#my signature every time i draw

[kkstarr]

KDJ brainrot

[barra-400]

June pt. 2

[nightmarecleric]

2022/2024

Anyone else got an oc so good they make you wanna learn how to draw better?

[booplesnotts-art]

I would like to see some of your character stuff :>

Oh that makes me very happy🖤🖤

Here’s an assortment of some newer and older doodles that I put together onto one page as well as some other drawings that are a little more recent🖤

I’ll post some information about them at one point if anyone is interested but there’s my blorbos for you all🖤 (feel free to ask me anything if you’d like🫶)

I’ll get to some other requests at some point hopefully soon, I’m just wrapping up my spring sem rn (feel free to send more though !!)

[dragonsong17]

The struggle of starting a new game and wanting to draw about it, but you're too scared to look up character references because you might spoil something 😔

[silasours]

ৎ⸝⸝⠀COCKWARMING ! —

#pairing : lucifer, alastor, vox, valentino, x gn reader. #cw : 18+ content, mdni. unprotected sex. edging. office sex. public sex. sub/power sub reader. no mentions of specific anatomy. vox is in an online meeting for work. touch starved lucifer. val blowing his smoke on you for fun. non proofread because it's six in the fuckin morning and I have not slept a wink. #summary : in which they keep themselves buried deep inside of you while being busied by other stuff. #note : save me, I've been writing nothing but hazbin smut lately. i should really start working on other shows.. alastor's a bit shorter than the others, can't really think of a solid idea for him and I wanted to get this out as soon as possible

ʚ LUCIFER .

lucifer whines when you force him to focus on his unfinished work once again. he has been going back and forth from attempting to thrust into you, but you always found a way to press him down in his place firmly. he had some unfinished work that he left sitting in his office for almost a week now, and it irritated you. that's when you offered to cockwarm him while he worked, get him to finally get his hands on those unfinished works.

being absolutely touch starved, lucifer agreed without hesitation unaware of how miserable and impatient this will make him. his hand remain on his working desk, occasionally scribbling some words and a signature on the paper filled with printed words. he does his best to resist the urge to finally thrust into you, worried that you'd leave him unsatisfied if he doesn't do as he's told.

but there's a limit to how much he can contain himself, especially when he has you sitting on his lap with his cock stuffing you to the brim, when you'd tease him so often by clenching around him or moving your hips ever so slightly. lucifer whines every time, the hand that's placed on your hip squeezing on your flesh desperately.

"can i please.. just finish this up later?" his voice muffled from nuzzling his face into your shoulder, eyes closed shut to focus on the warmth engulfing his throbbing member. you let out a small chuckle, baring your teeth into his neck to draw out those pretty moans of his; his cock leaks pathetically inside of you.

"no can do, luci. you're not going to get whatever you want until you finish up." you pull away and tilt your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto his jaw while giving a quick glance at the papers sprawled across his desk. he's only halfway done with them. "you're doing pretty well, no? you're halfway done."

lucifer groans, annoyed as he picks up the pen from the desk again while reading through the papers. this time, you decide to tease him a little more instead of staying still. you connect your lips with his exposed neck, sucking on the sensitive skin as your hips slowly grind against his. you hear his breath hitch, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping you.

your name spills out from his lips breathlessly, following with a whimper that you love so much. you carry on with your actions, dark marks gradually bloom all over his skin like breathtaking flowers. lucifer shifts to lay his forehead on your shoulder, shuddering from pleasure; you tug on his soft hair, firm enough to lift his head up from your shoulder.

"stay focused, luci. remember what's waiting for you to finish your work."

ʚ ALASTOR .

"oh, what a twist!" alastor exclaims with his eyes glued to the book he's reading, chuckling like you're not clenching down on his cock out of desperation. your eyes are teary as you turn to peek at the page he's on, frustration brewing in your chest. upon noticing your reaction, alastor laughs while moving his hand to cup your face, leaning in with a grin. "don't you agree, my dear?"

you groan, parting your lips further enough to drop his thumb into your mouth, biting down on it. alastor mutters a small "fiesty" before buckling up his hips, watching your eyes widen from the sudden pleasure that shoots up your veins. his arm tightens around your waist to stop you from squirming around excessively.

"put.. the fuckin' book down, a-alastor.." your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt, the back of your other hand hovering over your mouth with a frown on your face. alastor smiles in response, holding the book between the both of you now that there's a gap.

"why, it has only gotten interesting! patience is key, darling."

"it has been almost a whole fucking hour, alast-" your words get cut off by yet another harsh thrust of his hips, an uncontrollable moan slipping off your tongue. a low, barely audible grunt could be heard coming from alastor because of how you're squeezing around him like your life depends on it.

slowly, he places the book down, pushing two digits into your mouth as his sharp nails graze past your gums. your tongue swirls around them, gaze fixated on his that seems to be mocking your desperation. you grind your hips, wanting to feel more of that sensitive spot in you being stimulated by his tip brushing against it. alastor grunts every time you tighten around him, the feeling making his skin jump and his eyes close shut from the pleasure he receives.

you reach for the book to toss it aside, not allowing him any chance to get it back and return to what he was previously putting you through. he laughs at the action before getting cut off by yet another groan, a frown slowly finds its way to spread across his face despite the grin that remains on his lips.

"the book shall wait after all."

ʚ VOX .

the sound of vox's workers and colleagues echoes through his workplace, the source of it coming from the laptop that sits in front of him. he's holding an urgent meeting with them to discuss some things about work, yet you're here obediently sitting on him, cockwarming him. your arms hug his neck tightly, hands grabbing tightly onto his shirt while listening to him speak to the people in call.

you bite down every moan that builds in your throat, not allowing any sound to be heard by anyone but your partner. times when vox isn't discussing important matters, he leans into your ear to whisper praises, thrusting into you, and stops so suddenly when you're close to release.

he grins as you whine at the sudden loss of friction, skin flushed while feeling him draw lazy circles on your hips with his thumbs. he starts speaking again just when you're about to voice your frustration, drawing out a grumble from you. you stay there unattended, glancing at the part where the two of you connect; you're craving release, and you're done waiting.

with a steady pace, you move your own hips while holding onto his shoulders for support. vox's head snaps toward your direction, teeth gritting as he bites back the groans that threaten to leave his lips. he tries to hold you down, but his body betrays him and allows you to carry on with your movements. his head tilts back to lean against the headrest of his chair, the words that his workers speak gradually shifting to a blur in his mind.

"fuck, w-wait," his breath grows heavy, barely managing to keep his eyes open as you fuck yourself on his cock. you're supposed to be cockwarming him, not riding him. he has allowed you to the point of no return, how is he going to carry on with the meeting now? you grab him and connect your lips with his, drinking in his groans like how he does to your moans.

ignoring the calls of his name from the meeting, he pulls you closer by the waist as you grind yourself on him. it wasn't until he started getting annoyed by the meeting that he broke away from the kiss, strings of saliva still connecting your lips while his hand reached out to shut the laptop down. the room falls to a sudden silence, the only sounds that remain are your heavy breathing.

"you're gonna fuck up my company if this carries on," vox snickers before crashing his lips with yours again, hands holding onto your hips to thrust into you without anything holding him back this time.

ʚ VALENTINO .

you still can't process the fact that you're in valentino's studio with his cock buried deep inside of you while people walked around to work on set. valentino takes puffs from the cigarette he holds between his fingers, often ordering and even yelling at people as they rush to obey his commands.

nobody pays any mind to the both of you; in fact, they see it as something normal. after all, they're working for a porn producer, what is there not to be normal? you keep your face stuffed in the fluff of his coat, hands gripping tightly onto his outfit while still trying to adjust to how good he stretches you apart. everyone has just started working, and the set is still being prepared for a new film.

"you're tighter than usual my love, are you that excited to be around everyone?" he teases with a mocking tone, puffing out a wisp of pink smoke onto your flushed face. you lightly shake your head with a whine, the smoke that you inhale causing your vision to spin immediately. humming, valentino lifts your body up with the help of his lower pair of arms before roughly slamming you back down onto his cock. "I doubt that. you've always loved being fucking in public, no? look at you,"

you gasp, body tensing as a moan escapes your throat. you immediately bite down on your lower lip, eyes screwing shut while simultaneously having your body trembling under his hold. you don't want to draw too much attention to yourself, yet the idea alone excites you in an odd way that you never knew it would. noting your reaction, valentino continues repeating the action before stopping promptly, feeding himself with your choked back moans.

"keep looking pretty like that while i work, i'll have a reward waiting for you." you mewl at his words, giving him a weak nod while tugging onto his shirt. he takes another long drag from his cigarette before letting his gaze fall onto the prepared set displayed in front of him, eyes scanning for the stars of the show in the room.

he would moan softly into your ear whenever you clenched around him, teasing you with his mere voice and carrying on with his work. you don't complain, though, considering how you'll be fucked into a moaning mess once he's done with work.

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[kissitbttr]

nobody understands how you did it.

how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.

‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’

that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.

the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately

“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.

they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.

so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?

certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.

definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.

“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,

you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.

scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.

he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.

“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.

he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.

he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.

“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”

“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”

simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.

truly is a sight.

“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,

he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.

“you’re just so beautiful”

something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.

you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.

“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”

the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.

something you’d see when two people are in love. c

so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.

he found a solace within your existence.

only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.

vbecause you. are his home

[qlossytbh]

𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞? - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 where you find yourself with immense baby fever

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 baby fever, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff, established relationship, reader and spencer are married, hotch x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i imagined older spence but younger jack so pretend jack is around 3 or 4 but spence is like around season 7/8 (?)

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“All I’m saying, you could’ve been a little nicer,” You turned to Morgan with a rigid sigh. If he didn’t know you better, it’d probably sound like you were deeply annoyed with him, on the verge of cursing him out. He knew you were only regarding the events of today's case.

“I think you’re mixing ‘being nicer’ with tough love,” You deadpanned at your friend, earning nothing but his signature snicker.

You shook your head, feigning that of disappointment. You rolled your shoulder back, craning your neck slightly to scan the files that rested between your fingers. God, how many files could one see in a day?

It was a few hours past midday when the case came to an end. Hotch had a sudden dilemma that he needed immediate solving, so he told all of you to make it back to headquarters. You and Morgan however, had been stuck together for the day and made it back a lot earlier than the rest of the team, prompting the two of you to get some necessary paperwork done.

You needed a day off— especially from Morgan.

The bullpens doors opened unexpectedly, drawing you and Derek out of your conversation. You turned, seeing the rest of the team waltz through the glass door— only this time, they were accompanied by a pair of small legs.

You couldn’t stop a reflexive smile from growing onto your face. “Is that who I think it is?”

Jack waddled into the bullpen, one of his tiny fists bundled up onto a small section of Hotch’s dress pants. You could’ve screamed, a reaction that was becoming more necessary every time you saw a kid, and most definitely when you saw Jack.

At the sound of your cheery voice, Jack looked up, biting onto his knuckles— something you learned was a sign of his bashfulness.

But when he realized it was you who was standing next to Morgan, his face immediately morphed into one that could only portray pure and innocent child joy, looking as if he couldn’t be happier to see you. Nothing could compare to how ecstatic that made you feel, chest getting fuzzy with endearment. Hotch placed his palm onto the back of his head. “Look who it is!”

You've taken care of Jack too many times you lost count, given since you and Hotch were close— practically family. You adored Jack and found yourself being struck with some newfound motherly instinct when it came to him— or any kid for that matter. He always gave you this very violent need to squeeze his cheeks and hug him so tight he might pop.

“Is that little Jackie?” Your voice was high and welcoming, trying to hide how utterly joyed you were with seeing him and failing miserably. Jack immediately pushed himself off of Hotch’s leg and began running towards you.

Well, he more so waddled his way over to you, small feet pattering roughly against the floor as he ran over to you in an unstable line. You met him halfway, crouching down and opening your arms for him. When he was close enough, he launched himself into said arms, voice loud with giggles and shrieks. “If it isn’t my favorite boy!”

You squeezed him tightly, rising once again to your natural height and hugging the small toddler. Morgan, of course, didn’t miss a beat to taunt. “Careful, Reid’s listening.”

“Oh please,” You rested Jack on your hip, keeping strong secure arms around him while he gripped the ends of your hair curiously. “Spencer knows that Jack comes first no matter what, isn’t that right Jack?”

“Yeah!” He laughed.

Spencer couldn’t keep in a single thought as he watched you interact with Jack so naturally. It twisted his chest in weird, scary ways. If it were anyone else he’d be terrified. But it was you. And he now found his head lingering with the idea of you as a mother— the mother of his children, specifically.

It was a conversation the two of you had once, very briefly a few months after you two got married. Spencer had been meaning to get back at it, but with the chaos of your jobs it had been really hard to think about anything other than serial killer and criminals.

But fuck, if Spencer said that seeing you interact so carefully and sweetly with not only Jack but many other children that had stumbled up on these last few cases— he’d be the biggest liar on the face of this earth.

Just the thought of starting a family with you was something that filled him with anticipation. It made his chest burn. Something he craved so deeply, it sometimes left him breathless.

“You’re getting so big and strong that I’m beginning to have a hard time lifting you up.” You huffed, setting him down onto the ground and crouching beside him. “You’re gonna give me back problems.”

“Derek says it’s because you’re getting weak!” His R’s were disguised as muffles W’s, which only caused your heart to clench further. A choke disguised as a strained laugh left your mouth.

“Is that so?” You turned over to him with a glare. Morgan scratched the back of his head and turned on his heel avoiding you and your piercing gaze.

“But who’s your favorite; big old chiseled Derek, or little weak me?” You squint your eyes at the boy, pursing your lips feeling very confident in his answer.

And to no one’s surprise did Jack point towards you and with a huge, wide smile laughed out. “You!”

You laughed victoriously, holding out a palm for Jack to clap. “Yeah, that’s right!”

“Oh, come on,” Morgan groaned.

After one last hug from the child, you ushered Jack over to Hotch, shooting an endeared smile towards him. God, you loved that kid so much.

JJ, Prentiss and Rossi made their way to the conference room. You look ahead, meeting the gaze of your husband and smiling profusely. It was a subconscious reaction your body had. You found yourself meeting Spencer halfway. “Hey,”

His hand rested on your hip as he leaned down, kissing you chastly. Spencer would’ve loved to actually take his time greeting you with a much proper kiss, but it was a middle ground the two of you found between professionalism and well— being married.

His hand, however, remained on the spot on your hip, thumb drawing circles instinctively. It was subtle, but his touch was still there. Your smile was big and lovestruck, looking up at him with soft eyes. “Hey,”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's laughter ripped through the air as Hotch lifted him up. You and Spencer turned and you swear you could almost cry.

It was as if lately, when you allowed yourself to think even slightly about the concept of children you’d combust into a pool of tears and overbearing endearment. Spencer watched you looking over at Jack and noticed something pooling beneath your eyes.

You looked back at Spencer, lips tied in a pout. “I want one.”

“A baby?” He tuned, laughing slightly at how your body sunk against his, resting your forehead on his chest in exasperation.

“Yes,” You pushed yourself off his chest, throwing your hands around as you spoke. “The small hands, small feet— I swear everytime I see a baby, I get violent.”

You pouted. “Imagine a mini us Spence,”

And Spencer did. He thought about it in such detail that he forgot it wasn’t an actual reality of his. A little girl or boy, that resembled either of you, that held so many fractions and traits of the two of you— it seemed unreal to him.

“A mini us?” He repeated. You looked up at him.

“Well— yeah,” You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, we haven’t really talked about it but..”

Spencer wanted kids more than he had ever wanted anything before— but he knew that he only wanted it if it was with you. He couldn’t phantom the thought of starting a family with anyone else.

“We should,” He spoke. Your fingers played mindlessly with the bottom of his tie, looking up at him with a teasing smirk.

“We should talk about it or we should try?” A blush crept up his cheeks as his eyes widened just slightly. You always found ways to catch him off guard and you loved getting even the slightest reaction out of him.

“Uh—“ He dragged out his words, before his eyes landed back on you. “Both?”

You laughed and he smiled. He always smiled when you laughed, he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. You reached down, tangling your fingers with his. “I’m serious though,”

He hummed. “So am I.”

“You actually want to start trying for a baby?” This seemed like a conversation that was far too intimate to be having in the middle of the bullpen— where you usually discussed varieties of atrocious things, but here you were I guess.

“Yeah,” He said, almost in disbelief that you had questioned it. You found yourself growing oddly shy, just thinking of a small version of the two of you running around.

Before you could continue on the subject, Morgan, who now held Jack on his shoulders, was calling you and Spencer over to the conference room. You turned to Spencer, smiling softly.

“Can we get back to this once we get home?”

“Please,” He breathed, leaning forward and pressing a longer kiss onto your lips. You grew giddy and smiled into the kiss, pulling away sooner than both of you would like.

“I love you,” You smiled. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and placed a loving kiss on your forehead.

“I love you.”

[suntoru]

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍?!

✧˚ · . alt title: getting jealous of a little kid trying to steal ur man!!

cw: gn! reader, pure fluff, crackfic, maybe swearing, not proofread, idk what else please cut me some slack for wriothesley and nuevillettes part i haven’t gotten that far in genshin

─ ✰ 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 notices your little pout and glares to the small child. the little girl’s clutching onto his hand tight, sending him adoring gazes as she nuzzles into him softly, smirking deviously at you when she thinks your boyfriend isn’t paying attention. he’s a little confused at first, but manages to connect the dots. ah. so that’s what it is. his lips curve into a small smile as he notices your jealousy, thinks you’re the cutest thing in the world. he places the now scowling child into adeline’s care for a bit, before making his way to you with a sheepish smile.

“dearest… are you in need of some attention? my apologies, it seems i have neglected you for a bit too long. how about a walk together… just you and i?”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 is a girl dad, you can’t convince me otherwise. the little girl is giggling in his arms, squishing his cheeks as they play princesses and knights. for some reason, the girl is set out for you, side eyeing you every time you try to get close to kaeya. so with a sigh, you sit and watch them play with a small huff. after a while, kaeya hands the five year old some mora, telling her to go buy a snack from a nearby cart and that they’ll play again later. she excitedly runs off as he saunters over to you with his signature smirk. he scoops you up into his arms, holding you flush against his chest. “you’ve got some real competition, hm?” he lets out a charming laugh as he teases you lightheartedly.

“don’t worry my love, you still own my heart… for now.”

─ ✰ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 loves playing with little kids. they remind him of teucer and his other younger siblings, forgetting about his harbinger duties for a moment as he plays hide and seek with the little girl. she shyly hands him a flower she picked herself, blushing slightly. he feels his heart melt, feeling a sense of protectiveness was over him as she clutches his leg tight. he’s unaware of your pout until the child reluctantly has to go back home for supper, his concentration snapping back to you. he grins at your frowny expression, tugging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly.

“aww, y/n, are ya jealous? ahaha, so you are! …stop pouting, i’ll make sure to give you some extra attention tonight~”

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄 does not like the little kid either. sorry, what were you expecting? he doesn’t like any kids at all, unless it’s your kid. reluctantly, he entertains the child for a bit, attempting to hide his annoyed expression as the little girl tugs at his hat, giggling loudly. he also finds himself glaring coldly at the five year old every time she sticks her tongue out at you, climbing into his lap as she refuses to look at you. at this point, he just wants to go back to you, but the little girl cries every time he attempts to stand up. he almost smiles when the child’s mother finally finds the little girl, speed walking over to you as he allows you to cling onto him softly, frown instantly melting away.

“hmph. what an annoying brat. …our kid would be much cuter.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 smiles at the small child as she draws a picture of her and kazuha holding hands. he allows her to play with her hair, acting as a father figure to this sweet little girl. it’s almost like a perfect family… except this demon child hates you. she steals all of kazuha’s attention, and whenever you try to initiate affection, she drags him away possessively. …you never thought you’d have a five year old compete with you over your boyfriend. if not for kazuha’s patience, you might have lost it. he pulls you into a corner with a knowing smile, peppering your face with kisses as he chuckles softly.

“dove, there’s no reason to pout… you’ll always be my muse, alright? so stop frowning… a smile suits you much better.”

─ ✰ 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 frowns slightly seeing the girl cling onto his arm. …where are her parents? should he leave? …no, that would possibly put the child in danger… but at the same time, it’s taking away his time with you. he allows the little girl to stay, observing curiously as the little girl blushes ever so slightly while playing with his hair. …strange. this small creature acts so much like you, yet seems to hate your guts… he turns to you, surprised to see you grouchy. standing up, ignoring the girl’s protests, he tilts your head up with his hand, gorgeous amber eyes boring into yours.

“…have i done something to make you upset? tell me, so i can fix it.”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 knows. this little bitch knows what he’s doing… it’s been a peaceful few weeks, why not stir it up a little? he holds her teensy tiny hand in his, feeding her delulu in further, and spends what was supposed to be your date with him into a play date with the little gremlin. it’s seven when the girl falls asleep, finally paying attention to you. he smiles mischievously at your grouchy pout, pulling you in closer as a soft melody starts playing, spilling you around as you waltz around the room.

“…ah? so you knew i was teasing you? …i have to make it up to you now? very well. how about a nice massage and some cuddles tonight?”

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌 stares at the child. …why is it so attached to him? kaveh and you were right there, with open arms, beaming at the little girl… and now sobbing as the child ignores you… not knowing what to do, he continues reading his book… but it’s not long before she tugs his sleeve, asking for him to read her a book. he obliges, reading to her in the most monotonous voice, it would be more surprising if the little five year old didn’t fall asleep. looking up, he sees you scowling at the little girl, and he feels his heart warm the slightest bit.

“…what i read her? the extensive analysis of the color brown: the non-illustrated edition. simply fascinating.”

─ ✰ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇 cooes as the little girl bats her eyelashes, beaming so innocently, his entire heart melts. this little girl is his now, sorry parents!! you snooze, you lose. when you whisper to him how you think she hates you, he audibly gasps. this sweet little angel? no way!! he shows her all around his office, the secret projects he hasn’t even shown you yet!! they have a field day with that. when the sun sets, he reluctantly gives her back to her very grateful parents. his eyes sparkle at your pout, squeezing you tightly.

“oh, you wish to know what the classified architecture is too? …it’s… our future home. for me and you.”

─ ✰ 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 visibly softens at the little girl tugging his shirt. unbeknownst to most who believe he is as stoic as he is in the court, he seems to be very soft and gentle. he allows her to clumsily braid his silky strands, keeping the hairstyle on for the day, ignoring the confused stares he gets from fellow passerby. however, when you try to give him a peck, she pushes you with a glare, clinging onto his sleeve! your mouth visibly drops, and you don’t know whether to laugh or be mad. neuvillette is equally as shocked, scolding her lightly.

“beloved, are you all right? …no? shall i kiss it better?”

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 expected the five year old to go running into your arms, screaming and crying. after all, he certainly looks like a scary man, having quite a tall stature, covered in scars as well. but no, she innocently beams at him cutely asking to play tea party. so that’s the sight you walked into, a small child, wriothesley, and a handful of barbies surrounding the round table, all having teacups. the girl glares at you, telling you you can’t join, as your smile drops. this little roach… who does she think she is? before you can say anything, he pulls you to the side, whispering quietly.

“babe, we’ll have our own tea party date later… yes, yes, i promise.”

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[choerypetal]

Secret Admirer / Regulus Black

Summary: Regulus had always harbored a soft spot for a particular member of the Potter family. This individual stood in stark contrast to James, and being a Slytherin only seemed to fuel Regulus's obsession with the sibling who exuded a delicate scent of orchids.

P.S : English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any minor grammar errors. Enjoy!

Regulus had no intention in falling in love. Or was it all in his head? 

God forbid he would need an excuse to glance in your direction or steal a look every now and then. The young man wasn't about to let you slip out of his sight so effortlessly. First, he had to admire every inch of your body, from head to toe. You were now his target, his prey.

He was well aware that this endeavor wouldn't be a simple one, especially considering you were the notorious sibling of James Potter himself.

Understanding your brother's protective nature, being associated with the Potter name wasn't exactly favorable, particularly from an ethical standpoint. Being a Slytherin only intensified matters, as it made you a target for Dark Wizards, much to James' dismay. For Regulus, this meant that even initiating a conversation with you posed a significant challenge.

Regulus remembered the very first time he had met you. Like every love cliché stories, it was during your first day at Hogwarts when your brother had been the light of everyone interest and Regulus had the chance to see your beautiful face exit the train and your hair seemingly blending itself with the wind. It was in that very moment that Regulus knew what falling in love was like. 

Being a Black meant enduring Sirius's teasing at his whim, and with his family's significant legacy, observing his close rapport with the Potters, one might have considered themselves fortunate to easily encounter you during Potions class. You were slightly smaller than your brother, inviting mockery from him and his friends when reaching for higher objects, coupled with a persistent plea until the class's final moments. However, one time, Regulus seized the opportunity to intercept them before you. It was also the moment when both of you heard each other's voices. Your small “Thank you” and the smile you bestowed upon him were enough to stir butterflies in his stomach, followed by inevitable teasing from Sirius later that evening, as it became evident that your brother's attention was on the two of you. 

After the initial encounter between Regulus and you in Potions class, James couldn't help but notice you two’s interactions. To his surprise, he found himself growing increasingly concerned as rumors circulated about Regulus's association with the Death Eaters, and perhaps even darker affiliations. As your brother, naturally, he wanted the best for you, but witnessing the potential dangers of Slytherin influence, it pained him to imagine you being ensnared by such influences. Little did he know, he was mistaken from the outset. 

Regulus was undeniably a good person, a fact known to everyone. Yet, there was something about him that intrigued you even more. You couldn't help but notice from the outset the subtle glances he stole in your direction during class. Your friends occasionally teased about someone showing interest in you, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it, especially with your brother's constant reminders about keeping your distance from men, especially Slytherins like Regulus. Despite all this, Regulus was keenly aware that you were conscious of his attention towards you.

Despite your efforts to maintain complete innocence regarding your brother's request, you couldn't deny the temptation or the inevitable encounter with Regulus. Which meant, he couldn't resist drawing your full attention to him, resorting to leaving notes in specific places where you frequented. With his signature R.A.B.

As a result, you couldn't help but become somewhat frantic, eager to uncover the identity of your secret admirer. This lead to an interesting investigation between the two of you. 

This though first was brought up during lunch at the Dinning Hall. While he was away in his book, he couldn’t help but to notice and hear clearly his name being whispered from your own mouth. From this very moment, he couldn’t stop but to think— think about the endless dreams longing to hear your voice murmuring his name, begging to hear it, before it vanishes in echoes completely. How he would hold your hand seemingly, wondering off away from Hogsmeade to deep in the forbidden forest to admire the beautiful beasts you long wanted to discover amidst admitting it during class one time. Something he had not forget and it was these little details Regulus made sure of when the possibility of a real encounter. 

The encounter unfolded within the confines of the Library. As you embarked on your quest to locate a book recommended by your teacher, one that aligned with your fascination for magical beasts, fortune smiled upon you as remnants of the coveted tome remained available. Despite its widespread popularity for research purposes. Your satisfaction was tinged with frustration as the book eluded your grasp, just beyond your reach. Regulus, perhaps guided by destiny, seized the opportunity to intersect your paths. As he reached for the book he sought, a familiar fragrance enveloping him—the scent of fresh orchids that had captivated him since your initial meeting. “Perhaps a little assistance is in order.” He remarked, his voice resonating with familiarity, reminiscent of your encounters in Potion class.

However, on this occasion, instead of flashing your customary smile, your eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected presence of the boy who might be your clandestine paramour. Despite the initial shock, you swiftly pushed aside such thoughts and donned your smile. Yet, your cheeks betrayed a different sentiment, flushing with warmth at the tender touch of his cold yet inviting fingers intertwining with yours. It had been an eternity since you had been in such close proximity to Regulus. Despite your inner turmoil and unspoken desires, you couldn't deny the longing for his company, and the warmth of his attentiveness towards you.

“Thank you…” Your voice, gentle and familiar, whispered to his ear, betraying your unmistakable affection for him. Regulus returned your smile with confidence, yet beneath the facade, a sly smirk danced across his lips as he handed you the book, placing it securely in your grasp. With a casual glance at the title, he feigned surprise, though inwardly he had anticipated your newfound research interest. “A fan of magical beasts as well?” He inquired, his tone softened, a deliberate effort to win the approval of your brother, something he knew he must secure to further his intentions.

“Yes.” You affirmed, though the realization of once again finding yourselves drawn together in such close quarters was a surprise even to you. Despite the shared space, your presence seemed merely a distraction to him, your brother's attention firmly fixed on Lily Evans. Nonetheless, Regulus seized every chance to revel in the pleasure of your company, carving out moments for just the two of you. The burgeoning attraction between you was becoming increasingly apparent. “Looks like we always meet in times when I am deed.” You confessed, acknowledging the truth of your words, yet Regulus finding this statement to be nearly impossible to resist the allure of such intense desire, passion. And intimacy with a man who embodied all these qualities. 

As tempted as you were to acknowledge those thoughts, and even to acknowledge Regulus's correctness, you merely shrugged with feigned innocence. It was a quality that had captivated Regulus from the moment he first laid eyes on you. He longed to possess you entirely, to the extent that he would endure your brother's fury or the sight of the Potter girl tangled in Slytherin affairs. Regardless, his sole focus was to ensure that you belonged to him and him alone. 

And much to his liking, James being in the same room just a few tables from afar your study had take knowledge of Regulus’s presence. How his thumb would be casually caressing your chin and lifting up slightly to have a the opportunity to feel his lips against yours. Just this once, and perhaps even more. 

“You know…” His voice deepened, his warm breath grazing against your skin. In that moment, you realized you had been momentarily blinded by his actions, yet a stirring within you suggested that perhaps, like him, you were in love. In love with a man who sought justice and, undoubtedly, someone to cherish—a person with whom he could find solace and belonging. Regardless of your brother's approval, he remained unconcerned. “A little bird informed me that you've been receiving letters from a secret admirer. I couldn't help but be curious about their identity.” He confessed, his tone betraying a mix of intrigue and oblivious.

His voice, smooth as butter, dripped with both passion and curiosity, eager to uncover whether you knew the identity behind the mysterious letters. Despite harboring your own suspicions, you simply shrugged, a casual yet teasing smile playing on your lips. As he reciprocated with a gentle touch, his thumb grazing your chin, you sensed the tension radiating from your brother, torn between throwing a punch or holding back. Simultaneously, you were aware of your brother's intense gaze fixed upon you, even though your back was turned to him. In that moment, it was clear that he faced a choice: intervene or allow Regulus to kiss you.

“Don't,” Sirius mouthed the words silently, fully aware of Regulus's capabilities. If there was one thing he couldn't deny about his family’s qualities, it was the sincerity of Regulus’s feelings and intentions, especially when it came to the person he loved. Despite the complex dynamics between the Blacks and the Potters, whether as friends or foes, James couldn't bear to witness his sibling's sadness and envy once more. And so, with a resigned sigh, he chose to let it be. “Fine, but if he dares to break her heart. I won’t hesitate.”

As Regulus observed your eyes flickering from his gaze to his lips, he sensed a spark igniting between you. The way he spoke to you, the words conveyed on paper—it all pointed to one undeniable truth: your secret lover was none other than Regulus himself. A delicate smile accompanied by a soft chuckle escaped your lips, leaving Regulus slightly bewildered, prompting him to tilt his head in curiosity. “Though I may want to play the part of the suspicious and oblivious recipient of secret admirer letters, I believe I've unraveled the mystery.” You confessed with a hint of amusement.

Your confession alone was convincing, but it was Regulus's sigh that truly affirmed the man standing before you. He was undeniably your secret lover, unafraid to show his affection openly, even in the presence of your own brother. Regardless of family legacy or expectations, he cared not. As he drew near, the library eerily empty, his eyes never straying from yours, you felt the gentle brush of his lips before they melded into a long-awaited kiss—a kiss you both had yearned for, dreamed of, and finally shared.

Before you could even catch your breath, your fingers tenderly cupped his face, softly stroking his cheeks as he savored every moment of affection, his eyelids drifting shut. Then, your voice, sweet and longing, broke the silence. “Kiss me. Forever.”

Without hesitation, Regulus complied, pressing his lips to yours once again, unwilling to pull away until he sensed your brother's disdainful gaze. From that day forward, you became Regulus's other half, bound together by love and defiance.

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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join the taglist for any fic

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

TF One spoilers!

My favorite Starscream shots from the movie!

Throne. Need I say more?

This is where he looks like he’s gonna be a good guy but curveballs into declaring that the strong should be leading. As a Starscream redemption fan I’m a little disappointed but ALSO I find it hilarious and on brand

Starscream being taller than D-16.

ASKING HIM TO HIT HARDER?? TFO Starscream is peak feral Starscream and I love it. Getting defeated and continuing to egg him on. I’ve noticed a trend that Megatron tends to hold Starscream by the neck when they fight. Especially when it’s serious. With the detail of Megatron being the one to crush Starscream’s throat in this continuity, imagine if that was the case in other continuities. Megs doing the same (probably traumatic) move in order to intimidate him? That’s some delicious angst right there.

Not included: Shockwave trying to intervene, Soundwave going “nah I wanna see who wins”

Aww. He’s just a little guy and it’s his birthday. He’s a little birthday boy. Don’t hurt him.

Kinda wish he was more of a threat, but I also love his energy here so I can’t complain. Picks a fight he can’t win, escalates when he’s losing, gets defeated. Go girl give us nothing

I found the detail that it was Megs crushing his throat that gave him the signature squeaky voice both funny and sad. Love how his first instinct is to threaten violence here. Disrespectfully disagree with how quickly he stopped talking after Sentimeter turned away though. Starscream would NEVER shut up when someone makes fun of him. He’d yap so hard. The essence of Starscream is stubborn refusal.

Hell, he’d bite Sentinel’s hand right that instant.

I enjoy this scene because it looks like they’re just chill now, like he’s with Elita and Bee. Especially since every time I look at it I think Bee’s arm is Starscream’s. Wanna draw that.

First language reveal ewwwww

That’s all folks! I’ll post my other screenshots later perhaps

[natalievoncatte]

The yawn stretched Lena’s jaw to the point that she felt like a cat, baring her fangs. Naturally, it prompted a Kara Danvers Pout, which was utterly devastating. Kara looked at her over the top of her drink cup, straw still pursed in her delicate pink lips as she frowned slightly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“I had a half hour nap this morning,” Lena sighed.

She’d been in the office for three days, but she didn’t admit that.

“Leeeenaaaaaaa,” Kara said, drawing her name out into a gentle rebuke. “You promised me you’d stop doing that to yourself. I’m taking you home.”

Lena’s heart skipped and Kara abruptly jerked upright, briefly glancing at her. Lena hated when that happened, when her body betrayed her. Kara meant escort her home; Lena’s thoroughly tired mind had supplied another scenario, one where Kara carried her onto the bed, relieved her of her clothes and dove between her legs, but that was never going to happen. Lena let out a long sigh of resignation, trying to be satisfied with best-friendship.

She hoped Kara hadn’t suddenly developed telepathy.

If you took me home I’d never leave. I could make love to you for a hundred years.

Kara smiled back at Lena’s wistful look. “I mean it.”

“Okay. I can come back to it tomorrow. Besides, I’m too full of grease and cheese to stay awake. Should we…”

Lena never finished her sentence. There was a crackle in the air, a sudden wet smell of ozone, and the thunderous boom that made her ears ring.

Kara flashed in front of her at super-speed, yanking off her glasses and tossing them on the couch in a smooth motion.

Hovering in the middle of her office was some ramshackle contraption resembling a mechanical eye about the size of a basketball that scanned Kara with a faint purple energy ray.

“Kara Danvers. Supergirl. I am Zeglos, Regent of the Alotian Republic. I am calling to you from the home of my people, located in what is to you a subatomic realm we call Universe Q. We need your help, you are our only hope. The invaders are slaughtering us and razing our home. There is no time.”

Kara glanced back at Lena. “I’ll help if I can. Let me-“

“There is no time. You must come with me now.”

“Wait, hold on a second-“

The machine flashed, thrumming as it powered up, and blasted here with a wave of light that surrounded them both, and then in a crackling boom they both vanished, leaving behind the ozone smell and a faint impression of Kara’s boot heels in the carpet.

Lena stared into the empty space for a moment, then shot to her feet, snatching the phone off her desk, where it had lain ignored since Kara walked into the room.

She called Alex, shocked at the blubbering panic in her own voice. Within a few minutes, everyone was there, piling into the room. Lena warded them off from the spot where Kara had stood. Alex was cold and calm, her voice clinical, and she immediately began issuing orders. J’onn took Lena aside and gently asked her probing questions in the manner of an old detective, coaxing every meager detail of the event out of her.

Within half an hour, Brainy and Lena had set up all sorts of equipment around the room, scanning, hoping to find some energy signature or other clue that could enable them to bring Kara back from wherever she’d been taken.

It proved fruitless. They tried everything.

Minutes stretched into hours. Lena was exhausted, heavy with fatigue.

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Alex. “We can’t help her if we pass out on the floor.”

“I’ll sleep here.”

She did, throwing a thin blanket over herself on the couch. It was Alex, not Lena, who cleaned up the Big Belly Burger mess. Lena slept fitfully, showered in the en-suite attached to her office, and changed into an old hoodie that she kept there and wore when no one was looking.

It wasn’t hers. Threadbare, a maroon color faded to a soft red, the back still emblazoned with a cracked and fading Midvale Mathletes Club logo, it was Kara’s. Lena had snatched it from Kara’s sofa and put it on one night when she was feeling bold and then, as now, felt surrounded by it, the oversized garment swaddling her.

And it smelled like Kara, just enough. Kara had stared at her intently for a moment when she took it that night but said nothing, a wistful sad look on her face before the moment was broken by Wynn’s bad joke at the table. Wynn was gone now, but the hoodie remained, just as it had remained when they were fighting, when she thought she’d never see Kara again. She’d worn it then and cried herself to sleep in it.

Just like now.

A day became two. Then three. Five. Lena tried everything, pursued every theory. They called in every favor, human and alien. Brainy tried to send messages to the future. Nia dreamed fruitless dreams. Alex paced like a caged animal and Kelly kept the peace, keeping them all fed, making sure everyone slept, talking things out whenever tempers flared.

Nothing worked.

Lena even tried praying, something she hadn’t done since the last time she was in a small church in Ireland. It didn’t work this time, either.

Lena was seated next to Brainy on the couch, going over a design for a new device to try to follow what was by now a thoroughly cold trail. Alex stood at the balcony door, staring out into a slashing summer rain squall that buffeted the glass with distant thunder and gusts of wind.

The ozone smell tickled Lena’s nose and she looked up, just as Kara took a stumbling step out of nowhere, appearing in her office with an utterly bewildered look on her face.

“Kara?”

Alex snapped round, adding her voice to the chorus. “Kara?”

Kara stared at her sister, open-mouthed, tears welling in her eyes.

“Alex?” she said. “Alex, you’re alive? How is that possible?”

“Alive? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Kara!” Lena cried, her voice ragged in her throat.

At the sound of her voice, Kara snapped around, eyes wide. Her knees buckled and she sagged, almost falling. She stumbled forward as Lena stood and they fell into each other, Lena hurling herself, reckless, into an embrace that revealed too much. She almost climbed Kara, all but throwing her legs around her as well as her arms as she buried her face in the Kryptonian’s neck.

“Oh God. Oh Rao. I thought you would all be gone. I begged them to let me leave but they wouldn’t let me go, I had to…”

“Kara?” Alex asked, cautiously. “Why would we be gone?”

Kara barely seemed to hear her as she gently twined her fingers in Lena’s hair and wrapped her powerful arm around Lena’s waist, encircling and shielding her.

“How long has it been?”

“About a week,” Lena choked out. “I was so scared.”

“A week?” Kara blurted. “It’s only been a week here?”

Alex put a reassuring hand on Kara’s back, standing next to them. “Yeah, you were taken on Tuesday, kiddo. It’s Wednesday, the 17th.”

Kara stared past Lena, resting her chin on the shorter woman’s head, and began to sob with relief.

“Kara?” said Alex.

“Time dilation,” said Brainy.

“They told me time would pass slower up here but I didn’t believe them. I’ve been gone for… for…”

“It’s okay, Kara,” Lena whispered. “You’re okay, you’re back.”

“Eighty seven years, four months, and eighteen days,” Kara sobbed. “It’s been so long, I thought you were all dead.”

Alex stiffened. “Kara. Oh my God.”

Kara buried her face in Lena’s hair and breathed her in, shuddering. “I’d given up. All that kept me going was hoping I could see you again. This is a gift. A gift. I love you all so much.”

Kara still held her, rocking slightly, her big shoulders shaking with powerful sobs.

“Kara,” Lena whispered. “Kara, it’s okay.”

“I love you,” Kara blurted. “I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back, I just need to tell you, I have to tell you. All I could think about down there is how stupid I was and how stupid I’ve been and how none of the reasons I never told you made any sense,” she sucked in a breath as if she’d briefly forgotten how, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

There could be no mistaking her intent. She seethed with it, it radiated from her very bones. Lena hugged her hard, crushing her with all her might as if to crawl inside her.

“God, Kara, I’ve dreamed of hearing you say that. I love you too. Let’s… mmmph!”

Kara was kissing her. Lena’s brain briefly froze, then she realized the full magnitude of what was happening. Kara was kissing her. Kara was kissing her. Then Lena was kissing her back. There was so much in it, need and lust and adoration and an unbelievable desperation, but above all love. Lena felt her heart open as if hadn’t in a long time, like a flower unfolding to receive the nurturing warmth of morning sun.

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” Kara whispered when they finally broke and Lena again could breathe.

“Let me take you home,” said Lena.

[woozisguitar]

kiss me

pairing: jeonghan x reader prompt: you can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss warnings: kissing, swearing, kinda suggestive towards the end so MDNI, mentions of bad kisser, one mention of kinda bad ex? word count: 715 a/n: i miss jeonghan 😔 im also out of work so too much free time to miss him even more 😔😔 lowercase intended and not beta

"you can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss," you snorted as you read another silly piece of advice on a wannabe dating and relationship profile. your friend jeonghan, sitting across from you on the couch, smiled whenever he came across something funny.

"jeonghan? did you know you can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss?"

jeonghan stopped his doom scrolling and looked up, eyebrows furrowing at the question. "y/n, are you reading those stupid dating tips again? i told you, none of that shit is real."

"i know," you dragged out, "but this one was too funny to keep to myself. like, let's be real, do people really think they can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss? i'm a bad kisser, but that doesn't mean i'm bad at everything in a relationship," you finished, rolling your eyes.

"wait, you're a bad kisser?"

"at least that's what my ex told me when i asked him why he didn't kiss me more."

jeonghan seemed lost in thought for a minute before he looked at you again and grinned.

"let's test it."

now it was your turn to question him, "test what exactly?"

"you know, both things. you'll find out if you can actually tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss, and i'll find out if you're actually a bad kisser," he explained casually, like he was proposing what you should have for lunch.

"okay, but we already know i'm a bad kisser," you pointed out.

"eh, your ex doesn't count," jeonghan waved off. "i don't like him, plus statistically, one data point isn't enough to draw conclusions. so what do you say?" he leaned forward like he was actually excited for your answer.

"what do i say what? that we kiss?"

he nodded, and you gave his proposition another thought. it's not every day that the pretty-guy-turned-friend you've had a crush on for a long time but decided to suppress it asks you to kiss him.

"okay, let's do this. what do you have in mind?" you nodded and looked at him after a few minutes.

jeonghan grinned and pulled you onto his lap. you let out a squeak, balancing yourself with your hands on his shoulders. he smoothed one hand on your back while the other held your waist. he whispered, "this is what i have in mind. you okay?"

you nodded and closed your eyes as jeonghan leaned in. you felt his breath ghosting over your lips for a moment and opened your eyes to see him waiting for you to kiss him. he was still giving you the option to back out.

for fuck's sake, he's too cute.

you cupped his jaw and pressed a small kiss to his lips. you pulled back, only for jeonghan to hold your jaw and pull you in again. he left a breath's space between you and whispered, "not enough, baby." then he crashed his lips on yours and kissed you deeply. his lips tasted like the chocolate and strawberry ice cream he was eating earlier. you felt him swipe his tongue at the seam of your lips, and you groaned, softly grinding against him. you opened your mouth, giving him access, and he tangled his tongue with yours. you let out another moan, grinding harder against him, before he pulled back, leaving you flustered and breathless.

jeonghan gave you one of his signature smirks. "safe to say your ex lied, baby, because that was the best kiss ever. what about you? did you draw your conclusions?" he cocked his head, the smirk still plastered on his stupidly pretty face.

"huh?" you said, trying to remember what he was talking about.

"told you those dating advice pages are ass! you still didn’t realize my feelings! 'you can tell a lot about a person by the way they kiss,' my ass." he huffed, rolling his eyes.

"guess you're going to have to kiss me till i realize," you shrugged, a teasing smile slowly creeping in.

"guess i'll have to," he said, laughing and pulling you in for another kiss.

safe to say, you definitely drew your conclusions after a long night and a breakfast date.

a/n: just a silly something i wrote because I need a reason to procrastinate!!! my requests are open! send me some fun stuff!

[simplygojo]

The Witch's Surrender

Authors Note: Here is my entry for a fun collab event, Monster Mash, hosted by @nanamiscocksleeve for a spooky szn! I encourage every writer to join in, I had lots of fun writing this ;) This was a great way for me to practice my smut writing...which is definitely a little rusty, lol.

Thanks for hosting this event Ray!

🎃 Happy start to the spooky szn 🎃

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/Witch!reader

Word Count : 2.1k

Warnings : 18+ content, SMUT!, fingering, intercourse, dirty talk

The forest was silent, except for the crackle of cursed energy and dark magic swirling in the air. The moon was full, casting a silver hue over the earth beneath it, setting the tone for that crisp Halloween night.

Gojo stood casually at the edge of the clearing, his white hair tousled by the breeze, a smirk curling on his lips as he eyed you. Power pulsed between you, thick and intoxicating—but the heat in his gaze had nothing to do with the battle.

The two of you had fought before, and it was always a draw.

You enjoyed causing trouble for the jujutsu sorcerers; you liked watching them struggle to keep up. But Satoru Gojo was a different story.

Gojo had been sent on a solo mission to hunt down a powerful witch—you.

Your tight black dress clung tightly to your body, though it was now ripped in a few places due to the battle between you, exposing just the right amount of skin to the cool autumn air. You lifted your wand to point toward the white-haired man, throwing your pointed black hat to the side.

“They really sent me for you? I almost feel bad,” Gojo taunted, voice low, playful. His eyes, impossibly blue, gleamed with something far more dangerous than any amount of cursed energy—desire.

You squared your shoulders, the wand in your hand crackling with magic. “Don’t get cocky, Satoru. You’ll regret it.”

Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, eyed you with his signature smirk, but you could see the calculating glint behind those cocky blue eyes. “I knew you were strong,” he drawled, casually adjusting his blindfold, “but I didn’t think you’d give me this much trouble.”

Magic exploded from your wand, ripping through the air with a loud bang. But Gojo dodged with infuriating ease, his Infinity shimmering in the air as he closed the distance between you in a blur of speed.

With a wave of his hand, a barrier of pure cursed energy shot toward you. You barely managed to deflect it, the force of the impact sending you skidding back, your boots digging into the earth.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

You barely had time to react before he appeared behind you, his hand raised to deliver a blow. But you were ready. With a flick of your wand, you summoned a shield of dark energy, the force of his attack clashing against it in a violent burst of light and shadow.

Gojo let out a low whistle as he jumped back, his grin widening. “Not bad, witch. But let’s see how you handle this.”

He moved faster than you could track, his Infinity shimmering around him as he launched a series of cursed techniques in your direction.

You dodged with precision, your own magic swirling in the air as you countered with a blast of raw energy.

The ground trembled beneath your feet, trees splintering around you as your powers collided. You finally had an opening; you readied your aim to finally bring this battle to an end, but he vanished before your eyes.

“Too slow,” he murmured, appearing behind you, his breath hot against your ear. “But god you’re pretty, I’ll give you that.”

Before you could retaliate, his one hand snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other held both your wrists tight above your head.

The fight was still fresh, but your pulse quickened for an entirely different reason now.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you—the firm muscles of his chest, the heat radiating off him, the unmistakable bulge growing hard against your lower back.

“Gojo—” you breathed, your wand dropping from your hand as his grip on your wrists tightened.

“Getting distracted?” he teased, his voice a smooth, teasing purr. His hand slid down your body, tracing the curve of your hips. “God, you look even better up close.”

“Let’s call this a draw,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I think I found something a little more interesting to play with, hmm, pretty witch..”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you knew it, he had you pinned against the nearest tree. His mouth was on your neck now, nipping and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

God, you wanted him—bad—and the worst part was that he knew it, he knew it because this is what happened…every. fucking. time.

You gasped loudly, struggling to keep control, but the way his fingers skimmed over your waist, under the hem of your soiled dress, was driving you insane.

You felt a wet heat build between your legs as you squeezed your thighs together—a weak attempt to suppress the inevitable.

His mouth claimed yours in a hungry kiss, all starvation and dominance. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, while his hand roamed freely over your body, grabbing your tits roughly.

You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him intoxicating, head spinning as he pressed you harder against the rough bark of the tree, it piercing the exposed skin on your back.

“Satoru—” you gasped when he pulled away, his lips trailing down your throat, over your collarbone.

“Say it again,” he growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down in one swift motion, leaving you bare beneath him. “Say my name.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding you already wet for him. You did as he asked, “Fuck, Satoru.” You moaned in reaction to his teasing touch on your pulsing cunt.

He chuckled, low and dark, fingers teasing over your clit, circling the sensitive nub with slow, deliberate strokes.

“Already soaked?” he taunted, voice thick with arrogance. “And here I thought you wanted to fight.”

You whimpered as his fingers worked you with precision, each stroke sending sparks of pleasure racing through your gummy walls. Your knees buckled, but Gojo’s body pinned you firmly to the tree, his breath hot against your neck as he continued his torturous rhythm.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, head falling back against the tree as he works you over with skilled precision, each thrust of his fingers drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it, pretty witch," he coos, his lips ghosting over your skin. "I want to hear you beg for me."

You clench your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but it’s a losing battle.

The pressure builds and builds, and when his thumb grazes your clit while his two long fingers continue to pulse in and out of you, you can’t stop the broken–put pornographic—moan that escapes your lips.

"Good girl," he purrs, his fingers quickening their pace, fucking you with a practiced, almost lazy confidence.

“You’re so good,” you whimpered, hips bucking into his hand, desperate for more.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin. “Now let’s see just how well you can take me.”

In one smooth motion, Gojo brought you away from the tree that had previously acted as your fucking-post, and turned you so your back was to him, and his large bulge was pressed up against your ass.

He reached one of his hands to roughly cup your tit, twirling your hardened nipple between his fingertips. His other hand left your dripping cunt, and he brought it up to your mouth, holding out his fingers for you.

“I want you to have a taste before I get to. I bet it's so sweet.” He growled, his voice laced with desire, his eyes watching your sweet lips, as you took his long fingers in, sucking them dry for him.

Once you finished sucking the life out of his fingers, he let out a satisfied sigh before roughly sticking them back into your warmth, moving them around, feeling every inch of your insides.

You let out a loud whimper as he did so, feeling his cock jump against your ass in response to your seductive noise.

He removed his fingers once again and inserted them into his own mouth, You were left panting—no—gasping for air as he enjoyed your sweet nectar.

“God…I was right, baby you’re sweet like candy.” He said in a low whisper before undoing his pants with one smooth hand motion, freeing his hard cock.

You barely had time to process it before he lifted your dress up over your hips, exposing your ass to the crips air.

He pressed the thick head against your entrance, teasingly slow, the heat of him making you dizzy.

“Beg for it,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper.

You didn’t want to give him that satisfaction quite yet, so you bit your tongue. But he sensed your hesitation and reached his hand up to your neck, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “I’m not even close to being finished with you.” He placed a sloppy kiss right under your ear as he tilted your head back. “Now beg for it.”

His demanding voice sent you well over the edge, your body trembling with need. “Please, Satoru! I need you now. P-Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. With a low groan, he thrust into you, stretching you wide as he buried his thick mass deep into you.

The sensation was overwhelming—he was so big, filling you completely, the stretch almost too much, but the pleasure hit just as hard.

Your screams could probably be heard from miles away, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes were wet with tears from the sheer pleasure of his dominating rhythm, and your mouth wouldn’t stop letting the world know his name.

“Fuuuck,” Gojo groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he suddenly slowed his rhythm savouring the way your walls clenched around him. “So fucking tight.” He moaned as he pushed himself further into you than either of you knew was possible.

“Satoru—oh god—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your vision go white.

Your nails dug into his lower arms as he picked up the pace again, each thrust harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the quiet of the forest.

The friction sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, each movement bringing you closer to the edge, as he held your back up against his chest so he could watch how your tits bounced as he fucked you.

He smirked against your neck, one hand sliding down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. “That’s it, pretty witch. Cum for me.”

Your body obeyed instantly, pleasure crashing over you like a wave as your orgasm hit.

And then you’re falling—tumbling over the edge as pleasure crashes through you in waves, your body shaking as he coaxes every last ounce of pleasure from you.

You yell out his name, a trail of moans follow closely behind as your walls clench around his long cock, his own eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Gojo groaned, his hips stuttering as he chased his own release. With a few more rough thrusts, he buried himself deep inside you, spilling hot and thick as he came with a low growl.

For a moment, the forest was silent again, the only sound your ragged breathing as Gojo slumped against you, still buried deep inside.

He pressed a soft, almost tender kiss to your temple, his usual cocky grin returning.

“Don’t you just hate when a battle ends in a draw..” He teased, his fingers wiping away some of your orgasm-caused tears with a smug look on his face.

“You’re fun,” he whispered, pulling out slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thighs. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

You couldn’t speak, but you readjusted your dress and picked up your wand from the muddy forest floor, still reeling from the intensity of what just happened.

But as he pulled away, adjusting his clothes with a satisfied smirk, you knew one thing for sure—this wouldn’t be the last time Gojo Satoru got the best of you.

“Oh, and Happy Halloween, pretty witch.”

[jaysng]

when your daughter is mad at him | pjs

pairing: pilot!husband!jay x female!reader

genre: fluff, comedy

synopsis: your daughter misses jay, but as a pilot his schedule requires him to be in places but at home. So she sulks and sulks..

“Come on, say hi to appa” you coo at your 3 year old daughter who refused to talk to her dad, “yeorum-ah i miss you so much, i promise to come back to you and give you all the cuddles and all the kisses. Let’s not be mad at each other hmm?” Hearing your husbands voice trying to convince your daughter to finally open her mouth and respond. A smile appeared on your face, reflecting your amusement. 

But she was your daughter, maybe jay’s genes did not even try to fight at this. Your husband, a pilot was once again gone for his work. A grueling week with multiple destinations was for sure hectic. “He said the same thing last time” your daughter mumbles, pushing the phone back to voice barely audible because of her pout.

You gently try to console her. “I know it’s hard, sweetie,” you say softly. “Appa has to be away for work, but he loves you very much.”

Mumbling again, “But it’s not the same when he’s not here. I miss him mmh…..” she complains shifting again on your lap. you sigh, understanding the pain in your daughter’s voice. 

You know too well the sacrifices involved and the strain it places on your family. “I miss him too,”you admit, talking to her as you gently rub yeorum’s back. “But we’re so proud of him, and he’s working hard to provide for us. It’s just for a little while longer. So can you talk to him?” Jay watches through his phone as your daughter finally sits still on your lap, “That’s my girl, appa apologizes for making my little princess this sad.”

“I wish you could be here right now” yeorum says as she overdramatically lets out an exhale, Jay gives a reassuring smile. “Me too. But I am thinking of us every moment. And when i get back, we’ll have all the time we want together.”

With her lips curved up to a smile, your daughter looks convinced now “Will you do anything i want when your back here?” She asks as your husband raises his eyebrow and chuckles softly, trying to predict the little one’s answer “Yes honey, tell me anything you want or want to do. Now, what does my baby want?” 

“You’ll play princess-princess with me!”

jay thinks, about the time when yeorum watched her first ever disney princess film, where her eyes first caught the glammed up looks and the pretty dresses, she wanted to recreate it on her dad. Well, she actually wanted to do it on you but then she claimed, ‘eomma s’already a princess’ 

Jay sat on the floor of the living room, smiling as yeorum carefully applies makeup to his face. She’s holding a small brush with great concentration, her tongue poking out in focus as she sweeps bright eyeshadow across his eyelids.

“close your eyes, appa!” she says with a giggle. He obliges, chuckling softly. She hums a little tune while she works, drawing thick lines around his eyes and then reaching for the lipstick. 

“You look just like a princess!” She says passing the mini pink hand mirror to her now pretty appa.

Just as he’s about to comment on his new look, his phone buzzes on the table. He picks it up and his expression shifts from amused to concerned. “Oh, man. I’ll be there in 10 minutes don’t worry”

Yeorum looks up at him with wide eyes, her signature disappointed pout evident on her face. “Appa, you have to see how pretty you look first!” she insists, holding up a small handheld mirror.

He glances at his reflection and stifles a laugh. “Wow, I look… amazing, baby.” But there’s no time to fully appreciate her artistry. He rushes to the bathroom to wash it off, only to find that the eyeliner and lipstick won’t budge. His heart sinks as he scrubs harder, but the marks remain stubbornly in place. Walking past the washroom, a distressed jay catching your attention. You walk over keeping a hand on his shoulder as he flinches, “Oh my god.. is it not coming off?” You say slowly getting worried and tensed yourself. 

“Yeorum-ah” you call out, trying to keep your voice calm, “what did you use to do appa’s makeup?”

She proudly holds up a set of colorful markers. “These! They were in your drawer!”He groans inwardly as he realizes she’s used permanent markers. His meeting is in ten minutes, and there’s no way to get it off in time. Double fuck.

“Shit. What do we do jay?” You say, trying to rub the eyeliner of his face. With no other option, he throws on a hat and large sunglasses, hoping they’ll hide most of it. As he heads out the door, kissing you and yeorum goodbye. She waves cheerfully. “Good luck appa! You look so fancy!”

He forces a smile, knowing this is going to be an interesting day at work.

You could say, to this day you’re grateful that she didn’t glam you up. 

It finally lift yeorum’s mood up after jay promised her he would once again, play the game with her. Now deep asleep in her room, your and your husband’s laugther echoes as you reminisced about that day. This time you’ll make sure to hide all the permanent markers from the drawer. 

As your giggles go quiet, suddenly feeling shy as jay looks at you through the screen with those lovestruck eyes. “Hi” you say, voice sweet and soft. “Hi” jay says as he brings the phone closer to his face, eyes shifting between you and the camera every then and now.

“You look beautiful, did i tell you that yet?” He adds, As the words left his lips, you felt a warm blush creeping up your cheeks. Your smile widened, almost uncontrollably, and you glanced down, biting your lower lip to suppress the giggle bubbling up inside of you.

He caught the change in your demeanor and chuckled, his voice low and full of affection. “What? Did I say something wrong?” he teased, leaning a little closer to the camera, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“yeah i heard that a couple of times today” He grinned, unable to contain his own laughter now, the sound of it mixing with yours in a harmonious, joyous melody. You both knew that the words you shared were simple, but it was the way he said it, the way you looked at each other, that made you feel like teenagers in love.

You tilt your head “It’s hard convincing her you know..” you start, “when i feel the same, lonely without you.” you start to smile a little as jay raises his eyebrows and smiles back at you “I know, no wonder where she got this trait from.” he jokes as red tint appears on your cheeks, “But i know, i love you and i miss you every single moment honey.” He says, bringing his camera close to his lips as he kisses it. 

Back in the cockpit, jay adjusts his headset and catches a glimpse of his family photo pinned near his control panel. He takes a deep breath, a mix of longing and determination in his eyes. He knows his absence is hard on them, but he holds onto the thought of their reunion, using it as motivation to get through the flight.

all do not copy or repost — @/jaysng