#carefree black kids

[stochastique-blog]

false

Rushane & Jeniece, 2015 instagram: rosesaintred

[thesilverlady]

took the fandom few months to realize that nameless backround characters had better hair than literally any targaryen character in [derogatory]

[rafecameronssl4t]

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

Summary: Rafe getting a late night call from the boys saying his girl and Sarah are dancing on a table at a party and he comes and possessively brings you back home 😛

Warnings: nothing really

Word count: 1,144

MASTERLIST (rafe x thorton!reader au masterlist)

The low buzz of Rafe’s phone broke through the quiet hum of the room. He grabbed it from the nightstand, glancing at the screen. Kelce. He sighed, already annoyed, before answering. “What?” His tone was sharp, almost a warning. On the other end of the line, Kelce hesitated. “Uh… I think you should come get Y/n.”

Rafe frowned, already feeling the stirrings of frustration. “Why?” “She’s… um…” Kelce trailed off, clearly searching for the right words. Rafe’s patience snapped. “Kelce, spit it out.” Kelce’s nervous laugh only made Rafe’s jaw tighten. “She’s drunk, man. Like, really drunk. And, uh… she’s on a table.”

“A table?” Rafe repeated, his tone flat. “Yeah, with Sarah. They’re, uh, dancing.” Kelce cleared his throat awkwardly. “Topper’s trying to get them down, but… well, it’s not going great.” For a second, Rafe didn’t respond, the disbelief sinking in. Then, he scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” Kelce said quickly, a hint of nervous humour in his tone. “Topper and Y/n are now just bickering. You might wanna hurry.” Rafe shook his head, the frustration bubbling up in his chest. He grabbed his keys from the counter, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Just don’t let her out of your sight, Kelce. You hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah. I got her,” Kelce assured, though his voice lacked the confidence Rafe wanted to hear. “Good,” Rafe muttered. “I’m on my way.” He ended the call without another word, shoving the phone into his pocket and striding out to his truck. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he fired up the engine, the deep growl filling the silence as he reversed out of the driveway.

~

Whatcha gon' do with all that junk. All that junk inside your trunk?I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk.

From outside the party, Rafe could already hear the heavy bass thumping through the house, the unmistakable beat of a Black Eyed Peas song rattling the windows. He pushed through the front door, the din of laughter and chatter blending with the music. His gaze sharpened as he weaved through the throng of partygoers, ignoring the greetings and drunken pats on the back.

Kelce and Topper came into view near the edge of the living room, standing together with bemused expressions, their attention fixed on something—or someone. “What the hell is going on?” Rafe muttered under his breath as he strode toward them. Kelce turned at his approach, an awkward grin tugging at his lips. “You made it.”

Rafe didn’t respond, his attention already shifting to where Kelce and Topper were staring. His jaw tightened when his eyes landed on you and Sarah, both barefoot, teetering on top of a table in the centre of the room. “Are you kidding me?” he muttered, running a hand down his face.

You were mid-spin, Sarah twirling you as you giggled uncontrollably. Your voice carried over the music as you belted out the lyrics, completely oblivious to the crowd forming around you. “I drive these brothers crazy, I do it on the daily,” you sang, your voice loud and carefree, earning cheers and laughter from the partygoers.

“They treat me really nicely, they buy me all these iceys!�� you continued, tossing your head back as Sarah joined in, the two of you clumsily bumping hips in time with the music. Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, noticing how people—mostly guys—were watching, some with smirks, others with their phones out, filming the scene.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze flicked back to you, your skirt riding higher on your thighs with every exaggerated sway of your hips. “How long has this been going on?” Rafe demanded, his voice low but firm as he tucked his hands into his pockets, his irritation barely contained.

Kelce snorted, shooting Topper a glance before answering. “This is their second song.” Rafe arched a brow, his gaze momentarily shifting back to your exposed legs before snapping to Kelce. “What was the first?” “‘Pony,’” Kelce deadpanned, his tone dripping with disbelief. Rafe let out a sharp scoff, shaking his head as his lips twisted into a grimace. “Of course it was.”

Turning back to the scene, Rafe’s irritation simmered into something darker, more possessive. The sight of you, carefree and oblivious, with all those eyes on you—it didn’t matter if it was harmless fun. You were his, and he wasn’t about to let anyone forget it—least of all you.

“All right, that’s enough,” he said, his voice cutting through the music as he strode toward the table. His presence alone made heads turn, but Rafe didn’t care. His focus was solely on you. You looked down at him with a drunken smile, your face flushed and glowing under the lights.

“Rafey!” you exclaimed, your voice sing-song and laced with giggles. “Come dance with me!” Rafe’s jaw tightened as he rolled his eyes. “Not today, Princess,” he replied, his tone firm. He extended a hand toward you. “Get down. Now.” Your face fell into a pout, your lips pressing together as you leaned slightly closer to him.

“But I’m having soooo much fun!” you whined, swaying on unsteady feet. Before you could argue further, a loud squeal escaped your lips as Rafe’s strong arm wrapped firmly around your hips. With little effort, he hoisted you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Rafe!” you shrieked, your fists lightly thumping against his back as laughter bubbled out of you. “Put me down!”Unbothered by your protests—or the amused whistles and hollers from the crowd—Rafe ignored you entirely, his steps deliberate as he walked out of the house.

“Rafe Cameron!” you yelled, your voice a mix of indignation and drunken giggles. “You’re ruining my fun!” “And you’re ruining my night,” he shot back, his tone clipped but not without an edge of amusement as he tightened his grip on your legs to keep you steady.

The cool night air hit you both as he pushed through the door, leaving the music and chaos behind. Rafe didn’t stop until he reached his truck, his irritation still simmering as he opened the passenger door and carefully set you down on the seat.

Your arms crossed over your chest, your lips still in a dramatic pout as you looked up at him. “You’re such a buzzkill,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite. “And you’re a handful,” Rafe retorted, leaning down slightly so his face was level with yours.

His eyes softened briefly, though his tone remained firm. “But you’re my handful. Now sit still before you hurt yourself.” Your pout deepened, but Rafe had already moved to the driver’s side, his grip on the situation as firm as ever.

[yueebby]

Dying thinking about gojo literally pinning and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just... completely clueless about it💀 and she thinks it's just gojo being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!" 💀

she loves me, she loves me not! — gojo satoru x fem!reader

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo (what’s new), highschool!gojo, he’s pathetic but in love your honor, oblivious!reader, ooc gojo i got carried away soz

notes. anon, when i first read your ask i literally started giggling and kicking my feet. that. is. so. gojo coded.

“please reject gojo and put him out of his misery,” utahime implored, taking hold of both of your hands. you think she’s asking, no, begging you to. beside her, shoko nods vigorously. 

“but why?” you furrow your eyebrows, perplexed by their sudden request. “i can’t reject someone who doesn’t like me.”

shoko giggles at your comment. her laughter only wanes when she notices the dead serious look on your face. “... you seriously have no idea what we’re talking about?”

“not really,” you shrug, criss-crossing your legs to find some comfort on the hard wooden floor in shoko’s small dorm. it was late, past midnight, and the three of you had a shared mission tomorrow, but for some reason your two friends managed to rope you into their drinking circle.

utahime and shoko exchanged a significant glance, their unspoken communication raising your curiosity. utahime takes a long sip of her beer. 

“hopeless. they’re both hopeless,” your short haired brunette friend lamented, pinching her nose bridge. it leaves a faint pink mark.

intrigued, you lean in closer towards the two, “care to elaborate?”

“you’ve never once questioned satoru’s borderline inappropriate behavior?” shoko asks you earnestly. you ponder for a moment, trying to recall any moments in the two years you’ve known the snow-haired boy.

“satoru is satoru…” you mumble, shaking your head in denial. 

utahime’s eyes bug comically. she slams her can of beer harshly on the ground. you wince at the loud noise of the metallic can hitting the floor.

“you’re kidding. even i can see through that jerk!” utahime’s black pigtails sway wildly. 

“[name], how about what happened in shinjuku last week on our day off?” shoko quietly reminds you of last weekend when the two of you along with satoru and suguru decided to empty your pockets in one of tokyo’s largest entertainment wards. 

utahime’s head whips back and forth from her best friend to you, “eh? what happened?!”

from behind the dressing room curtain, you voiced your concerns, “shoko, i don't think we can afford designer clothes on our student budget.” the cream-colored silk dress you wore clung to your body, its price tag undoubtedly surpassing a year's worth of your student earnings.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” shoko’s voice carried a knowing smile. “just come out and show me the dress!” you think satoru’s carefree attitude is rubbing off on her.

with a nervous sigh, you emerged from the dressing room. the dress fit like a glove, accentuating your body in just the right places.

bright flashes from shoko's phone startled you, and she chuckled deviously while rapidly typing. she tossed her phone onto a luxurious cushion, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exposure.

“you look so sexy. even better than the model.” she gives you two thumbs up, eyes roaming your figure. you feel flushed at her praise.

“as flattered as i am, there’s no way i can afford this,” you look down at the dress, lips downturned. “i’d be in debt for life.”

“no need to worry,” shoko winked, leaving you confused. given that her income was similar to yours, it didn't make sense for her to be able to even dream of shopping designer.

a soft thud interrupted your conversation. you turn around to see a blue lollipop rolling on the expensive carpeting of the store.

“suguru, are my eyes deceiving me or is that an angel?”  satoru's mouth is wide open as he shamelessly checks you out. he takes one of his hands and places it over his heart, gripping the fabric of his white shirt. the windbreaker he is wearing rustles at his dramatic movement.

“i think… i’m experiencing a heart attack! shoko help!” he kneels in the middle of the store dramatically. shoko shares an unamused look with suguru. the pair nod before simultaneously kicking satoru.

during all of the commotion, you stand awkwardly in the million yen dress. 

“satoru, are you okay?” you watch him take the two blows from your friends, concern evident in your voice. he grunts softly before gently taking ahold of your hand.

“no,” he croaks with a playful glint in his eye. “i’m wounded and there’s only one way to fix it.”

you look at him, your gaze heavy with concern.

“i’m afraid you’ll have to kiss me for the pain to go away.” he added, blinking at you expectantly with his blue eyes.

 you lightly shove him away from you. “you’re an idiot.” satoru laughs loudly.

“that’s what love does to a man.”

“yeah, yeah. i’m going to change out of this dress, don’t get into any more trouble while i’m gone.” 

 satoru’s grip on your hand strengthens, halting your actions.

“how much?”

“excuse me?”

“the dress. how much for it?” he stands up to his full height, reminding you of the obvious height difference between the two of you. 

you're at loss for words. gojo was crazy, but definitely not crazy enough to spend a million yen on a silly dress.

shoko happily chimes into the conversation. “one million yen. it’ll be two million yen with the rest of my purchases though!” 

suguru’s calm demeanor is replaced with shock. the black haired male’s jaw drops, “two million– satoru, you’re seriously not thinking about–”

“hah? who said i’m paying for your stuff?” gojo makes an ugly face at shoko.

she raises her hands innocently, “it’s not my fault the dresses come in a set. if you want to see your beloved [name] in that dress you’ll have to pay for mine as well.”

you watch shoko and satoru engage into a silent argument. the tension in the fitting room section is so thick, you think it’ll take a special grade weapon to slice through it.

trying to alleviate the mood you tell gojo, “satoru, you really don’t have to–”

“i’m buying you that dress.” 

“o-okay.” 

half an hour later, satoru happily strolls out of the store with an arm around your shoulder like he’d just won the lottery.

perhaps gojo is just naturally flirty, you had tried to reason to shoko and utahime.

it’s been a week since the eye-opening conversation with the two and you’ve found yourself on cleaning duty with said snow-haired boy. it was a miracle that satoru even showed up. he had a tendency to skip his turns, often resulting in a long lecture from yaga.

as the two of you worked silently in the empty classroom, you couldn't help but admire the setting sun. its golden rays painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over everything. unknowingly, while you gazed at the sky, gojo's gaze was firmly fixed on you.

breaking the silence, he asked, "have you ever thought about getting married?"

his question caught you off guard, causing you to momentarily pause from wiping the windows.

“not really,” you replied, biting your lip gently. “unless my family decides to arrange a marriage. you know how unforgiving the world of jujutsu sorcery is.”

gojo's grip on the broom tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound intensity.

"we should get married y'know," he blurted out.

the piece of cloth you were using slipped from your hand in shock. surely, he couldn't mean what he was saying. after all, the two of you were only second years.

“what?”

“i’m saying i think i’m in love with you.”

“oh.” 

silence engulfs the room once more before a soft giggle escapes your lips.

satoru can only watch, entranced.

“that’s good to hear! i love you too– and suguru and shoko! perhaps the four of us should all just get married.” you chuckle into your hand.

satoru can't help but stare at your hand in envy. perhaps if he were the palm of your hand, he’d be able to feel the touch of your lips.

but he couldn’t. he was cursed as a man with an overpowered innate technique, and despite it all he couldn’t even gain the one thing he desired. gojo satoru watched you, eyes filled with a mixture of longing and defeat.

his devastation does not go unnoticed by you.

you were under the impression that he was grumpy because yaga had forced him into cleaning with you.

"cheer up, satoru! if we finish early enough," you continue, your tone highspirited, "we can go to the new crepe shop that opened last week. my treat!" you winked, and that immediately caught his attention.

“like a date?” his eyes sparkled with hope.

you shrug, a smile on your face. “i suppose if you look at it from a certain perspective…”

“great, it’s a date!” 

good things come to those who wait, satoru thinks, humming happily as he starts to sweep the room at an inhumane pace.

maybe in ten years time the two of you will be happily married with eight kids, he smiles to himself.

[fallbhind]

‘OH SWEET 'N SOUR LEMONS’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut wordcount 2k

“we can work on it”

content warnings ,, dilf!rafe, old!rafe, young!reader, fem!reader, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 'fore you tap it), oral (m! receiving) p in v, slight tit play, more of 'make up' or 'i'm sorry' sex rather than it coming from real emotions, aftercare tho.

per usual, another fucking (typical) stupid argument with rafe because you wanted to hang out but he had his kids that weekend, so he was busy. sure, you typically wouldn't mind, but his ex-wife was totally slacking on her duties, and maybe you thought that because you were almost a decade younger than rafe, but he'd been stuck with the kids for almost a month with no break.

it wasn't fair. but you knew that bitch-of-an-ex was doing it out of spite because he found someone younger, hence, you.

you were helping the kids to bed, in the maze of tanneyhill, you led them to their bed room. "in your beds." you said softly, tucking them both in one at a time. you pressed a soft kiss onto his little girls head.

with a flick of the light, the dark room was instantly lighted with the ladybug night light plugged into the wall, "night." you muttered to the two, leaving the door cracked. you were a good stepmother, a stark reminder in you and the children's relationship. you'll never be able to replace their real momma, but you can try.

rafe was rewinding after a long day. flicking through every channel as you settled on the couch, the couch dipping underneath your weight. rafe constantly fiddled with the ring on his finger, which reminded him more of his dad every. single. day. after a few minutes of dwelling on the animal planet channel, he switched it, before deciding to switch off the tv. you both saw your reflections. rafe's pouting expression, and your even poutier expression.

he turned the tv back on, disliking the fact he could just see his reflection in the tv, as well as yours as the screen went to black. the soft flicker of the tv coming back on, you drew your attention to it.

"mm." rafe said gruffly, a poor attempt to start even the slightest conversation with you. you let out a soft grunt back, initially saying he could continue. "'m sorry about earlier." he said quietly, not to mention quickly.

you nodded softly, turning to look at him as he scratched his fingers into his freshly shaved buzz cut. not even going to lie, he looked oh so good in his blue-white button up shirt. "me too." you whispered back, going back to whatever was playing on tv, feigning you were actually interested.

you nervously played with the drawstring off your jacket. you were more of a carefree person with a hobo-ish style. and it fit rafe just fine. "nothin' good is on." you said admittedly, turning your head towards rafe, unconsciously moving closer to him.

he shifted slightly, his arms welcoming you in his hold. you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. rafe's arm calmly laid across your shoulder, weighing you down slightly. you pulled your legs off the ground, pulling yourself closer to rafe. that was the main difference between rafe and his ex and you and rafe. you and him got over arguments, while rafe and his ex tended to go with out talking. maybe it was just your attachment issues with him you couldn't stay mad, or you didn't want him to say he wanted to break up because sure, the sex was good, but at the end of the day, you always wanted to be a mother to his kids rather than leaving.

"your a good co-parent." rafe whispered into your head, referring to when he flew a few not so friendly insults towards you and trying to replace his ex. sure, that's really what you were trying to do, but it didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt when he called you out on it. maybe that was partially you didn't want to face the reality of the doubts you could ever replace his girls mother. but you can try. she wasn't even a good mom in the first place, you thought to yourself, and you weren't wrong.

you nodded softly when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i know i am." you said back to him. he rollled his eyes at the oh so bratty comment back to what he told you. "brat" he mumbled to you.

after a boring thirty minutes, rafe opted to go lay down, he left you alone in the living room to dwell about really anything. rafe was so frustrating, sexually and in general. you made your way to the bedroom, turning off the light off in the living room. you traveled your way through the dark hallway to your bedroom. you passed the girls bedroom, hearing their peaceful soft snores. you stoped at their bedroom, peaking into their bedroom where the soft ladybug night light flickered gently.

you left their door cracked, walking towards your bedroom. greeted by rafe, "hey baby, c'mere," he said softly, "come lay down." he put his book on the side of the bed.

you changed into your pajama, then you crawled into bed with him. "'m so tired." you whispered, laying right on top of him. you threw an arm around his torso, burying your face into his pillow on his side of the bed.

he nodded, "i know. but i need you to do something for me." he cupped your cheek, his hand tangled in your hair. rafe pulled you in for a gentle kiss, "i've been s'pent up since the kids have been here for weeks 'n know their sleepin'" his hand caressed your face ever so gently. after subtle hinting, you made a face before nodding before he hooked his fingers under his black fancy pants, pushing them down slightly, his boxers coming next.

it was almost gave him embarrassment on how fast it went up. but then again comes the factor of he hasn't been able to request your assistance since his children have been at home. while you enjoyed the bonding with his two daughters, he wasn't the only thing pent up. rather than having sex when they went to bed, the both of you watched tv.

you wriggled your way in between his legs, grabbing the base of his cock before gently licking the precum off his tip. he let out a soft groan, which was more whimper like than anything. you made him so submissive in a way, y'know, like he acts big and bad before sucking him off, but as soon as you lick his sensitive tip he becomes all whimpery, and it turned you on.

you slowly pushed your mouth all the way onto his cock, your plump lips moving up and down on him. he let out a soft noise out of pleasure, one of your hands going to cup his ball, feeling then already tighten.

you let out a whimper as his cock hit the back of your throat voluntarily. and it kept repeatingly hitting the back of your throat, and you let out a gagging noise, showing of your not-so-good-gag reflex. "t's'okay." rafe managed out, "we can work on it." he softly pushed your head down, not letting you up for breath of air, and than when he found himself nearer towards release, he let you up.

after inhaling air, you went back down to finish him. rafe convulsed, his hand falling away from the vice he had on your hair, his eyes rolled back, "fuck." he groaned, his back arching slight as he came in your mouth. "swallow it f'me." he tapped your chin, shutting your mouth for you. he held your chin in satisfaction as he watched you swallow his warm load. he wiped the slight load on the side of your face, which was what didn't go all the way into your mouth.

you sat up, kicking off your pajama shorts that rafe had bought you, than hooking your thumb on the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down. he shuddered, attentively going to touch your shining pussy. he massaged your clit, earning a good and well earned soft moan from you.

he pulled you back onto him, allowing you to insert his cock into your tight hole. you both let out collective groans and moans. your room felt like a fucking sauna the way your body caught fire when you made contact with his body. you rolled your hips, like how your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you let out another moan as your hips rocked back and forth on him.

he grabbed your hips, slowing your pace down by the slightest. rafe held you in a vice, despite your quiet(ish) mewls of protest wanting to rock your own hips (key thing to why he thinks your a brat). "sh, you're a good girl." he whispered insight to your slight protests

you let out a soft moan when he pushed you further down onto him, "rafe!" you cried out, allowing him to rock you back in forth before allowing you to do as you wanted, his hands merely resting on your thighs rather than have your hips in a vice grip.

you rolled your hips, creating friction between you and rafe. the sweat smells filled both your and rafe's nostrils. you started to slowly bounce on his cock, both you and rafe letting out groans and moans at every bounce. he started to unbutton your night shirt to release your tits, they were following each of your bounce. you used rafe's shoulder to provide you stability, whilst he was unclipping your bra from your body.

rafe whispered sweet praises as he and you both neared release. his hands went to cup your titties as they bounced. he massaged your tits when they bounced. they weren't huge, nor were they small. they were perfect for rafe, his hand cupping one and it fit in his hand. he shuddered when you convulsed, and in a moment of breath-taking pleasure, you came around his cock, your hot liquids gushing around his cock. it was a piece of art, really. with your panting and the squelch of your come around his cock, you rested against his chest as he let out yet another string of his load inside of it, combined with your and his come, it looked even better than before.

"maybe you'll get your own kid tonight." he whispered hoarsely, pulling you off his body to go to the walk in bathroom.

he grabbed a rag, running it over cold water to clean you. you laid breathless, spread out on yours and his bed. when he made his way back to the bed, he turned on the box fan in the floor to help cool the both of you off. he took the cool wash cloth, pressing it against your thigh, you body indistinctly flinching from the contrast of your boiling body to the cool rag being moved along your thigh. he gently rubbed your sensitive pussy with the rag to clean up any other liquid that might've found it's way out of your cunt.

"there you go baby." he whispered, gently pressing a kiss against your forehead, your eyes half lidded as you were on the verge of passing out. rafe helped you put on a new pair of underwear, but the same bra and pajamas. he picked your underwear from off the floor, going to throw them in your dirty close basket. he changed into a pair of boxers. the room reeked of sex, and he smelled like it himself. he plugged in your favorite air freshener into the wall before pulling himself to rest. he laid sat up in bed, scrolling on social media as he held you in his arms.

when he found himself dozing off with the phone in his hand, he sat it on the nightstand. he laid his head on yours as he fell asleep for the night, it was a really cute sight, some might say. like something out of silly rom-com, or any romantic movie, really.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. boothill spending a nice, sunny day on the ranch with his family !

tags. pre-cyborg!boothill x wife!female reader. fluff, one tiny hint of angst. sfw. daughter is adopted. based on boothill’s lore. reader gets called ‘mama/momma’. i shed a tear writing this

“aye, yer getting good, kiddo.” boothill grins as he humors his daughter. he’s sitting on a patch of grass underneath an old tree, with his little girl sitting on his lap. his stetson hat lays low on his head, a piece of straw grass between his teeth.

days like these are the reason why he cherishes life. peaceful days where his wife and kid are the only ones surrounding him. home is where he belongs; with his daughter playing the tiny guitar he made her from scratch.

well—more like she’s beating it up.

“dada! dada!” she squeals as she harshly pats the strings, creating an unsatisfactory sound that would make anyone in the vicinity cringe. though, to boothill the sound is a sign of life. of his beloved child being carefree and happy.

the cowboy runs his fingers through the girl’s locks, admiring the little bundle of joy that’s been bestowed upon him. ever since he took her in, life’s been nothing but joyful. “adorable, ain’t ya?” boothill mumbles to no one in particular.

a warm breeze lifts his bangs ever so slightly, revealing those unique eyes of his. they’re filled with nothing but admiration for his daughter. perhaps also a hint of bittersweet warmth.

she’s growing up so fast.

“honey, dinner’s ready!” your voice makes both boothill and the child look up. boothill’s signature smirk only widens the moment you come out of the main house, wiping your hands off with your apron. you look stunning underneath the orange-ish sky. you’re also a reminder of how good boothill has it.

boothill nods and squeezes his daughter’s cheeks, gaining a small giggle at the touch. the calluses on his hands are a contrast to her smooth skin. the chubbiness in her cheeks is absolutely adorable to the white and black-haired man.

“oh, ya hear that? y’r momma made us some food,” boothill pokes the girl’s sides, which makes her laugh again. his favorite sound. she abandons her guitar and stands up, her legs still somewhat wobbly. she had only recently learnt how to walk on her own after all.

“mama!” the kid repeats, reaching her tiny hands out to your figure in the distance. you smile at the sight and crouch down, spreading your arms as you encourage her to walk towards you.

you nod and let out a small chuckle, “hi, baby! c’mon— come to mama!”

your daughter gasps and tries to find her balance before she sets another step. boothill watches her with a fond smile, his hands ready to catch her if she were to fall. though, there doesn’t seem to be any need for those precautions.

she waddles over to you in no time. her little gasps and pants as she tries to run melt the cowboy’s heart. he gets up and walks behind the tiny girl, a sudden mischievous grin on his face.

“heh,” boothill chuckles before acting like he’s going to run after her and catch her if she doesn’t run away from him, “better run before i catch ya!”

the child takes the light-hearted threat seriously and squeals at the sight of her father figure ‘running’ after her. her legs take her towards you as fast as they can, working overtime to reach the other side of the ranch, “waaaaaah!”

you laugh at the sight of your husband chasing after the little girl. he’s good with children—to your utter surprise. before boothill came home with the abandoned baby, you didn’t know if he’d have the skills to care for children. he is blunt, straightforward and rough in some ways.

however, your worries were soon to be proven wrong. it’s like boothill’s destined to be a girl dad. that’s how well he can get along with your adoptive daughter. it was difficult for him at first, but with some trial and error, he’s turned into a great father figure.

“got’cha!” boothill exclaims as he scoops the small child up in his arms the second she got close to you. he tickles her sides and she squirms—giggling like she’s never done before.

“nooooo!” she tries to protest between laughs, but it seems to be an impossible task. her little legs kick wildly in boothill’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up. he puts her over his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“the food smells good, babe,” boothill whispers and kisses the top of your head. the smell of your delicious cooking makes his mouth water. he pinches your cheek and flashes you that charming grin of his not a second later, “bet it tastes fuckin’ amazing too.”

“language, honey,” you roll your eyes playfully and slap boothill’s bicep as a reminder. he simply shrugs and laughs menacingly.

you walk back with him into the house, one hand of his resting on your waist, whilst the other secures your (still squealing) daughter on his shoulder.

the sun setting gives the sky beautiful colors. orange, purple, yellow and a bit of red. it adds to the beauty of this moment—a family of three living happily ever after on their ranch—with nothing or no one to ruin their lives.

or so they thought.

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[reidrum]

hit me baby one more time | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

a/n: i have no explanation for this i just really want spencer to fuck me in a mini skirt. this was also fueled by me listening to baby one more time on repeat for the last week so enjoy my horny thoughts hehe

cw: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v sex, munch!spencer, blowjobs, soft!dom!spence the loml, praise kink, spanking, suggestive dancing, kissing, afab reader, reader wears the outfit from the baby one more time mv (skirt and bra), i picture s11 spence so don’t mind the inconsistencies, idk if kirk actually wears a tie i am a star wars girlie not star trek, lowkey perv spence at the end but i would do the same tbh

summary: halloween brings spencer joy in many ways, this year he finds a new, and super fucking hot, reason to love the holiday more

wc: 3.3k

___________

spencer loved halloween. this was a known fact by many, he loved the lore behind the holiday, loved dressing up as his favorite characters, and loved playing tricks on morgan and jj around the office.

spencer also loved halloween because he gets to see you. not that he didn’t see you on a daily basis in the office or on the field catching killers, but in a state where you were carefree and didn’t have to worry about the behavior patterns of a psychopath.

in past years spencer has dressed up as different versions of the doctor (still claiming his tenth doctor costume was the best, because it was your favorite), the hobbit from lord of the rings, and nosferatu (to the dismay of morgan’s very scared reaction). you would go a more pop culture route, dressing up as characters from recent movies and shows including barbie, the scarlet witch, and wednesday adams.

he loved being able to tell you the lore of the different characters he was and he loved listening to you explaining the cultural significance and impact that barbie had on society. he could listen to you talk about literal garbage, actually, and still be hanging onto your every word.

what he loved the most, however, was your choice of costume tonight at the karaoke bar the team was out at.

for halloween this year you decided to go with a more nostalgic costume. clad in a black mini skirt, tied up white button up showing your tummy and just the right amount of cleavage to have your hot pink bra pop out, gray cardigan, knee high socks and mary janes, you were the spitting image of britney spears in the baby one more time music video. complete with the ribbon entwined pigtails.

the moment you walked in the bar, spencer knew he was utterly and absolutely fucked.

morgan knew about spencer’s infatuation with you, because, he’s morgan and spencer’s not subtle. so when he watched spencer’s mouth hang open like a beckoning for flies to land in, all he could do was pat him firmly on the back and say, “good luck, kid.”

he watched you walk over to the table the team had claimed, making your rounds at saying hi and hugging everyone. he was last, and when you reached up on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck he had no choice (lie) but to rest his hands at your hips while his thumbs brushed the bare skin of your stomach. he also had no choice (still, a lie) but to be deathly intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo and perfume as you placed your head in the crook of his neck.

“hi spence! your costume looks so cool, i love how it turned out. were you able to find what you needed at that store i told you about?” you bubbled happily.

it took spencer about ten whole seconds of staring at you (and definitely not at your chest) to realize that you were asking him something and tried to quickly (embarrassingly) recover, “um, yeah no i was! she knew so much about star trek and was super helpful, she told me how much she loves seeing you in the store.” 

you giggle, “i’m glad admiral kirk, she’s a sweet old thing.”

he should be ashamed at how you calling him that went straight to his crotch.

“y- you also look great, who are you supposed to be?”

“i’m britney spears! in the baby one more time music video?”, you’re met with a blank stare, “spence, we have to educate you better on the true icons of our time.” you playfully grab his forearm.

he laughs nervously at your joke and the contact and proceeds to down half his beer in one gulp. thank god garcia comes out of nowhere to gush over your outfit, “oh my god girl, you look so hot. you have to get up there and sing it, it’s only right!”

“let me get a few shots in first and then i’ll see, penny” you chuckle back.

after about two shots you were already feeling loose, whatever anxiety you had about tonight dissipated as the alcohol overtook your bloodstream. truth be told, you had a super secret mission up your sleeve. 

you would be a terrible profiler if you didn’t notice the way spencer changed whenever he was in your company, and it never made you feel uncomfortable. you only craved his attention even more, and it made your crush on him run even deeper. he was kind and smart and caring. and undeniably sexy. you knew for a fact he wanted you too, and you were determined to make him do something about it tonight.

knowing spencer hasn’t seen the music video therefore not knowing why the schoolgirl outfit, it turned you on even more knowing he was going to lose his goddamn mind after you were done. the plan was already rolling in your brain as you sauntered up to the karaoke stage and got ready to put on a show.

the beginning beats of the song play and you get a couple of cheers and “let’s go, baby!” from the crowd and your team— sans spencer, who was hanging on your every move as you started swaying your hips.

“my loneliness, is killing me. and i-i-i. i must confess, i still believe, still believe.” you sing and dance the choreography to the song you know so well.

“when i’m not with you, i lose my mind.” you make direct eye contact with spencer, and are more than excited to see him locked in on you too.

you decide to kick your plan up a notch, and walk off the stage mic in hand towards the bau’s table, earning many cheers and phones capturing the moment. you play up the theatrics a little by getting emily and jj to sing along with you, morgan and rossi leaning into you as you wrapped your arms around their shoulders.

“give me a si-i-i-ign,” you’ve reached spencer, and the last step in your plan.

your finger leaves featherlight touches around his shoulders and across his collarbone as you stand behind his chair. a flat hand trails down his chest closer to the bulge in his pants, spencer’s eyes widening at the gesture. your hand reaches the final destination at the base of tie, and you pull it so he’s looking up at you directly.

“hit me baby one more time.” you finish with the biggest smirk, never breaking eye contact with spencer. the cheers and claps became louder but all you could focus on were the deep breaths he was taking to compose himself. you give him a wink as you hand the mic back to the stage guy and walk back to him to sit on his lap.

“you don’t mind, do you? all the seats are taken,” you smirk as you feel his hard on through your lace panties, “plus i really want to hear what you thought about my performance.” you finish whispering in his ear. he shudders in your hold, but the feeling of your ass weighing on the place he needs you the most, his primal instincts take over and suddenly he has a boost of confidence.

he lifts your head so his mouth is right on the crest of your ear, “how about i show you what your performance did to me?” he shifts a little and lightly thrusts up into your clothed core and you let out a small gasp. luckily the team had all but dispersed throughout the bar, getting drinks or dancing, so no one has to be privy to your conversation.

the glint in your eyes was all the confirmation he needed. you stood up slowly with his tie still wrapped around your fingers, and you pull it over your shoulder so he would trail behind you as you walked. spencer followed you like a dog getting tugged by a leash, literally, and stumbles at first when you pull him but he quickly regains his composure as you navigate through the crowds, placing his hands on your waist protectively.

you end up in front of the women’s bathroom and spencer doesn’t hesitate to push the doors open and lead you inside. it was one of those single person bathroom with no other stalls, but it was definitely one of the more nicer bathrooms you’d been in. the maroon pattern of the wall adding to the sultry vibe you’re setting, not to mention a spacious countertop for the sink and amenities.

the possibilities of what was going to happen run wild in your brain, only being pulled out of it by the sharp lock of the door and the feeling of strong hands snaking around your waist again.

you look up to meet his eyes in the mirror and watch spencer fiddle with the edge of your button up, “i don’t think i told you how much i really like your costume.”

“yeah?” you lean back in his touch, “what do you like about it?”

he moves his hands to the middle of your chest, “well, i like how soft the blouse is,” he deftly undoes the knot, “and i really like the color you got on underneath.” he lets the ends of the shirt fall to your side and slides his hands up to cup your breasts through your lace bra, massaging them gently.

you let out a half gasp-moan, “what else?”

“this skirt is really cute, fits you well.” he hums while he smooths over the front close to your core, leaning down to press love bites into your neck.

you turn around in his embrace to face him, lay your hands flat on his chest, and look up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster, “want to see what’s underneath it?”

the ghost of a smirk lies on his face and he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. his hand cups your cheek closer to him while his other one grips your ass and lower back.

his tongue slots between yours as he deepens the kiss, and he reaches down to the backs of your thighs to lift you up onto the counter. your legs open up instinctively and he steps in between them letting his hand run up the plush of your thigh to the band of your panties. he toys with the lace pattern of it before he detaches his lips and pulls the skirt all the way up.

he slowly sinks to his knees, never breaking eye contact with you as he whispers, “this is definitely my favorite costume on you.” he’s face to face with your pink panty covered pussy and he lets out a groan when he notices the wet spot in the center. he tentatively traces a finger up and down your slit, gauging your reactions.

soft whimpers fall from your mouth as you let out a whiny, “spencer…”

“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna take care of you.” he coos, “lift your hips.” you oblige as he gently pulls your panties down and stuffs them in his back pocket. his large hands push your legs apart, giving him better access as he tugs you closer to the edge and leans in to draw a long stripe up your core with his tongue.

you let out a high pitched moan at the contact, bracing yourself on the counter with your palms flat down. his tongue draws shapes on you and you feel his finger prodding around your hole before plunging in, driving you straight to delirium.

the sensations begin to overwhelm you and you feel the peak rising in your gut. you tangle your hands in his curls, “pl- please don’t stop.” you whimper.

he groans into your pussy and you feel the vibration sent throughout your entire body, enough to push you over the edge and let the white hot overtake you. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers or his tongue as he drags out your orgasm for as long as you’ll take it, before you’re yanking him by his hair off of your core and up to your face to kiss him dumb.

the salty taste of you lingers on his lips as you grab his face with both hands and keep him close to you. he lets out a whimper when you tug his hair again, and you smirk as you break the kiss to slide off the counter and drop to your knees. you quickly undo the clasp of his belt, the sound of his zipper going down making spencer’s heartbeat go faster.

the size of his bulge through his boxers was intimidating but it only spurred your desire to please him more. you look up at him and offer an innocent smile as you lean forward to pull back the fabric of his boxers with your teeth and let it fall back into place with a snap.

the impact caused spencer to moan out loud, and he watched with bated breath while you slowly tugged his boxers down to let his cock spring free. you let out a tiny gasp, “spencer…i never knew you were so pretty.” 

his preening turns into a sharp moan as you take in the head of his length into your mouth. swirling your tongue around like a lollipop. you lay your tongue flat on the underside of his cock and slowly let it enter your throat until your nose is flush with his tummy and you’re gagging to keep him inside.

“ho-o-ly shit, fuck.” spencer groans when he looks down to see his whole length down your throat and your eyes bulging with tears at the fullness in your mouth. he wishes he had a photographic memory so he could engrave the vision of you on your knees for him in his brain forever.

you retract back and start bobbing your head on his cock, using your hand to pump whatever you couldn’t easily fit in your mouth. expletives and moans fall from him every millisecond, the feeling being so irrepressible that after a minute spencer had to pry you off him so he didn’t finish in your mouth.

“what, too much?” you grin mischievously, dragging your thumb across your bottom lip to wipe the spit.

his heavy breathing is the only answer you got as he turns your body around to face the mirror, and bends you down at the waist to lean your upper body on the counter. he flips your skirt up so your ass is on display for him and draws his hand back to give your right ass cheek a big smack.

you moan out languishly and he lets out a small chuckle, “kinky, are we?”

“you’re the one who spanked me.”

he bends down to whisper in your ear, “yeah, but you liked it. i can feel you getting wetter.” his fingers return to your core to spread the new wetness onto his cock before aligning it at your entrance. he slowly pushes in, stretching you out bewitchingly. he breaks his gaze from where you connect to look back into the mirror, and god, is he so fucking glad he did.

your face is beautifully fucked out, eyes glistening with tears about to fall over, cheeks flushed, eyebrows furrowed, your arms pressed so perfectly against the sides of your chest your breasts are threatening to spill out of your bra.

“god, you look like a dream,” spencer whispers from behind as he begins thrusting into you. you moan back in response and push back on his cock to meet his thrusts. the noise of your hips meeting and him sliding in and out of you filled the bathroom. 

“i’m so close, fuck, oh my god.” you whine pathetically. spencer can’t help but smugly grin in response, “already? it can’t be over that fast, hold it.”

you gasp out, “i can’t, please, i need to come.”

he wraps one arm around the front of stomach to hoist you up and uses the other hand to tug on your pigtails to lean your head back towards him, “you’ll come when i say you can. you’re my good girl, right? gonna show me how good you can be for me?” he whispers hotly in your ear.

a loud moan escapes your throat as you try to keep your composure and hold your orgasm at bay. his precise and timed thrusts doing nothing to help you, you feel yourself starting to float away, becoming so cockdrunk off of spencer you can barely keep yourself conscious.

“almost there, pretty girl. you’re doing so well, ‘m so proud of you.”

you make the mistake of looking back up at the mirror, becoming grossly entrapped by the image of spencer pounding into you from behind and his equally fucked out face tucked into your neck, “spence…baby, please.”

he whines at the pet name and finally gives in, “okay princess, you can come now.” your second orgasm of the night ravages through you, leaving nothing behind but thoughts of spencer. he continues fucking you through your peak, chasing his own release to come shortly after.

“fuck, i’m close. where d- do you want me to..?” he stutters.

“in my mouth.” you breath out.

he groans out loud, “on your knees.”

he pulls out of you and you immediately drop to your knees, not hesitating to take his length into your mouth and using both hands to pump the remaining. spencer puts a hand on the back of your head and guides you to thrust onto his cock until he lets out another stuttered groan, spurts of his release coating the inside of your mouth.

you make sure to get every last drop of him down your throat, seductively sliding your mouth off his cock with a resounding pop. you’re breathing heavily and you remain on your knees as you try to remember what fucking world you’re even in. spencer grabs you by the forearms to pull you back up to him, and gently perches you back on the counter noting you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own anyway.

spencer breathes hotly into your face, his hand coming up to caress your cheek and brush a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. his other hand remains on your waist, drawing soothing circles. you grin widely, and spencer notices and matches your smile without hesitation.

“what?” he laughs lightly.

“nothing, it’s just it looks like my plan worked.” you replied.

“and what was this plan of yours?” he grins.

“well, i just wanted you hot and bothered. i did not expect you to fuck me in a bar bathroom,” he blushes at your admission, “plus, you don’t even shake people’s hands. i definitely thought having sex in a public place, let alone the bathroom of a bar, would be so not your style.”

“i think if you keep wearing outfits like this around me,” he gestures to your disarrayed button up and bra, “you’ll be surprised at what i’d be willing to do.”

“so, is this a good time to tell you that britney has other music video outfits that are just as iconic as this one?” you gleam up at him.

his eyebrows raise in curiosity, “it certainly would be. on a totally unrelated note, i’m parked right out front.” he half jokes as he pulls you off the counter towards the door. you giggle and follow blindly behind him, when your eyes draw to the back pocket of his trousers and you notice a flash of hot pink.

“spencer! my panties, oh my god. give them back.”

he looks over his shoulder at you, “i have no idea what you’re talking about.” he feigns. you roll your eyes and let him have it, totally ignoring the way he shoves the panties further down his pocket out of sight.

[rin-may-1103]

The Master Post.

someone asked for a master post so here we are.

Tag List? yes, there is a tag list. If you'd like to be Added, please leave a comment on the Stories Linked Post. If the tags aren't working for some reason, then you can either Follow this post by clicking the bell (or the three dots) or follow the Story's Post the same way. I'll update both Relevant Posts when there is a New Part.

Unfortunately, I can't keep up with all the people asking to be added to the tag list in all the different posts, so to make it easier, please follow the instructions above. if you don't I'll most likely miss your comment and therefore not add you to the tag list. (if you're not sure if you're tagged or not, you can check out the Tag List Here, please follow the instructions in the comments)

Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

I hope y'all keep enjoying the stories as much as I enjoy writing them.

Stories and Summaries:

The Wrong Robin Au (DP x DC):

Tim Drake saw Danny do a quadruple somersault, which resulted in him believing Danny was the first Robin for years. He still figured out Bruce but thinks Dick is in the dark. Now with the second Robin dead, and Batman quickly reaching the end of his sanity, Tim takes it upon himself to get Robin to come back. Danny is very confused when this random kid tries to blackmail him into becoming Robin.

Badger Day Au (DP x DC):

Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation and he would like to be let out now, please. The league is very worried.

Delilah's language (DP x DC):

Bruce Wayne approaches the Fentons because Damian is a big fan of Danny for his work in the conservation of the purpleback gorilla. So now Danny is going to the birthday of this random kid so he can teach him gorilla sign language so he can talk to the purple-back gorilla as well.

Just a Bite (DP x DC):

Danny's homeless on the streets of Gotham, when he gets a terrible idea from some passerby. Three weeks after living with the Waynes, they still haven't noticed he's not supposed to be there.

72 hours (DP x DC):

During a battle with the rest of the league, John Constantine is accidentally sent into the palace of Pariah Dark, Tyrant of the Dead, and Bane of the Living. Danny just wanted to have a simple spa day.

Biggest Regret (DP x DC):

Danny Had been optimistic when he created The Email. Three days, that's what he gave himself. Three days to fix or get out of whatever problem he was dealing with and open his laptop to restart the timer. Three days. Past him had thought that If he ever got caught they'd just kill him; it's what they said they would do this whole time, so why wouldn't he think otherwise? It's been more than three days, and at this point, he's just glad someone could fulfill his last wish.

The Disappointment (DP x DC):

Ra's has stated his disapproval of one of the twins, now Talia is rushing to get them out of there and to Bruce to be safe. Danny has other ideas.

Black Retrievers and Golden Cats (DP x DC):

He remembered how it took two hours for his mind to catch up to what he had done, two hours for him to realize he had just killed his brother. It took another two days to realize his brother was never coming back, that the pits had not worked. Damian stared at the camera footage infront of him, his family's voices buzzing with theories and analyzing everything they could. He remembered his brother's bright carefree smile just minutes before Damian had killed him. So, why? Why was he seeing it again?

College Rivalry with the Genius Toddler in the First Row. (DP X DC):

Tim doesn't understand how he's losing at university to a toddler. Danny's not having a great time, but it's fine because now he can terrorize Red Robin.

The Willpower of Space (DP X DC):

A faulty green lantern ring wakes from it's accidental eon long sleep due to how powerful Danny's willpower is. It decides that Danny is a worthy wielder and grants Danny the ability to use it. There's just one problem; Danny keeps dying. and the ring doesn't understand what's going on. Oa is very concerned.

The Weeping Boy Au (DP X DC):

I'll think of a summary later, for now, it's an expansion of this post.

The Eyes of Death Au (DP X DC):

In an attempt to prevent a cult from causing problems, Danny accidentally convinces the Justice League and Co. that he's possessing himself. Damian is not happy that his boyfriend is apparently the new June Moone.

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone drinks his mother more than him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted trolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[angel-sweets666]

making out with mr aizawa

shouta aizawa x reader one shot

aizawas never had a crush on a ex student, never. That’s inappropriate. But when you reach your 3rd year at UA and turn 18/19/20, his drunken self manages to blurt out his longing for you.

mentions of katsuki bakugo x reader

YOU ARE OF LEGAL AGE, A ADULT, NO PEDOS. I DONT WRITE FOR PEDOS

Warning: alchohol ,making out, Mentions of sex. age gap (ur 18-20 years old and he’s around 33

You nervously waited for your name to be called, heart pounding as you anticipated your moment on stage. Three long years at UA High School were finally paying off; soon, you would be a pro hero. "Mina Ashido," Present Mic's voice boomed through the auditorium, snapping you out of your thoughts. You watched as your pink-haired friend happily skipped up to the stage, her carefree demeanor hiding the same nervousness you felt about graduating and stepping into the world of pro heroes.

Mina shook hands with Principal Nezu, who, to be frank, looked like a knock-off, whitewashed Mickey Mouse. The sight brought a small, nervous smile to your face. Then, she turned to Mr. Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. To everyone's surprise, he looked quite presentable for once! His usual shaggy hair was tied into a neat half-up, half-down style, and he wore a sharp red and black suit. His genuine smile for Mina was a rare and touching sight, sending a wave of warmth through the audience.

Mina, grinning from ear to ear, skipped down the stage steps after receiving her diploma. As soon as she reached the bottom, she dropped her act and yelled excitedly, "I GRADUATED! I ACTUALLY GRADUATED!" Her happiness was infectious, and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.

Your nerves momentarily eased, you couldn't help but smile wider. Watching your friends achieve this milestone was both heartening and exhilarating. Soon, your name would be called, and you would join them in this monumental step toward becoming a pro hero.

you looked up at mr aizawa, he was always an attractive man but seeing him like this. Cleaned up and neat, made you feel something for him. Was this a crush? Little did you know he’s had the same feelings for you since your 18th/19th/20th birthday despite you being his student.

Present Mic's booming voice filled the auditorium, "Name Last Name!" His quirk negated the need for a microphone, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Slowly, you rose from your seat, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes upon you. Yet, amid the sea of faces, a particular gaze from the stage seemed to linger longer than the rest.

With measured steps, you made your way toward the stage, nerves and excitement swirling within you. You approached Principal Nezu, who greeted you with a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Congratulations," his soft but oddly unsettling voice praised, "I see you will be a fantastic hero. Will you come to the after party?"

"Yeah, I will," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off the unease his demeanor had stirred within you. Moving on, you approached Mr. Aizawa, towering over Principal Nezu at his impressive 6'1" height. His usually disheveled appearance was surprisingly neat today, accentuated by a red and black suit that seemed out of character but fitting for the occasion.

You extended your hand, which he clasped in a firm grip that lingered longer than with the other students. "See you later, kid," he said, his usual stoic expression softening into a genuine smile that held a hint of affection. It was a rare sight from the usually gruff teacher, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude.

"Yeah, see you," you replied, returning his smile as you stepped away from him. Walking off the stage, it finally began to sink in. You had graduated from UA High School, marking a significant milestone on your path to becoming a pro hero. The applause and cheers from the crowd washed over you, your face lit up as you stared at all the people who were once your classmates and you began

You slowly made your way back to sit next to Mina, noticing her cheeks were even pinker than usual. "Did you see the way Mr. Aizawa looked at you!? He's so into you!" she squealed excitedly.

"Eugh, he's our teacher!" you gagged playfully, though a part of you secretly liked the idea of your former teacher having a crush on you now that you were no longer his student.

"Well, former teacher, actually," Mina corrected with a mischievous grin. "We graduated, and some of us are 20 years old. It doesn't matter! He's so into you, babe," she added, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You chuckled nervously, unsure how to process Mina's teasing. Mr. Aizawa had always been a supportive mentor, but you never imagined there could be anything more between you. Still, Mina's insistence and playful encouragement sparked a flutter of excitement in your chest. As you glanced back at Mr. Aizawa across the room, you caught his eye briefly, and for a moment, you wondered if there might be some truth to Mina's teasing after all.

some time later at the after party

As the evening unfolded after the graduation ceremony, you found yourself at the after-party, surrounded by your friends and fellow graduates. The venue was lively, with upbeat music filling the air and colorful lights dancing across the walls. Mina, true to form, was the life of the party, dragging you onto the dance floor while laughing and cheering.

The atmosphere was surprisingly relaxed, with even the former teachers joining in the festivities. Mr. Aizawa, now dressed casually and looking more approachable than ever, was engaged in conversation with some other graduates near the bar. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him letting loose, a stark contrast to his usual stoic demeanor in class.

You grabbed a drink from the bar and joined the circle of your friends, exchanging stories and jokes about your time at UA High School. Denki was showing off his dance moves, much to everyone's amusement, while Bakugo, surprisingly relaxed, recounted a particularly explosive training session.

Amid the laughter and chatter, you caught Mr. Aizawa glancing over at you from time to time, a small smile playing on his lips. It was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you realize just how much he had cared about each of his students.

As you looked back at bakugo you tilted your head to the side “I’ve never seen you so relaxed, how much did you have to drink?” You giggled “I’m on my 3rd vodka!” He chuckled and leaned on kirishimas shoulder, the red head laughed and and pushed bakugo “get off me man!” He said with a raspy voice and happy tone. However you just could not get peace with the idea of aizawa, he seemed so calm for once, so happy.. maybe even attractive? You leaned over to Mina who was busy flirting with kirishima “should I go flirt with mr aizawa?” You asked the lively girl “OH MY GOD YES. GO GO GO, but after that you gotta go out with bakugo so we can go on double dates” she insisted “yeah alright, don’t go making me an aunt with kirishima Mkay?” You grinned at her while kirishima blushed and began making out with Mina.

you walked over to the bar and sat next to aizawa, looking over at him “so what are you gonna do now that we’re graduating?” You asked the 33 year old “ahh.. start over, teach first years and watch them graduate too.” He grins to you, alchohol on his breath. “Right yeah.. that makes sense” you nodded and grabbed a bottle of vodka “shit.. can’t believe i actually grad-” you were interrupted by aizawa placing his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him “you know since your birthday I’ve been thinking about you” he cooed, getting close to your face. He’s obviously saying this because he’s drunk, but drunk words are sober thoughts right?

you gulped “you have..?” You asked him, going from between his eyes to his lips “yeah.. you look so kissable..” he chuckled, leaning to kiss the corner of your lips. You let him peck your lips and cheek, blushing deeply.. his deep voice grumbled in your ear “let’s go somewhere more private yeah pretty girl?”

And that’s how you ended up here, behind the building making out with your high school teacher. Aizawa pushed you against the wall as he held your face, kissing you deeper. Your tongue swirled with his, he pulled back with a wet noise “god your good at this..” he grumbled and grabbed a handful of fat from your thigh and smashed his lips against yours again, using his other hand to twirl with your hair. You two kept this up for a while, only parting for air when needed then going back in for a passionate make out, he leaned down to kiss at your neck and play with your hair. Leaving deep purple hickeys across his neck “god I wanna fuck you dumb…” he mumbled against the skin on your neck

“then do it”

[pinkmoontaco]

Fake It till We Make It || Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Idol Hyunjin X Actress Y/n Genre: Fluff, Fake relationship Summary: You and Hyunjin are paired for a fake relationship to boost your public image, but what happens when fake sparks turn real?

If you have any request for other members or other groups, feel free to do so

The sound of your manager’s voice grated against your nerves, filling the small office space with an energy you couldn’t match today.

“You need this,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Your last movie tanked. The press is calling you ‘forgettable.’ Forgettable! We need to change the narrative.”

You leaned back in the leather chair, rubbing your temples. “And you think dating some idol is the solution? This is my career, not a reality show.”

Your manager’s eyes narrowed. “Not just ‘some idol.’ Hyunjin. From Stray Kids. One of the most talked-about stars right now.”

You frowned. You knew who Hyunjin was—everyone did. The golden boy of the K-pop world, known for his striking looks and graceful dancing. But lately, his name had been splashed across tabloids for all the wrong reasons: rumors of diva behavior, an old controversy that resurfaced out of nowhere, and a supposed feud with another idol.

“Why him?” you asked cautiously.

“Because he’s in hot water, too,” she replied, leaning forward. “His team is desperate to clean up his image, and a sweet, wholesome love story will do the trick for both of you. You’ll be trending for weeks. Cute couple photos, red carpet appearances, a few strategically timed interviews. It’s perfect.”

“Perfectly insane,” you muttered, but your manager ignored you.

“His team is already on board. They think you’re a great match. All you have to do is meet him, sign the NDA, and play the part.”

Before you could argue further, the door opened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hyunjin stepped in, radiating a kind of effortless charm that made your argument falter.

He was tall, dressed in a fitted black turtleneck and an oversized blazer, his hair tied back loosely. His eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, he looked as uncertain as you felt.

“Hi,” he said, his voice soft but confident. “So... I hear we’re supposed to fall in love.”

You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. “You’re... okay with this?”

Hyunjin shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Not really. But apparently, this is what we need to survive.”

There was a beat of silence before you sighed, leaning forward. “Alright. Let’s get one thing straight. This is a business arrangement. No feelings, no drama. Just stick to the script, and we’ll both get through this.”

His smirk widened, and he tilted his head. “You make it sound so romantic.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. This was going to be a long, long ride.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to take anything seriously. At least, that’s how it felt during your first meeting. As the two of you sat across from each other in a dimly lit conference room, discussing the parameters of your “relationship,” his carefree attitude grated on your nerves.

“Let’s start with the basics,” his PR manager said, flipping through a folder. “How did you two meet?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but Hyunjin cut in with a grin. “She saw me at a fan meet, fell in love at first sight, and begged me for my number.”

You blinked at him, unimpressed. “Or” you countered, “we met at an industry party and hit it off after a deep conversation about art and music.”

Hyunjin’s brow arched. “Deep conversation? That’s a little ambitious, don’t you think?”

You resisted the urge to glare. “Well, it’s more believable than me throwing myself at you.”

The PR manager cleared her throat, clearly amused but trying to maintain professionalism. “Let’s meet in the middle. How about you met at a mutual friend’s event? You admired each other’s work, and the connection grew naturally.”

“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding Hyunjin’s amused gaze.

The rest of the meeting was a blur of schedules, photo shoot concepts, and social media strategies. By the time you left, your head was spinning.

“You looked like you were having the time of your life,” Hyunjin teased as he walked you to the door.

You shot him a side-eye. “You’re awfully relaxed about this.”

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “You get used to it. Pretending is half of what we do anyway.”

The first time you were “spotted” together was at a café, staged to look like a casual date. Cameras clicked from strategic angles as you sipped your latte and pretended to hang on Hyunjin’s every word.

“So,” he said, leaning forward with an easy grin, “do I look like the perfect boyfriend yet?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Do you ever stop joking?”

“Only when I’m asleep.”

Despite your irritation, you couldn’t deny he was good at this. He knew how to angle himself for the cameras, how to flash just the right smile to make every photo look candid.

“You’re surprisingly professional,” you admitted, reluctantly impressed.

“Why, thank you,” he said, feigning a bow. “And you? Not bad for someone who claims to hate this idea.”

You didn’t reply, but his words stayed with you.

The first time you saw the cracks in Hyunjin’s carefree façade was during a late-night rehearsal. You had stopped by the JYP practice room to discuss the next day’s schedule, but the sound of music drew you in.

Hyunjin was alone, his movements fluid yet sharp, his expression focused. He didn’t notice you watching until the song ended and he turned, startled.

“Oh. Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow.

“You’re still here?” you asked, stepping closer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted. “Dancing helps.”

There was something vulnerable about him in that moment, something raw and unpolished. You hesitated before speaking. “You’re... really good.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks. It’s the one thing I know I can do right.

The comment surprised you. For someone who seemed so confident, it was the first time he’d let his insecurities slip through.

“Maybe you’re better at other things than you think,” you said softly, unsure why you felt compelled to comfort him.

He looked at you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”

Weeks passed, and the lines between performance and reality began to blur. You spent more time together than apart, attending events, sharing meals, and even rehearsing your “love story” for interviews.

Hyunjin’s teasing became less sharp, and your walls began to lower. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, seeking his opinion on things you never thought to share.

One evening, during a quiet moment on a hotel balcony, he turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Do you ever think about what happens when this ends?”

The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... this. Us. Pretending to be something we’re not.”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I try not to think about it. It’s easier that way.”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. Me too.”

For the first time, the thought of “the end” left an ache in your chest.

The two of you sat in an unfamiliar green room, waiting for your turn on a late-night talk show. Hyunjin was scrolling on his phone, while you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your dress. The show was known for playful interviews that often led to viral moments.

“You’ll be fine,” Hyunjin said, his tone unusually gentle.

You looked up at him, surprised by his sincerity. “What?”

“You’ve been messing with that dress for the past ten minutes,” he said, nodding toward your hands. “Relax. You’re a natural at this stuff.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Hardly. This whole fake dating thing has me second-guessing everything.”

Hyunjin set his phone down, his expression softening. “Look, just follow my lead. They love us together.”

His confidence was reassuring, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to trust him.

When it was your turn onstage, Hyunjin kept his promise. He answered questions with practiced ease, throwing in playful remarks that made the audience laugh. When the host asked about your “relationship,” Hyunjin reached over to take your hand.

“It’s been amazing,” he said, smiling at you like you were the only person in the room.

For a moment, the world seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you. The warmth of his hand, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled—it felt real.

And that terrified you.

After the show, you found yourselves walking back to the hotel, the cool night air refreshing after hours under studio lights. Hyunjin, still buzzing with energy, suggested a detour.

“There’s this rooftop I go to sometimes,” he said. “The view’s incredible.”

You hesitated but eventually agreed. A short elevator ride later, you were standing atop a quiet rooftop overlooking the city. The lights stretched endlessly, a shimmering sea of color and life.

“Wow,” you murmured, leaning against the railing.

“Right?” Hyunjin joined you, his voice softer now. “It’s one of the few places that makes me feel... small, in a good way.”

You glanced at him, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “Do you ever miss being just... normal?”

“All the time,” he admitted. “But then I think about the people who believe in me, who find comfort in what I do. That makes it worth it.”

His words resonated with you, and for the first time, you saw past the idol persona. This wasn’t Hyunjin the star—this was just Hyunjin, a young man trying to make sense of his place in the world.

As the two of you stood there, sharing quiet thoughts under the stars, you felt something shift. The lines between what was fake and what was real began to blur even further.

The turning point came during a gala event. You were dressed to the nines, smiling politely as you mingled with industry elites. Hyunjin stayed close, his presence a steadying force.

Then your co-star, Eric, appeared. He was charming and overconfident, and he wasted no time pulling you into a conversation.

Hyunjin, watching from a distance, felt a strange pang in his chest as he saw you laughing at Eric’s jokes. He told himself it was all part of the act—after all, this wasn’t real.

But when Eric leaned in a little too close, Hyunjin found himself walking over.

“Hey,” he said smoothly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Everything okay here?”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his sudden possessiveness. “Yeah, we were just—”

Great,” Hyunjin cut in, his smile tight. “But we should probably get back to the table. They’re about to announce the next award.”

Eric raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. As Hyunjin led you away, his hand lingering at your waist, you couldn’t help but notice the tension in his jaw.

“Was that necessary?” you asked once you were out of earshot.

Hyunjin didn’t meet your eyes. “Probably not.”

You studied him, a flicker of understanding dawning. Was he... jealous?

That night, back at the hotel, you knocked on Hyunjin’s door. He opened it, looking surprised to see you.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was dimly lit, and the atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken words.

“What’s going on?” you asked, crossing your arms. “You’ve been acting... strange.”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” you challenged. “Because it sure seemed like you were about to deck Eric earlier.”

His gaze finally met yours, and for the first time, you saw hesitation there. “I guess I just didn’t like seeing him flirt with you.”

“Why?” you pressed, your heart pounding.

He hesitated, then sighed. “Because maybe this doesn’t feel so fake anymore.”

The confession hung between you, leaving you breathless

Hyunjin’s words hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, trying to process what he has just said.

“This doesn’t feel so fake anymore,” he repeated, softer this time, like he was testing the words himself.

You shook your head, stepping back instinctively. “Hyunjin, we can’t... This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“I know,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “But maybe it was inevitable. We’ve spent so much time together—”

“It’s an act,” you interrupted, more forcefully than you intended. “That’s all it is. We agreed from the beginning: no feelings, no drama.”

He flinched at your words, his expression clouding. “Right. No feelings.”

You could see the hurt in his eyes, but you forced yourself to turn away. You couldn’t afford to let this become real. Not when your careers, your reputations—everything—was on the line.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin didn’t stop you, and that made it worse.

After that night, things changed. Hyunjin became distant, his playful demeanor replaced by quiet professionalism. You told yourself this was for the best—that keeping your distance would make it easier to maintain the illusion without getting tangled in your emotions.

But it didn’t feel easier.

The staged dates, the red-carpet appearances, even the candid moments for the cameras—all of it felt emptier now. You missed the way Hyunjin used to tease you, the way he could make you laugh even when you didn’t want to.

It wasn’t until a fan event, weeks later, that the tension finally boiled over.

A fan asked Hyunjin about your relationship, and he gave his usual charming answer, but there was a noticeable edge to his tone. Afterward, when you were alone backstage, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“What’s your problem?” you snapped.

Hyunjin turned to you, his expression unreadable. “My problem? I’m just doing what you wanted—keeping it professional.”

You clenched your fists, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t have to be so cold about it!”

He let out a bitter laugh. “What do you want from me? You were the one who said this was just an act.”

“I didn’t mean—” You stopped yourself, realizing you didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

Hyunjin stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “What didn’t you mean?”

Your breath hitched. For a moment, the only sound was the distant hum of the crowd outside.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you admitted finally, your voice trembling.

Hyunjin’s expression softened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt through you.

“We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly. “Not if it’s going to hurt like this.”

The tension between you and Hyunjin came to a head during a joint interview. The host, sensing the awkwardness, asked a question that caught both of you off guard.

“What’s the most unexpected thing you’ve learned about each other?”

Hyunjin hesitated, glancing at you before answering. “She’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

His words took you by surprise. For the first time in weeks, you saw a glimpse of the Hyunjin you’d gotten to know—the one who saw past your walls and made you feel seen.

When it was your turn to answer, you found yourself speaking without thinking. “He’s not as carefree as he seems

Hyunjin’s eyes met yours, and in that moment, something shifted.

Later that night, after the interview, you found yourself standing outside Hyunjin’s hotel room. Your heart raced as you knocked on the door, unsure of what you were going to say but knowing you couldn’t leave things as they were.

He opened the door, his expression wary but hopeful. “Hey.”

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He stepped aside, letting you in. The room was quiet, the air heavy with unspoken words.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, your hands twisting nervously. “About what you said… about how this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”

Hyunjin watched you carefully, his eyes searching yours. “And?”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel fake. At least, not to me.”

His eyes widened, a flicker of hope breaking through his guarded expression. “Are you saying…?”

“I’m saying I’m scared,” you admitted. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like this doesn’t mean anything. Because it does. You do.”

For a moment, Hyunjin didn’t say anything. Then, without warning, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, tears pricking at your eyes. “You didn’t.”

The next day, when you stepped out together for another staged appearance, something was different. The smiles, the hand-holding, the lingering glances—they weren’t for the cameras anymore.

They were for each other.

And this time, it was real.

The first kiss happened unexpectedly. It wasn’t during a red-carpet event or a photo shoot—it was in the quiet of your apartment, after a long day.

Hyunjin had stopped by to drop off some documents your managers wanted you to review together. You were sitting on the couch, bickering playfully over the wording of a statement when Hyunjin suddenly went quiet.

“What?” you asked, glancing up.

He was looking at you with that soft, unreadable expression he often had when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“Nothing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... You look really beautiful right now.”

Your cheeks burned, and you let out a nervous laugh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing,” he said, leaning closer. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair out of your face, and your breath hitched.

The kiss was soft and hesitant at first, as if both of you were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, Hyunjin deepened it, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips moved against yours.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless.

“That wasn’t in the script,” you murmured, trying to hide your smile.

Hyunjin grinned. “Maybe we should improvise more often.”

If you thought the kiss marked a turning point in your relationship, the real test came when the rest of Stray Kids found out.

It happened during a casual group hangout at their dorm. You and Hyunjin had been careful to keep your relationship private, but apparently, not careful enough.

“You two are acting weird,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes as he watched you and Hyunjin sit suspiciously far apart on the couch.

“Weird how?” Hyunjin asked, feigning innocence.

“Weird as in, you’re trying too hard not to look at each other,” Seungmin chimed in, smirking.

Before you could deny it, Changbin leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait a second. Did something happen between you two?”

Hyunjin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. Yes, something happened.”

Weeks after the public reveal, life settled into a new rhythm. You and Hyunjin were still navigating the world as a couple, balancing the constant demands of work and your blossoming relationship. The attention from fans and the media was overwhelming at times, but you had each other to lean on.

One quiet afternoon, you were at a cafe, sharing a rare moment of peace away from the chaos. Hyunjin was sitting across from you, fiddling with his phone while you sipped on your iced coffee. The soft hum of conversation and the sound of clinking cups created a comforting atmosphere.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Hyunjin said, looking up from his phone.

“Uh-oh,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. “I’m serious, okay? We’ve been at this for a while now faking it, being real, all of it. But... I want more. I want to know what it’s like when there’s no pressure. No cameras, no fans, just you and me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. “More?” you repeated, your voice soft.

He nodded, setting his phone aside. “Yeah. More dates without anyone watching. More lazy days where we can just be ourselves. I want to take this slow, but also, I don’t want to waste any more time pretending it’s not real.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, the sincerity in his voice making your chest tight. “I want that too,” you whispered.

The smile he gave you in return made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture felt more meaningful than any grand declaration.

“Then it’s settled,” he said, squeezing your hand gently. “No more pretending. Just us.”

And as you left the cafe, hand in hand, it felt like the first step toward truly being yourselves—no more masks, no more facades.

Of course, even though you and Hyunjin were more serious than ever, that didn’t mean the teasing from the members stopped. If anything, it got worse.

One evening, after a long day of practice, the Stray Kids members were all lounging around in the dorm, taking a break. You and Hyunjin had just come back from a walk, still holding hands when you entered the living room.

“Look who it is, the couple of the century,” Changbin teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up,” Hyunjin grumbled, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “You guys are the worst.”

Felix grinned, giving you a knowing look. “We just need to see if you two are as cute off-camera as you are on. I’m still waiting for a public kiss, you know.”

You shot him a glare, but Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Maybe we’ll give you a kiss when you stop being so nosy,” he said, his voice teasing.

“Oh, that’s it,” Han chimed in, making a face. “I’m going to vomit.”

You laughed, your hand slipping into Hyunjin’s as you sat down beside him. “You’re all insufferable.”

“They just want to see how sweet you two are together,” Seungmin said with a smirk. “But I have to admit, it’s nice to see Hyunjin like this. He’s never been this... open.”

your heart fluttered at his words, and you looked up at Hyunjin, who was now giving Seungmin an exaggerated side-eye. “Don’t make it sound like I was some mystery,” he said, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

You smiled softly, feeling your heart swell at the thought of how far the two of you had come. What started as a simple arrangement had evolved into something deeper, something real, and the teasing, while relentless, only made it feel more genuine.

One rainy afternoon, as you were curled up on the couch in your apartment, Hyunjin walked in with an envelope in hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What's this?” you asked, sitting up and eyeing him curiously.“It’s a surprise,” he said with a wink, handing you the envelope.

Inside was a ticket for a private art exhibit that was being held at a museum in the city. The exhibit was a collection of works from various contemporary artists, and it was known for being intimate, with only a handful of people allowed in at a time.

“I got us tickets,” Hyunjin said, his voice soft. “I know you love art, and I thought it’d be a good way to spend some time together, away from everything else.”

Your heart melted. “Hyunjin, this is so thoughtful.”

He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I figured it would be something different. Plus, we get to walk around the exhibit hand-in-hand without worrying about paparazzi or cameras.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “You really do know how to surprise me.”

As the two of you spent the afternoon wandering through the quiet halls of the museum, talking about the paintings and sculptures that caught your eye, you felt the world outside fade away. It was just the two of you, sharing something special, and it felt perfect.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner, Hyunjin walked you back to your apartment, his hand still holding yours tightly.

“Thanks for today,” you said, your voice soft as you glanced up at him. “It was one of the best days I’ve had in a while.”

Hyunjin smiled down at you, his eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m glad. I’ll always find ways to make you happy.”

And as he kissed you gently under the dim light of your apartment hallway, you knew he meant every word.

Months passed, and your relationship with Hyunjin only grew stronger. There were still moments of teasing from the members, still the occasional bout of nerves before public appearances, but through it all, you both knew one thing for sure: this wasn’t just an act anymore.

One evening, as the two of you sat together on the rooftop of the dorm, gazing out at the city lights, Hyunjin turned to you with a serious expression.

“You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “when we first started this, I never thought we’d end up here. But now, I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you reached over, taking his hand. “Me neither,” you said softly. “I think I’ve always known it was real, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

Hyunjin smiled, leaning in to kiss you. “Then let’s make it real—forever.”

As you kissed him, the world around you faded, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

The End... or perhaps just the beginning.

[s4kura-tr3]

i loved your hurt/comfort insecure nanami fic! could you do some drabbles for the other jjk guys (reader comforting them about an insecurity)? i love them all so your choice which ones

Perfect

A/n aww ty so much! I really love writing stuff for jjk it makes my day

Since I have already did Nanami he won’t be added if you haven’t read it got to my materialist and there you should find it!

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Toji, Yuji, Megumi, Sukuna

Tw: a hurt/comfort, insecurity, a little suggestive in Tojis part. Sukuna being a lil ooc, A long one folks..

Satoru Gojo

Satoru wasn’t usually the type to doubt himself. In fact, self-doubt seemed like something that didn’t exist in his vocabulary. Yet, recently, the words of others had been getting to him more than he cared to admit.

“You’re so loud all the time, Gojo.”

“Does everything have to be a joke with you?”

“You’re like a kid in a man’s body.”

It had started as harmless comments, things he shrugged off with his usual smirk and a witty retort. But after hearing them again and again, from friends, colleagues, even strangers—it stuck. Maybe he was too childish. Maybe his carefree nature wasn’t as endearing as he thought.

For the past few days, he had been… different. You noticed it almost immediately. The usual playful banter, the teasing remarks, and the exaggerated antics? Gone. Instead, Satoru had been unusually reserved, his words measured, his energy dimmed.

He wasn’t being himself, and it worried you.

One evening, the two of you sat on the couch together. Usually, Satoru would have sprawled himself out, dramatically flinging an arm around you while rambling on about something ridiculous. But tonight, he sat upright, hands clasped together, eyes glued to the TV without really watching.

“Alright,” you said, turning to face him fully. “What’s going on?”

He blinked, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting… weird.” You gestured at him. “Quiet, serious, like you’re trying to audition for a role in some boring corporate drama.”

That got a small smile out of him, but it faded quickly. He sighed, leaning back against the couch.

“Do you ever think I’m… too much?” he asked softly.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? No. Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “People are always saying how I’m loud or immature. I thought… maybe I should try being less, I don’t know, annoying.”

Your heart sank at the vulnerability in his tone. This was so unlike him, the usually confident and larger-than-life Satoru Gojo.

“Satoru,” you said firmly, taking his hand in yours. “You’re not annoying. You’re you. And that’s what I love about you.”

He looked at you, those stunning eyes of his searching your face for any hint of insincerity.

“You’re loud because you want to fill the room with laughter. You’re childish because you remind people not to take life so seriously. And yeah, maybe you’re a bit over-the-top sometimes, but that’s what makes you you. You light up every space you walk into. Why would you want to dim that?”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Then, a soft chuckle escaped him.

“Man,” he said, his voice lighter than it had been in days, “how’d I get so lucky to have someone like you?”

You grinned, leaning closer to him. “You’re lucky because I happen to think noisy, dramatic boyfriends are the best.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar, filling the room like sunlight after a storm. The playful glint returned to his eyes as he leaned down to nuzzle your cheek.

“Okay, but just for the record,” he teased, “you’re also pretty loud sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back.

He smirked, pulling you into his arms. “You’re right. I really do.”

And just like that, Satoru Gojo was himself again—bright, lively, and utterly unapologetic.

Geto Suguru

Suguru Geto had always been confident. He carried himself with a quiet grace, his long, jet-black hair tied neatly behind him, flowing like a curtain of silk. To you, it was one of his most striking features—something that made him uniquely him.

But lately, he had been feeling… off.

The comments were small, casual, but persistent enough to stick.

“Why do you keep your hair so long? Isn’t that a girl thing?”

“Don’t you think you’d look more manly if you cut it?”

“Guys with long hair just look weird.”

He brushed them off at first, but the more he heard, the more they lingered. The words gnawed at his confidence until he started questioning himself. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time for a change.

Late one evening, you noticed he wasn’t in bed when you reached out for him. The soft hum of the bathroom light spilled under the door, and curiosity tugged at you. Gently, you knocked before opening the door, only to freeze at the sight before you.

Suguru stood in front of the mirror, scissors in hand, his dark eyes shadowed with uncertainty. His long hair, normally tied back, hung loose around his shoulders, cascading like ink down his back.

“Suguru?” you asked softly, stepping into the room.

He flinched, lowering the scissors but not letting them go. “You should go back to bed,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing.” You walked closer, your voice calm but firm.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I was thinking of cutting it,” he admitted, his tone low.

You tilted your head, confused. “Why?”

He hesitated, then finally met your eyes. “People keep saying it’s feminine, that it doesn’t suit me. Maybe they’re right.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. This wasn’t like Suguru, the man who usually carried himself with unwavering confidence.

You reached out, gently taking the scissors from his hand and setting them on the counter. Then, you turned him to face you fully, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“Suguru,” you said softly, “do you want to cut your hair because you want to, or because of what other people are saying?”

He hesitated again, looking away. “I just… don’t want people to think I’m weird.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re not weird. You’re you. And your long hair? It’s one of the things I love most about you. It’s strong, it’s beautiful, and it’s you. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to change that.”

He looked back at you, his expression softening. “You really think that?”

“I know that,” you said firmly. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft and smooth it was. “This hair of yours? It’s perfect. And even if you decided to cut it, I’d still love you. But don’t let anyone else decide who you should be. You’re already perfect just the way you are.”

Suguru exhaled, the tension in his shoulders melting away. A small, genuine smile crept onto his face, and he leaned into your touch.

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice lighter now.

“That’s my job,” you teased, grinning up at him.

He chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “Thank you,” he whispered into your hair.

“Anytime,” you replied, your voice muffled against his chest.

That night, Suguru went to bed with his long hair intact, feeling more like himself than he had in days. And as he lay beside you, your words echoing in his mind, he realized that the only opinion that truly mattered was yours—and his own.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji wasn’t one to dwell on things. Life had shaped him into a man who took things as they came, without much fuss. But lately, as he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t ignore the signs of time creeping up on him.

The faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

The silver strands starting to thread through his black hair.

The way his back ached after sparring, when it never used to before.

The chubby softness that replaced the sharp definition of his youth.

He hated to admit it, but it all gnawed at him. The years had taken their toll, and it made him wonder—did you notice? Did you still see him the same way?

For the past week, Toji had been… off. He wasn’t teasing you as much, his trademark smirks less frequent. He avoided his reflection and spent extra time at the gym, only to come home frustrated when his body refused to cooperate the way it used to. You couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered in front of the mirror longer than usual, his brows furrowed in thought.

One night, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched. He was staring at his hands, his calloused fingers flexing absently, lost in thought.

“Toji,” you called softly, sitting beside him.

He glanced at you but quickly looked away, as if embarrassed. “You should get some sleep,” he muttered.

“Not until you tell me what’s been bothering you.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. Finally, he sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s nothing. Just… getting old, I guess.”

“Old?” you repeated, blinking in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

He gestured vaguely at himself. “Look at me. Wrinkles, gray hair, a bad back… I’m not the man I used to be.” His voice was low, almost bitter. “It’s like every time I look in the mirror, I see someone else. Someone… weaker.”

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his words. Toji, the man who always seemed so sure of himself, was doubting his worth because of something as natural as aging.

“Toji,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

He glanced at you, his green eyes shadowed with doubt. “What?”

“I see the strongest, most handsome man I’ve ever met,” you said firmly. “I see someone who’s lived through more than most people could imagine and came out the other side. Every wrinkle, every scar, every gray hair? They’re proof of that. They tell the story of a man who’s survived, who’s grown, who’s loved.”

He stared at you, his expression softening as your words sank in.

“You’re not defined by how you look, Toji,” you continued, your voice steady but full of emotion. “You’re defined by the way you protect the people you care about, the way you love me, the way you never give up no matter how hard things get. That’s the man I see. That’s the man I fell in love with.”

Toji’s lips parted slightly, but he didn’t speak right away. Instead, he reached up, brushing his thumb gently along your cheek.

“You really think that?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“I don’t think it,” you said, leaning into his touch. “I know it.”

A slow, genuine smile broke across his face—the kind of smile that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you’d seen it.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

“Not true,” you teased, nuzzling against his chest. “You deserve every bit of it, old man.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Watch it, or I’ll remind you how ‘old’ I am in ways you won’t forget.”

You laughed, the sound warm and full of love, and for the first time in days, Toji felt like himself again. Sure, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but with you by his side, he realized he didn’t need to be. Because to you, he was—and always would be—perfect.

Sukuna ryomen

Sukuna was not a man who doubted himself—ever. He was the King of Curses, feared and revered, and he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

But the comment from one of his servants had hit a nerve he hadn’t expected.

“It’s only a matter of time before they leave you. Who’d want to stay with someone so… volatile?”

Sukuna had brushed the remark off at the time, beheading the servant without hesitation. Yet, the words lingered, festering in his mind like a curse.

The days that followed were… off. Sukuna wasn’t himself. The sharp edges of his personality were dulled. He no longer snapped at minor annoyances or barked orders with his usual commanding tone. Instead, he was quiet, withdrawn, almost measured.

And it worried you. Sukuna, the man who always seemed larger than life, who never hesitated to speak his mind or express his emotions, was holding back.

You found him one evening in his chambers, sitting on the edge of his throne, his usual confident posture replaced by something almost… unsure. His clawed fingers tapped against the armrest, his gaze distant.

“Sukuna?” you called gently, stepping closer.

He stiffened, glancing at you. “What is it?” he asked, his tone gruff but lacking its usual bite.

“You tell me,” you said, crossing your arms as you stood in front of him. “You’ve been acting strange. What’s going on?”

He clicked his tongue, looking away. “It’s nothing. Drop it.”

“No,” you said firmly, surprising him with your persistence. “You don’t get to brush me off like that. Not when something’s clearly bothering you.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his jaw tightening. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he finally spoke.

“One of the servants said something,” he admitted, his voice low. “About you. About me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What did they say?”

“They said you’d leave,” he said bluntly, his crimson eyes meeting yours for the first time. “Because of my… temper.”

The words were almost hard for him to say, and it hit you just how deeply they had affected him.

You took a step closer, your expression softening. “Sukuna…”

He scoffed, looking away again. “It’s not like I care what some pathetic servant thinks. But… it made me wonder.” He paused, his claws flexing against the armrest. “If they’re right. If I’ll drive you away one day, and my love is bigger then my pride..”

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability he was showing, a side of him he rarely let anyone see. You knelt in front of him, resting your hands gently on his knees, forcing him to look at you.

“Listen to me,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “You’re not perfect, Sukuna. No one is. But I didn’t fall in love with you because I thought you were. I fell in love with you. The good, the bad, the angry, the terrifying—all of it.”

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to find any hint of a lie.

“Yes, you have a temper,” you continued, “but you’re also loyal, protective, and so much more than the anger you feel. And if you ever do lose control, I know you’ll never hurt me. You’ve had every opportunity to, and you never have. That’s what matters.”

He was silent for a long moment, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. Finally, he reached out, his clawed hand cupping your cheek with surprising gentleness.

“You’re too good for me,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“No, I’m exactly what you need,” you said with a small smile, leaning into his touch. “And I’m not going anywhere, Sukuna. Not now, not ever.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, the closest thing to a smile you’d ever see from him. “You’re either brave or foolish to stay with someone like me.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you teased, rising to your feet and leaning in to kiss him softly.

When you pulled away, his crimson eyes held a warmth that wasn’t there before. “Don’t let them get in your head again,” you said. “I love you, Sukuna. All of you.”

For the first time in days, he felt the weight in his chest lift. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as if to keep you anchored to him.

And just like that, Sukuna felt like himself again—not because his anger was gone, but because you had reminded him that he was more than just the storm inside him.

Megumi Fushiguro

Megumi wasn’t one to get rattled easily. He wasn’t the loudest in the room or the most expressive, but his quiet presence was steady and dependable. You loved that about him.

But after meeting one of your old friends over lunch, a lingering doubt began to fester in his mind.

The conversation had been light and casual until your friend brought up your dating history.

“You’ve always had a type,” your friend teased, grinning. “Super affectionate, touchy guys—remember that one boyfriend who used to write you love notes every day?”

Megumi had sat there, quietly sipping his tea, but the words stayed with him long after the lunch ended. He wasn’t affectionate—not in the way your friend had described. His love wasn’t shown through constant words of affirmation or grand romantic gestures.

But was that what you wanted? Was that what you needed?

The days following the lunch were strange. Megumi was… different.

You’d been dating long enough to know his rhythms, the small, subtle ways he showed his love. The way he’d brush his hand against yours when walking side by side, or how he’d make sure you were always on the inside of the sidewalk. He was never loud about his affection, but it was there, constant and unwavering.

But now, he was acting out of character.

He was holding your hand more often, lingering in hugs longer than usual, and—most surprisingly—he kissed you on the forehead in public. It wasn’t bad, but it was so unlike him that you couldn’t ignore it.

One evening, as you sat on the couch together, you decided to bring it up.

“Okay,” you said, turning to face him. “What’s going on with you?”

Megumi blinked, his expression a mix of surprise and guilt. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been… different,” you said, trying to choose your words carefully. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but you’ve been more… affectionate than usual. It’s not like you.”

He stiffened, looking down at his hands. For a moment, you thought he might deny it, but then he sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“I overheard what your friend said,” he admitted quietly. “About how your type used to be affectionate guys.”

You frowned, confused. “So?”

“So,” he said, his voice quieter, “I figured I should try to be more like that. More like… what you’re used to. What you deserve.”

His words made your chest tighten. The thought of Megumi, your stoic, thoughtful boyfriend, feeling insecure about something so fundamental to who he was broke your heart.

“Megumi,” you said softly, reaching for his hand. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He looked up at you, his green eyes clouded with doubt. “But what if it’s not enough? What if I’m not enough?”

You squeezed his hand tightly, your voice firm. “You are enough. More than enough.”

He stayed quiet, so you scooted closer, cupping his cheek gently and forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to be anyone else for me,” you said. “I don’t need over-the-top gestures or constant affection to know you love me. I see it in the way you make me tea when I’m stressed, or how you check on me after a long day without saying a word. You show your love in a million small ways that mean more to me than any grand gesture ever could.”

His expression softened, a flicker of relief passing through his eyes.

“I love you, Megumi,” you continued. “Not some version of you that you think I want. Just you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, slowly, his lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

“I guess I overthought it,” he murmured, his tone lighter now.

“A little bit,” you teased, grinning.

He sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling you into his side. “I just… didn’t want to let you down.”

“You could never let me down,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “And for the record, I like your type way better than anyone else’s.”

He let out a quiet laugh, the sound warming your heart. “Thanks,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And just like that, the tension between you melted away. Megumi realized he didn’t need to change for you—he just needed to keep being the person you’d fallen in love with.

Yuji itadori

Yuji Itadori had always been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. When he cared about someone, he showed it—whether that meant pulling them into a random hug, texting to make sure they got home safe, or just being around as much as he could.

But lately, he’d started wondering if maybe… it was too much.

It happened after a passing comment from one of his friends.

“Man, Yuji, you’re always sticking to them like glue. Don’t you think they’d want some space?”

The words weren’t meant to hurt, but they stuck with him. Did you ever feel suffocated by how much he wanted to be around you? Did you secretly wish he’d dial it back a little?

That thought alone made him pull back.

You noticed it almost immediately.

Yuji, your usually cheerful and affectionate boyfriend, had started acting… distant. The hugs were shorter, the playful touches less frequent, and he didn’t lean into you on the couch like he usually did.

At first, you thought maybe he was tired or stressed, but as the days passed, it became clear something was bothering him.

One night, after dinner, you decided to address it.

“Yuji,” you said gently, setting your plate down and turning to face him. “Is something wrong?”

His head shot up, his wide eyes betraying his guilt. “Huh? What? No, nothing’s wrong!”

“Don’t lie to me,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve been acting different lately. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No!” he said quickly, his hands waving in front of him. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked away. “I’ve been… trying to give you more space. I didn’t want to be too clingy, you know? I don’t want you to feel like I’m smothering you.”

Your heart sank at the insecurity in his voice. Yuji, who had always been so confident in how much he cared, was now second-guessing himself because he thought it was too much.

“Yuji,” you said softly, scooting closer to him. “Why would you think you’re smothering me?”

He shrugged, his eyes still avoiding yours. “Someone said I might be, and I started wondering… maybe they’re right. Maybe you’d want me to back off a little.”

“Hey,” you said, reaching out to take his hand. He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Listen to me,” you said, your tone firm but warm. “I love how affectionate you are. The way you always check on me, the way you hold me, the way you make me feel loved—none of it ever feels like too much. If anything, it makes me feel lucky.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice soft and hesitant, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Really,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I’d rather have you be your clingy, caring self than have you pull back and act like someone you’re not. You’re perfect the way you are, Yuji.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a small smile broke across his face.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was overthinking it.”

“You definitely were,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

He laughed, the sound light and full of relief, and pulled you into a tight hug—the kind of hug that only Yuji could give, warm and all-encompassing.

“I missed this,” you said, nuzzling into his chest.

“I missed it too,” he admitted, resting his chin on top of your head. “I promise I won’t hold back anymore.”

“Good,” you said, grinning against his shirt. “Because clingy Yuji is my favorite version of you.”

His laughter rumbled in his chest as he held you a little tighter, and for the first time in days, Yuji felt like himself again.

[monzamash]

still tasting you lando norris x you (older piastri sister) rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language) requested by @sublimebarbie for monzamusings ✨

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

Lando's voice was hushed and close, barely audible over the loud music but you heard him; you heard the suggestion in his tone - eyes dark when you peered into them, scorching through your soul. 

The room was a blur – bodies everywhere, EDM vibrating through the floor and syphoning up the ceiling, making your head spin. The shots on the way in didn’t help your sense of direction, the tequila tasting bitter on the tip of your tongue as you followed your brother; a chain of McLaren employees all fighting their way through the dense crowd. It was loud, raised voices trying to figure out where we were being dragged. Truthfully, it was almost too much. 

Until you saw him. His navy button down shirt stuck to his tanned skin, black thick-rimmed sunglasses shielding his bloodshot eyes, bright toothy smile reflecting the flashing lights. He was the embodiment of ‘dance like nobody’s watching’ with his arm raised in the air, singing along to a remix of No Diggity. Carefree, giving zero fucks until he saw you. 

To the outside looking in, you two were friendly - he was your younger brother's teammate, after all. But in the shadows, there were unspeakable acts of pleasure occurring that had you both sworn to secrecy. Quick glances, ghosting touches, passionate make out sessions behind motorhomes and late night rendezvous in hotel rooms. It was the whole ‘sneaking around’ cliche and you loved it. 

Especially when he looked at you like that. 

Like you’d hung the stars in the sky, like there was nobody else in the room but you. He was ravenous and completely enamoured; rendered speechless every single time. 

Granted, you looked hot. Intentionally. You craved his undivided attention and you had it in spades. He’d slipped away from the DJ booth as soon as he saw you lining up for a drink - chatting away with his PR manager and pretending like you couldn't feel his searing presence behind you. 

“Hey guys,” Lando cooly greeted, smiling brighter than the sun.

“Hey hun, I'm ordering drinks - what do you want?” Sophie asked, waiting a beat for Lando’s answer and getting nothing in return, “Lando?”

“Huh?” he mumbled, tearing his gaze away from you to his media manager who was still waiting for his drink order, but now with a sly smirk on her face, “Couldn’t hear you over the music.” He tried to play it off and she simply hummed in agreement and turned back to the bartender.

“Smooth,” you whispered playfully, pulling him into a friendly side hug, “Congrats on the win… must feel amazing.” 

Lando nodded and ran his hands through his hair - you'd noticed he always did that when he was nervous. His cheeks would flush, eyes would dart to anywhere but yours and his fingers would find the frayed ends of his gorgeous curls. All tell tale signs that he was into you. 

“Yeah, it does…” he agreed, nodding and chewing the inside of his cheek, “Not as amazing as you look but still pretty good.”

He could turn it on when he wanted to. And it made you blush as your idle hands playfully swatted him away until you spotted your little brother strolling over to the two of you with a smile. 

“Hey mate,” Oscar greeted happily, patting his teammate on the shoulder, “Celebrating?”

“Absolutely,” Lando enthused and held up his vodka soda with a grin, “Is Lily here?”

“Yeah she’s talking to someone. Thought i’d just come over and make sure my sister wasn’t annoying you again,” he winked, knowing that you were the least annoying person he knew. 

So you rolled your eyes and started to walk away, “Rich coming from you, kid.”

Oscar simply laughed, none the wiser to your arrangement with his teammate, “Don’t have too much fun and remember which side of the garage you’re related to, yeah?” “Yeah, yeah.” you brushed him off and slyly grasped Lando’s wrist, dragging him off into the sea of sweaty bodies and debauchery. 

It didn’t take long for his hands to find a place on your swaying hips, entranced by the way they moved to the music reverberating through your chest. It was hot, in more ways than just the temperature rising in the room as capacity hit. Lando’s breath swept across the back of your neck as he leaned in, so close to pressing his lips to the soft spot between your ear and shoulder that gifted him with the sweetest sounds he had ever heard.

It took every ounce of will power to save it for the bedroom. 

But he was fighting a losing battle. 

“I’m about to act up if we don’t get out of here soon.”

You couldn't stop the smirk tugging on the corners of your lips as his confession washed over you. So you spun around in his arms and leaned in a little closer than "friendly".

But you didn't care – you needed him.

“Then take me somewhere and do something about it.”

That’s all it took. Five little words had you pressed up against the wall of the lavish bathroom. The lighting was dim, nothing but a single sconce illuminating the copper walls and the gorgeous vanity you were perched upon. It was clumsy, all teeth as you kissed the man holding you up, legs sprawled and mewls slipping from your ruby lips. Tongue tied and breathless, all the things to make a quickie, a quickie. 

“So fucking tight,” Lando grumbled as he pumped two fingers into you, the dampened string of what resembled a pair of panties haphazardly pulled to the side.

“Need to fuck me good then, hey.” It was a taunt fuelled by carnal need and desire - Lando simple nodded and lazily nipped at the skin exposed on your neck. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

He was painfully hard, which made unzipping his ridiculously tight trousers even harder than usual. But he managed to do it without missing a beat, fingers still delving into the depths he craved to feel squeezing his aching dick. He’d thought about it all day, even had to have a cold shower because of how fucking obsessed he was with the way you felt around him, clenching like you were now around his thick digits. 

“We’ve gotta be quick so leave everything on,” you whispered with a devilish glint in your hungry eyes, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Lando wasn’t going to protest, in fact he loved the idea of having you like this - fully clothed with only your cute, black lacy panties pulled to the side for him to slide into. He couldn’t wait any longer. His trousers and pants were hastily shoved down just enough to free him, the slick coat of excitement cooled by the air and sending a chill down his spine. Until he removed his fingers and ran himself through your folds, eliciting the sound of an angel, heaven sent.

“We good?” he asked sweetly and you nodded with pleading eyes, sealing a layer of consent before nudging his tip into you. 

A chorus of moans harmonised between the two of you, pleasantly satisfied by the intimacy as he shuffled forward with a gentle huff. It felt too good to have him inside you, filling you up with a delicious fullness you constantly craved from him. It’s all you needed after a long day of yearning and discreetly glancing across the garages - all you could think about was this moment, where it was just you and him; so outrageously turned on that you couldn’t wait to get back to his hotel. Desperately devoted.

“Feels unbelievable, baby,” you praised in a breathy moan, head tilted back against the already steamed up mirror hanging behind you.

“Having you like this is a fucking dream,” Lando practically growled as he pulled down the top of your dress and kissed the tops of your breasts, “So beautiful.” 

Everything felt heightened as you relaxed against the vanity, fully trusting his tight grip and letting go of all inhibitions. That’s how you felt with Lando - walls down and no longer scared to feel it all with someone. And god, it felt good to purge all the pent up lust and aching to have him like this, panting and whispering filth into your ear; every word and jut surmounting to the knot in your stomach snapping to ribbons all at once. Your rushed words pathetically coming out in a whine.

“Lan… Baby I’m gonna- fuck, I’m so close.” 

“Shhh, I got you darling, come ‘f me…” he sweetly whispered, easing you over the edge as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between your thighs like precious cargo. 

You chanted his name over and over and over again, fingernails clutching his clothed back for leverage as you convulsed in pleasure, shockwaves hitting every nerve in your body as he spilled into you with an exasperated groan. He was beautiful, all flushed and fucked out as he pressed his forehead to yours, weary eyes locked in once again. 

“Some of our best yet, I reckon,” Lando whispered, his smirking lips ghosting yours. 

You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss as you slid down off the vanity, readjusting your panties to their usual position. There was a short beat before you glanced back up at him with a smile, fingertips instinctively tracing the angles of his sharp jaw. 

“Oh, we’re just getting started, baby.” 

a/n – something a bit different! i've always wanted to explore a lando x older piastri sister because well, this fic series exists and older reader stories just hit harder and are a lot easier for me to write. so let me know what you think!

click here for more writing...

[mssorceressupreme]

Working Late Pt. 2 | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Your boss does not take lightly to people flirting with his favourite employee, and wants you to know you're his and his only.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, boss/employee, possessive!fred, teasing, jealousy, office sex, fingering, dom!fred, sub!reader, p in v, penetration, coming, overstimulation, praising ———

It was another energetic day at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and you were in high spirits. The shop was packed, the air buzzing with chatter and laughter as customers marvelled at the shelves bursting with magical novelties.

You’d felt like dressing up today, slipping on a short but tasteful black dress that cinched at your waist and flowed just above your knees. It was modest but cute, perfectly suited for the carefree atmosphere of the shop.

Fred had already complimented you earlier in his usual teasing manner, a smirk tugging at his lips as he’d said, “Trying to steal all my customers with that dress, are you?” You’d rolled your eyes playfully punching him, but your heart had fluttered all the same.

Today was no different than any other day, however that changed when the afternoon took a turn, a familiar voice catching your attention.

“Is that… Y/N?”

You turned to find none other than Oliver Wood standing before you, looking as dashing as ever in a red fitted jacket and his signature confident grin.

“Oliver!” you exclaimed, genuinely pleased to see him. “It’s been ages!”

“It has,” he said, his eyes sweeping over you with unmistakable appreciation. “You’ve… changed. Hogwarts didn’t do you justice.”

A faint blush crept up your neck, and you laughed softly. “Well, I guess we all grow up, don’t we?”

As you chatted, his flirtation became more apparent. He leaned closer when he spoke, his compliments growing bolder. “I always knew you were lovely, but Merlin, you’ve really turned heads now.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Fred watching. He was helping another customer, but his gaze kept shifting back to your interaction with Oliver.

His playful demeanour had vanished, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, but his gaze lingered, sharp and brooding.

When Oliver finally left with his purchases, you turned to Fred, hoping for a witty remark or a teasing jab, but he was already busying himself with a display. He hadn’t said a word, not even a glance in your direction.

The rest of the day was tense. Fred barely acknowledged you, answering your questions with curt nods or single-word replies. It was as if he’d built an invisible wall between you, and it stung more than you cared to admit.

"Hey Freddie, a customer wanted to inquire about a stock refill. When are the next batch of Puking Pastilles arriving? They're currently all sold out and-" You approached him while the customer you were serving continued browsing, awaiting your answer.

"Next week." Fred said, a little too bluntly before walking away, avoiding your gaze as he did so.

You nodded slowly, approaching the customer with a forced smile though you were a bit hurt by Fred's bluntness, "The next batch will arrive next week, Monday I believe, best come early before they sell out again miss."

"Sounds perfect love, I'll be here first thing next week then!" She chimed before leaving with her two kids.

During a lull in the crowd, you approached George who was stationed behind the cash register. The interaction with Fred still lingered in the back of your mind. “Is Fred… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

George looked up from the register, his usual grin in place. "Fred? Seems fine to me, why'd ya ask?"

"He's just...it's like he's avoiding me. Have I done something wrong?" You tilt your head, looking at the ground trying to recall any mistakes you might have made.

“Nah you're doing alright. He’s probably just being a git, as usual. Don’t let it bother you eh?"

But it did bother you.

Fred’s cold shoulder gnawed at you, and the more he ignored you, the more determined you became to get a reaction.

An opportunity presented itself when you passed by him in one of the narrower aisles.

As you squeezed past, you brushed against him deliberately, letting your skirt graze his thigh and pressing just enough to make it unmistakable. Smirking, you swayed harder against one particular spot in his trousers.

Fred inhaled sharply, his hands reflexively gripping your waist for a brief moment before you stepped away.

You didn’t look back, but you felt the heat of his gaze as you continued to the other side of the shop, humming as you strolled away.

As you returned to the register to finish a sale later, you noticed a folded piece of parchment resting on the counter. Your name was scrawled on it in Fred’s familiar handwriting. You unfolded it, your heartbeat rapidly increasing upon reading the words:

“My office. Now. – F”

The knot in your stomach tightened as you made your way upstairs. Merlin, what did he want now?

You pushed open the door to find Fred sitting behind his desk, a glass of whisky in his hand. His eyes were dark, his usual humour replaced by something colder, more commanding, almost scary but not quite.

“Come here,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You stepped closer after shutting the door, your pulse racing. Standing in front of his desk now, you waited, unsure of what to expect.

“Sit on my lap,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving you, following your every move.

You hesitated for a split second before obeying, perching lightly on his lap. His hands came to rest on your thighs, firm but not rough, as if he was testing the boundaries.

“Who said you could flirt with customers?” he asked, his tone laced with jealousy.

“I wasn’t flirting,” you said quickly, your voice soft. “I was just being polite. Accommodating him.”

Fred’s jaw tightened, and he let out a low hum of disapproval. “Accommodating? Is that what you call it?”

His fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt, brushing lightly against your skin. “You’ve got some nerve, you know,” he murmured. “Walking around in this dress, brushing past me like that…”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean to—” A white lie.

He cut you off with a soft chuckle, though it lacked humour. “Didn’t mean to, hmm? Then what was that little stunt earlier? Testing me, were you?”

You didn’t know how to respond, his intensity leaving you flustered and unsure.

Slowly but sensually, Fred began caressing your inner thigh, stroking softly and inching his way up to your clit, but not quite touching it. Though only a simple gesture, you felt a rush to your core, finding yourself throbbing and wanting more of his touch.

"You shouldn't have started something you can't finish love." He cooed into your ear.

You bit your lip, "I can finish it.." confident in your head, but a whisper came out, you felt weak under his touch like this.

"Oh really?" Fred raised a brow, "and how do you plan on doing that?" He was amused by your counter, a smug smirk appearing on that devilishly handsome face of his.

You sat there silently, avoiding eye contact him, unsure of how to respond. To be honest, you were inexperienced, you hadn't been this close to a man, in well, forever.

He chuckled lowly, one hand creeping up your skirt again, his fingertips tracing the hem of your panties causing you to involuntarily move forward.

Your body tenses, you held your breath as he continued. His fingers find your clit, circling it through the fabric of your now soaking panties. You let out a whimper in response to his touch.

Fred then finds the sweet sensitive spot on your neck, attaching his lips and sucking. His free hand reaches up and massages your tits sensually while the other hand continues with your clit.

"Let me show you love, let me take care of you..." He nips at your neck a few times before continuing, "By the time I'm done, the whole store will know my name and that you're mine."

You let out a soft moan as Fred uses two fingers to slide your panties down, the cold air hitting the exposed skin under your skirt.

His pants were now wet, both from you, and his precum. You felt a bit embarrassed that you soaked his pants but he was alright with it, in fact, he loved it.

"I don't want to see anymore flirting in my store, especially not with you." Fred's voice was deep, hoarse and almost possessive.

He presses two fingers inside of you, stretching you before flexing his fingers. You whined in response to his long slender fingers, panting heavily as he begins to work them faster inside of you, stretching you more.

Fred works on your cunt and you feel yourself growing hotter, more desperate for him. You arch your back, one arm is wrapped around his nape and the other gripping the table for support.

You fidget slightly, occasionally twitching due to the pleasure, "Fred...I'm getting close..." You whine.

The tight feeling in your core continues to build up, begging for a release soon. You get louder and louder as Fred continues fingering you, slightly faster now. "Fred!" You moan, you're getting extremely close.

Your back arches again, toes curling, and your left fingers practically are digging into his desk.

"Fred...I'm gonna....I'm gonna cu-" Your orgasm burns, erupting in your cunt and your mind explodes with ecstasy, sending a wave of pleasure over you but Fred doesn't stop, he continues.

"Fred please-" You whine, feeling overstimulated, your breathless and feeling another orgasm coming up.

"Merlin, you're so perfect love." He praises, watching you at his mercy, breathless on his lap.

Hearing him praise you like that, made another orgasm come round the corner. He really knew how to push your buttons, in the all the right ways possible.

"I can't take it! I'm getting close again...Fred! Please-" You whimper, as he picks up the pace again.

"Go on, come for me love. I want to hear your pretty moans, love it when my name slips from that pretty mouth of yours." He praised again, and you let loose.

Your walls throbbed, pulsing incredible fast, another pleasurable wave rushed over your body. "Oh God! Fred!" You moaned, before your head fall against his shoulder weakly.

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead, before carrying you bridal style, getting up from his seat and placing you on his desk.

You sat up straight, facing him, your knees on both sides of his hips and he stood between them.

"You did amazing love." Fred praises, his hands sliding on your thighs, parting them and keeping your legs open for what's to come. His shirt was half unbuttoned, pants soaking, and fluffy hair slightly tousled.

"Please Fred...I want you inside me." You plead, glancing up at him with doe eyes.

He groaned softly upon seeing you in front of him, half naked on the table, and he was about to fuck you. He wanted you so bad, he needed you.

"Alright darling." He hums, unbuttoning his belt, letting his cock spring free.

Your eyes grew wide, you'd always assume he was big, but Merlin, he was packing. You felt yourself grow excited upon seeing him, biting your lip unconsciously.

He wraps a hand around his cock, guiding it to your entrance before pressing into you. The tip of his swollen head easily slides against your wetness, sliding with ease into your eager body.

At the intrusion, you tighten, "Merlin, Fred!" You moan, whimpering as he slides out then presses his hips against yours as he slips his cock all the way inside you, deeper than before.

"Mhm you feel so good around me love, so tight for me." He hums, moving faster, leaning forward to give you a kiss. You kiss him passionately but sweetly, sliding your tongue against his bottom lip while he keeps the same pace thrusting into you.

Your arms rest on the table for support, you tilt your head back whimpering at the pleasure of your hips colliding and feeling Fred inside you.

He keeps his hands planted on your hips, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're perfect you know that." Fred moans.

"I'm yours Fred..." You wince, "all yours..."

"And I'm yours, no one is going to change that." Fred responds, leaning in for another kiss. "Shit- I'm getting close..." He thrusts harder and faster, his climax quickly building up.

"Gonna release on your stomach love, that all good?" He breathlessly asks, to which you nod as a reply, unable to speak as you feel yourself reaching your climax too.

You don't last any longer, your body tensing as an orgasm erupts through you. You try to speak but only a whine escapes, throwing your head back, you lay on the desk, bare, exposed and breathing heavily.

Fred's hips rock harshly a few more times before slipping out, releasing on your tummy, every last drop coming onto your tummy. "Merlin..." He groans, throwing his head back, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

He removes his hands from your waist, proceeding to help clean you up and adjusting your dress properly. Picking you up, he carries you bridal style and lays you on the long leather couch in his office.

"You can take the rest of the day off if you want love." He leans down, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I don't mind working..." You remark, "get to flirt with more people..." Your tone was teasing, smirking to get a reaction out of him.

"Flirt with them and I'll take you right then and there in front of them." He retorted, playfully.

You stand up, walking towards Fred, who was getting changed into something...cleaner and more decent, "So territorial." you spoke, helping him with his tie.

Fred tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Can't have them thinking they have a chance.”

“Please I might as well wear a shirt that says 'Taken by Fred Weasley'...” you joked.

"Not a bad idea..." He hummed, looking down at you while you finished off with his tie.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile, "You know I only have eyes for you Fred Weasley, no one comes close."

“That's my girl,” he said, his tone softer now but still edged with authority. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was tender, leaving you breathless. "My perfect girl."

When he finally pulled back, his eyes held a glint of satisfaction. “Now, get back to work,” he said, a teasing smirk returning to his lips. “There’s more where that came from.”

As you reached the door, you glanced back to find him watching you, his gaze warm now but still with a flicker of desire.

"I'll join you downstairs shortly." He winked, and you felt your cheeks heat again as you shut the door behind you, your heart raced as you returned to the shop floor, acting as though nothing had happened upstairs.

___

"Bloody hell, where were you two?!" George, finishing a sale, waved a customer goodbye before turning to you and Fred.

"We had some business to take care of." Fred answered for you guys, placing his hand on your lower back.

George scoffed, a knowing look flashed in his eyes, darting back and forth between you, "Yeah alright sure, business."

"Well I'm off on a date with Angelina, can you two handle the shop for the few hours?" George continued.

"What do you take me for? A slacker?" Fred replied, "Pft of course we can handle it, now go have fun." He ushered his twin away, and George, confused, grabbed his belongings and waved us goodbye, turning back occasionally to make sure the store didn't crash down under Fred's control.

"Round 2?" Fred whispered, a teasing undertone once George was out of sight.

You playfully hit him, chuckling, "We have a shop to run Weasley!"

He laughed softly, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before getting back to work.

[ofourlee]

megumi x reader

you and megumi were like "🤞" you were constantly together. at the school canteen, on the school roof, or wherever. any group projects that need pairs? you and megumi. you two are virtually inseparable.

they say "puppy love," but you had no idea what you were to megumi. he doesn't know what he is to you either. in short, you're simply two ignorant high school students, worried that if one of you confess, the friendship will become uncomfortable. you couldn't risk anything, right?

while you're busy delivering hints to megumi, he's being oblivious and indifferent. (as if he isn't also head over heels for you.) ugh. is he too stupid to understand? or is he simply choosing not to see? you didn't know.

megumi enjoyed taunting you. he always got under your skin. but who are you to complain if you've fallen for him? he was always so chatty when he was with you; it was like a never-ending conversation between the two of you.

you two were polar opposites. you enjoy romantic comedies, romantic animes, romantic literature, anything romantic, and kittens. he enjoys action movies, informational books, sports, and dogs. but hey, opposites attract, right?

as you two walked home together, as usual. the rain began to fall hard.

he glances up at the sky, a little groan escaping his lips as he notices the black clouds accumulating above.

"crap…it started raining suddenly, didn't it?" he mutters, his tone tinged with frustration and resignation as he looks around for cover.

as you both seek cover, he notices children playing in the rain.

he looks out at the children playing in the rain, a tiny grimace on his face.

"those kids are going to catch a cold, playing around in this weather," he mutters, shaking his head in distaste. despite his initial displeasure at being caught in the rain, he can't help but feel a tinge of youthful jealousy as he watches the youngsters play and giggle freely in the rain.

"aw, but they look so cute. i used to play in the rain when i was little." you burst out.

"you played in the rain? seriously?" he says, his tone alternately mocking skepticism and dismay. he finds it difficult to envision you, who is normally so collected and put together, playing in the rain like a carefree child.

"yeah! you don't?"

he shakes his head, a little sneer coming from his lips.

"no, definitely not. I've never played in the rain," he says, his tone scornful and condescending. he can't fathom himself willingly getting wet and muddy, let alone enjoying it.

"gumi, that's kinda sad." you mutter.

he recognizes the real disappointment on your face and feels guilty about his harsh reaction.

"what? It's not that sad. i mean, it's just rain. why would anyone want to play in it?" he attempts to explain, his tone defensive as he dismisses his lack of childhood rain memories.

"why do you always have to be a moodkiller?" you asked him.

as he hears your charge, he sighs, his tone tinged with irritation and resignation. it is not the first time he has been labeled a'mood killer' by someone.

"i'm not trying to ruin the mood or anything; i just don't see the point in getting all wet and muddy," he says, with a tinge of defensiveness in his tone.

"you know what? whatever. you can stay here."

he raises an eyebrow at your remark, expressing surprise and unhappiness with your tone.

"what, really? you're going to go play with the kids or something?" he says, his tone alternating between amusement and irritation. he can't tell if you're sincere or simply attempting to get under his skin.

as you lay your bag down, you say, "the rain is extra heavy, and that's a rare occasion, so I'm not passing up the opportunity. stay here if you still refuse."

he observes as you drop your bag on the floor and get ready to walk out in the rain again. he is filled with irritation and resignation, and your insistence makes him roll his eyes.

"fine, go have your fun in the rain if you're so damn eager," he says, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall.

"oh, i will!" you protested.

he watches with surprise and subtle adoration as you move away from the gazebo's protection and gladly allow the rain to soak through your clothes.

he can't understand how someone could find delight in something as simple as getting drenched in rain, yet he can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy for your carefree and unconcerned nature.

"woooow!! this is so fun!" you shouted.

"are you sure you don't want to join me, gumi?" you try to persuade him again.

he pauses for a while, conflicted between his customary snarky and distant demeanor and a slight flutter of curiosity that he can't seem to ignore. he sees you twirling around in the rain, your laughter filling the air, and something in his chest tightens.

with a slight huff of resignation, he murmurs beneath his breath, "oh, what the hell…"

he rises up and walks out into the rain to join you.

"yay!" you screamed again.

he attempts to keep his normal cool and controlled exterior, but he can't help but feel a slight pleasure when the cool raindrops touch his skin. he looks across at you, his normal poker mask breaking slightly when he sees your delighted grin.

"you know, you're crazy," he mutters, a sneer forming at the corners of his lips.

"see? it's not so bad, right?" you try to comfort him.

he can't help but acknowledge that there's something wonderfully liberating about standing in the rain and letting the water wash over him, washing away his worries for a time.

"i suppose it's not as bad as i thought," he confesses, letting out a tiny sigh of despair. "but I'm definitely getting a cold now, thanks to you."

as you stand in the rain, you can't help but notice his wet face. his nose, long lashes, and plump lips.

he sees your stare, and his cheeks warm slightly as he thinks how he must appear right now, with his hair and clothes soaked from the rain and water droplets sticking to his eyelashes and skin.

"what…what are you looking at?" he says, his tone guarded and embarrassed.

"do i look like I'm looking at your hands?" you ask simply.

he flushes even more, startled and perplexed by your remark.

"what? no, that's not what I meant. i just… " he fumbles over his words, his typical calm sliding as he attempts to come up with a solution.

"you're so cute, megs."

the rain continues to pour hard, chilling the air and reminding him of the gravity of the situation.

"we're… we're going to catch a cold, you know. drenched like this, in the rain." he adds, earning him a mournful expression from you.

he softens as you make a disappointed look, his concern for your well-being taking precedence over his previous sentiments.

"hey, don't look so sad," he says, his tone a blend of sympathetic reassurance and kind reprimand.

"i'm just saying, you don't want to get sick, do you? i can't have you sneezing and coughing all over the place."

"but," you begin. "but i still haven't tried kissing you under the rain yet…"

there were a few seconds of stillness. seconds turn into minutes. he was speechless, and so were you.

you didn't realize what was going through your mind after saying that. you don't seem to hear yourself at all. but you can't let this opportunity pass, right?

he waits for a bit while a concept forms in his thoughts. he looks at you, his eyes skimming your wet form once again, the contours of your body plainly apparent beneath the clinging fabric of your shirt. his heart flutters again as he struggles with his own need and discipline.

a few moments later, he finally speaks up. "so, you really want to… you know, kiss in the rain?" he inquires, his voice low and little huskier than normal.

your eyes brightened. "yeah! it's like experiencing rom-coms in real life."

he gives a little, delighted giggle at your excitement.

"only you would think something like this is like a scene from a rom-com. you really do live in your own world sometimes, don't you?"

despite his remarks, he admits that the prospect of kissing you in the rain is strangely appealing. a chill goes down his spine as he imagines the feelings and emotions that would accompany it.

"yes, it is!" you protest.

he rolls his eyes again, but his lips show a trace of a grin.

"i should have known. you probably watched a dozen rom-coms recently and now you're craving some romantic experience you can reenact."

he can't help but notice how your clothing clings to your body, and the sight causes his thoughts to blank for a few seconds. he swallows hard, his eyes reflexively tracing your figure's contours and lines, which are clearly delineated by the moist cloth. he swears beneath his breath, and his cheeks flame up again.

"i… um, yeah, I know you love rom-coms and all. you love any kind of cheesy, romantic stuff like that."

he attempts to remain composed, but his gaze is drawn to your physique, the moist shirt giving little room for imagination. his thoughts are a jumble of yearning, restraint, and a hint of humor at your penchant for romantic clichés.

"so, uhh, you really want to do this, huh? kiss in the rain. like a scene straight out of a rom-com."

"yes, i want to."

he lets out a sigh, a combination of despair and exhilaration running through his veins. in this moment, he can't seem to refuse your demands; your passion is too contagious for him to ignore.

"fine, fine… you win. we'll kiss in the rain. just like some cliche romantic scene you've watched in a dozen movies."

you were overjoyed right then.

the rain continues to pour steadily, creating a continual background noise that adds to the intensity of the scene. he takes a step closer to you, narrowing the distance between your bodies. his gaze settles on your face, then gently moves down to your lips, which are slightly parted in anticipation.

"are you sure you really want to do this? right here, in the rain? it's kind of cliché, don't you think?"

ugh. he wouldn't stop talking.

"just shut up and kiss me already."

with that, he draws you in closer, his hands softly resting on your hips, the moist fabric of your shirt on his fingertips.

his breaths are short and ragged, and his heart races in his chest. he leans closer, his stare fixed on your lips, a mix of eagerness and something more whirling through his dark eyes.

"you're really something else, you know that? demanding to be kissed in the rain like it's some romantic movie moment. but I guess it sort of is, isn't it? In a—"

you've decided you've had enough. you held his face and kissed him yourself.

he's taken aback by your unexpected gesture, but he soon relaxes into the kiss, his eyelashes fluttering close as he responds to your lips. his hands tighten around your hips, drawing you closer to him, and his tongue reaches for yours, the taste of rain mingling with the kiss. his head is filled with sensations, the sound of rain merging with the hammering of his heart and the feel of your body on his.

he deepened the kiss, his tongue entwined with yours, the flavor of you feeding his mounting hunger. his body is pressed close against yours, the moist fabric of your shirt on his chest, and the heat of your skin through the thin cloth causes his thoughts to wander.

he pulls away for a minute to gather his breath before returning your look, his eyes darkened with desire and a hint of astonishment at your entrance.

you giggle to yourself. dammit! you finally touched those lips for the first time.

he gives out a breathless chuckle at your reaction, his hands remaining firmly on your hips, bringing you close to him.

"that good, huh? you couldn't wait to kiss me so bad." he adds, his voice somewhat cocky as he attempts to control his rapid heart rate. the rain continues to pour around them, and the world appears to have faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment of closeness and desire.

"that was your fault for always talking."

he huffs in faux indignation of your words, yet there's a smirk on his lips.

"my fault? how is it my fault that you can't wait for me to finish talking before pouncing on me and kissing me?" there he goes again.

he pecks your lips one more time before pulling away, catching you off guard. what are we, megumi? you think to yourself

as his gaze moves over your face, he notices your features and how the rain has rendered your hair somewhat unkempt and your clothing cling to your body.

suddenly, your attention was drawn to the dog, who was also in the rain and playing by himself. you petted him.

he looks at you with a mix of astonishment and enjoyment as you quickly switch your focus to the dog, a faint giggle escaping his lips.

"of course, you'd notice the dog before anything else, even after that kiss."