing.”

Shoko studies you for a moment, her voice thoughtful. “I don’t know. That didn’t seem like that to me.”

You huff, shoving your drink away. “Whatever. I’m not falling for it.”

Shoko grins, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You don’t have to fall for anything. But we’re going to that party.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, we are.” Shoko pulls her chair back, already starting to walk away. “I need to see where this goes. Plus, free drinks. You’re coming, no arguments.”

You groaned, grabbing your things to follow her. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love me for it,” Shoko calls over her shoulder, grinning.

Sukuna didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. Day one of the challenge, and you were already proving to be unlike anyone he’d dealt with before.

It was frustrating and intriguing.

He had done his research, of course. Stalking your social media was step one, but even that had been harder than he expected. Your profiles were understated. No attention-seeking selfies, no overly revealing posts. Just snapshots of books, obscure playlists, and the occasional candid photo with friends.

“I can’t figure her out,” he had muttered late one night, scrolling through your feed for what felt like the hundredth time.

That’s when he realized he needed help.

“You really don’t know anything about her?” Geto had asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back against Sukuna’s desk.

“She’s invisible,” Sukuna muttered, tossing his phone onto the table. “No parties, no drama, no clue what she’s into. It’s like she’s living on a different planet.”

Geto smirked. “Sounds like someone’s not used to working for it.”

Sukuna shot him a glare, but Geto just shrugged. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

The next day, Geto cornered Shoko during a break between classes. He made it look casual, of course just two old friends catching up. But Geto had a knack for reading people, and Shoko wasn’t hard to crack.

“She’s into the little things,” Shoko had said, blowing out a puff of smoke from her cigarette. “You know, stuff that actually matters. Like, she’s not going to fall for some big, flashy gesture. She likes thoughtful things her favorite snacks, a good book, stuff like that.”

By the time Geto reported back, Sukuna had a plan. It was subtle, sure, but he could work with that.

After handing you the snacks, He strolled back to his usual spot with Gojo and Geto, settling down next to them with a frustrated sigh.

“So, any luck with her?” Gojo asked, not missing a beat.

Sukuna set his drink down, running a hand through his hair as he slouched in his chair. “Not as easy as I thought. You guys are right—no amount of flashing a smile and throwing out my usual charm is going to work on her.”

Geto smirked, leaning forward. “She’s in your head, huh?”

Gojo chuckled, propping his chin on his hand. “This is new. Sukuna Ryomen, struggling to win over a girl? What’s next, you’re gonna write her a love poem?”

Sukuna shot them both a glare, his jaw tightening. “Laugh it up,” he muttered. “But I’m not backing down.”

Geto raised a brow. “You sound almost impressed.”

“Maybe I am,” Sukuna said, a glint of determination sparking in his eyes. “And maybe that’s what makes this fun. I invited her to the party.”

Geto and Gojo both blinked, momentarily stunned by Sukuna’s straightforwardness.

“You invited her to the party?” Gojo asked, leaning forward in surprise. “Bold move. What’s the plan there? Just charm her in front of the whole crowd?”

Sukuna shrugged, but there was something sharper in his expression now. “It will work. I don’t think she’s the type to fall for a big scene, but if I show her I’m not like the others, she’ll bite eventually.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re really going for the slow burn, huh?”

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s lips curved into a confident grin. “She won’t see it coming.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ve got, what, few more days to make this work? Good luck, man.”

Sukuna smirked, not looking away from you as you stood up, chatting with Shoko. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Later that night, you were lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to forget the strange encounter with Sukuna earlier. Your mind kept drifting back to the way he’d smiled when he handed you your favorite snack, the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a second too long.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, and your stomach flipped when you saw his name. Hesitating for a moment, you opened the message.

11:30PM Sukuna Ryomen: hope i see you at the party tomorrow sweetheart wouldn’t be the same without you

Attached to the text was the party’s address.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. Why did he have to be so persistent? And You told yourself you wouldn’t go—there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction.

But as you stared at the message again, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu @ferretsqueen @anonnieghost @boogiemansbitch @sukubusss @sterzin @miazzzma @silkija @blueemochii @number0netrash

[americanwhores]

hello i’m here..

i would love if u wrote something about this. there is a very particular cruelty to reinforcing trauma and somehow making something already horrific worse cause it’s guided and patronising… & cause of that i need it really bad..

HELLO HANNAH THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG AND IM SO SO RUSTY W WRITING!!! but ily.. thank u for sending me this ily UGH!! tw for past rape and incest and references to underage abuse - post in question btw!! link is old bc I changed my user

Jimmy picks you up on a street corner, leering out the window of his pick-up truck like you’re a two-dollar whore.

“Oh.” You press your cheek into your raised shoulder. Coy and playful. Like he’s flirting with you. Jimmy would like to make it clear that he is doing anything but that, he’s harassing you. He is ogling you. You are a slutty piece of meat. “I’m not for sale mister.”

“Why you dressed like that then?”

He takes a good look at your face. You’re young—Younger than he has ever looked. Eyes that swallow up your whole entire face, fringed by feathery lashes, that sweet little girl pout.

In the sunlight he sees you in fresco.

When he takes you home he sees you for who you are. This sad little girl with a daddy-shaped hole in her heart.

It makes him like you even more.

You’re splayed flat on his mattress, blinking up at him with big, sad eyes. You know, those kind of eyes. The eyes that girls who end up on the side of milk cartons have. The eyes that foster children and teenage girls on suicide watch have.

“C’mon.” Jimmy cocks his head to the side, he’s got you all figured out. “What’s going on at home?” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips are forced into a pink pout.

“Whath d’yu meanth?” It comes out muffled but he understands well enough.

“I mean, sweetheart, what is it about me—“ Jimmy’s free hand works on unbuckling his belt, you flinch with each clink. Oh, poor thing. He wonders if daddy used it on your tits or cunt. “—That reminds you of daddy?” He lets go of your face to watch it scrunch up in protest and then fall a moment later.

Shyly, quietly, peeking at him through your lashes—“You smell like him.”

“Oh, do I?” Jimmy bumps your nose with his, your eyes are so big there are barely any whites. Your heart is beating so fast he feels it beneath your skin.

“You do…” You trace your fingers along the bridge of his nose. “And you have his nose.” Jimmy’s nose is a pretty regular fucking nose, a little crooked from punches thrown his way.

He hums with this nasty smile on his face, giving you a once over before he asks the nitty-gritty questions. “Where did daddy touch you?”

When you don’t respond, blinking at him stupidly like you are oh-so shocked, Jimmy sighs and slips a hand up your dress. He pushes your thong to the side, plucking your clit so hard you whimper. “Did daddy touch you here?”

You stare at him, bottom lip trembling, unable to move.

“No?” He moves on, hand travelling further up your dress to one of your nice tits. “Was it here? Did daddy touch you like this?” He asks, giving it a firm squeeze, like he’s checking a fruit ripeness.

You are still fucking looking at him with those big, sad eyes. It’s like you want him to feel bad for you. But Jimmy does not care if you have been touched here, there or everywhere.

Jimmy pushes his fingers into your mouth. You don’t bite down because you have done this before. He wets your puffy asshole. “I guess daddy liked to touch you here, huh?” One finger makes it in and you whine deep in the back of your throat. “Don’t blame the guy.”

[star-suh]

Feisty

Kim Hongjoong x Male Reader

cw: mafia au, bratt-ish bottom hongjoong, dom-ish top reader, enemies to lovers, degradation, slapping, implied masochist hongjoong, choking, marking, handjob, spit as lube, honjoong has three orgasms, fingering, bareback, breeding.

—

hongjoong and yn worked in the same mafia as bodyguards but they didn’t like each other, apparent preferences and misunderstandings led them to develop some hatred for each other.

one day they were left guarding a suitcase from their boss in the latter’s mansion. “stay here in the mansion while i’m away and take care of the suitcase” hongjoong said in a mocking tone white walking in one of the halls. “so childish” yn blurted out, provoking the smaller one. “shut up asshole” hongjoong stormed his way towards the kitchen looking for something to eat.

minutes later yn was in a room watching tv with the suitcase right in front of him, in a little table. hongjoong then came and sat on the couch “fuck, this couch is uncomfortable. why does such a rich guy keep this trash”. “stop complaining oh my god” yn responded trying to focus back on the tv. “what to do.. what to do” hongjoong tapped his fingers on one of the couch’s arms. he kept rummaging around the room trying to find something to stop being bored.

“can you just stop, you’re being loud” yn said with some anger in his tone. “i don’t really care, i’m bored” hongjoong spat back. “goddammit at least shut the fuck up for a while” yn rubbed his temples trying to keep his composure. “i. don’t. give. a. FUCK.” hongjoong talked back again “if you want me to shut up then you have to make me”. right afterwards he said that yn stood up and walked towards hongjoong and easily pinned him down against the floor. “you’re not that full of shit huh” hongjoong spoke making yn realize he was provoking him. “imagine if they came back right now and saw us like this” hongjoong took a breath and continued laughing like he was crazy. pissed off, yn put one of his hands on hongjoong’s neck putting some pressure on it. “how was that?” yn asked turning hongjoong around just to see a big tent between his pants, “kinky bitch” he muttered.

gasping for some air and with a flustered face hongjoong demanded something “you have to take responsibility for this” he grabbed yn by the back of his neck and kissed him. at first yn resisted but then gave in. their tongues intertwining each other, playing with each other’s saliva that spilled down the corners of their mouths. the kiss turned into something wild, they were hungry for each other.”all this hate was your form of disguise that you wanted me to slut you out, isn’t it” yn said in between kisses that went down hongjoong’s neck, “i can say the same about you” he guided yn’s head to kiss and leave hickeys on his neck and collarbones, “mark me a lot, i don’t give a fuck”.

the room was filled with moans and sloppy kisses, their clothed bulges rubbing against each other, craving to be freed from their pants. button by button hongjoong’s shirt was discarded, his belt was thrown away and pants were unzipped and pulled down. they kept kissing while yn stroke the other, his slick dick covered in spit. hongjoong moans echoed in the room. hongjoong started to feel the sensation on his lower stomach. he thrusted on yn’s hand that was tightly wrapped around hongjoong’s dick, his balls slapping against it. as if it was some type of fountain the smaller one came, spurting semen around him and flowing down the other’s hand.

yn’s dick was aching, wanting to be released too but he can’t comply to his needs, what if someone really comes now, one of them has to distract whoever came so the other can get dressed. hongjoon’s hand brushed yn’s bulge but he slapped it away “why?” he asks, “just don’t, be a good boy” was yn’s response.

“so boring.. do something then”. yn introduced his fingers on yn’s mouth, making gag on them, “slick them well, if you don’t wanna get hurt”, hongjoong nodded. yn’s digits entered the other’s back entrance first one, then two, then three, every finger drawing a louder moan out of hongjoong’s mouth. “please faster, i’ll be a good whore but go faster” hongjoong started stroking again, chasing another release. “keep doing that hngh.. please” yn’s hand accelerated its pace, opening hongjoon’s tight walls. “be quiet” yn demanded covering hongjoong’s mouth with his hand. his eyes rolled back while his hands went up and down his glistening shaft. a loud grunt left the bottom’s mouth, while yn completely ravaged his hole he once again covered his abdomen with white ropes, his body having little spasms “goddammit i feel as if my soul left my body” he muttered while trying to regain his breath. “now clean yourself and get dressed” yn cleaned his fingers while hongjoong went to the bathroom “don’t ever tell anyone what happened here or i’ll kill you” he threatened yn who just laughed at him.

the fun didn’t end there, wanting to release his sperm too yn just forgot about the suitcase mission and went into the shower with hongjoong who got his ass railed and agape, dripping with yn’s cum while his own was on the glass walls of the shower, “i fucking hate that you’re so fucking hot.. i hate you so much” hongjoong said in between kisses, “i hate you too annoying little elf”. ”take that back or i’ll kill you, i’m serious right now” yn swear he can see smoke coming out of his ears, “you’re full of shit hongjoong”.

both guys kept their fuck-buddy relationship, fucking here and there in the mansion when no one was around, sometimes with hongjoong power bottoming yn or him using restraints and punishments against hongjoong.

[librarygarten]

I don't think I'm the only one who thinks Wars was an asshole? Like, is the reader supposed to have -known- they were actually controlling somone? The world they were from, the Links aren't real, right? And here he is instantly blaming them for playing something they'd only know as a game, cruelly making them cry and being just all around awful. I hope someone calls him out on it.

Sorry, nonnie :( Wars was indeed an asshole, but his game would probably one of the worst to live through. He had to watch his men die in a war that turned out to be some sort of sick entertainment for an interdimensional being. Add to that his whole... situation with Cia, and he's not thrilled with the idea that reader might have just. Over-written his free will while playing the game. Don't worry, Twilight will beat up Wars on your behalf <3

#2 Chain x Speedrunner! Deity! Isekai! Reader - Who's in Control?

Part 2 includes Sky, Twilight, and Legend Part 1 ✿ Part 2 (you are here) ✿ Part 3

When you first fell through the portal and joined the chain on their quest, you had revealed that they were only stories in your world. It had taken a while for them to understand the concept of a video game, and even longer for them to come to terms with the fact that some of the most traumatic events of their lives were reduced to children’s entertainment. However, as they talked with you, they came to another horrifying discovery: YOU were their “player.” Your actions in your world, the decisions you made while playing the games, directly influenced their own lives. What’s more, you were a speedrunner.

Sky

“Hey, Y/N?” Sky approaches you at camp, wringing his hands nervously. He won’t meet your gaze. “Did… did I do something to make you mad?”

“What?” You think back on your last few interactions. You hadn’t been treating him any differently. Unless you were somehow a jerk and didn’t even know it? You have been pretty sleep-deprived lately. “No. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that…” He trails off, clearly not sure how to approach this topic. He takes a breath and tries again. “You kind of controlled us during our adventures, right?”

Well, crap.

“I think so? I’m not really sure how it works.” Now you’re the one that won’t look him in the eyes. “My influence on you guys is still… weird to think about.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. Learning the existence of your free will was questionable at best was not a great feeling. “But you controlled everything we did, right?”

“Not necessarily!” You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck. “Talking to some of the others, maybe you guys could influence me, too? Like, Four said he felt scared during the final fight, and that’s the same time that I messed up with the controls!”

Sky hums, as if agreeing. It’s clear he doesn’t believe it.

“But you’re the one that made me jump off that post in Skyloft.” He says quietly. He’s not angry. He just seems sad, honestly. “And then… Fi was there all of a sudden? I can’t remember exactly. Everything seemed so… out of order?”

You swallow the glob of spit in your throat. He was talking about the Back in Time glitch. How did he even remember that? It requires two save files and to move around while in the menu.

“You remember that?” You yelp. “Shoot, I’m so, so sorry. That’s a glitch to make the game faster. I swear, I had known you weren’t just a video game I would have never-”

“It’s fine.” He interrupts, giving a weak smile. “I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?” You ask, but he walks away. He disappears between the trees, and you’re left staring at the empty clearing full of camping equipment.

“...Used to what?” You whisper to yourself.

Twilight

“Y’alright?” Twilight asks you. He’d found you a ways away from camp, curled up agains the side of a tree. You sniff, wiping your eyes but not meeting his gaze.

“Peachy,” you say sarcastically, but your voice cracks, and it sounds more pathetic than anything else. He sits down next to you.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” He smiles. When you don’t respond, he leans forward, trying to get a look at your face. “You know you can talk to me, right? Or I could be Wolfie, if that would be easier? Dog therapy is a thing right? Wolf therapy is just a few degrees removed from that.”

“Don’t go transforming for my sake.” You snicker, finally turning your head to look at him. Your eyes are red and puffy from crying. “It’s nothing. No need for you to get worked up over it.”

“It is very clearly not ‘nothing’.” His eyebrows furrow. “Did one of the others say something? I swear if Legend was giving you grief again–”

“No, nobody said anything. It’s just a lot of things, I guess…” You explain hesitantly. “Like, I got sucked through a random portal and suddenly a bunch of game characters are real. And what’s worse is the things I did in the game actually happened to them? Does that apply to every game I’ve played? What about when I stopped playing a game? Or deleted a save file?” You thread your fingers through your hair, feeling more tears threatening to spill out. How many deaths and traumas were your fault? How many lives have you ruined? 

“You couldn’t have known. Heck, WE didn’t know about you.” Twilight pats your back, bringing you back to reality.

“But didn’t you feel something was off? I was like,” you make claws with your hands, emphasizing your point “controlling you guys against your will or something.”

“Well, it was kinda weird when I stared at a rupee for fifteen hours straight.” He chuckles, “But like I said, you had no way of knowing. Nobody here blames you.”

“I’m pretty sure Wars hates me…”

“Well, he’s an asshole.” Twilight rolls his eyes. “I’ll give him a piece of my mind next time he’s bothering you, ya hear?”

“Okay,” you smile, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Legend

“Speedrunning? That sounds incredibly stupid.” Legend scoffs. You had tried explaining some of the strange things that he had encountered during his adventure, only to be made fun of. Honestly, you probably deserved it a little bit.

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing. People compete to get the fastest time, which usually requires glitches.” You chuckle nervously, scratching the back of your head.

“So you broke the very fabric of reality in order to win.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t break reality!” You exclaim.

“I climbed up a ladder and just… kept going up, even when there wasn’t anything to climb on!” Legend throws his hands in the air. “I held a bomb above my head and floated across a room.”

“That’s not necessarily breaking reality,” you grimace. He’s honestly got a point, but you’re not about to concede like that. “People can fly. There’s a whole race of bird people called the Rito in the other timelines.”

“Do I look like a bird?” Legend motions to himself, showing off his very-much-not-a-bird-self. “You know what? Forget it. If all you’re going to do is make excuses, I’m done.”

He turns to walk away, but you grab his hand. His back is to you, so you can’t see his face. Hopefully he won’t hate you too much.

“Legend, I swear I would never have played the games if I knew I was messing with real people. I had no idea.” You sniff, tears threatening to fall. You’re so sick of this. You’re so sick of needing to explain this to them. “Your games were some of the first games I ever played. I remember coming back from school as a kid, excited to play them. I… I loved all the characters. I spent hours trying to find every side quest, trying to get everyone a happy ending. When I started speedrunning… I never could have known… I’m sorry.”

He turns around, his bangs half-covering his eyes. He looks ready to cry, too.

“You loved her too, huh?” He whispers, then laughs, regaining his composure and returning to the snarky Legend you know and love. “Just make sure you don’t, like, puppet me around now, alright? I can’t imagine what the others would do if I started backflipping through walls.”

You giggle at his annoyed expression. They were sure to be insufferable about it.

“Deal.”

[revelboo]

Im not sure if these are updated based on request or based on your whimsy, but if it *is* request based, may I please beg for Ironhide? I love the old man >.<

If not, feel free to ignore and I will continue to patiently wait :) 👍

Love u so much for this blog; it gets me through the work day.

Honestly, it’s mostly based on people reminding me in the asks that I’ve neglected a character or story, because I’m not motivated enough to make a posting schedule I know I won’t stick to and those asks are sitting at over 300 at this point 😂 no matter how fast I go through them

Hold Me Down Pt 4

Ironhide x Reader

• “Rules,” he growls, servos flexing as you scowl up at him from where he’d unceremoniously dumped you on his cluttered desk. “You’re going to behave. Primus help you if I catch your sticky little fingers on anything that’s not yours.” And you’re looking around, ignoring him. Smacking a hand on the desk to make you jump and glare, he grins. “Act like a sparkling and I’ll treat you like one, darling.”

• Eyes narrowing at the big, red jerk, you curl your lip at him. He’d made it abundantly clear that you’re not getting away. That you’re stuck with each other and that he hates it. Well, that’s fine. The hate is pretty much mutual. He’d tried to give you a heart attack after all. And, okay, maybe you’d been trying to steal him at the time, but how were you supposed to know he wasn’t a real van? If anything, this is his fault. And what is a sparkling? Sounds like an insult. One thing you have figured out? He can’t hurt you or you’re pretty sure he’d have chucked you out while driving and that makes you brave to cover up the fear. “Look, demon van,” you say ignoring his pointed ‘it’s Ironhide.’ “You kidnapped me, so I have every right to make you miserable. And I’m going to enjoy it.”

• You’re grinning at him, no longer putting him in mind of a sparkling. No, they’re at least innocent. You’re a vicious little scraplet, all teeth and evil. “Try me.” Because he’s not putting up with any sass or attitude and unfortunately, you seem to be nothing but. He almost liked you better screaming. Bending slightly to get on your level, he reaches out and taps you on the head with a servo. Grimacing as you slap at him, swearing. Maybe gentler next time, he decides as you rub your head to send your hair into disarray. “I’d behave a little better if I was your size.”

• “Well, I’d punt you across the room if I was your size,” you mutter, rubbing your head. He’d thumped you hard enough to hurt. “Jerk. Demon van. Asshole.” Those big servos flex into a fist and you shut up. Know he can’t hit you, but the threat? Cringing and hating yourself for it, you glare up at him, heart racing.

• That shut you up, but it twists unpleasantly through him, too. That fear in your eyes so raw. It’s the look of someone expecting a blow because it’s familiar, cringing but still defiant. Resigned. “Look,” he grumbles, sitting down and suddenly exhausted. “I’m not going to hurt you, but you can ease up on the back talk.” Lips pressing into a thin line, you just shrug. Right. Brat. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not cut out for taking care of sparklings.” And far too old for it besides.

• That word again. You’re beginning to suspect what it means and it’s not flattering. “You understand that I’m an adult, right?” When he just stares, you swallow a laugh. “I’m not a kid, pal. I’ve been on my own for years and I don’t need taking care of.” Or want it. Relying on other people, trusting them to look out for you, to have your back can only come back to bite you. The only one you can count on is you. You’ve learned that the hard way. Anything else just gets you hurt and you’re so sick of pain.

Previous

You hold me down

You're the echoes of my everything,

You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.

You're the laziness of afternoon,

[daisies-and-domming]

Boxing Day (SFW)

Thank you to @glassofapplejuicee for beta reading saving this work! Love you so much babes, don't know what I would do without you <3

Happy Merry Boxing Day, everyone! I’ve been a little quiet as of late (oops), but I figured a fluffy little set of headcanons about our favorite boys would get me writing again. Lo and behold, it totally worked - so Happy Holidays everyone, and enjoy!

Summary: You and your partner had a Merry Christmas, but now it’s time for you to move on to the new year! How long does it take for you to take down all of your Christmas decorations, and what challenges do you run into along the way? 

Warnings: light swearing, petnames (Gojo is a menace, Nanami calls you darling, Sukuna calls you brat, Toji calls you doll, Shoko calls you lovely), minor injuries in Toji’s

Features Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Fushiguro (Toji), Ieiri, Higuruma

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

– – –

Gojo Satoru

If anyone is over the top, it’s Gojo. Definitely takes Christmas decorations too far, and is not past putting vulgar things on the tree. Tried to decorate it with Polaroids of you in…compromising positions, much to your chagrin. You shut that one down pretty quickly.

One of those rich assholes who hires people to put up/take down the lights outside. Before you, he definitely had only the boring white lights and maybe one of those sad wire light-up reindeers (like this, for example). Just one of them, all alone - he thinks it’s symbolic and deep because he was all alone at the time but it really just makes his huge yard look extra empty.

With you, however, he wants to do it himself. He thinks there’s something magical about putting up decorations together, with people you love. 

(It’s sweet, really, until he sucks at it and cries because he has no actual idea how to do it - why is it so hard to hang the lights straight?? Or at all, for that matter?? You’ll probably end up having to do all the work)

Once Christmas comes and goes, he does NOT want to take stuff down. You put it up “together” (you put it up), he wants to leave it up forever! A memory of the Christmas you spent together. 

Plus, his big house feels a lot less empty with all the lights and garlands and various other decorations he spent too much money on. Please, let him leave it up?

You probably let him get away with leaving up the tree until the beginning of January. He, of course, bought a huge, very much real, tree. The needles are a mess, and when it reaches the point where there are barely any needles left on the tree, you put your foot down.

He’s whining the whole time you two are taking it down. He tries to sneak out and drag it back inside, but you catch him every time.

Don’t even get him started on taking down the lights…

– – –

“But baaaaaaaabe!!”

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Full government name? You wound me, baby! Just like you’re wounding our beautiful Christmas memories!”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend’s whines. “Satoru, you’re the one who wanted a real tree. I told you it was too much responsibility and cleaning, but you-”

“Baby,” he said, eyes watery and lips pulled downward in a pout. “Why’re you so mean to me, huh? Just want to keep all of our Christmas memories safe, is all.”

You soften at this. Satoru didn’t really get a chance to celebrate Christmas often, before you. You know there’s no way in hell his family celebrated with him, and you’re sure that once he lost his best friend (on Christmas Eve, no less), he and Shoko didn’t truly celebrate again. This was the first real Christmas he’s had in a while.

“Toru,” you murmur, pulling him to you. “We have plenty of years in the future to make new Christmas memories, hm? We’ll get to put up Christmas decorations all over again.”

His eyes find yours, and you wonder briefly if the glow in his eyes is the lights he refuses to take down, or the jujutsu endlessly flowing through him.. There’s a hint of something melancholy hidden in them, mixed with something else you can’t quite put your finger on. He doesn’t say anything, just looks, almost studying you - you’d be freaked out if you didn’t know him so well. Know that your words and your kindness were unfamiliar to him. In a world where he’s expected to be the strongest, he doesn’t know what to do when someone expects him to just be himself. You want every piece of him, the good and the bad, the strong and the weak, and you try to convey that as much as you can with your eyes. 

You let him stare until the silence becomes too thick, too heavy with something inexplicably sad that leaves a lump in your throat and a weight on your chest. You pull your hand away from his, running a gentle thumb over his cheek. Your eyes can’t seem to leave his, as much as it hurts.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, with such finality that he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face. It’s still full of grief, but there’s a glimmer of hope in it, too. “You know that Toru. I’m here. I’ll always be here, okay? Don’t you forget it.”

“I won’t.” he says, devoid of his usual humor. “You promise me?”

“I promise, Toru.” you say. You barely get it out before he’s smashing his lips to yours. It’s messy, it’s frantic, and it’s full of all the words he can’t say. He knows it’s selfish of him. To want you, to love you. His life is full of danger and death around every corner, and he knows that by bringing you into his life he’s brought you into that, too. But he can’t help himself. Gojo Satoru gets what he wants, he always has, and there’s nothing he wants more than you.

So he holds you close, and hopes that you keep wanting him forever, too.

Geto Suguru

He’s been going all out for Christmas since he found Nanako and Mimiko. It was clear that the two had never really had a proper family, and he wanted to give them that as much as he could.

He went all out when they were little - fake reindeer hoofprints in the yard, piles of presents under the tree, half eaten cookies left on the plate labelled “for Santa”. The girls are his whole world, and he’d pluck the moon from the sky if they asked him to.

The girls love you, too, once you become part of their Christmas traditions (even though Suguru made you tell them that Santa’s not real because he couldn’t do it himself). You’ve helped give them a family that they never had, and they welcome you with open arms.

Nanako and Mimiko become menaces when you even mention that it’s about time you all take the Christmas decorations down. They love the way the house feels brighter with all the decorations up. Expect a bit of a fight (and no help from your boyfriend, who seemingly can’t tell his girls “no”).

– – –

“Absolutely not.” “You want to do what?!”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t your best idea to suggest taking down the tree, after all. You figured it’d be a good thing to do together - a touch of family time that you don’t always get with the girls - but they seemed to be appalled that you had even suggested such a thing.

“Nana, Mimi, it’s not Christmas anymore.” you say, laughing a bit nervously. “We can’t leave the tree up forever, can we?”

“We certainly can,” Nanako starts with a frown, “What’s stopping us? The pressure from society to conform to its trends?”

You barely manage to stop your eyes from rolling. You loved that Suguru was honest and open with the girls about what he does and who he is, but Nanako was definitely picking up some preconceived notions from hanging around Suguru’s literal cult all the time. Perhaps you’d have to talk to your boyfriend about it.

“Nana, sweetie, I love you-”

“Clearly you don’t if you won’t let me keep the tree up!” “What’s going on in here?”

A smooth, deep voice cuts through your conversation (argument?) with Nanako and Mimiko, and you feel a wave of relief crash over you. Surely, your lovely boyfriend would talk some sense into the girls (primarily Nanako).

“Suguru! The girls and I were just discussing taking the Christmas decorations down.”

Oblivious to Nanako’s scowl, he smiles softly at you. “What a good idea! We can do it as a family, hm? I could use a family day after the meetings I just had.”

“We’re not taking it down,” Mimiko mutters, eyes flickering between you and Suguru. “It’s too early.”

“Yeah, it’s way too early! We need to leave them up waaaaay longer. We did so much work to put them up, we can’t just take them down now!” Nanako whines out, doing her best puppy dog eyes at her father.

“You two,” you sigh, massaging your brow. “We can do it all again next year, but we seriously need to start taking these down, it’s getting a little late to still have our decorations up-”

“We can leave them up.”

Your head snaps to look at your boyfriend, mouth agape. “What?”

“I mean…” he says, looking anywhere but your face. “They seem really excited about it, you know? It can’t hurt to keep them up a bit longer…”

You should’ve known he would succumb to their puppy dog eyes, the bastard. “Suguru Geto, it’s the middle of January. We absolutely cannot keep them up much longer, the neighbors are starting to give me weird looks-”

“Who cares what the neighbors think?” he says, pulling you towards the couch. “C’mon, how about family movie night instead? We can take the tree down another day, hm?”

You know you shouldn’t let the girls win this one. You know it, and yet you let yourself get led to the couch anyways. Some 1980’s chick flick is put on, and you all settle in, curled into each other. You think you catch Meg Ryan out of the corner of your eye, but you’re more busy looking at your family, all together at this moment. 

The tree can stay up another day, you decide. You could handle a couple of judgy stares from the neighbors - because you wouldn’t trade moments like these for the world.

Nanami Kento

Nanami didn’t necessarily celebrate Christmas when he was on his own. It felt like a lot of work to put up a tree and decorate it if he was barely going to be home anyways.

After his return to jujutsu, Gojo tries endlessly to try and drag him to the yearly Christmas work party to no avail. Especially after you enter the picture. Gojo wants nothing more than to tell you embarrassing stories about your lover. 

But now he has you, and the little pink-haired menace that is Itadori Yuuji. You two had inserted yourselves into his life when he thought he needed solitude the most, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Christmas, which had once come and gone, became something tangible. It meant endless hours of baking and decorating cookies, and time spent together, as a family. Yuuji wasn’t technically his son, but he was certainly a part of your little family (the gifts under the tree for him spoke for themselves). 

Like Gojo, he’s oddly hesitant to take down the decorations. The memories of putting them up and celebrating Christmas with the people he treasured around them are very dear to him.

Unlike Gojo, he can picture a future with you and Yuuji. Not quite on boxing day, but before December ends, the three of you are taking down decorations together, as a family, knowing that you’ll get the chance to put them up again next year.

– – –

Despite the date being not-quite-Christmas, you had insisted on playing Christmas music as you all took Christmas decorations down. Something about it being your “last chance to listen to Christmas music!” and you needing “one last dose” of Christmas before it was gone. And any level of time spent together with you and Nanami had Yuuji bouncing off the walls, so of course he was down for Christmas music after Christmas.

Despite his slight distaste for the music, Kento couldn’t help but smile at you and Yuuji. You’re rolling the lights neatly as Yuuji unwinds them, laughing and joking as you do. He remembers when you had asked Yuuji to come over to decorate for Christmas with the two of you. He had seen the boy excited before, but there was something special about the joy he radiated as he happily agreed to come over. You’d offered him the spare room many times, and even though he “can’t” stay, his clothes soon filled the drawers and his toiletries lived in your bathroom. While there’s not necessarily a “break” from the life of being a sorcerer, Fushiguro had gone home to Gojo’s, and Kugisaki had gone home to her family for the holidays. But, with nowhere to go, Yuuji had been planning to stay at the dorms, alone. Normally Nanami would’ve asked you first, but the second he heard he invited the boy to stay - lots of empty excuses about needing more company for Christmas and not wanting to eat all of the Christmas goods yourselves. But when Yuuji came bouncing in, you already knew, giving your husband a knowing smile. 

Now he was certain the house was going to feel empty, once Yuuji was gone. Ever respectful, he insisted he would be out of your hair the second the holidays were over.

“Ken, c’mere!” you call, beckoning him over. “Help Yuuji with the tree, won’t you?”

“I’ve totally got this, I’ll be fine!” Yuuji exclaims, trying to pick up the plastic tree without even taking it apart. “See?? Totally got it-”

Famous last words, of course, as he slips and thuds to the floor, the Christmas tree atop him. You and Kento both fly in, working to roll the tree off of him as quickly as possible. Of course, once he’s free, Yuuji is laughing, already re-telling the story of his “epic fall” (“it landed on me like whoosh! and I slammed against the carpet like kapow! Did you see that??”).

You sigh, glad he’s okay. “Could thank Nanami for helping you out from under it, you know.”

He flushes, stopping mid-story. “Oops, sorry! Thanks for the save, dad!”

He grins toothily before he catches his mistake, but by then, Nanami’s already tearing up. You are, too. Yuuji lost his family a long time ago. To feel safe enough, to call your husband dad? This was the best Christmas you’ve ever had, you’re certain.

And if you all end up crying? That’s nobody’s business but yours.

Sukuna Ryomen

He’s aware of the human tradition of “Christmas”, but if you think even for a second he considered celebrating it before you, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have time for nonsense like Christmas.

When you insert your annoying self into his life, he’s unsure on how to approach the holiday. His estate was not a place for “joy” or “being merry” (two very important things to Christmas, you had informed him), but with you here, perhaps it could be.

Very against decorations across the estate. In the privacy of certain spaces, he may allow it, but there will be no outdoor decorations or house-wide decorations. He does not want his servants to think he is getting soft for the human he’s been toting around. He will cede to some decorations, but he does not care about you and your silly human traditions.

(they already know he’s going soft for you. Any servant can see the way he looks at you, and how delicate his hands are with you. They’d be stupid not to know at this point the affection he holds for you)

He, at first, refuses to let you put up anything yourself in the approved rooms. He has servants, and he has made it very clear that they are yours to command. Why do you insist on doing it yourself?

You explain the importance of doing it yourself, even have the gall to ask him to do it with you, and he scoffs at this. He’s the King of Curses, he doesn’t have the time to 

Later, you will find him reading on Christmas traditions and decorations. When you catch him, he will refuse to acknowledge it, but the way he won’t quite make eye contact with you says all you need to know.

Once Christmas is over, decorations are down and boxed immediately. He instructs the servants the night before to take them down, and by the time you wake, the decorations are gone. 

With all of this Christmas decorating and celebrating, Sukuna has barely had a proper moment alone with you. Now that it’s over, expect him to be the closest to “clingy” that you will ever see him.

– – –

It’s early morning, December 26th, and Sukuna could not be more glad that this “Christmas” thing was over. You had become consumed by it, and despite finding some sort of amusement in the way you bounced around all excited and glowy, he was sick of it. You talked on and on about what he had to do with you, and while he indulged you on some of them, he was not fond of being bossed around. You had also mentioned another man, whom you referred to as “Santa” - you had assured Sukuna he wasn’t real, but Sukuna didn’t like the way another man’s name was so easily rolling off your tongue - who brought gifts to children in their homes. You had made an attempt to put up a little “Santa” figurine on the mantle, but found him in pieces (and in the trash) hours later. Sukuna would not allow another man you spoke so highly of to taint his space. 

You shift slightly, and he looks down at your sleeping face where it lay against him. You looked utterly ridiculous - your face was smushed against him, your hair was tousled, and you were lightly snoring - but for some reason Sukuna couldn’t tear his eyes from your form. He could hear the servants shuffling around in the other rooms on the estate, taking down the eyesores that you had put up all over the house. While he had instructed them to take everything Christmas-related down across the estate, they also had very specific instructions to never enter his chambers without explicit permission from him. This meant that his chambers were still a little Christmas bubble, the tree you had put up in the corner still standing tall.

When you first tried to get him to put a tree up in his chambers, he had refused. You could put a tree in the approved rooms, he had reminded you, and his chambers were very explicitly off limits. You had frowned, saying something about needing a “personal” tree that you could decorate yourself and keep presents “safe” under it. He informed you that anything you left under the other trees would also be safe, as this was his estate, and no one would touch anything without his permission, but you had just thrown your hands up.

“It’s about the principle, Ryo!”

“Brat, be grateful I’m letting you put up any trees at all. I could call off this whole ‘Christmas’ nonsense whenever I want, so watch your mouth.”

He sighed. He doesn’t know how you managed, but you had eventually wore him down. A sparkling tree sits in the corner of his chambers now, glowing softly. Once you had risen and started to go about your day he was going to take it down, he resolved. Whatever weird feelings were bubbling in his chest were the fault of this Christmas rampage you had gone on, and nothing else. Once his estate was cleaned of the Christmas blight you had cast upon it, his chest would return to normal, he was certain.

But for now, as the Christmas lights shining from the tree glowed behind your sleeping form, the feelings would remain. He felt himself melt into you, and ran a gentle hand through your hair. His eyes flick to the ceiling before drifting closed again. He sighs, and pulls you a little further into him. Softly, so softly that even the wind barely catches it, he murmurs to you.

“Merry Christmas, brat.”

Fushiguro Toji (ft. Tsumiki and Megumi)

You think this man has ever owned a house? Jokes on you honey, he’s never had that kind of money (or that good of credit).

Subsequently, there’s nowhere to decorate outside, really. Other than the apartment door, but that's too much work for Toji, so any Christmas decorations he might have are inside the walls of his apartment.

He’s boring, but surprisingly your biggest opp in Christmas decoration is little Megumi. Tsumiki is an angel as always and goes along with whatever Christmas shenanigans, but Megumi doesn’t want even a hint of Christmas in the house.

The most you get is a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, which was all Toji was willing to do before you, anyways. As much as he pretends he doesn’t, he’s always loved his kids, and keeps a plastic tree and a small box of ornaments (which is mostly comprised of the ones Tsumiki and Megumi has to make at school) shoved in the corner of his closet for this time of year. He may have been a shitty father, but he cared, in his own way.

When Megumi is little, that tree is down on December 26th, shoved back in the corner of Toji’s closet. Christmas is dumb, and so is anything that reminds him of it.

But now, with warmer memories surrounding it, the tree might take a couple more days to find itself back in the closet. It’s definitely down within the week (Megumi can only handle being sappy for so long), but maybe Christmas isn’t so bad with you around.

And (even though he won’t say it), Toji feels the same way - you see it in the mistletoe that now hangs in the entryway between the kitchen and living room, in the way his eyes find yours as you all decorate gingerbread houses together, in the way he’s just a little sweeter when Christmas comes around. You’re the best present he’s ever gotten, and the only one he needs, this Christmas and every Christmas in the future.

The actual act of taking stuff down, though? With four (mostly) grown bodies shoving around in a tiny apartment, it’s a lot more hectic than you’d like it to be. Someone always ends up minorly hurt every year in the clean-up process. It’s inevitable, and you’re considering making a Christmas scrapbook of all the injuries you all have gotten over the years.

(your personal favorite will always be when Toji yanked on the lights impatiently and the whole tree came down on him. You can still see Tsumiki’s wide eyes and hear little toddler Megumi’s laughter as Toji grumbled about “stupid tree” this and “damn lights” that. He was fine, but his ego was not)

– – –

“Shit-”

You spin around at the gruff swear from your husband, about to scold him for swearing in front of the kids, when you’re met with a facefull of Toji. His chest slams into your face, and you both go down. He barely manages to catch himself over you (if he hadn’t, you’re certain you would’ve been flattened under his weight). Your head smacks into the carpet and you groan, squeezing your eyes shut to battle the throbbing pain in your head.

“Dad, what the hell-”

“Are you two okay??”

Two overlapping voices come from above you, but you don’t think you can open your eyes. You haphazardly throw up a thumbs up, just to blindly whack your husband in the face.

“Ow, doll, Jesus Christ. Watch your hand, won’t you?” Toji gruffs out, but one of his hands is already moving to cradle your head, gently touching around it. He doesn’t feel any blood, and he lets out a sigh of relief. He didn’t really feel like making a trip to the emergency room a couple days after Christmas, especially for something this embarrassing. He’s sure they’ve had enough Christmas-related injuries from the idiots who go out and party, anyways. 

“Get off of them, you oaf.” Megumi says, shoving his father off of you. Toji rolls off of you, letting Megumi shove him aside. That kid always liked you more than him, even if you weren’t related by blood. 

He lets the kids fuss over you and goes into the kitchen to grab you an ice pack for your head. At worst it’s a concussion, but he’s hoping it’ll just be a bump. Not his fault that Tsumiki got distracted midway through taking the lights of the tree and left them hanging haphazardly. And yeah, maybe it was his fault that he wasn’t looking where he was going and got his feet tangled in the lights. But Megumi was complaining about them still having all of the ornaments he made as a kid, and Toji had to make sure that brat wasn’t throwing any of them away. So yeah, maybe his eyes weren’t on the floor. But in his defense, the lights were only supposed to be in two places - the box, or on the tree.

Grumbling, he makes his way back to the living room, where you’re now situated on the couch. Christmas teardown long forgotten, Tsumiki is asking you questions and holding fingers in front of your face. Megumi is standing broodily to the side. His arms crossed, as if he doesn’t care, but his eyes are watching you with rapt attention. 

“For your head, doll.” Toji says, passing you the ice pack. You accept it gratefully, cradling it to where your head smacked into the floor. Your bleary eyes meet his, and you can see the glow of worry hiding behind them. You offer him a weak smile, hoping it’ll ease at least some of his worries.

“I knew I was gorgeous, but you didn’t have to literally fall for me, you know,” you joke, eyes sparkling. There’s a distinct “Ew!” from Megumi as Toji leans down to plant a kiss on your lips, rolling his eyes at your nonsense. 

“Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Toji.”

And if the half-taken down tree stays up for a day or so more, Megumi doesn’t say a word.

Ieiri Shoko

Shoko has no intention of owning a house, ever. Her apartment has always been more than enough space for her, and being the only sorcerer with her abilities, she works crazy hours, anyways. She wouldn’t have the time to take care of a whole house.

Even with you in her life, she’s still home at odd hours. She tries harder now, to be home more often, but there’s only so much that’s in her control. You’ve woken up many nights to her crawling out of bed and throwing on her coat to get to Jujutsu Tech.

It sucks and she knows it, but both of you know it’s always going to be her reality unless she leaves jujutsu. And both of you know that, at this point, she isn’t going anywhere.

Your Christmas decorations are very sparing. A wreath on the outside of your door, a small tree in the corner of the living room, and perhaps a wintry candle burning. Your apartment isn’t really well-lived in, but you two try to make it as cozy as possible.

Christmas decorations could stay up year round, honestly. She barely cares to put them up, taking them down is way more work than she wants to go through. The wreath is notoriously on the door until mid-February. It’s a miracle if it’s gone by Valentine’s Day.

Things get taken down, piece by piece, until all of it is gone. Unlike most people, it’s not a day that you two do it, but over the course of the rest of December and January. 

(The door wreath always gets forgotten because by the time post-Christmas rolls around you’re both used to it and forget it’s even there)

By the first of the new year, the lights and ornaments are off the tree, and all of the Christmas cookies (that you stole from Gojo’s stash) are eaten. At some point, the tree goes down. Eventually, the candle’s been burnt to the end of the wick, and it’s replaced with something more flowery. Any sign of Christmas and the holidays slowly fades away.

Until one of you remembers the wreath, of course!

– – –

A gentle buzzing shakes Shoko from her lunch. She’s rarely aware of what time of day it is in the hellscape that is the basement of Jujutsu Tech; but Gojo, in a rare moment of kindness, had visited her with lunch in his hands. He was blabbering on and on about something nonsensical, as always, but she was grateful for the break. As much as he acted like an idiot, Gojo was anything but - he knew the conversation he was holding was one-sided. He’d act all offended later, she was sure (what a headache), but her little noncommittal “yeah”s and “mhm”s would do for now. 

“Ooooh, who’s calling you?” Gojo asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, looking down at the caller ID. Your name lights up the screen, a goofy picture of you flashing behind it. You had thrown the Christmas lights for the tree in the air over your head in excitement, and had ended up all tangled up in them. Despite being somewhat wrapped  up in Christmas lights, you had a big smile on your face, laughing at your own predicament. It’s perhaps one of her favorite pictures of you.

Before she can answer it herself, Gojo snatches her phone from her hand, and answers it himself. “Helloooo, Ms. Shoko Ieiri speaking. How may I be of doctor-ly assistance to you?”

She can hear you snort on the other end of the phone, clearly amused. 

“Hi, Gojo. How’re you?”

He gasps dramatically. “Gojo?? How dare you confuse me with that no good idiot-”

“Gojo,” Shoko starts, extending her hand, “give me my phone back.”

He sticks out his tongue, handing her the phone. “Boo, you two are no fun!”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Hey, lovely.”

“Hey, Sho!”

“What’s up, hm? Need something?”

“Oh, nothing urgent,” you say with a laugh. “Just found something I thought you might find funny.”

“Yeah?” she says, smiling. “And what’s that?”

“Do you know what the date is?” you ask, and she hears a bit of shuffling on the other end of the phone. You’re clearly on the move as you call her.

“Uhm…” her eyes drift to the childish cat calendar Gojo had hung in her office. He had insisted it would “boost morale”, but mostly it had been an eyesore. “February something-th, I’m sure.”

“Yeah!” you exclaim. “It’s February, Sho.”

“I know that,” she says, though there was no real bite in her tone. “I literally just said that.”

“Oh shut up,” you say, a bit muffled on the other end of the phone. “I’m just saying it’s February. Getting awful close to being March, even.”

“February’s short, lovely, that’s not much of a feat.”

“Shhh, let me talk!! Anyways, you know what I found?”

She racks her brain, but there’s nothing that you would find in the house that would make you react like this that she could think of. “No idea, lovely. Would you like to tell me?”

“The wreath, Sho!”

“The wreath…?” she says, before recognition sweeps across her face. “Oh my god-”

“We left the wreath up!” you’re laughing so hard she’s sure you’re crying. “I- how do we forget every year-”

“We got it down by January last year!”

“Mid-January, Sho, not by January-”

“Maybe we should stop putting it up.”

“Noooo! I love having this conversation every year. Don’t you?”

She’s laughing too, even if she doesn’t want to. “Mhm, of course, lovely.”

“Anyways, you’re probably busy, so I’ll leave you be, but Merry Christmas, Sho!”

She laughs, rolling her eyes at your antics. “Merry Christmas, lovely.”

Higuruma Hiromi

Another busy fellow. Being a lawyer and a sorcerer does that to a man.

But it also means he can afford a nice house in a nice area. You’ve got decent land, and a nice big house to decorate for Christmas.

He’s a total sap, and definitely makes time to decorate the house with you. Your tree will look more like a scrapbook than a Christmas tree - covered in picture frame ornaments of the two of you and dinky little ornaments he saw that he was out that reminded him of you.

Expect Christmas/winter dates with him, too - he may be busy, but he’s bending his schedule as much as possible to take you ice skating or to decorate gingerbread houses with you.

When December 26th rolls around, he’s in the office. He overloads himself in November to clear as much of December as he can, but it’s inevitable that he ends back in the office before the month ends. He’s just glad he got to spend Christmas with you.

The decorations stay up perhaps a little too long, but you’d both rather take things down together. You don’t always get the chance to be domestic with Hiromi, so you wait. The rare moments that you do are always worth the wait.

– – –

You can hear Hiromi across the room faintly humming some Christmas tune as you gently lift the garland from the mantle. After some sort of miracle (and a little bit of string pulling), Hiromi had finally managed to land himself a day off post-Christmas. Things always get busy after Christmas - drunk idiots making post-party mistakes, kids misusing their new toys, marriages that barely manage to scrape through Christmas day at all - and he’s been on back to back cases for a couple weeks now. His eyebags have been cutting deeper into his face by the day, and you’re glad to see something like joy in his step as he weaves the lights off the Christmas tree. Once the sun reaches its peak in the sky, the two of you would bundle up and head outside to get the lights and the wreath, but for now, you could enjoy the warmth of the house for a little longer. 

You drop the bundle of garland into one of the many boxes. You knew in your heart that the you of next year would look at the messy pile of garland and be incredibly pissed, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care right now. Sounded like a problem for next year you, not a problem for the you of the present. You had other decorations to take down, and boyfriends to mess with.

You take a peek at said boyfriend as you move the other Christmas knick knacks off the mantle and into the box. He’s still humming something or other, but it’s definitely a new song. He’s dancing to it, a bit, as he gently places your ornaments back in the box. He pauses, sometimes, to look more intently at the little picture frames. A picture of the two of you, at the beach a couple of summers ago. A snapshot of your trip to Paris. A polaroid of you laughing, covered in flour, that barely fits in the frame he bought for it. That one was from this year - he had insisted that you two make Christmas sugar cookies and decorate them, but when you had pulled the flour from the top shelf, it had exploded right out the bottom. It’s what you get for buying the cheap flour, perhaps, but you remember how you couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from your throat in the moment. You don’t even remember Hiromi grabbing the camera - just the snap it made as it framed your mishap forever. You shake yourself out of your stupor and look around. You’ve cleared the mantle and the side table, all that’s left in this room minus the tree was…the mistletoe. It hung neatly between the living room and the kitchen, a little glint of green and red against the horrendous light yellow of the kitchen (the old owners had been so pleased with the color that you couldn’t bring yourself to repaint it). You went to grab it down, but even with a stretch to your tippy toes, you couldn’t quite get a grasp on it. 

“Hiromi,” you call out, and he makes a noncommittal sound. “Romi, honey.”

He flicks his head over to you, huffing softly at your pout. “What is it, honey?”

You point up at the offending party, its green and red staring back at you mockingly. “Can’t get the little bastard down. Any chance you’d be willing to help me out?”

“Of course, honey,” he says, striding over to you. You expect him to pluck it off its hook himself, and squeal when his arms wrap around your waist and he lifts. You know he’s strong - hell, you’d have to be strong to do his job - but he lifted you with an ease you didn’t know was possible.

“Are you going to get that down, or do I have to hold you here forever?” he says, a teasing grin making its way to his face.

You jokingly contemplate, putting your finger to your lips to ‘think’ about it. “Hmm, I don’t know, feeling pretty comfy in your arms. Might just have to stay here forever, I fear.”

He snorts, gently bringing you back down. He reaches up and unhooks the mistletoe himself, though he hesitates to bring his arm back down.

“What is it?” you ask gently.

“One last kiss? For Christmas’ sake?”

You laugh breathlessly, knowing damn well that it’s late enough into January that this kiss isn’t for anything but him. But, as he dangles the mistletoe above your heads, you can’t help but lean in to kiss him. And if you two don’t stop, even when the mistletoe is long forgotten? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours.

[bullet-prooflove]

The way you smile, the way you walk

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @alisbackalleybbq @mia1653 @privatetruths

Companion piece to:

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

 If You Want Me, You Can Have Me - They say that Rip Wheeler doesn't have a heart.

Stay Tonight - Rip asks to stay the night.

Use Your Words (NSFW) - Rip teases you.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

When you walk into the bar that night Rip can’t take his eyes off you. You’re wearing a white lace country dress that falls just above your knees and a pair of brown cowboy boots that used to belong to your mother. You’re the prettiest damn thing in this place and he’s not the only one that knows it. He sees the way other men look at you, like you’re the next notch on their bedpost.

They don’t know that he spends every single night, fucking you into the mattress, reminding you of exactly who you belong to.

“That dress would look good on my bedroom floor.” One cowboy calls out and you roll your eyes because this shit it’s nothing new.

“Oh Johnny, you couldn’t handle a girl like me.” You bat back, giving him the middle finger as you drift by. “I’d rather clip your balls off than give you the time of day.”

The other fellas they titter at the comment, they’ve seen you in action on their farms. They know you were an army vet before you retired to take on your father’s practice. Johnny though, he’s new. He didn’t get the memo you’re not someone to be fucked with.

Which is why he gets a punch to the face when he grabs you by the arm and hauls you towards him like a fucking ragdoll. Blood explodes from his nose with a loud crack as his head snaps back at the force of the blow. Rip’s too stunned to move, he just watches as you look down at the crimson spatter blossoming on your dress as you shake out your fist, muttering.

“Fucking asshole.”

There’s two ways things go when you get punched in the face, you fight or you stay the hell down. Johnny, he’s a fighter. A roar cuts through the bar as he comes back at you fists flailing and that’s when Rip’s instincts take over. He’s off that stool in seconds, forcing himself between you and the threat.

“Touch her and it will be the last thing you ever fucking do.” He says, his dark eyes filled with malice as they meet Johnny’s. He has a couple of inches on his asshole and a whole lot of muscle. It should be enough to make him back down but he’s too drunk or too stupid to read a fucking room.

“She fucking owes me.” He snarls, his gaze coming to land on you, blood still streaming from his nose.

“That sense of entitlement is what got you a broken nose in the first place.” Rip reminds him as he places a hand on his hip revealing his gun. “Now if I were you I’d kindly fuck off before I pistol whip the shit out of you for laying hands on my girl.”

He stands down then, Rip watches the fight go out of him as he spits on the floor and then turns his back on the two of you, retreating to his buddies. Rip turns towards you and sighs as he takes in the mess that’s been made of your pretty white dress. He was really looking forward to getting that dance tonight and now the whole date is ruined.

“Come on darlin.” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and guides you towards the door. “Let’s get you home so we can burn that fucking thing.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[greatunironic]

it’s 2024, and on christmas day dustin’s eldest daughter hands him a stack of records. they’re used; he’d only asked for a new record player that year but dee wanted to do something more special than that.

“can you guess who they’re from?” she asks. dustin unties to bow, flips through the first couple records: waylon jennings, black sabbath, loretta lynn, springsteen, metallica. it’s a weird mix.

he shakes his head.

“they’re eddie’s,” says dee.

dustin feels his face go hot, his eyes prickle. he presses the records to his chest. el asks, “how did you get those?”

“uncle wayne,” says dee. “he’d saved all of them after the earthquake. he said he’s got a lot, wants to give them to you each christmas, if you’d like.”

“i would,” says dustin, hoarse. the records smell like paper and plastic, like a thrift store. he imagines he can smell a little smoke, a little weed.

later, he takes them and the record player to his office. he puts on a townes van zandt record and just stands there, listening. “close your eyes, i’ll be there in the morning,” he sings. dustin closes his eyes, wishes. it hurts less, after all these years, but it still hurts.

el comes in after a while, wraps her arms around his waist. “dee is worried you did not like her gift.”

“i loved it,” he says. “i love it. i just —“

“yes,” says el. they’re both quiet for a while. dustin had never been good at sitting in silence, until el, and she got better at liking noise. “i spoke to max; she says we should go visit him tomorrow. make a day of it, she says.”

“yeah,” he says. “that’d be nice, babe.”

el kisses him on the temple. “don’t stay up too late.”

“i won’t,” he tells her. “i’ll come to bed soon, just — a little longer. i might call steve, he’ll still be awake, i think.”

“yes,” she says again. its a good bet: west coast time zone, and severe insomnia, steve’s always good for a late night call. “i love you,” she says.

“love you,” says dustin, and goes and sits at his desk, presses his fingers along the line of his bat tattoo. he calls steve, thanks him for the kids’ present, his own. he asks about the guy steve’s been seeing, finds out they broke up a month ago after four years because the guy finally admitted he didn’t want kids. a deal breaker, for steve; dustin hates that he keeps ending up with these assholes.

eventually, he tells him about the springsteen record in eddie’s collection, makes fun of it, because he’d once had to sit through a rant about springsteen’s performative working class liberalism that he didn’t get then, and doesn’t get now either, to be honest. steve’s very quiet for a while. he says, “i think, uh. you sure that’s not wayne’s?”

“wayne gave it to me,” he says. “said it was his.”

steve makes a noncommittal noise. “well.”

“yeah,” he says.

“which one is it?”

dustin looks. “nebraska? that’s the sad one, right?”

“yeah,” says steve now. “i mean, it’s springsteen they’re all sad if you listen hard enough. or about unions. anyway. hey, bud, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“i’m fifty two steve,” he said flatly.

he snorts, and a little of the weird tone in his voice slips away. “yeah, well, it’s still late there. go get in bed with your wife.”

“i love you,” he says, when they hang up. steve says it back, a little quieter, but he says it.

dustin changes the record. nebraska, now. he listens to bruce for a while, touches his tattoo again. then, he takes the needle off the record and goes to bed.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

okay...here goes...

(I wish you would write) a modern short au about Violet as a celebrity or princess or something, and Xaden as her bodyguard🤭🤭🫶

Okay I'm cheating a little on this one because I have something like this in my drafts already!! This was actually one of @skyfallscotland's prompt fics in which Lilith was the US President, and after a failed assassination attempt on the campaign trail, she assigns Xaden to be Violet's body guard. For reasons I hope are obvious, I don't want to finish it anymore. However, the first chapter was done in it's entirety by the time I scrapped it, so you can have 2.3k ish words of body guard Xaden!! (below the cut)

When Violet gets a knock on her door, she is not expecting it to have anything to do with her mother. The entire reason she’d gone to college in California was so that anything having to do with her mother would be a country away. And for the most part, it had worked. Her freshman and sophomore years had gone off without a hitch. In her classes that aren’t 99% poli sci majors, she doesn’t even get recognized, and she couldn’t be happier. 

She abandons her spot on the couch, and sets her planner to the side as she stands to answer the door. She doesn’t bother checking the peep hole, because she assumes it’s doordash for Ridoc, or last minute school supplies for Sawyer, or Rhiannon staying very ahead of her Christmas shopping. 

What she sees instead is a man. He’s tall, with dark, wavy hair, and dark skin. His arms—very broad, ridiculously so, some might say—are crossed over his chest— which is also notably broad. He’s squinting at her like he’s scrutinizing something, which is uncalled for, in Violet’s opinion. Maybe she isn’t dressed to impress just yet, but the only thing she’d been planning on impressing was her planner, and it didn’t have eyes, so her combo of old sweatpants she’d cut into shorts and a gigantic tie-dye t-shirt with her school’s name on it had been perfectly appropriate. 

“You just open the door all the way, without knowing who’s outside?” the man demands. He stares at her as does it, unflinching and unyielding. 

Violet, naturally, does both flinch and yield, because she’s entirely confused. She takes a step back, to get a better look at the man, to try and see where on earth he gets his audacity, but she comes up empty. 

“Do I know you?” she retorts, indignant. 

He matches her indignation, card for card. “Do you not have a chain on your door?” 

“Of course I don’t have a chain on my door. This isn’t New York.”

“Do you think crime only happens in New York?” The man demands. “Do you think that none of your mother’s enemies can run a google search and find out where you are?” 

He shouldn’t have brought up her mother. He’d been so hot before he opened his mouth, but even still, he could have saved the whole thing and escaped with his hotness intact if he’d avoided bringing up her mother. 

“Okay,” Violet says, “This was fun. You can go now.” 

She moves to slam the front door shut, but he shoves out an arm, blocking her. 

“See?” he says. “This is why you need a door chain. You can’t keep me out. You’re not strong enough, but metal is.” 

She stares at him for a second, blinks, then decides. 

“Okay. You can leave, and also, fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He’s still holding her door open, so she cannot make him leave, unless she resorts to something petty like kicking his shins. His arm, outstretched to support the door, looks…enticing. She’ll give him that. He has an enticing arm. Assholes are, technically, allowed to have enticing arms. 

“You know who I am,” he replies. His tone betrays no humor, which is ridiculous, because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“I don’t, actually, or I wouldn't have asked,” she snaps. “Not that I care. You have one more chance to tell me, then you’re going to need to get the fuck out, or I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs, and my two male MMA fighter roommates are going to come out here and kick your ass.” 

Ridoc and Sawyer only took one MMA class as a bonding experience, but Violet knows they’ll at the very least get this man out of the doorway. 

The man studies her with that same analytical look he’d donned when she first opened the door. He looks her up and down, then comes to his conclusion. 

“She didn’t tell you.” 

“Who,” Violet seethes, “is she?”

“Your mother, “ he says, though he’s speaking slowly, thinking as he goes, “She didn’t tell you. She didn’t call you or anything?”

“The last time my mother called me was in the year of our lord two thousand and sixteen, and that was genuinely only because she thought I had been abducted, so no. My mother didn’t call me.”

She pushes against the door with all she has, and still, he doesn’t move. He might have over one hundred pounds on her, though, given his size and his muscle mass. She will definitely have to get creative. There’s a vase on the coffee table Rhiannon won’t miss. 

“I’m your new bodyguard,” the man says. He holds the hand that isn’t holding the door out to her, anticipating a handshake. “Xaden Riorson.” 

Violet stares at him, at his hand, and at him holding out his hand. She says, “No you’re not.” 

“I’m not Xaden Riorson, or I’m not your new bodyguard?” he asks. “Because I'm pretty sure I’m both.” 

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, emphatically. “No to both. You’re neither.” 

He sighs, shoves his hand into his pocket, and emerges with a badge. It has its own little leather case, but the badge itself is shiny and gold, with an eagle at the top and a silver star in the center. 

“Happy now?” he asks, voice dry. 

He’s not just a bodyguard. He's from the secret service. 

“I’m happy that you found your way into a costume shop, but it is that time of year,” Violet says. And she’s right. With the start of August comes a proliferation of Spirit Halloweens. One on every corner, practically. 

“It’s a real badge, Sorrengail.”

She hadn’t told him her last name, and she hates that he already knows it, that he knows her mother. It doesn’t give him any legitimacy, though. He’d said it himself—she’s really only a google search away. 

But, if he’s actually Xaden Riorson, so is he. 

“Hang on,” she says, brain already speeding down this train of thought. “Stay outside, or I will actually commit a crime.” 

She steps back from the door, and he raises his non-braced hand in surrender. He leaves his badge out, and though Violet keeps her eyes on him, he doesn’t move over her line in the sand. 

She finds her phone  abandoned on the couch. She turns it on quickly, and her eyes scan notifications, but there is, of course, nothing from Lilith. Even though it shouldn’t, her heart still sinks. She should know better than to allow hope to thrive where her mother is concerned, but evidently, she doesn’t. 

She opens Safari without checking her other notifications, and types in his supposed name. Xaden Riorson. 

The results are inconclusive. No one, it seems, knows what Xaden Riorson is up to. 

“Give me your driver’s license,” she demands. 

He sighs, irritably, but then he’s digging in his pocket once more, revealing a wallet, and presenting her with his ID. He holds it over the threshold, so she plucks it from his fingers and holds it up in the light. 

It looks real, though Violet’s never been big on fake IDs, because she’s never been big on doing anything she thinks might make her mother think she isn’t perfectly capable of caring for herself. Illegal activities fall squarely on her no-no list. 

The picture matches, though Violet’s almost certain there’s a way to make that happen with fake IDs, too. She thinks she’s supposed to see a line somewhere in the middle of the ID, if it is real, but she’s also not entirely sure that isn’t actually the procedure for counterfeit money, and the longer she holds his ID up to the light without finding said line, the less sure she is of the line’s existence at all. 

Finally, she says, “Hmm.” 

“Hmm?” he presses. 

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re Xaden Riorson, but that makes the secret service thing even less believable,” Violet says. 

“Does it?” His voice is bone-dry, but Violet doesn’t mind. She’ll get to the bottom of this without his help. 

“It does, because the Xaden Riorson I knew of was a senator’s son, and the sons of senators don’t just up and join the secret service.” 

“They don’t?” he asks, still dry as ever. 

“They don’t, because joining the secret service means you’re literally willing to die for the president.” 

“And senator’s sons can’t do that?” 

Other senator’s sons could, Violet thinks, but not Fen Riorson’s son. Fen Riorson had not been just any senator. Last election, Fen Riorson had been her mother’s main opponent, and when Americans went to the polls, they had not picked him. 

He’d died six months after the election, but not before hundreds of articles were written, claiming he wanted to share classified government intelligence with the public, things the people deserved to know, but those in office were too cowardly to tell them. 

His secrets died with him. 

And Violet knows her mother is a lot of things, but she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t make the son of her biggest political rival her daughter’s bodyguard. Her daughter doesn’t even have a bodyguard, because her daughter does not need a bodyguard. 

“You can’t,” Violet says. “You, specifically.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, Sorrengail, I did. What’s it gonna take for you to believe me? Want to see my work email? Want to meet my team?” 

She’s trying and failing to remember how hard it is to fake an email, or a series of emails, but he keeps talking. 

“Of course, I could just call your mom.” 

Her gaze darts to his. “You could call her?” she asks, but then, her brain catches up to her tongue. “Well, there’s AI now. You could fake her voice.”

“God, okay, you can call her and you can ask her three questions only she knows. How’s that? Do we have a deal? Because believe it or not, I have a job to do.”

She does not believe it, because if she does believe it, she is that job. She cannot be his job. 

“Fine!” Violet snaps, “Fine. I’ll call her. Don’t you dare come in.” He sighs that same exasperated sigh, and still, he doesn’t move. Violet moves to her contacts—she hadn’t lied about her mother’s radio silence. She really hasn’t talked to her mother on the phone in eight years. They also don’t text. Most of her communications are through her mother’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Aetos, who still goes by his military title. 

Still, her mother is in her phone under “birth giver” which had felt incredibly edgy when she did it at thirteen, but now makes her tilt her phone closer to herself, in case Xaden sees. 

Her mother’s personal line is secure, and though she doesn’t always carry her phone on her, she’s heard from Mira—who actually makes calls to their mother, when she’s not underwater—that their mother is good at picking up the phone. 

It rings once, and Violet bites her lip. It rings twice, and Violet’s foot begins to tap a thundering beat. 

It rings three times, and her mother’s voice sounds in her ear. 

“Violet?” Lilith asks. 

“Traditionally, “ Violet says, “people answer phone calls with ‘hello’.” 

“Traditionally, you don’t call me,” Lilith retorts. “I thought someone stole your phone.” 

“Nope. I’ve never had anything stolen from me because I am exceedingly competent.” Xaden huffs at this, which Violet cannot understand. She’s making a valid point. “And because of this exceeding competency, I can’t understand why there is a man at my door claiming to be part of the secret service. Can you comprehend this, mother?”

Violet will not be calling her mom.

“Is the man Xaden Riorson, or a member of his team?” Lilith asks. Violet thinks the world is sinking beneath her. She is slipping through the cracks. “Because if that’s the case, then yes. And he’s not claiming anything. Did he not show you his badge?” 

Violet swallows. Her throat is very, very dry. “You can get those badges anywhere.” 

“No you can’t. I have a country to run and an election to win, Violet, so if that’s all you had to say, I need to go.” 

She hasn’t spoken to her mother since her last mandatory Christmas visit. She’d spent the entirety of the summer sweating in California. And still, her mother doesn’t want to talk to her. 

“I don’t need a secret service agent, Mom,” Violet snaps. She feels suddenly sixteen again, when her mother was still her mother. 

“Correct. You don’t need one, you need four.” 

“I do not need four! I have never needed four!” 

Xaden Riorson is watching her start a screaming match with her mother, and Violet knows she should be embarrassed, but she’s too angry. She doesn’t have any energy to spare. 

“Did you hear that I was shot at recently, Violet?” 

“Of course I heard! Not from you, of course, because that would be too much to ask!” 

“Then connect the dots. You’re too intelligent to question me on this. Let Mr. Riorson do his job.” 

“He’s not Mr. Anything! He’s twenty-two!” 

“He is twenty two, which will make his work with you significantly easier on you. He’s also very good at his job. You’ll be safe. I don’t care if you’re angry with me if you’re safe.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Violet seethes. “You’re being unreasonable! I have kept myself perfectly safe-” 

She is cut off by a beep. Her mother has hung up. Violet stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, then aggressively redials her mother’s number. 

Her mother doesn’t answer. 

Xaden Riorson is still in her doorway. 

“I didn’t quite realize it was like that between you two,” he says, casually, as if he didn’t just witness a sacred portion of Violet’s life imploding in her hands. Her privacy, destroyed. 

[myownwholewildworld]

DARKEST DESIRES ― a Boston QZ!Joel oneshot

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: Boston QZ!Joel x f!reader. summary: you promised Joel something he's been thirsting after for a while ― your ass. so you decide to make good on said promise. a/n: am i sick? probably. undoubtedly, really. this is a sequel to A Dark Summon, but it can totally be read independently. this was prompted by this kind ask (love you, nonnie). also, do you remember that post about frankie morales saying "big stretch"? WELL, YEAH (sorry, meant to tag it but i lost it!). anyways, please heed the warnings! comments and reblogs appreciated to keep the thots thotting <3 take care! x warnings: 18+, mdni. sexual roleplay (cnc). mind the hefty age gap (reader is 19, joel is 56, oopsie). pet names (kiddo, daddy's girl, little girl, etc). sir/daddy kink. dom!joel, sub!reader (possibly some ddlg dynamics). slut shaming. unprotected piv. squirting. sleepy blowjob (consensual somno). breath play. sex toys (dildo, butt plug). mention of rimming. joel (the birthday boy) fucks your virginal ass, anal sex (faked painal). reader is a blank slate with no backstory, has hair. dual pov. no use of y/n. w/c: ~5.4k. divider by @\cafekitsune

You were so nervous, your hands were shaking with excitement.

Living in Boston’s QZ was not easy, and trading was even worse. Because you were young―just turned nineteen a couple of months ago―dealers tried to take advantage of you, asking for more than they would to other people. But you were smart and the moment you learnt that dropping Joel’s name in conversation would actually give you a discount, you used that tactic frequently.

Most people in Boston were too preoccupied with life to be gossiping about the age difference between Joel and you, but there were some that would scan you from head to toe several times with disdain. Some with jealousy, others with horror.

“She’s too young, could be his daughter.”

“He’s too old, bet he can’t keep up with her.”

“She’s too young, it’s indecent.”

“He’s too old, I’m sure that little girl can’t satisfy him like I would.”

“She’s too young, no wonder why she’s always cheating on him.”

“He’s too old, I don’t know what he’s seen in her.”

You had heard it all. And you couldn’t care less. Joel, on the other hand, was a bit more sensitive when people criticized you ― like a guard dog protecting its prey. The relationship between the two of you was private, except for the times that you would hook up with a random guy in an alley with Joel attentively spying on you from the shadows.

He liked to watch, and you liked being watched. In your eyes, it was a match made in heaven. It never went further than a hand job, and you never let them touch your pussy ― Joel was extremely possessive of her. He enjoyed the look on their stupid faces whenever you pulled away, leaving them dumbfounded in the brink of an orgasm, and you would run to him, all giddy and ready to finish him off right there and then.

It was lewd, obscene, but you loved it. And so did he. Joel had shown you a whole new world when he took your virginity almost a year ago. Since then, you had been insatiable, too eager to be fucked stupid by your old man. Your daddy.

Every day you would sneak out and come over to his place to be pumped full of his cum, to have him drill you until you forgot your name and your legs wouldn’t keep you upright. And then you would go back home, spent yet satisfied, with your pussy full to the brim and your panties drenched with your mixed arousal.

Today though you were planning on spending the night here. It was Joel’s birthday and you had planned a special surprise for him. One that had cost you, but the price was definitely worth it.

You knew how avid Joel was about fucking your ass ― he almost reminded you daily. He had been preparing you for when the time came, some mild anal play to get you going. Last night, as Joel ate your asshole out, you promised to yourself that you wouldn’t postpone it anymore and today would be the day. What better present for Joel than your virginal ass?

So here you were, all naked and squeaky clean for him. You had draped a red ribbon around your waist. A big, scarlet bow laid low on the small of your back, making it obvious what his gift was. You also had a smaller parcel, all wrapped up with some old newspapers.

The moment you heard the front door creak, your heart jolted with anticipation and your stomach flipped. Turning around to face away from him, you dropped to your knees and leaned forward until your forehead rested on the floor and your knees touched your chest ― your ass on full display for him.

“Kiddo?” he called.

Joel’s brows furrowed deeper when he didn’t hear a reply. He knew you were here, your recognisable scent betraying your presence. Confused, he walked the small hallway and entered the living room.

His eyes immediately fell to where you were positioned, and a rush of hot blood coursed through his veins like liquid fire, all the way down to his groin. You had knelt and bent over, your perky ass up in the air for him to admire. A red bow topped your ass cheeks, the meaning of all this becoming instantly clear.

With a sly grin, Joel rubbed his palms together, taking a step forward.

“You’ve not forgotten about my birthday, have you, sugar?” he croaked, raspy and hoarse.

“No, sir, I haven’t,” you murmured, wiggling your ass a bit for him.

Joel groaned, the tension in his pants growing tighter, while he knelt behind you. The offer was irresistible, the way your flesh jiggled commended him to smack both of your buttocks. You whimpered, your back arching some more and your crack pulling further apart.

His fingers twitched with need, grabbing a handful of your meat. Joel was mesmerised by the view ― your puckered entrance so very inviting, and your beautiful seam glistening with slick right below.

Unable to refrain himself, his index dipped in the warmth of your damp pussy, tracing it entirely until the pad caught on your beating clit. You sighed heavily, melting under his digit.

“Why are you all wet already? Have you been playing with yourself?” he questioned, voice laced with lustful anger.

“Yes, sorry, sir. I was thinking about you, about what is gonna happen tonight, and… mhmm…” you hiccupped when he flicked your clit, “I did finger myself, but I didn’t come, I promise.”

Joel’s chest rumbled, frustrated. His orders were clear ― no touching yourself, nothing at all, even if you were horny. He wanted you needy and ready to take his cock when he came home from a rough day of patrol.

“How many fingers?” he barked, pinching your hooded clit between his index and middle fingers. You wailed in mild pain, your hips bucking up and away from his touch, but Joel didn’t release your thudding button.

“Just the one. Just the pinky, I swear. I know you like my pussy tight and unstretched, sir,” your sob transformed into a moan when his thumb found your trapped clit.

“Attagirl,” Joel rasped. “I don’t want your cunt all used and loose, you’re too young to feel like an old hag around my cock.” His thumb pressed tight circles on your pebbled nub before he removed his hand from your pussy. “I will let it slide. This one time.”

The warning in his tone made you nod vehemently, as you looked over your shoulder to him. Your bottom lip was trembling, your doe eyes pleading.

“Do you forgive me, sir?”

Joel gave you a stern look before he slapped your ass cheek, and you winced in response.

“I’ll think about it, kiddo,” he already had, but wouldn’t tell you yet.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind, sir?” a single tear skidded through your cheek, bottom lip still quivering.

Joel loved how easy you would tear up, you were a natural when it came to acting.

“There’s this one thing I have in mind,” Joel muttered, his thumb ghosting your butthole. “So clean, sugar. Can’t fucking wait to dive in.”

“I washed myself really well for you, sir. I used an enema too,” you whispered, averting your eyes shyly.

“So no messy sex?” Joel almost sounded disappointed, but he was just toying with you.

“No, I couldn’t, sir,” you bit down your bottom lip, eyes shut and the apples of your face burning with shame, when the pad of his thumb gently pressed the tight ring in your crack. “Oh…”

“You like that, don’t you? All this time denying me my right to fuck your ass, and now look at ya, begging to have your butthole impaled. Did rimming your tight ass yesterday change your mind?”

You shook your head yes eagerly and pushed your hips backwards until your ass was resting on his lap, thumb still stroking you right where you needed. You rubbed your buttocks against his jeans, your weeping seam sliding on his zipper.

“I-I loved it. I’m s-so ready now, sir,” you stuttered, pouting when he stood up.

“You poor little thing. Let’s break this seal then, shall we? But I need you to work me hard first.”

Joel moved towards the couch, and you followed him, walking on all fours behind him as if you were his little doggy. Next time, he would get you a collar and a leash, he thought as he sat down, and the old cushion gave way under him.

He coaxed his legs apart to make room for you between his thighs. You didn’t need any further instructions: you were already unbuckling his belt, your tiny hand dipping in his underwear to release his flaccid cock. His dick was still soft, just started to harden a few minutes ago.

Leaning forward, you pulled back the skin on his shaft and kissed the reddened tip. Then your tongue twirled around his cockhead, slurping sloppily as you bobbed your head down his length. Joel felt his dick growing harder, bigger in your warm mouth, and he groaned with satisfaction.

You loved how Joel’s soft cock would slowly stiffen between your lips, how his weight would grow heavier on your tongue as you sucked him off. Although you played to be submissive to him, this was a reminder of the actual power you held over him. Not only a reminder to yourself, but also to him. Despite being fifty-six, you were able to work Joel hard in a couple of minutes with the brush of your tongue and the seal of your plump lips. You were proud of it.

“What’s all this?” Joel asked as he leaned over, his chest pushing your throat further down on his now throbbing cock.

Your partner grabbed the box you had wrapped from the coffee table, along with the ashtray and a cigar you almost had to sell your soul for.

“Your other present, sir,” you managed to mumble, mouth full of his hard erection.

Your saliva skidded down his veiny shaft, pooling on the thick, dark curls at the base of his cock.

“I didn’t say stop. Keep sucking, kiddo,” his reproach scolded you, and quickly resumed your job.

You heard him lighting the cigar and then tearing the newspaper apart, while you took in as many inches as you could. Now that you had felt a few cocks on the palm of your hand, Joel’s had no rival. He was so gifted, and you felt lucky you were the one getting it all for yourself.

He’d been training you to swallow him whole, and practice made perfect. So after a couple more dives, your lips reached the base as the underside of his cock dragged easily along your tongue.

Your eyes welled up due to the strain and you suppressed the gag reflex, the fluttering of your throat around his girth making Joel moan. His left hand landed on the back of your head, pushing you down.

“Your mouth was made for me, sugar,” he praised you and you revelled in his compliment, swaying your hips sideways.

He placed the box on your back and opened it. You couldn’t see him but knew his face expression would light up with a sinful smirk.

Joel cackled and smacked one of your round globes, careful of not messing up the cute bow.

“Oh, you dirty slut.”

Joel pulled you off his erection by tugging at your hair. By the way his brown eyes took you in, you had to be a pretty picture ― messy hair and makeup, swollen lips, your skin glistening from your nose down to your chin with his precum and your spit.

One of his hands was holding a small butt plug. It was made of black silicone, pointier and ridged. It had four inches of insertable length, and the diameter was one inch thick.

Joel let out a whistle.

“You traded for this?” you nodded, batting your eyelashes at him. “Good fucking girl.”

He leaned forward to kiss you, his lips demanding and fierce. Your tangled tongues fought with each other, but Joel always won, subduing you quickly.

Both his hands roamed your bare body, rough calloused palms caressing your cold skin, which bristled under his touch. Joel traced your underboob, then suddenly pinched both of your taut nipples and pulled.

You flinched, a thunder of pain radiating from your tits all the way down to your pussy. Wet, sticky heat pooled between your thighs, clit pulsing and hole clenching around nothing. How could pain turn you on so fucking much?

“Move your pretty ass to the bedroom, kiddo,” Joel commanded.

Springing to your feet, you obeyed, leading the way to his bed. The room was dark and bare, with no personal items anywhere to be seen. Joel kept to himself, sharing little snippets of his life when he felt like it. You never pushed for information, knowing that he would open up at his own pace.

Putting on your best innocent gaze, you turned around to face him once you were at the foot of the bed.

“Can we play rough… daddy, please?” the term slipped from your tongue accidentally.

You covered your mouth at the realisation ― you’d never called him daddy, not out loud. In your mind you had done so several times, but you were not able to gauge how Joel would react if you did.

You were about to find out.

Joel growled at you, one broad hand wrapping around your throat ― his fingers dug on the sides of your neck. Tilting your chin up, you gasped, your hips lurching forward until they pressed against his erect dick.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” Joel groaned, grazing your chin with his teeth.

“Y-you, daddy,” you replied, slowly understanding that despite his aggressive reaction, he actually liked it. “Joel Miller is my daddy.”

“Damn right I am,” he snarled like an animal. He hovered the anal plug over your mouth, “Open.” Joel slotted it between your lips. “Suck on it, daddy’s girl needs her pacifier for what’s to come. Don’t want the neighbours coming over to check if I’ve killed someone.”

When he turned you around and pushed you towards the bed, you knew the game was on. Your shins hit the metal bedframe; with another push from Joel on your shoulders, you fell face first on the unkempt bed.

“No, daddy, please, no,” you began whimpering around the plug, squirming as he sank a knee into the mattress.

Joel grabbed both of your wrists with the span of one broad hand and pressed them onto the small of your back. He tilted forward, his weeping glans gliding on your sticky slit a few times. He tapped your clit four times with his cockhead, the last tap harsher than the others, and then he stabbed your clenching hole.

You writhed under him, audibly crying now, when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix. You forced tears to fall down your cheeks and mouthed a scream around the butt plug in your mouth.

“It hurts!” you feigned a painful wail, when in reality your pussy was fluttering around his gifted circumference with delight.

Joel groaned above you, buried down to the hilt, and placed his free hand on the back of your head. Then he pushed your skull down into the mattress, almost smothering you as you tried to gasp for air.

“Shut up, you bitch. Take it,” his hips snapped back, cock almost sliding out of your cunt, and then forced his way into your pussy again.

Your old man picked up a relentless pace, the nasty, sucking sound of your wetness reverberating in the room as Joel fucked you stupid, drilling you into the bed like a man possessed.

Joel freed your wrists for his left thumb to find your empty rimmed hole. He started stroking it slowly again, and you squeezed your sphincter at the touch. Unhurriedly, he worked your butthole until your muscles relaxed, then took the opportunity to ploddingly insert the first phalange in your ass.

Seeing stars behind your eyes, your hips involuntarily jerked up, swallowing the second phalange of his thumb. When Joel began pumping your tight ass with his digit, your pussy palpitated around his cock.

“You like that, don’tcha? Nasty, stupid little girl,” Joel groaned, his thrusts unforgiving whilst his thick finger twirled inside you.

You hummed loudly around the butt plug, feeling lightheaded and dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, but also to the intense pleasure, one you had not felt before.

“Mhm-mm-mhmmm-mhmmmmm,” the crescendo in your mumbling plea peaked, your lungs now burning.

Then Joel released his purchase on your hair, and your neck snapped back as you mouthed for air. Your heartrate spiked, even feeling it in your gums. Joel’s unabating shoves along with his devilish thumb finally sent you over the edge and you jumped off the cliff of your pleasure blindly. Your throbbing pussy clamped around his cock like a vice, the wave of your climax drowning you as Joel fucked you through it.

With toes curling, eyes glassy and drool falling off the corners of your busy mouth, all your muscles went suddenly limp. Your spent cunt still quivered around Joel’s dick, who hadn’t stopped jackhammering into you with renewed vigour.

Hastily, Joel pulled back and out of the heat of your tight pussy, digging up his thumb in the process too. One more second and he would have spilt inside. While he was sure he could have another erection, even at fifty-six, he rather not risk it.

His rough hand wrapped around his cockhead, reining in the need to come.

“Fuck, you almost got me there, sugar,” he cackled, running his hand down his face.

You didn’t reply. You were sprawled across his bedsheets like a fuck toy, your thighs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm. Joel was sure that even without the butt plug in your mouth, you would not have been able to string two coherent words together.

His lustful eyes lingered on the red bow crowning the swell of your buttocks. He was dying to untie it, to unwrap his most precious present and make good use of it. But first he needed you ready.

“Gimme that,” he uncurled his hand in front of your mouth, and you spat out the butt plug.

Standing firm behind you, he teased your pursed hole with the silicone tip. You stirred at the touch but were so out of tune with your own body, you didn’t fight him. He twisted the plug around, circling in your orifice. Slowly it went in, and when it bottomed out, your eyes snapped open, and you grizzled.

“Stay put,” he ordered you, stepping back.

Joel admired how the handle stuck out, peeking between your round globes. With a huff, he stroked his length as he walked towards the nightstand. Opened the drawer and pulled out your favourite pink dildo. It was slim and slightly curved ― you loved how the tip always hit the right spot inside your pussy.

He retraced his steps back to the foot of the bed and slid the toy between your clammy flaps, wetting it with your juices. You squirmed at the cold touch but relaxed when you realised what it was.

“Gonna have both holes full to the fucking brim, babydoll,” he mocked you sneeringly, wedging the dildo in your crying pussy until it snugly sat inside. “She’s so greedy.”

“Daddy, please, I can’t. I’m hurting,” you pleaded, sobbed even.

“I don’t fucking care. I’ll fuck your ass through the pain. A gift is a gift, kiddo,” he mumbled darkly.

Joel followed along and would not stop unless you said, “you piece of shit.” That was the agreement, the safe words you would use if you really started feeling insufferable pain. So far, you hadn’t spoken the words, giving him free rein to do with you as he pleased.

Looking at you with your perky ass up with the satin bow on top, a dildo in your weeping cunt and the butt plug poking out of your asshole, he knew himself a lucky bastard. How you fully trusted him, giving in to his darkest desires and coming up with your own. The last year had been a revelation for both of you ― you matched his freak so well.

To hell with what people thought, you were everything he had been looking for.

Fisting the base of his thudding cock, he slowly removed the anal plug, the pop sound enticing. Joel watched your open hole squeezing again until it puckered in your fold. He was mesmerised imagining how your walls would feel around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, biting down his bottom lip.

Hypnotised, Joel pushed the plug back in your butt, slowly and steadily, watching eagerly how your rimmed entrance swallowed the beads.

“No, daddy, it hurts. Please, take it out,” you begged him with a small, breathless voice.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warned you.

With one hand he pumped the dildo, dragging the pointy tip along your anterior wall to hit the spongy spot of your pleasure, and the other performed similar motions with the butt plug.

You mewled like a kitten, your passion ringing in his ears like he was high on drugs. Seeing you like this, all pliable and surrendered, had him on the brink of coming ― teetering on the edge, precum sliding down his shaft.

When you started humping the bedsheets, causing friction in your unattended clit, Joel knew you were close to another climax. Feeling considerate, he let you chase your own high, both of his hands working the sex toys in your holes.

“I― Good fucking lord, I’m… com… I’m coming, daddy. C-can I…?” you asked for his permission, his chest swelling at your request.

“Yeah, kiddo. Come for daddy,” he rasped, feeling drunk on your ecstasy.

You finally let go again, your whole body quivering like a leaf falling off a tree. He saw your inner labia squeezing the dildo and for a second Joel regretted it wasn’t his cock ― how good it would feel to have your fluttering pussy hug him tight.

But he had to persevere. The gift was worth it.

As your body still adjusted to the aftermath, Joel pulled out the butt plug carefully. The toy slid out easily, and he watched again how your hole stretched back to its normal size.

Throwing the plug to one side on the bed, Joel untied the red, satin bow on your lower back with steady fingers, taking in the moment. He felt like a mayor inaugurating a new building, presenting it to the press. This building was only his to dilapidate. The ribbon fell through his fingers.

Joel slipped one hand between your thighs, caressing around the dildo to gather some of your slick and gently buttering it into your rimmed opening. You said nothing ― eyes shut and mouth agape, it was almost as if you were peacefully sleeping.

He repeated the process a few times, but felt it wasn’t enough. Bending down, he spat in your ass until his mouth was dry. Then positioned his weeping cock right in the fold of your ass and pressed your buttocks together to hump your butt crack. Again, you didn’t react, your drool pooling on the bedsheets.

“What a fucking sight,” he said under his breath, the tip of his girthy dick finally hitching in your asshole.

Slowly he pushed the glans in, then back out, then back in, testing the waters. You squirmed a little, your brows furrowing innocently and your nose scrunching.

“Biiiiig stretch, kiddo,” he managed to groan between gritted teeth, jaw painfully clenched as his cock finally burrowed in your puckered entrance.

That was when your glassy eyes snapped open, and both your hands fisted the bedsheets.

“DADDY!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

It was hot and tight inside, very soft too, sweat gathering on his brow in concentration. Your sphincter crushed his hard cock and Joel felt like losing control over his own actions.

Another piercing shriek from you brought him back, his hips slowly working your hole with his length. He was only halfway in, you still had a few inches to take.

“You pie― Ohhhh, ah, mhmm…” his hand was quick to find the pebbled nub in your slit, petting it gently, pressing tight circles.

The distraction worked, because soon enough his dick was fully sitting in your ass. Joel pulled back, then back in, guiding your movements by pressing his free hand on your belly, holding your waist up and moving you with him. His right ring and middle fingers stroked your pearly clit relentlessly ― you were melting again.

This was heaven. Fucking heaven, he thought. How the muscles in your ass contracted around him, making him feel woozy. How you keened. How he just knew your pussy was fluttering around your pink dildo. How your clit was extremely wet, his fingers almost slipping on your velvety skin, almost unable to catch on your button.

It wasn’t painful, it was extremely overwhelming. Your mind felt like a spongy cloud, completely blissed out. Your soul had literally left your body, that was how empty your brain was. You were so full ― the dildo cozily inside you, Joel’s girthy cock blasting your entrails without a pause. Having him fully seated in your asshole was the most euphoric experience you had ever lived ― your pulse adjusted to his, two hearts beating as one.

It was too much, but it could be even more. Slithering one hand between your body and the bed, you found the dildo. Slowly you rocked it in and out of your damp pussy ― when Joel pulled out, you pushed in.

Elated, little, pathetic sobs escaped your mouth ― real, blissful tears wetting your cheeks, whimpering as your puffy lips wolfed down the pink toy. Your clit felt on fucking fire, Joel’s fingers fondling it to a point where you thought you might actually die.

You were coming again ― Joel could fucking feel it in his bones. Only this time, you squirted all over him, the warm liquid running down his thighs like a cascade whilst your whole body quaked uncontrollably.

“Oh my! Daddy! DADDY!” you wailed as he fucked you through it, hips almost stuttering now. “I can feel you in my guts! OH, FUCKING HELL!”

That was fucking it. With a guttural groan, Joel finally came, thick, sticky ropes spilling in your ass, painting your walls white. For a minute, he kept on filling you with his cum, cock maddingly twitching inside you. He closed his eyes and heavily sighed, as if the biggest weight had been taken off his shoulders.

By the time he was done, Joel was heaving, his chest rising in quick succession. That had been the best sex he’d ever had, and he was no novice like you. God, even his legs were trembling with effort.

Joel smacked both your ass cheeks as you plummeted onto the bed, a stupid grin curling the corners of your sinful mouth. You rolled to your side to look at him ― a fucked-out expression, your eyes hazy, sweaty hair sticking to your face.

The way you lazily smiled at him made his heart skip a beat.

“That was… something else,” you whispered, half asleep, totally spent.

Joel couldn’t help but chortle.

“I told you, kiddo,” he said, manoeuvring you back onto your belly so he could watch his semen gushing out your ass. “Squeeze your butthole for me, babydoll. Get it all out.”

You obeyed, all his cum slowly trickling out until your ass was empty.

“Good girl,” he praised you.

He admired the view for a hot minute ― you were a dewy mess, tangled in his bedsheets, with the pink dildo still poking out your sweet pussy. So tight, he thought, your slick cunt wouldn’t release it even when he gently tugged at it. Joel didn’t have the heart to take such comfort away from you yet, so he left the dildo in.

Joel disappeared into the bathroom after that to shower quickly. Then grabbed some wet towels and went back to the bedroom, naked as you were, to find you soundly asleep in an odd position.

He cleaned you up ― first your sweaty face, then your upper body. Joel coaxed your legs apart and couldn’t resist the urge to bow down and press a sweet kiss to your clit, slowly extracting the dildo from your pussy.

You hummed in your sleep, jaw slack and snoring lightly.

“The best daddy’s girl one could ask for,” he purred before resuming the task of rubbing your cunt and your ass clean. Joel was extremely diligent with your hygiene and care.

There was a big puddle on his bedsheets, right where your pussy had been leaking all along. He’d deal with that in the morning, didn’t want to wake you up now ― you needed the rest.

Joel sauntered towards the living room, seizing the forgotten cigar and the ashtray. Then returned to bed, and dragged your body up the bed until your head was resting on his lap. You unconsciously nuzzled his soft dick, your hot breath fanning the thick curls at the base.

Joel raked his fingers through your hair as he took a puff, the cigar crackling.

“You’re gonna be the end of me, kiddo.”

In your sleep, you stirred ― your plump, cherry lips caressing his base. Joel’s head slacked back against the headboard as he smoked.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself, feeling his dick harden again.

You were giving him no option ― there was nothing worse than going to bed with a hard-on. Joel knew you wouldn’t want that for him.

His fingers left your scalp, took one more puff and placed the cigar down on the ashtray. Joel cupped your chin, tilting your head up and back, while his other hand guided the slick tip of his cock to your lips. The moment your mouth was in contact with his dick, instinctually you suckled on his pearly glans.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Joel gritted, voice gravelly. “That’s it, be a good little girl for daddy.”

Joel gently rocked his hips under you, only the tip disappearing between your sinful lips ― he didn’t want to wake you, not when you looked like an angel right now.

This was a recurrent dream of yours. Most nights, you found yourself drifting away and thinking about your old man’s beautiful dick. It was soothing when you latched onto his glans, just like you were doing right now ― unbeknownst to you.

In your dream, your tongue pressed against the slit on his throbbing cockhead while your lips would seal around it to suck on it. Then his underside would slide along your tongue, kissing your palate gently. Sometimes you would stop, glans sitting warmly in your mouth, and the hand resting on his thigh would find the soft balls underneath to massage them delicately. Then your tongue would resume its petting.

Heat peaked inside your mouth, and that made you scowled slightly. Smacking your lips together, sleepily, you realised that there was something warm and sticky pooling in your mouth.

Your eyes fluttered open, still drowsy, and found Joel’s darkened ones. Your head was resting on his lap, the palm of his hand caressing your cheek while his thumb stroked your chin. Sluggishly, you smiled at him, rubbing one eye with the back of your hand.

“Sorry to wake you,” he apologised before he took a drag of the cigar. “Swallow daddy’s gift, sugar.”

His words made you realise that what you had in your mouth was his cum. Your grin grew wider as the tasty seed of Joel slid down your throat. You liked it when he took what was his without asking.

“Attagirl. Now back to sleep, kiddo. It’s past your bedtime,” he commended you, and you nodded absentmindedly.

Nudging his dick and tucking your hands under his thigh, you pressed a soft kiss on his cockhead, then closed your eyes.

“Thank you,” you sighed contently, to both Joel and his dick.

[colettebronte]

(Not Exactly) A Fairytale in New York

Taglist Form

Ao3 Link

Bridgerton Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x Fem Reader

Summary: While on what is meant to be a brief layover in NYC at Christmas time there is an airport meet ugly, a snowstorm and some holiday fun to be had both around the city and in the bedroom

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: 18+ specifically for explicit anal sex. Minors DNI. I will put this up on Ao3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere

Author’s Note: my deepest apologies to The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl for the alteration of their song title to fit this fic. This was a fun one to write and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you to @fayes-fics for betaing 🫶❤️

You thank the barista as he hands you your iced coffee. Taking a fortifying sip, you turn and start to walk to your boarding gate. 

You stop walking to adjust the top of your cup. You’ve just pulled it off when someone plows into you, upending the entire contents onto your face, jacket and the floor. The person, a man, grunts and then tosses off a curt “Sorry,” before walking off.

Spluttering, you turn and call out to his quickly retreating back, “Hey pal! I hope all your coffee creamers today are sour and you miss your flight!” The absolute asshole with his perfectly sexy British accent and a no-doubt stupidly expensive suit just continues his brisk walking and tosses off a wave.

Wiping your face and wringing your hands, you throw out your empty cup and debate the merits of changing before boarding your flight home. You check your phone and see you don’t have the time so with a huff and smelling like a caramel macchiato, you make your way across the airport. It’s only as you move that you realize some of it must have splashed through your boots and onto your socks, making for a soggy trudge to the gate. Gross. Welcome to New York. Thankfully, it’s just a short, hour and a half plane ride and then you’ll be home for Christmas.  

Unfortunately, Snow Storm Agatha has other plans.

**********

Defeated, you sink into a hard plastic chair. Having first joined the line at the ticket counter, where you were given airport food vouchers and no word of when flights could be rebooked, you then collected your deplaned luggage from the baggage carousel. After that, you spent the better part of an hour calling any hotel in your price range to see if they had any rooms left to no avail. So all that was left was the least appealing option; spending the night and possibly longer at LaGuardia Airport. Great.

Someone takes a seat beside you, their expensive luggage bumping against yours. You turn and see it’s the same jerk who dumped your coffee all over you. You give him the stink-eye but he’s too busy absorbed in a conversation on his phone to even notice you. You take the moment to study him. It figures that he’d have an adorable furrow between his brows and a perfect jawline to go with his thick, tuggable hair and stupidly sexy accent.

You can tell from his side of the conversation that, of course, Mr. Tall, Dark and British is able to secure a place to stay. Lucky him. You hope his hotel room has bed bugs.

He ends his call and sniffs the air, no doubt catching a whiff of the iced caramel drying on your coat. He turns and notices you for the first time, his eyes going comically wide. He takes in your overall appearance and after a moment, a look of guilt comes over his handsome face. It would probably feel satisfying if your hair wasn’t sticky.

He looks down at his black leather-gloved hands and fidgets for a moment. Heaving a deep breath he starts, “You’re the one I . . .”

“Dumped eight dollars worth of Queens’ finest bean juice all over. Yes,” you finish for him.

He winces and then goes on an impressive ramble. “I am truly sorry. I was on the phone with one of my sisters and in a rush to make it to my plane, which is no excuse I realize. I ought to have done the gentlemanly thing and, at the very least, stopped to help you clean up. Of course, had I been paying attention, it should never have happened in the first place,” he pauses to take a deep breath before adding, “How can I make it up to you?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Unless you can magically conjure me a shower or, better yet, a room so I don’t have to spend the night sleeping on cheap plastic and eating bad airport food, not much.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Well, I have just procured a suite for the night. You’re welcome to the second bedroom.”

You gape at him. “Look, Mr . . .”

“Bridgerton,” he interjects, before adding, “Anthony.” he flashes you a charming smile that, in any other circumstance, might just sway you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you sigh, “While I appreciate the offer, I am not going with you, a complete stranger, to stay in your hotel suite, no matter how swanky it may be. For all I know, you’re a secret serial killer or something.” You cross your arms, purposely elbowing him in the side.

He raises his arms in the air, placating, “Miss, I understand you completely. I know my offer is unconventional but I truly do wish to make things up to you. Is there nothing I can do to convince you I’m safe to be around, full coffee cups aside?”

You fight a smile. Dammit this man is too smooth. With a sigh, you tell him, “I can’t think of anything, short of stellar testimony about your general character from an unimpeachable source.”

You start to stand but he touches the sleeve of your coat. Looking thoughtful, he stands and pulls out his phone. Holding it up so you can see the screen, he punches in a number and after a moment, it rings and then a yawning, elegant, older woman with the kindest blue eyes you’ve ever seen answers.

“Anthony dearest, what are you doing calling at this hour, and from the plane no less?”

He has the good grace to look abashed. “My apologies, Mother. I’m still in the airport. A rather nasty snowstorm has grounded all the flights through tomorrow.”

The woman, his mother, looks concerned. “Do you need a room for the night? I can wake Marcus up and see if he has a room at one of his New York hotels available for you.”

Anthony shakes his head. “That’s not necessary, Dorset was able to get me a room at one of his,” he pauses to glance at you. “The truth is, Mother, I need you to provide a character reference for me, to convince someone I’m not an axe-wielding maniac and that it’s perfectly safe to stay in the spare bedroom of my suite.”

His mother raises her eyebrows. “Anthony, what did you do?”

He swallows thickly and looks at you. You laugh and lean into the phone to offer her a wave. She takes in your appearance and then narrows her eyes. 

Her voice is deadly calm as she again asks, “Anthony Edmund Bridgerton. What. Did. You. Do?”

You feel a sympathetic pang at the use of his full name as he hems and haws his way through an explanation. When he finishes she heaves a sigh and then addresses you.

“My Dear, my name is Violet Bridgerton and I assure you, while my eldest son may be a tiny bit of an idiot, he is mostly a gentleman. I promise you are perfectly safe in his presence and I have no doubt,” she pauses to cut her eyes to her son, “That he will not only pay for your dry cleaning, he will buy you a very nice dinner tonight and then also see you safely back to the airport when it’s time for your flight to depart. Isn’t that right, my dear son?”

Anthony nods but at his mother’s sharp look, he clears his throat and says, “That’s right Mother, I will.”

“Excellent.” She looks back at you. “Despite the circumstances, it is lovely to meet you, Miss?”

“Y/n,” you supply. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Violet smiles warmly and then looks between you and her son, a gleam in her eye.“I wish you both a good evening.”

“Goodnight Mother,” Anthony says and then he ends the call. He puts the phone away and then looks at you and asks, “Well?”

Without hesitating, you pick up your purse and sling your carry-on bag over your shoulder. You thrust your luggage at him, the little wheels squeaking as they bump into his shiny black shoes. “Lead the way, Your Highness, I have a very expensive dinner to get to,” you say brightly.

Grabbing the handle of your luggage in addition to his own, he mutters, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You tug your mittens on and adjust your carry-on, asking him, “Does the hotel offer lobster and filet mignon?”

**********

You arrive at Hotel Dorset and you bound out of the town car, leaving Anthony to manage the luggage. A tall man stands just inside the entrance, a curious look on his friendly face.

“Hello Miss,” he greets you warmly.

Before you can respond, Anthony walks up and takes the man’s hand, shaking it vigorously.

“Tom, I can’t thank you enough for putting us up for the night.”

The man, Tom, nods, although he’s still looking at you. “It’s my pleasure. The city doesn’t come to a complete standstill all that often due to snow, but I’m happy to be able to help.” His eyes cut back to Anthony. “You didn’t mention you were bringing a guest with you.”

You step closer, elbowing Anthony in the ribs as you say, “Oh, he owes me. He decided it would be fun to spill iced coffee all over me this afternoon, so as penance, he’s putting me up for the night and buying me a really expensive dinner.”

Anthony sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was an accident.”

Tom laughs, offering you his arm. You take it as he leads you both to the elevators, a porter following with your luggage. Once inside, your eyes widen as Tom inserts a key and the button for the penthouse lights up. Tom smiles and says, “Our restaurant has a Michelin star. The chef’s speciality is steak with lobster and caviar”

You nod, fighting a laugh as you glance at Anthony. “That sounds delicious,” you say seriously. “Do you happen to have a two-hundred-year-old wine that pairs well with that?”

Tom looks at Anthony and then clearing his throat, nods and begins to expound on the restaurant’s highly curated vintage wine list, amusement shining in his eyes as he does so.

Anthony leans his head against the gold metal wall of the elevator and groans.

**********

The penthouse is massive and after giving your coat to the porter to be dry-cleaned, with the assurance it would be ready for you in the morning, you avail yourself of the shower in your personal, full-sized bathroom.

You assume Anthony has gone to do the same in his.

After a long, heavenly jaunt under the double rainfall showerheads, you tuck yourself into one of the hotel’s fluffy robes and go back into your room to change. You’re sorting through your luggage when there’s a knock on your door.

“Come in,” you call out and then Anthony enters, also dressed in a robe, his hair damp. It takes all your willpower to focus on his eyes and not on the single curl on his forehead.

Anthony smiles and says, “I made a dinner reservation for the eight pm sitting. If you’d prefer a different time, I can change it,” he tells you.

Sighing, you say, “That’s fine. But I have a problem.”

Anthony comes over to you, concern written on his handsome face. “What can I do?”

You sink down on the bed. “I flew in from an educator’s conference. I don’t exactly have something to wear for dinner at a Michelin star restaurant.”

Anthony stands. “That’s no problem at all. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have some options brought up for you.”

You blink up at him. Stunned, you stutter out, “You can just . . . have dresses . . . brought up here . . . for me to try on?”

He nods and you can only stare at him and think about how you lead very different lives.

**********

Two hours later, you both emerge from the elevator, Anthony looking sharp in a bow tie and black dinner jacket and you in a flowy red dress, that you are positive costs more than three of your paychecks combined.

Tom personally escorts you to the restaurant and sees you to your table. Once seated, he has a bottle of wine brought over with his compliments and then leaves you and Anthony to your meal. After perusing the menu, you decide to take pity on Anthony’s wallet, despite your suspicion he can easily afford it and forgo the steak, lobster and even the caviar in favor of a burger and pomme frites instead. Surprisingly, Anthony orders the same. It turns out, the wine Tom chose pairs perfectly with your meal.

Over Michelin star burgers and fancy Belgian fries, you and Anthony get to know each other. He is as charming as you originally thought, but as you chat, you discover how utterly devoted he is to his family and the business they run together, leaving him little time for a personal life.

You’re sharing a truly excellent piece of cheesecake when a band starts to play jazzy versions of Christmas songs. You watch enviously as couples take to the floor, holding each other close. After watching for a while, Anthony stands and offers you his hand.

Exhaling a deep breath, you take it and then you’re making your way to join the other couples. You pick up the strains of “Last Christmas” as Anthony suddenly spins you out and pulls you back into his arms, his face mere inches from yours. You stare deep into his dark eyes and whisper, “Careful, Mr. Bridgerton, a girl could get ideas.”

He dips you and when he pulls you back up, his voice is rough as he asks, “You promise?”

Heat pools in your belly. But then you give yourself a mental shake. You’ve only just met this man. Flirting with strangers and then jumping into bed with them, no matter how fancy that bed may be, is not something you do.

Besides, surely the weather will clear up tomorrow and then you’ll part ways and never see each other again, so what would be the point?

**********

It’s nearly midnight by the time you return to the penthouse. Fingers entwined, you’re reluctant to part for the evening. You’re about to suggest a nightcap when both your phones ping. Anthony excuses himself as you check yours. First, you see a warning from the National Weather Service that the storm is projected to continue through the following evening. The next notification is from your airline saying all flights will remain cancelled until further notice. With a sigh, you text your sister to let her know the latest update. She immediately texts back, assuring you it’s fine and to let her know when you have a flight rebooked.

You change and are about to slip into bed when Anthony knocks on your door. You open it to find him looking unfairly handsome in red flannel pajamas, the shirt unbuttoned, exposing a thatch of hair on his chest that has you itching to run your finger through it. He stares at you, appreciation clear in his eyes.

Tearing your gaze away from his exposed skin, you ask him, “Did you need something?”

Anthony blinks and then nods, his eyes looking into yours. “It seems we’ll be here for at least another day. Tom said we’re welcome to stay as long as we need.”

You smile. “That’s very kind of him.”

Anthony smiles back and says, “Since we’re here for another day, I was wondering if you wanted to play tourist with me? I was meant to just be here while my plane refueled and haven’t had a chance to see the sights.”

You reach out and take one of his hands in yours. “I’d like that,” you tell him softly.  “I was only meant to have a forty-minute layover.”

Anthony squeezes your fingers. Just as quietly, he says, “It’s settled then. We'll have breakfast and then set out to see just what New York City has to offer.”

“It’s a date, Mr. Bridgerton,” you reply.

********

You spend the morning zig-zagging across the city, taking in the sights and sounds of New York City at Christmas time with the falling snow just adding to the ambiance of the season.

For lunch, you stop at the Winter Village in Bryant Park. You each choose your meals from different food trucks and then sit together in a heated bubble, watching shoppers scurry around the park doing their last-minute shopping at the vendor stalls. If Anthony sits a little closer at your side than necessary, you don’t comment on it.

After lunch, you walk to Rockefeller Plaza and cajole Anthony into ice skating with you.

“It’s so ridiculously touristy,” he protests as you lead him by the hand to the skate rental.

Laughing, you ask, “I’m sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, but who suggested we play tourist?”

“Me,” he mumbles and then adds, “I don’t know how to ice skate.”

You squeeze his hand in what you hope is a reassuring manner. Brightly, you say, “Don’t worry, it’s just like roller-skating only with a blade stuck to your feet instead of wheels.”

Anthony hands his credit card to the attendant and as you take your ice skates from them, Anthony asks you, “Is now a bad time to mention that I don’t know how to roller skate either?”

You stare at him for a moment and then wave his words off. “You’ll be fine. Probably.”

Anthony doesn’t look convinced, so you point to a child holding onto a blue plastic Skate Helper as they wind around the rink. “Maybe we can find one for you in adult size.”

Sadly, you cannot, so Anthony settles for clinging to the wall like a limpet while you fly around the rink, moving from one foot to the other with ease, your childhood skate lessons coming back to you, despite it being several years since you’ve been on the ice.

After a while, you take pity and go over to Anthony, coming to an elegant T-stop in front of him. Silently, you hold your hands out and after reluctantly releasing the wall, he wobbles towards you, grasping onto your shoulders as soon as he’s within reach. You adjust your body to counterbalance his shakiness and taking his hands with a reassuring smile, you slowly pull him around the rink.

You can see the exact moment he gets over his nerves and trusts you to keep you both upright as he looks around and takes in the sights around you. By the time you finish skating, dusk is starting to fall. You return your skates and Anthony buys you both hot cocoa. Tucked into his side, you walk up to the top of the plaza to get an unobstructed view of the famous Christmas tree. 

After staring at the tree for a while, you look up at Anthony to see him watching you and not the glowing sight before you. The obvious desire in his eyes brings a pleasant warmth to your core. Without thinking, you tug him down and draw him into an embrace. You stare into each other’s eyes for a moment and then his mouth is on yours, his tongue gently moving against the seam of your lips, as if asking permission to enter. With a sigh, you let him and then he is pressing you against the gray marble of the wall as he whines into your mouth.

Someone walks by and calls out, “Hey! Get a room!”

You pull apart, both of you breathing heavily. Anthony tucks a stray lock of your hair under your hat, a tender look in his eyes. You take one of his gloved hands in your mitten-covered one. Deciding not to mince words you tell him, “Take me back to our room so we can fuck.” 

His eyes darken, and he nods, tugging you in the direction of the hotel.

**********

The ride up in the elevator feels interminable but as it opens with a ding, Anthony pulls out the penthouse key and after a brief fumble, manages to get the door unlocked. As soon as he enters, you lean into him and undo the buttons of his coat, tugging his beanie off his head as he pulls off his gloves with his teeth. As he reaches out to undo your jacket, you take a moment to admire his snow-dampened hair and impossibly soft white sweater.

Once you’re both freed of your outerwear, you jump up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Placing his arms around your back, he moans against your lips as he walks to his bedroom. 

With him holding you, you pull your sweater over your head and toss it behind you. Using one hand, Anthony deftly unhooks your bra. He bumps against the bed and then you hop down to paw at his sweater until he takes it off, throwing it over your head to join your discarded clothes on the floor.

Keeping your eyes firmly on him, you bend down to take off your boots, pants, socks and panties. Anthony does the same with his remaining clothes and underwear, his eyes not leaving yours either. After a moment though, he turns away to one of the nightstands and pulls out a condom. Biting back a smile, you raise an eyebrow and Anthony shrugs, saying, “I wasn’t expecting anything but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hopeful after our dance last night.”

You nod and then he rolls the condom on. You then descend on Anthony, pushing him gently back so he lands on the bed. You climb over his legs to straddle him and then he lets out the most beautiful moan as you grind down on his cock.

“Please . . . please ride me,” he stutters from under you. You tug him up into a bruising kiss by the hair and he starts to wrap his arms around your back but you grab his hands, lacing your fingers together, holding them over his head as you begin to slide back and forth on his lap.

You find an angle that feels good, pausing for a moment to enjoy the stretch and feel of him inside you. Anthony groans and then you move together, building a rhythm with ease. You do most of the work, drawing out both your pleasure by turns alternating going fast and then maddeningly slow. By the time you’re close, you’re both slick with sweat, Anthony’s breaths coming in little whining gasps.

“Please, I need... I need,” he begs.

You lean down to kiss his neck, your body feels taut and poised to tip over the edge with pleasure.  You lean in to whisper into his ear, “Shhh, I know. I’m ready for it too. Shall we come together?”

Anthony nods and then you’re thrusting in tandem, both working towards the same goal. White, hot, delicious pleasure overtakes your senses and hands still entwined, you throw your head back and scream. Barely a breath later, Anthony yells out your name and you have to fight to keep yourself balanced on his lap as he bucks against you in ecstasy.

**********

Later, after a shower and room service dinner, your head is resting against Anthony’s chest, tucked under the covers and you’re feeling pleasantly warm and boneless when both your phones ding on the nightstands beside you. You whine and reach out of your blanket cocoon to take your phone as Anthony does the same with his. Blinking, you stare in surprise to see that it’s a message from the airline with information on rebooking your flight for the next day. You glance over to see Anthony glaring down at his phone, no doubt having just received the same message from his airline.

He looks up from his phone to gaze at you, the annoyance instantly disappearing from his handsome face. Sighing, he gestures to his phone and says, “It seems Agatha has been downgraded and flights will resume tomorrow. We can both go home.”

You nod. Just a day earlier, face covered in coffee, going home was all you wanted. And now, well, now it’s different. Anthony tucks in close to you and plucks your phone out of your hand. He pulls you back onto his chest, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. 

Quietly, he asks you, “Will you let me handle the details of your flight home?”

You sigh, “You’ve done so much for me already, I can’t ask that of you.”

Anthony shushes you with a gentle kiss. When he pulls back his eyes are full of tenderness as he says, “I’m offering. Please let me do this. Think of it as a continuation of how gentlemanly my mother promised you I’d be.”

You lift your head to huff out a laugh. “Oh and was that gentlemanly behavior earlier tonight?”

Anthony flashes you a wry smile. “Absolutely. Ladies always come first.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and then lay your head back down, yawning as he reaches out and turns off the lamp.

**********

The air is crisp and clear as you exit the hotel hand in hand with Anthony. Once your luggage is loaded into the town car, he holds the door open for you and then slides in, directing the driver to Hangar Seven. Having only flown into La Guardia a few times, you’re not certain where that is but you trust Anthony to get you where you need to go.

Soon enough, you’re at the airport and your brow furrows as you drive past most of the terminals, including the one you know your airline is at. The car pulls into a small lot and then after tipping your driver, Anthony gets out and then comes around to your side to help you out of the car. Taking you by the hand, he leads you into a building. Before you can ask him about your luggage and how you’re meant to get through security, you’re walking into what you realize is an actual airplane hanger and then you can only stare at the private jet emblazoned with Anthony’s last name on the side.

You freeze in place and Anthony is jolted back by the hand. He tries to gently tug you forward but you remain fixed in place, looking back and forth between the jet and the man who apparently owns it.

Anthony stops trying to walk and tucks into your side.

Taking a deep breath you say, “Two days ago, you told me you were waiting for your plane to refuel, you actually meant your personal plane, not a passenger plane.”

Anthony leans down and says quietly, “Technically, it is a passenger plane. I just happen to be the only one on it.”

Releasing his hand you step back from him. “I knew you had money,” you start, “Which of course I don’t hold against you, but what exactly is your family business, Mr. Bridgerton?”

Anthony glances at the plane for a moment and then looks back to you. “The plain truth is, I’m not strictly Mr. Bridgerton. That title is for my younger brothers,” he winces as he continues, “I’m actually Lord Bridgerton.”

You gape at him and squeak, “Lord Bridgerton?”

Anthony nods and squeezes his hands together, looking nervous. “Please don’t say this changes things between us.”

You take a deep breath and stare at him for a moment. He is Anthony, the man who you thought was initially a jerk but turned out to be something else altogether: a gentleman, a man devoted to his family, the man who went above and beyond to apologize for his bad behavior and the man who after only a little hesitation, was willing to try something new at the skating rink. He’s also the man who gave you one of the best orgasms of your life. Even now, he’s staring at you with such hope in his eyes that it’s easy to come to a decision.

You reach up and tug him into a heated kiss. When you at last break apart, you tell him, “Lord Bridgerton, please take me home.”

**********

You’re up far too early Christmas morning at your sister’s house watching your nephew unwrap yet another Lego set when your phone buzzes. With a smile, you read the text.

AB: I don’t suppose you have any plans for New Year’s Eve

Y/n: Not yet. What did you have in mind Lord Bridgerton?

AB: If someone were to send a plane for you, would you consider ringing in the new year across the pond?

Y/n: If that plane includes a very handsome viscount, I’d consider it.

AB: Noted. I’ll see you in six days

AB: And I’ll bring the iced macchiato this time and you can dump it on me

Y/n: My Lord, you’re a little weird but I’m falling in love with you anyway

AB: . . . .

Y/n: I mean

AB: I’m falling in love with you too. Happy Christmas

Y/n: Merry Christmas. I’ll see you next week

taglist: @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @faye-tale @cosmiclove330 @abridgerton @fiction-is-life @kmc1989 @alexandrainlove @ietss @multi-fandom-lover7667 @turtle-cant-communicate @liliac-dreamer @hottytoddyhistory @laniec03 @queenofmean14 @jtheteenagewitch

[forgetmaenott]

NUTCRACKER - TADC Showtime Christmas Special

A/N: This might be my longest one, hence why it took a while. Also I didn’t know shit about the Nutcracker until this month. This is also my last post for a while, since I’m going to residential therapy today. :,) …as for the other prompts I received, they will not be forgotten! Life got in the way and with the timing, I decided to write and release the Christmas themed one first.

@definitely-mothman thank you for the idea!

cw: alcohol, cartoon violence, suggestive comment from jax, jax in general

“Are you really sure you want to work overtime tonight?”

Pomni sighed and rubbed her head. “No. But corporate is being an asshole, and you all have things to get to.”

Ragatha bit her lip, looking at Pomni like she wanted to jump back in her seat and finish all the work for her. “Oh, Pomni, I can’t just leave you here on Christmas Eve! Here, why don’t you come with us to my cousin Andy’s. Jax and I are—”

“Yeesh, lay off it dollface. If short stack wants to work Christmas Eve, let her waste her holiday,” Jax interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

“Wha—Jax! Be nice to her. She’s offering to work really hard for us," Ragatha scolded, hands on her hips.

“Tsk. Yeah, yeah. I'll bet anything she just wants an excuse to stay behind and jump Caine's bones or something."

Pomni clenched her fists, blushing immediately at the implication. "That's not true!" she argued through gritted teeth, almost offended at the idea.

Ragatha's face was just as flushed as Pomni's, and she tugged at her hair in frustration. "Jax! You can't just say things like that!"

Jax grinned widely at the frustration he incited. "What? You don't think it's a little odd that Caine obviously favors her and she decides to stay behind with him on Christmas?"

"Nothing is going on," Pomni grumbled, trying to calm herself, "he's my boss, a-and I'm not even interested." She crossed her arms, looking away from his infuriating grin.

Ragatha brought a hand to her face, sighing. "Don't listen to him. We appreciate this, you know."

Zooble walked by, grabbing for Gangle's red scarf from the hanger. "You really want to stay here all night?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Pomni groaned. Any more comments from the others would probably make her decide to shove all her work aside and head right out the door. "Yes, I'm sure. It won't be that long."

Just then, Caine emerged from his office, chipper as ever. "Dooooon't worry, my shining stars!" he walked behind Pomni, gripping her shoulders as though showing off his most valuable possession, "Pomni here has graciously decided to sacrifice her holiday for all you jolly gingersnaps!"

Pomni tensed at his touch, averting the others' gazes--especially Jax, who was smirking at the way Caine held her so proudly.

"Well, that's very generous of you, Pomni!" Kinger piped up.

"This seems really immoral," Gangle whimpered, wrapping the scarf Zooble handed her around her neck.

"She'll be fiiiiine. Caine's going to take great care of her, right, Caine?" Jax grinned mischievously at the two.

"Anything for my starlet!" Caine replied cheerfully, oblivious to his suggestiveness.

Pomni laughed uncomfortably, staring down at the floor. "W-well, now that that's settled...I'm gonna go back to work," she excused herself, quickly retreating to her desk to avoid the uncomfortable conversation.

"Merry Christmas!" Ragatha called after her retreating form, before being ushered out the door by an impatient Jax. The others gradually filed out, leaving the office silent apart from the occasional rustle of paper or buzz of the computer.

"I have to say, my dear, it's very admirable of you to give up your holiday," Caine's voice came from behind her, startling her.

"A-ah! Caine, how many times do I have to tell you to knock--"

"O-oh, of course. My apologies," Caine looked surprisingly sheepish, turning back to look at his office but not quite walking away. It was obvious he didn't want to leave, like he had something else on his mind to tell her, but for once in his life he was speechless. Pomni followed his gaze.

Caine’s office was filled with nonsensical, colorful knick-knacks. He collected things he was drawn to, he had said. But those knick-knacks ranged from rubber ducks, to rubix cubes, to plastic figurines. She would have found it strange, if it weren’t for how oddly endearing he was about it all.

Pomni sighed. She wanted to be alone, but she felt a pang of sympathy for him. “...I had nowhere to be anyways. Jax and Ragatha had a party to go to, Zooble…well..they didn’t say what they’re doing, Gangle is hosting some hangout at her apartment, and Kinger and his wife are having a night in. But me…”

Caine watched as she trailed off, then his charismatic smile returned. “Why, Pomni, what better way to spend your holiday than with your boss?!" He put an arm around her, causing her to tense in discomfort. She glanced over at him, almost wondering if he was joking, but his eyes shining with a genuine enthusiasm.

Pomni sighed, bringing a hand to her head. “Just…at least let me have a drink or two tonight.”

Caine removed his arm from her shoulder and crossed his arms, looking at her sternly. “Now now, you know how the rules about workplace etiquette!”

“Right…has to be family friendly?” Pomni recited bitterly.

“Correct! It can be enjoyed by all ages…”

She raised an eyebrow. “A…workplace?”

“Ah—well…” Caine hesitated, eyes roamning on the woman in front of him. “I…suppose I’ll see what I can do."

She sighed. “Thanks,” she said half-heartedly before returning to work.

Hours of mundane work passed, most of it spent with Pomni inwardly cursing out upper management. Then again, she had nothing much else to do on Christmas Eve. A part of her couldn’t help but wish she had taken up Ragatha on her offer—but, realistically, that would have likely been more uncomfortable. Unwanted social interactions—here, the only person she had to work with was.

Caine had graciously granted her a bottle of alcohol—she had asked for vodka out of flat-out desperation, but he gave her wine instead and insisted on watering it down each time she wanted a glass.

“Can’t have my star employee inebriated!” he had told her before stashing the bottle away.

Pomni grumbled, but she knew he was right deep down. Though she’d never admit it, the alcohol was making her feel slightly tired. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been unable to sleep all night. Probably that.

All she knew is she was struggling to keep her eyes open, the buzz of the computer almost comforting. The gentle glow from the office's Christmas tree made her feel encompassed in warmth. She gave into her tiredness, but just for a few minutes, she'd told herself.

She planted her head down on her arms, resting on the desk. The hum of the office and the gentle ticking of the clock lulled her into sleep...

——

The first thing that stirred her back to reality was the feel of a pillow, uncomfortably positioned by her side.

For a moment, she swatted her side, feeling for her cat. It wasn't unusual for her cat to wake her up, either shifting in position or scratching at something. She groaned, when in a cold shock she realized she wasn’t at home in her bed. Upon opening her eyes, panic settled deep in her stomach, accompanied by a sick feeling of dread. She wasn’t even in her office, or any place remotely ordianry—rather, she was in a red-and-blue themed bedroom.

Pomni rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, only to realize her hands were concealed by cartoonish, white gloves. On second thought, she wasn’t even in her work attire—she was in a red and blue leotard. She jumped out of her chair in surprise, suddenly taking in just how bizarre this situation was. She felt at her face, at her hair, at the jester hat she wore…

Panic settled in her stomach, followed by a sudden sensation that she was being watched. Something was off about this, and it certainly wasn’t sitting well with her.

"POMNI!"

"AgH--!"

Cutting through the silence was a boisterous voice, followed shortly by the sight of an uncanny, cartoonish figure above her bed, gazing at her with heterochromic eyes between...teeth for a head?

He swept down to her side, gripping firmly at her hand. "What were you dreaming about, dear? Could it have been--the excitement of adventure?" he leaned in close, voice so loud it could give her a migraine.

"...No..." Pomni mustered, discomfort etched across all her cartoonish features. Something about that voice, ever-enthusiastic, was awfully familiar, in spite of his uncanny appearance.

"Great!" he cut off her train of thought, enthusiasm a stark contrast to her exhaustion, "then there's no time to waste! Your funny buddies are already waiting!" He grabbed for her hand before she could protest and, with a sickening twist of her internal organs, she found herself rapidly transported out of the bedroom and into a nauseatingly colorful room.

Her vision spun around, the teeth man flying away from her side with a cartoonish "whoosh" and towards a group of colorful cartoon characters. Once her stomach settled and her eyes adjusted to the brightness, she got a better look at the group--a purple rabbit with an arrogant grin, a rag doll scolding him, a girl made of ribbons with a happy mask, an abstract figure seemingly pieced together by various parts, and a chess piece peeking out of a pillow fort. Everything so...uncanny.

And worse...familiar. Really familiar.

She warily stepped closer to the group, mostly because she didn't want the teeth man to return and shout excitedly in her face about "adventure", and overheard the conversations of the others.

The stern expression on the rag doll's face melted away the moment she saw Pomni, replaced by a soft smile. "Oh, hi, Pomni! How'd you sleep?"

Pomni blinked in surprise, looking between her and the rabbit. "...I...slept fine," she replied half-heartedly. Her gaze trailed to the others, all watching her with curious expressions.

"You look even more paranoid than usual," the rabbit said judgmentally, eyes flicking up and down at her tense form.

Pomni didn't take any notice at first until he smacked at her face, as though snapping her out of a trance. "..Huh...what?"

"Yeesh. At this rate you're a bigger nutcase than Kinger," the rabbit snickered, earning a glare from the ragdoll.

Kinger.

The name repeated, again and again in her mind. Then…that would mean….

Pomni's eyes followed the rabbit's thumb, pointing at the chess piece peeking out of the pillow fort, stomach dropping in realization. She glanced around at the other cast of characters. It felt like she had woken up within a dream, everything suddenly lucid. And she didn't like it one bit.

Kinger, Jax, Ragatha, Zooble, Gangle, and...

The teeth man flew above them once more. "Now, now, my little polygonal pinecones! Today's adventure is filled with wonder, excitement, festivities!" his eyes fell on Pomni, bottom jaw curving up in what she read as a smile, "and it's all thanks to our little jester friend..."

Pomni's breath was stolen from her.

Caine.

Jax rolled his eyes. "Yuck."

Caine flew down to Pomni's side, placing an arm around her in the same manner that he had at her desk a few hours ago. "That's right! Pomni recently informed me during one of our lessons that you humans deeply treasure your traditions, your festivities!" his grip on her tightened, "and so, today's adventure is in honor of Christmas!"

With a snap of his fingers, the circus around them transformed slightly. The stage was framed by a garland, a wreath formed at the top. Colorful lights were strung around, and a large tree with large ornaments stood proudly in the center of the room.

"...I'm never drinking again," Pomni mused, rubbing at her head.

"Now, now, my silly little shortbread. You know the importance of hydrating!" Caine corrected her.

"That's not what I--"

"THAT'S RIGHT! I declare today a digital Christmas!" Caine spread his limbs out enthusiastically, tinsel sprinkling down onto the circus members.

Zooble looked unimpressed, flicking some of the tinsel off of their head. "Isn’t it, like….June?”

Ragatha clasped her hands in front of her dress. "Ooh, Christmas? That's a great idea, Pomni. We could really use some holiday spirit around here," she praised with an enthusiastic swing of her arms.

“Yeah, yeah, holiday spirit. Gross. Where’s the bloodshed and violence?” Jax tapped his foot impatiently, crossing his arms.

Gangle smiled, lifting some tinsel from her ribbons. “Actually…this sounds like a lot of fun,” she piped up.

Caine twirled around in the air, his cane spinning behind him. “I knew it! Ha-ha! Oh, Pomni, we need to collaborate more often!” he praised, before snapping his fingers once more. “Now that that’s settled, today’s adventure issss…the Battle of the Gloink Kingdom!”

Silence filled the air. Then, their reactions came in one.

“…Well, I’m heading out,” Zooble huffed.

“Battle? Now we’re talking,” Jax said with a satisfied grin.

“Gloinks?” Kinger tilted his head, a finger pressed to his chin, “Gloinks make me crazy…” he began to trail off.

Pomni sighed. “Remind me how this has to do with Christmas?”

“Maybe it’s like the Nutcracker?” Ragatha piped up hopefully, clearly trying to salvage the idea.

“Wh—n-no, of course not! It’s a complete Digital Circus original,” Caine huffed defensively with a cross of his arms, teeth clamping shut to conceal his eyes.

“I’m good,” Zooble repeated, turning to walk away.

“Um…I think I’ll sit this one out, too,” Gangle said meekly, twiddling her ribbons together as she glanced at Zooble’s retreating form.

“Wha—but this adventure is filled with so much excitement! So much festivity! Where’s your holiday spirit?” Caine called after them.

“In the void,” Zooble quipped before disappearing with Gangle down the hall.

“W-well, that’s fine! We’ll have the best Christmas adventure without you,” Caine crossed his arms, turning his back to them and glancing down at the others, “well, that leaves all of you!”

He glanced down at the remaining circus members—Pomni, Ragatha, and Jax. Kinger had long since retreated to his pillow fort, having talked about a rubber room and gloinks. Pomni was tense, Ragatha visibly uncomfortable but trying to force a smile, and Jax grinning.

“So, Caine,” Jax started, “just how much violence and bloodshed will there be?”

“Ah! About that, my rambunctious rabbitoid friend! Pomni here suggested that too much ‘violence and bloodshed’ could stress everyone out. So this adventure will be very family-friendly—” Caine reached to boop Jax’s non-existent nose.

Jax grimaced, pushing his hand away. He glowered down at Pomni. “Nice going, Pomni. You’ve ruined Christmas,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “if there’s no violence in a ‘battle’, I’m out.”

Good riddance, Pomni thought. The more her mind was adjusting to the circus world, the more familiar everything felt. And the more familiar everything felt, the more she realized how much she despised that damn rabbit.

Caine looked visibly disappointed, but tried to maintain his showman demeanor. “Well, that leaves the two of you, then! Whaddya say?“ he asked, but his eyes were only on Pomni.

Pomni felt her stomach flip at the attention he was giving her. She tried to shake the thoughts away, but the way he had praised her for telling him about Christmas, the way he was so excited to show her—God, she’d feel bad if she rejected him after everyone else did. But she really didn’t like the idea of another gloink adventure, whatever that meant.

Ragatha’s eyes went between Caine and Pomni, sensing the tension. She smiled to herself, well-aware of the blossoming relationship between the two—likely more aware of it than they were themselves. She was usually quick to accept an adventure, even the unpleasant ones, out of her people-pleasing nature. But she also wasn’t keen on potentially interrupting the two. “W-well, I actually had plans with Gangle and Zooble today. Drawing and whatnot,” she lied, earning a disappointed look from Caine and a nervous one from Pomni.

“A-ah, I see…” Caine trailed off before shaking his head cartoonishly, his smile returning. “Very well! Pomni, I’ll join you on today’s holiday escapade!” With a snap of his fingers, the world around them shifted. The two of them shrunk down, the Christmas tree towering over them.

“Wh—CAINE?! What the [#%?!] is going on??”

“Language, my dear. And to answer your question, we’re gloink-sized!” Caine announced proudly.

“Gloink-sized?? Wha—WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH CHRISTMAS??” Pomni seethed.

Caine ignored her complaints. “Ah, there they are now!”

“There’s what—” Pomni began to ask, but her question was cut short by the sudden stampeding of an army of gingerbread men, followed by the familiar bouncing of the gloinks.

The two sides met in the middle, battling rather pathetically. The gingerbread men continuously broke into pieces, cookie crumbs scattering across the floor. The gloinks, on the other hand, would bounce on the gingerbread men’s’ bodies and knock them down, often clipping through the body.

Pomni stood there frozen, face contorting into one of complete puzzlement. “…what kind of adventure is this…?” she asked slowly.

“A Christmas one, Pomni! Look!”

Pomni followed the direction of his pointed finger and saw the Gloink Queen emerging from seemingly nothing, cheering her children on from afar as she slithered over to the battleground.

“So like…we just watch?”

“Ah, of course not! It’s your job to defeat the Gloink Queen!” Caine explained.

Pomni frowned. “Wasn’t that already an adventure? Besides, can’t you just do it?”

“Hmm…I suppose I could help, but only a little bit. It wouldn’t exactly be fair if I did it all for you, now would it?”

“Caine—!” Pomni began to scold, but was quickly interrupted by the Gloink Queen scooping up a group of the gingerbread men and swallowing them whole.

“It’s all part of the show!”

Pomni gaped at the Gloink Queen, who was swallowing down pieces of gingerbread army men.

“You foolish ginger soldiers are no match for my precious children! How can you not see by now, everything will be gloinks! You will be gloinks, she will be gloinks, God will be gloinks!” The Gloink Queen growled between violent chomps of the screaming gingerbread army.

Without thinking, Pomni grabbed a crescent-shaped gloink and threw it at the Gloink Queen.

“My precious spawn!” the Gloink Queen cried out, watching her two-hundred-and-third child be thrown past the nearby Christmas tree.

“Caine, please just get rid of her already!” Pomni practically begged. This alleged Christmas adventure was already a disaster, and as much as she didn’t want to disappoint him, she also didn’t want to watch more NPCs die in morbid ways.

Caine sighed, seeing that Pomni wasn’t satisfied. “If you insist, Pomni,” and with a snap of his fingers, a black hole summoned beneath the Gloink Queen and swallowed her whole. All the gloinks quickly jumped in after her, following their mother into the unknown. The hole closed behind them, leaving the two alone with the gingerbread NPCs.

For a moment, all was quiet, except the men’s cookie weapons clattering to the ground. Then, they turned to Pomni and Caine, and started cheering out.

“She saved God!” one of the men cried out, shaking Pomni by the shoulders.

“Wait, wait, wait, I did HUH?” Pomni shook her head in disbelief.

Caine laughed heartily. “Oh, Pomni, they’re celebrating you! For saving my life,” he explained, placing a hand where his heart would be.

“…but you can’t even die!”

“We have to take her to the princess!” one of the gingerbread men with a broken arm exclaimed, shaking Pomni around violently.

Caine clasped his hands together. “Why, Pomni! How exciting! They want us to meet the Princess.”

“Caine, I really just want to—”

“Splendid!” Caine interrupted, and with a snap of his fingers they were teleported into the Candy Canyon Kingdom before a crowd of NPCs.

“AGH—CAINE WHA—where are we??”

“We’re with the princess, of course!”

Pomni’s head was spinning. It was evident that he was desperate to please her, or perhaps even, make their time together last. She couldn’t deny, she really, really wanted to go back to her room and stare into the abyss for a while. When Caine had said “Christmas adventure”, she had foolishly assumed he meant something traditional—a gift exchange, decorating gingerbread houses, something normal.

But looking at the man beside her, she knew it was best never to assume he was anything “normal”.

Princess Loolilalu approached the two from within the castle, earning screams of excitement from the crowd. One she had approached the two, she curtsied to them. “Ah, you must be the brave girl who saved God,” she said, gesturing to Caine, whose eyes were pointing in entirely different directions.

Pomni sighed. “Yep…that’s me,” she replied weakly, quite honestly wanting this whole adventure to be over.

“Well, we’ve prepared quite the celebration in your honor. And, if you don’t mind…” Princess Loolilalu gestured for a mannequin NPC to scurry over, carrying a candy crown on a red pillow, “I have a gift for you.”

“Oh, um…that’s okay, I really don’t need—”

“Nonsense! I coded the crown to fit you perfectly,” Caine interjected. With a snap of his fingers, her jester hat disappeared, leaving her with her short, dark brown hair fully exposed.

“Well, you can’t argue with God,” the NPC commented before lifting the crown to the Princess with more urgency.

Princess Loolilalu smiled gently before plucking the crown from the pillow, stepping closer to Pomni and placing it onto her head. “A crown in your honor. The Candy Canyon Kingdom is forever grateful for your noble escapade,” she curtsied, and the crowd of NPCs erupted into cheers.

Pomni smiled uncomfortably, not sure what to do with all the eyes on her. She brought her gloved hands to her jester shorts, curtsying awkwardly.

Caine leaned over to her. “A crown suits you quite nicely, my dear,” he complimented in a hushed voice, so close to her that it made her tense up and flush.

“Let the celebrations, begin!” Princess Loolilalu announced, earning another round of applause and excited cheers.

——

After what felt like hours of vibrant “cultural”celebrations (as in, various NPCs presenting her with glitched-out dances or candies they prepared themselves, prompting her to wonder, is this cannibalism?)—the two were finally given the chance to exit the kingdom’s gates.

“Wow, Pomni! What an educational journey about candy culture!” Caine placed his gloved hands on his hips, eyes crossed in different directions.

“Can we go back to the circus?” Pomni asked in exhaustion. She never expected she’d be asking to return to that colorful purgatory, but all the NPCs’ attention had drained for.

Caine lowered onto the ground beside her, watching her carefully. “Well, actually…”

Pomni tensed, anxiety immediately settling in her stomach. “Oh God, don’t tell me we can’t go back.”

“Nonsense! Don’t be silly, I can take us home with a snap of my fingers! But ah, if you would humor me, my dear…”

Pomni raised an eyebrow as he stood eye level to her. There was something…different about his demeanor. A crack in his usual showman persona, a flicker of vulnerability. Something that felt less like an AI and more like a real person.

Caine took off his hat, fiddling with it in his hands. His eyes looked up to meet hers, slightly concealed by his top jaw. He almost looked shy. Caine, the loud and goofy AI ringmaster, looking shy. “Would you care to dance?”

Pomni blinked in surprise, unexpected butterflies settling in her stomach. She thought nothing of it, just her usual anxieties. “O-oh, I’m not really good at dancing,” she brushed off, smiling a bit uncomfortably.

“Oh, nonsense! You’re a one-of-a-kind performer,” Caine replied, placing his hat back on his top jaw, “Besides…if I may confess, there is something else I’d like to share with you.”

Pomni tilted her head curiously. “Oh…okay, um…yeah. Show me,” she said, though she knew that could be quite a risk given Caine’s history.

His face—or lack thereof—seemed to light up at her willingness. “Wonderful!” he exclaimed, hands grabbing for her waist and pulling her flush against him.

She yelped at the sudden touch, the closeness immediately bringing heat to her face. But Caine, ever the oblivious AI, merely snapped his fingers and teleported them across the map—much to the dismay of Pomni’s internal organs—inciting a cry from her.

“Ah, here we are!”

Pomni was suddenly aware of how tense she was when she had been released from his touch. Her shoulders were tensed, eyes squeezed shut, preparing for the worst. But when she opened her eyes…

Huh.

The world around her had become a forest with light streaming in, and the trees and ground coated in a sheet of snow. Everything was quiet, and snowflakes fell to the ground lazily, landing on her candy crown and Caine’s hat.

She lifted up her hand, letting the snowflakes fall on her glove. They were delicate and detailed, each one perfectly crafted. They melted slowly in her hand, and it was…

Beautiful.

“I…I love it,” Pomni breathed out in awe.

“I knew you would!” Caine said, expressions lighting up once more, “I’ve spent the past week designing this, and all just for you!” he approached her, carefully taking her hand in his.

“For me?” Pomni repeated. He had always given her special attention, she remembered that much. But this was something else. Something that made butterflies dance in her stomach.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have done this for just anyone, you know!” he gave her a playful wink, “besides, I couldn’t help but think about that conversation we had about Christmas and snow. And how much you’ve missed it.”

Pomni felt like her heart was melting as much as the snow on her hand. God, he was actually learning. And the result was beautiful. Perhaps it was that rush of affection that motivated her to prompt, “What was that you said about dancing?”

Caine’s smile widened immediately at her invitation. “Ah, of course.”

Pomni couldn’t deny how much her heart thumped in her chest—perhaps from nerves, but deep down, she knew it was something else. He held her hand in his with more confidence, his other hand slipping to cup her waist. His touch had once made her tense and shy away, but for some reason now, it took her breath away.

He guided her, slowly at first. Taking one step, then the next, back and forth in a gentle rhythm. She watched her feet, making sure she was doing it correctly, but was quickly interrupted by Caine letting go of her hand and bringing a finger to tilt her chin up.

“It’s best to keep your eyes on me, my dear,” he whispered tenderly.

Pomni nearly shivered from how gentle his voice sounded. His gaze was so oddly tender, so loving that it made butterflies flutter around in her stomach. His hand returned to hers but this time, Pomni felt bold enough to interlace her fingers with his. She could see a flicker of surprise in Caine’s eyes, but just for a brief moment.

The dance gained more confidence, snow falling delicately on the two as they moved. It coated the top of his coat and her leotard. And yet, despite their surroundings, she felt incredibly warm.

Caine lifted their hands and spun her around, causing Pomni to clumsily follow in surprise. “Careful, dear. Just like that…see?” he guided her movements, but her eyes were still too focused on his. One eye was blue and the other was green. This was the first time she had really thought about how much she liked that.

Their rhythm sped up slightly, the two gaining more confidence and fluidity in their dance. They spun in circles around the snow-covered clearing, eyes only focused on the others’. Her chest was pressed flush against his, and she could feel the way his code thrummed against her beating heart.

Her mind spun, and it wasn’t from them spinning in circles that was doing it to her.

His hands slipped down to her waist, fingers brushing over the small of her back in a way that made her breath catch. He gripped her tightly before boldly lifting her up. Pomni gasped as she was lifted into the air and spun around briefly. Normally, she would have been frightened, but for some reason, it only made her gain more confidence when she was returned to the ground. She smiled at him, gripping his hand tightly and continuing to dance with him. His eyes glistened in joy at the sight of her smile—genuine smile—and she could feel his system temperature only rising.

At one point, she spun around so her back was against his chest. His hands held hers, guiding her in a delicate dance. Pomni swore she stopped breathing when his hands traveled down to her waist, snaking around her and holding her from behind. She was certain he could feel the way her heart was beating in her chest, and it only made her more flustered.

Finally, Caine moved to dip her. Pomni audibly laughed at the dramatic gesture, the sound only making Caine’s body burn against hers. He was certainly overheating, the snow beneath him melting, and she couldn’t deny that she liked being the one that made him feel this way.

His hands were wrapped around her, one holding her back and the other cupping her waist again. Pomni’s laughter faded when she realized that the two weren’t moving. For a moment, she thought he had frozen, but…no. He was watching her, his gaze making her blush.

Caine brought the hand on her waist up to her face, brushing aside her hair and cupping the round of her face. He let his thumb trail along her lips, along the blush beneath her eyes, eyes taking in every detail like he wanted to burn this moment into his memory. But it was the way he was looking at her that made her swoon. His eyes were glistening, watching every inch of her.

He was looking at her like she was his favorite adventure, like she was his most prized possession. He looked at her like, just maybe, he wanted her. It made her hold her breath, and Pomni was acutely aware that she wanted him to kiss her.

“Caine,” Pomni breathed out, eyes blown wide at the sight of him so…genuine.

He didn’t break eye contact. It was oddly thrilling. Like a million Christmas days rolled into one moment—him holding her like this, looking at her with real emotion. Not programmed reactions, not an illusion of a feeling, but real emotion.

It made her incredibly nervous, face flushed the more she became aware.

“I believe you need rest, my clumsy little Clara,” he said so softly she almost didn’t believe it was him. He lifted his hand as though he were about to snap his fingers. “May I?”

Pomni hummed in response, shoving her pride aside in favor of the sudden warmth overwhelming her senses. She rested her head against his shoulder, hearing the soothing buzz of his code, thrumming with more intensity the closer she pressed against him.

He pressed a gentle kiss—or the closest thing to a kiss he could initiate—to her cheek, making her feel warmer than ever. With a snap of his fingers, she felt a familiar discomfort in her gut as she was transported across the map. Only this time, the discomfort was blanketed by Caine’s comfort.

“Mm…I never knew you could be so…” Pomni mumbled incoherently as she drifted closer to sleep.

“So…?” Caine prompted, code thrumming louder against her ear.

There were so many words she could choose from. Cozy? Soothing? Attractive? “…warm…” she settled on.

“I think you’ll find I can be many things, my dear.”

He settled her into her bed, tucking her in and letting his gloved hand linger against a front strand of hair. Maybe she was just incredibly tired, or maybe she was actually starting to see him differently.

“You’ve had quite the adventure today, Pomni,” he soothed, “get some rest."

There was something about the way he said her name so gently that made her feel safe. For the first time in this terrifying place, she really felt safe. Maybe even…

Loved.

She wanted to say more. She wanted to hold him close and never let go. But sleep overtook all her senses, along with an indescribable warmth.

Loved, was the word repeating in her mind as she drifted off.

——

Pomni woke to the feeling of Caine shaking her gently. It was oddly calm considering his usually energetic demeanor, like for once, he was willing to let her sleep.

A blanket was wrapped around her shoulders…no…not a blanket. It was a red jacket.

Caine’s.

She came back to reality, visions of the dream melting away in place of the dimly-lit office. The clock ticked rhythmically, the computer on her desk buzzed, the lights of the Christmas tree lazily flickering in the corner. The fever-dreamlike world of the circus had faded away, replaced by the dull familiarity of reality.

The more she woke up, the more she adjusted to the scene around her. And that’s when she became aware of Caine, who had visibly just given her his coat as a blanket. He froze when she stirred awake, eyes falling on him.

There was a sudden flutter of butterflies in Pomni’s stomach at his gaze, her head feeling light and certainly not from the alcohol.

“Caine,” she whispered, suddenly feeling incredibly flustered as the memories of her romantic dream returned to her.

“Pomni,” he replied, clearly just as unsure of what to say as her.

“Caine.”

“…”

“…”

“…merry Christmas, dear.”

Her eyes flicked to the clock, reading 12:57 AM. “Merry Christmas, Caine.”

“…”

“Pomni, I…”

“You…?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you’d ah…like to…join me today.”

Pomni blinked. “You want to celebrate Christmas with me?”

Caine blushed. “Well…doesn’t that sound like such a festive thing to do? Such a human thing to do? Spending a day that is almost unanimously agreed on to be special with someone that you, perhaps, see as special?”

Pomni blushed at his jumble of words and the way he avoided her gaze. Caine, the enthusiastic and shameless boss of this place, shy. In the back of her mind was that dream. It almost seemed…

Like a memory.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol. And the exhaustion.

Probably that.

All she knew is she was blushing and speechless, her heart jumping in her chest at the sight of him. She didn’t know why her mind had made him look so…absurd. But somehow, the dream version of him had swept her off her feet.

And she felt it now, too. Like she shouldn’t find him endearing, but she did anyway.

But she wasn’t ready to admit that to herself.

“I’d…like that,” she said without thinking.

He could have burst in excitement there and then. “Oh, my dear, you would? You—really?”

She stood up, smoothing her skirt out. “Yes,” she decided, then followed up with a sentence that surprised herself, “work can wait.”

Caine froze in place, finding it difficult to move for a moment. He nearly forgot he had control over his movements until Pomni snapped her fingers in front of his eyes. “Caine…? You okay? You sort of froze up there for a moment.”

“Aha, yes! Pomni, I can’t begin to describe how long I’ve wanted to experience this with you.”

She paused for a moment, tilting her head curiously at him. Everything he was saying lined up well enough with her dreams and…maybe, just maybe, those dreams really were….

She interrupted that train of thought. No, that was entirely absurd. She was just incredibly exhausted and just a little bit drunk.

Even so, she remembered the way they had danced together in her dream, the way he was so incredibly oblivious but still endearing. The way he paid her special attention, the way he held her like he wanted her. And the way he was looking at her now…

His eyes…one was blue and one was green. She had never noticed that until now. Just like her dream…never really noticed it, not like this.

One blue, one green. Both, filled with equal adoration for her.

It could have been that thought that motivated her to boldly take his hand in his, making him tense up.

“I have, too, Caine.”

A/N: and with that, I’m off to residential for a couple months. hopefully it wasn’t too rushed, i’m quite literally heading into the office right as i post this so did not have time to edit as much as i hoped. Thank you all for being amazing. Merry Christmas <3

[lafiametta]

Just saw Anora and got so obsessed w Igor its not funny i need to see more posts about him 😭😭😭😭

Igor’s on such a journey and I love it.

Can you imagine: it’s your birthday and you get a call from the Armenian guy you work for to pick him up at a baptism so you both can check on his boss’s boss’s rich-ass useless son and see if he has or has not married a prostitute. You understand the job — look tough, provide a little muscle if the situation calls for it — and once it’s done you can go return your grandmother’s car from where you borrowed it and visit with her for an hour or so before maybe heading out for a lowkey night to celebrate.

Instead, the rich-ass useless son runs away and you end up having to make sure the girl he married — who takes great offense to being called a prostitute, by the way — doesn’t take off too, and because she won’t stop throwing things and hitting you in the face and screaming you don’t know what else to do except restrain her with a phone cord.

And then she bites you and breaks the Armenian’s nose even as you’ve got her in a hold on top of you.

It’s not exactly what Igor had in mind for the day, is all I’m saying.

As an audience, we also get our expectations turned on their head: Igor, who at first just seems like your standard Slavic hired goon, turns out to have a heart of gold, or at least a soft spot just big enough for a beautiful, foul-mouthed erotic dancer with an impressive left hook. (Although he’s no slouch either, considering how he wields that aluminum bat.) There’s something about her that he really likes, even from the beginning, and you can see him looking out for her and trying (mostly unsuccessfully) to make up for what he did to her back at the house.

I think he admires her brashness, and the way she’s determined to fight for the Cinderella dream that a life with Ivan promised her. In both the courtroom scene and on the tarmac with Ivan’s mother he secretly smiles as he listens to her argue and threaten, even against people far wealthier and more powerful.

(There also seems to be a class element, at least where her conflict with the Zakharovs are concerned. Igor probably doesn’t love the fact that he’s employed by these rich assholes and Ani saying that she’s going to take half their money has him silently cheering her on, because, yeah, fuck them. And when Galina Zakharov winks at him after threatening Ani’s whole existence, he has to look away in shame, because he still works for them, and they think that means they own him.)

I’d love to know when he decides to steal the ring from Toros. Maybe at some point on the plane, after he can see that part of her has given up. It’s a brilliant display of rebellion, made even better by the fact that he waits until the very last minute to give it to her. (Would we have heard all that shit about “hunchback weirdos” and “rape eyes” if he had surprised her with it the first moment they were alone? But Igor is secure enough to take all her insults, and probably likes the fact that she feels safe enough to keep roasting him again and again. “Touché, motherfucker?” she says, and all he can do is giggle.)

Which brings us to the car scene.

The ring is an act of atonement, something to make up for what she’s been through over the past two days — some of which he knows he’s responsible for — and one last fuck you to the family that humiliated her. Igor thinks he’s evening the score before he says goodbye, not realizing that Ani sees it as a gesture she needs to pay back to keep feeling like she’s in control. So she gives him what she thinks he wants — what all men want from her.

Igor’s an adaptive, street-smart guy, but he wasn’t prepared for what she ends up doing. He doesn’t resist, though, taking initiative only once she’s fully on top of him and then just to take her face in his hands. Does some part of him know this is transactional? Does some part of him want it to be real the way Ani wanted Ivan to be real? He wants to pretend at least, and tries to kiss her, only for Ani it’s too real, too much, and she’ll fight to make it stop, like she fights for so many things in her life. But the emotions bubble up anyway, and even through the haze of sex Igor can see she’s in pain, so he pulls her in close and lets her cry, steady and silent as the sobs wrack her body like waves.

It’s a scene that neatly mirrors the one from the living room — him holding her as she’s on top of him — now cast as an expression of vulnerability and care rather than fear and aggression. He’s always been strong enough to hold her, but it’s only at the very end that Ani is willing to be held.

[cyberkitty1]

SECRET OUTINGS

PART 1 PART 2

feat :: rafe cameron

genre :: fluff sooo much fluff, comfort soo lovey dovey

a/n :: i lied to u guys hehe

rafe stands there for a moment, running a hand through his hair, trying to decide how to explain himself. finally, he exhales and takes a step forward, his eyes softening.

“look, i know i’ve been acting like an asshole,” he says quietly, “but i didn’t want you to go because i— i don’t know” he rubs his hand over his face “ im an idiot ” he laughs realizing he should have just let you leave if anything! it would distract you from what he truly beefed to do. he hesitates, looking down, then back at you, his voice lower now, “i left to get you something.”

you blink, confused. “what?”

“a ring,” he mumbles, almost as if the words were too heavy to say. “i didn’t want you to know. not yet, anyway.”

you stare at him for a second, processing the words. “a ring?”

“yes a ring,” he says, voice steadier now. “i know we’ve been together for a while, but i want to give you more. i want to give you something real, something that says how serious i am about you. so i went out to get it, and im honestly an idiot for not thinking how i was going to do this through.”

your chest tightens. “rafe,” you start, your heart pounding in your ears. “you’re seriously getting me a ring?”

he nods, looking down at the floor, clearly unsure of how you’ll react. “yeah. i should’ve just told you before, but i guess i wanted to do something special. you’ve been the only constant in my life and you mean so much to me,i just… i don’t know. i wanted it to be a surprise.”

you’re quiet for a moment, your emotions swirling. “so that’s why you were acting like a jerk?” you ask, a little disbelief in your voice. “because you’re planning to propose?”

“yeah,” he answers quickly. “i wanted to make sure it was perfect.”

you exhale slowly, trying to wrap your head around it. after all the tension, the frustration, he’d been planning something big. your anger starts to melt away, replaced by a mix of surprise and warmth. “rafe, you’re crazy,” you finally say, your voice softer now.

he shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “yeah, i know. but i’m crazy about you.”

you take a step closer, still trying to process everything, but the weight of the moment hits you. “i didn’t get it, you know? why you were acting all weird, why you didn’t want me to go. i thought you were just being controlling. but now…”

he finally closes the distance between you two. “i shouldn’t have been so hard on you. i’m sorry baby.”

you nod slowly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re still getting me a ring, right?” you tease, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“yeah, obviously i’ve already told you already its too late to back out now,” he says with a chuckle. “and i’m hoping you’ll say yes when the time comes.”

you feel your heart flutter, realizing just how much this all means to him—and to you. “of course rafe,” you say softly, a grin spreading across your face.

“of course”

-

reblogs appreciated!!!

lmk what/ you wanna read more of in my inbox love you guys!!!