#wry charm

[peterlorrefanpage]

Agh.

"During the making of 20,000 Leagues under the Sea (1954), Lorre enthusiastically confided to Fleischer that he was working on a murder-comedy that he wanted to produce. Most likely, this was The Survivor, a screenplay by fellow émigré and friend Hans Wilhelm — based on an original story by Peter Lorre and Hans Wilhelm — about a professional pallbearer who ingratiates himself with grieving and vulnerable widows. A sucker for a pretty face, he nearly cons himself out of a handsome legacy when he pushes a pyramid scheme that plays on the time difference between Rome and New York. When the scam backfires, he attempts to murder his patroness. He botches the job and retreats, under the guise of amnesia, to a sanatorium where, with the happy grin of an accomplished moron, he hatches a plot to win his freedom and enjoy the fruits of his labor. It is natural to suppose that Lorre also expected to star in this comedy vehicle, which he planned to shoot in Italy with a foreign cast. Wilhelm had captured his collaborator on paper, freeze-framing a mocking and mischievous wit, full of wry charm. It was a role after Lorre’s own taste, and likely one of his own design." - From "The Lost One: A Life of Peter Lorre," by Stephen D. Youngkin

Someone bought this screenplay in 2021. Would love to see it. I can imagine it - but damn it, this needs to be out there.

#mocking and mischievous #wry charm #peter lorre #peter lorre screenplay #The Survivor

[roobylavender]

i feel like this isn't something that really comes across in all of my reeves verse batman hate but i genuinely do still like the castings for the movie like they were good and frankly as much as i don't trust rpatz at all as a person i do think he's an incredibly talented actor and i do think he had all the potential to play a compelling bruce. the problem is that he was given a script to play a manchild

#like when i picture it in my head i could totally picture wry and pathetically charming rpatz batman working but #instead what we got in the movie was wet sopping dog. and it's like yes that is a stage in bruce's life. but not until at least fifteen #years down the line lmao. he's not supposed to be a wet sopping dog in the beginning. he's really purposeful and intuitive and he wants to #help people and listen and try and idk i didn't get that from rpatz batman at all. like behaviorally #he just felt so emotionless and i felt no connection to him whatsoever #to be deleted

[toasteaa]

Anyways, silver fox Bruno -

#toast talks #bruno bucciarati #turning my streluno braincell off for a second to feed you all because I know a lot of us are full of thoughts #The crows feet around those still vibrant blue eyes #The streaks of silver and grey telling his age but his strength and agility still firmly in his grasp #The commandeering and commanding air and tone of a seasoned Consigliere #The cunning charm behind that warmly wry smirk #hhhhhnghghhhggh...

[loveinhawkins]

Eddie surviving and going to see The Princess Bride when it comes out in 1987—and it’s a tentative thing, still, between him and Steve; they haven’t named it, but their hands still brush in the space between their seats, and really if Eddie were pushed, he’d say that they both know exactly what they’re heading towards, that they’re just floating between the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. That’s fine by him; they have time now, so much of it.

And the movie is charming and funny, but it’s not the romance or adventure that hits Eddie in the chest. It comes on unexpectedly, every time there’s a scene with the man reading to his grandson who’s sick in bed: suddenly Eddie can feel the softness of the bedsheets he had when he was young, when the move to Wayne’s was still raw and difficult, and it’s Wayne who’s reading to him softly, back when stories of things turning out fine were all Eddie had.

“Let’s see… where were we?” the grandfather mutters, and Eddie laughs because he can hear so much of Wayne in it, that gentle, wry humour. “Oh, yes. In the Pit of Despair.”

Eddie laughs again, choked. He’s clawed his way out of that damned pit so many times. His breathing catches at the thought that it’s been over a year since the deepest pit of them all, when Eddie once thought that the walls were far too high to climb.

“Woah, hey,” Steve whispers, “what’s wrong?”

Eddie shakes his head, smiling. “N-nothing.”

Their row is empty, and in the dark Steve reaches out, fingertips gently brushing underneath Eddie’s eye. They come away wet.

And Steve gives a little shushing noise, so that only they can hear, and it’s him who makes the leap, easily turning the page into the new chapter.

To some people Eddie’s first kiss would mean nothing at all—in their eyes, a chaste peck of comfort in a movie theatre would be just a speck in the grand history of the kiss itself. But for Eddie, it leaves them all behind.

“Farm boy,” he murmurs, when the movie’s over, smiling because the great, terrible story is done, and he is here; he is here. “Take me home?”

Steve smiles back, winks out the corner of his eye. “As you wish.”

#i just have so many feelings about Eddie & healing #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie and wayne munson #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #wayne munson

[pucksandpower]

Blow Out the Candles

Charles Leclerc x birthday girl!Reader

Summary: the many ways that you and Charles celebrate your birthday throughout the years

Warnings: vague depictions of childbirth and labor

It’s my birthday today so this is my gift to you 🫶

You let out a long sigh as you lean back against the cold concrete wall of the holding cell. This is not exactly how you pictured spending your birthday weekend.

The heavy steel door clangs shut behind you, the sound echoing in the cramped space. Looking around, you take in the sparse furnishings — a bench along one wall, a grimy leaking sink in the corner, and a single window so dirty that it barely lets in any light.

Charming.

You hear voices and footsteps approaching. Keys jangle and the door swings open again. A police officer steps aside and another person stumbles into the cell.

He looks to be about your age or a little older, with messy brown hair and a bewildered expression. The officer mumbles something about “sorting this out shortly” before slamming the door closed once more.

The new arrival blinks in confusion before noticing you sitting on the bench. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” he says with an accent you can’t quite place. French, maybe? He runs a hand through his tousled hair sheepishly.

You give a wry smile. “Don’t worry about it. I take it you’re joining me for the complimentary holding cell experience?”

He chuckles, leaning back against the wall across from you. “Yeah, something like that. I’m Charles.”

“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, cellmate.”

Charles grins, and you can’t help but notice how his nose crinkles up when he smiles. It’s kind of adorable. “The pleasure is mine,” he says gallantly, giving a theatrical little bow that makes you laugh.

“So Charles, what terrible crime did you commit to land yourself in this lovely establishment?” You ask with mock seriousness.

He smirks. “Would you believe me if I said jaywalking?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he confirms. “I was trying to get to the bakery before they sold out of croissants. I may have darted across the street … outside of the crosswalk.” He shakes his head ruefully. “The things I do for pastries.”

You have to laugh. “A real menace to society, you are.”

He grins again. “What about you? Don’t tell me you’re in for armed robbery or something.”

“Me? No way,” you scoff. “I was taking the metro downtown and I may have … accidentally used an expired metro card. The transit cops dragged me off at the next stop. I tried to explain it was an honest mistake but they weren’t having it.”

“Ah, a hardened criminal!” Charles exclaims in mock horror, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Clearly. Us lawbreakers need to stick together,” you joke.

You both erupt into laughter, the sound ringing brightly in the dreary holding cell.

As your laughter subsides, Charles regards you curiously. “So do you make a habit of riding the metro with expired cards, Y/N?”

You make a face. “No, I just grabbed the wrong card in my wallet this morning. I was rushing to get downtown and didn’t even think to check.”

“Why were you in such a hurry?”

You hesitate. The real reason seems kind of silly now that you’re stuck in a jail cell. “It’s my birthday today,�� you explain with a self-conscious shrug. “I was meeting some friends for brunch downtown to celebrate. Guess I’m going to be late for that.”

“It’s your birthday?” Charles’ eyes widen. “Well, happy birthday!”

You crack a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck in here for your birthday,” he says sympathetically. “That really sucks.”

You give another shrug. “Honestly, this will make for a pretty funny story later. Not exactly how I wanted to spend today, but what can you do?”

Charles nods thoughtfully. A moment later his face lights up. “I know what we can do! Since we’re stuck in this lovely cell, we should have our own little birthday celebration. I can sing for you!”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised but charmed by the offer. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s your birthday, of course I do!” He insists.

Clearing his throat theatrically, he launches into an enthusiastic, if not exactly tuneful, rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

His voice echoes off the concrete walls as he gesticulates dramatically, getting really into it by the second verse. You can’t help giggling as he puts his whole heart into hitting the high notes.

By the time he finishes with a flourish, you’re both laughing again.

“That was amazing, thank you,” you tell him, still chuckling.

He gives an exaggerated bow. “My pleasure, birthday girl. Sorry I don’t have a cake to go with the song.”

You grin. “That’s okay. 10 out of 10 performance.”

Charles smiles, looking adorably pleased with himself.

You regard him thoughtfully. “You know, you really didn’t have to do that. Singing for a total stranger in a holding cell.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to. You seemed like you could use a pick-me-up.”

“Well, it worked. I definitely feel better.” You study him for a moment. “You’re pretty strange, Charles.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs.

You shake your head amusedly. You have to admit, you’re really enjoying his company. For someone you just met under bizarre circumstances, he’s remarkably easy to talk to.

Charles checks his watch. “I hope they let us out of here soon. Those croissants are calling my name.”

“And I’ve got mimosas waiting for me,” you add.

As if on cue, footsteps sound outside. You both look up expectantly as keys rattle in the lock.

The door swings open and the officer from before steps in. “Alright you two, come with me. We got it all sorted out, you’re free to go.”

You share a relieved look with Charles as you both follow the officer out. After a quick stop to collect your belongings, you step outside into the sunshine.

Charles turns to you with a smile. “Well, it was very nice to meet you, Y/N. Happy birthday again!”

“Thanks, Charles.” You smile warmly at your strange but lovely cellmate. “This turned out to be a pretty memorable birthday after all.”

He looks pleased. “I’m glad I could help make it special. Enjoy the rest of your day!”

With a little wave he heads off down the street, presumably in search of those croissants. You watch him go, struck by an impulse.

“Charles, wait up!” You call out, jogging to catch up with him.

He turns, looking at you curiously.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for making a crappy situation fun,” you tell him sincerely. “And, if you want, you’re welcome to come join me and my friends for brunch.”

His eyes light up in surprise. “Really?”

You nod. “It’s the least I can do after you serenaded me in jail,” you joke. “Plus, I’m sure the restaurant will have croissants.”

Charles smiles broadly. “Well in that case, I would love to.”

“Great!” You beam, linking your arm through his. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

You sink back into the plush leather seat, gazing out the jet’s window at the twinkling stars dotting the endless expanse of sky. This is definitely a step up from last year’s jail cell birthday celebration.

“Champagne, ma’am?”

You smile up at the flight attendant as she offers you a crystal flute. “Yes please!”

Charles grins at you from across the cabin. “And please keep it coming, my girlfriend deserves to be spoiled on her birthday.”

You still get butterflies every time he calls you his girlfriend. This past year with Charles has been amazing. After that fateful day, he easily slotted himself into your life. What started as an impromptu brunch turned into real dates, which turned into a real relationship. You’ve never clicked with someone so quickly or felt so comfortable so soon.

Now here you are, celebrating your birthday at 11,000 meters aboard a private jet chartered from one of Ferrari’s sponsors. You had balked at the extravagance at first, but Charles insisted. “It’s your special day, we have to do something incredible!”

You take a sip of crisp champagne, the bubbles tickling your nose. “So where exactly are we headed?”

Charles has kept your destination a surprise. “You’ll see soon, birthday girl,” he says with a wink.

You pretend to pout. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

He just laughs. “Trust me, it’s going to be an amazing trip.”

You don’t doubt it. Charles has a knack for making every day feel special and fun. Even just being cooped up in this plane with him feels like an adventure.

As the flight continues, you enjoy a decadent five course dinner complete with even more champagne and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Charles keeps you laughing with silly stories and jokes. By the time you finish eating you have to stifle a yawn behind your hand.

“Someone’s getting sleepy,” Charles teases.

“It’s been a long exciting day!” You say through another yawn.

Charles grins and hits the call button. A flight attendant appears instantly. “Yes sir?”

“I think it’s time to get the birthday girl to bed,” Charles says.

The attendant nods and pulls back a partition, revealing a plush bedroom suite.

Your eyes widen in delighted surprise. “Wha … we can sleep in an actual bed on the plane?”

“Only the best for you,” Charles says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You happily snuggle under the covers in the sumptuous bed, sighing contentedly. “Okay, this is an amazing birthday present.”

Charles chuckles, sliding in beside you and pulling you close. “The fun is only beginning, mon cœur.”

Within minutes you’re sound asleep curled up in his arms.

Sometime later you stir slowly awake, momentarily confused. The bedroom is dark and Charles is shaking your shoulder gently.

“Wake up, chérie. It’s almost midnight!” He says excitedly.

You rub your eyes and peer blearily at the clock. 11:58 pm. “Why, what happens at midnight?”

“Your birthday starts again!”

You look at him blankly, still not fully awake.

He grins. “We just crossed into a new time zone. Which means ...” He pauses for dramatic effect. “I get to be the first to wish you happy birthday again!”

As it clicks you start laughing. Only Charles would come up with something so adorable. You watch the clock count down the last seconds to midnight as he bounces giddily on the bed.

“Happy birthday!” Charles exclaims right on cue, tackling you in a hug.

You hug him back, still laughing. “You’re crazy, but thank you.”

He beams down at you. “I have so much planned, it’s going to take more than one time zone to celebrate properly.”

Over the next few hours, you dip in and out of sleep as Charles wakes you at each new midnight. Every time he sings and wishes you happy birthday again with infectious enthusiasm. By the fifth round you’re both delirious and silly from lack of sleep, belting out drunk duets of “Happy Birthday” and collapsing into giggles.

Finally he lets you sleep through until morning. When you emerge from the bedroom, blinking in the bright daylight, you gasp. Out the window is an ocean of clouds and in the distance, a tiny island just coming into view.

You turn to Charles with wide eyes. “Are we … is that ...”

He grins and wraps his arms around you. “Welcome to St. Barts! I wanted your birthday to be paradise.”

“Every day with you is paradise.” You kiss him soundly. “Thank you, this is the most magical birthday I could’ve imagined.”

Charles trails his fingers over your cheek. “You deserve magic every single day. I’m just doing my part to make sure you get it.”

***

You stir awake to soft kisses trailing down your neck. Opening your eyes, you find Charles gazing down at you, his brown hair endearingly rumpled.

“Happy birthday, mon ange,” he whispers before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum contentedly, running your fingers through his messy locks. “Mmm, now this is a nice way to wake up.”

Charles gives you his signature crinkly-nosed grin. “I have so much planned for your special day.”

Your heart flutters happily. After two amazing years with Charles, the connection between the two of you feels more intense than ever. You can’t wait to celebrate.

But his smile turns apologetic. “Well, so much planned for after the car launch.”

You nod in understanding. Charles has commitments. And today the new Scuderia Ferrari car is being unveiled in a highly anticipated event.

Charles kisses your pouting lip. “I’m so sorry, ma belle. I wish I could get out of it but-”

“Shh, it’s okay,” you assure him, silencing his worries with a kiss. “I know how important the launch is for the team. I’ll just miss you today.”

“I’ll miss you too. But I promise, as soon as it’s over I’m all yours.”

You spend a blissful morning lazing in bed, laughing over crepes Charles attempts to make for your birthday breakfast. Flour ends up more on him than in the pan, but you happily eat the lumpy results.

Too soon it’s time for Charles to leave for the launch. At the door he pulls you into his arms. “I love you. This evening will be perfect, I swear.”

You smile up at him. “Love you too. Go show off that new car.”

After one more lingering kiss he’s off. You distract yourself by meeting local friends for birthday lunch. But your mind keeps drifting to Charles. You hope the event is going well for him.

By mid afternoon you’re back in Charles’ Maranello apartment, curled up on the couch watching silly movies. You’ve just bitten into a slice of birthday cake when your phone rings.

It’s Charles FaceTiming you, his handsome face filling the screen. “Hi, mon amour!”

You grin at your adorable fiancé. “Hey you! How’s the launch going?”

“It’s good!” His eyes drop to your plate. “Are you eating cake without me?” He gasps in mock outrage.

You giggle. “Only a tiny cheat slice. Don’t worry, there’s plenty left for when you’re home.”

Voices sound faintly behind Charles and he glances over his shoulder. “Ah, the program is starting again soon. I just wanted to see your beautiful face.”

You blow him a kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, baby.”

“I love you!” He says before the call ends.

Snuggling back into the couch, you focus on the movie again. But a notification keeps pinging on your phone. You glance over to see texts flooding in from Charles.

Can you watch the livestream?

The link is all over social media

It’s starting again soon 😘

You go on Instagram and click the link curiously. The livestream shows an auditorium packed with press, Ferrari team members, fans, and VIPs. Cameras flash as Charles takes the stage along with his teammate and team principal. They talk about the new car but you mostly just stare lovingly at Charles’ dimples on the big screen.

After the speeches, they unveil the sleek new car. Your heart swells with pride for Charles. But you can’t wait for all the events and obligations to be over. You miss him.

The hosts invite Charles to say a few words. He steps up to the microphone, smiling. “Thank you all for being here today. I’m so excited to get behind the wheel of this beautiful SF-26 ...”

He continues talking passionately about the team and the season ahead. But then his eyes flick to the camera broadcasting the feed. “Oh, I also have a very special announcement.”

You sit up, intrigued. Charles winks at the camera. “As some of you may know, today is my wonderful girlfriend Y/N’s birthday.”

Your eyes widen. You have no idea what he’s doing but it makes your heart flutter.

“So to celebrate this amazing woman, I thought we could all join together to wish her a very happy birthday.”

Charles starts singing “Happy Birthday,” looking straight at the camera with so much love. The crowd joins in, the whole auditorium singing to you. You stare in overwhelmed wonder as Charles blows you a kiss.

When the song ends, the audience claps wildly. Charles grins. “I hope you enjoyed your serenade, mon cœur. I can’t wait to celebrate you properly tonight. Happy birthday, I love you!”

The livestream switches off and you sit staring at your phone in shock. Trust Charles to orchestrate something so thoughtful and adorable. Only he could turn a huge unrelated event into a birthday present.

A few hours later, the front door finally bursts open. Charles rushes in and sweeps you into his arms.

“Surprise!” He laughs, spinning you in a circle.

You hug him tightly. “Charles, that was the sweetest thing ever!”

He beams. “I wanted you to feel special today even though I couldn’t be with you. Did you like it?”

“Like it? I loved it!” You punctuate each word with a smacking kiss.

Charles looks immensely pleased. “Good, because the celebrations are just beginning. Now, I believe I was promised cake?”

You spend the evening feeding each other cake and laughing over champagne. Charles serenades you again, because one impromptu singalong just wasn’t enough for him.

As you sway together, slow dancing in the kitchen, you whisper, “Best birthday ever.”

Charles smiles and pulls you closer. “We’ll make every birthday together your best one yet. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

Your heart swells with joy. No matter where life takes you both, with Charles every birthday is celebrated to the fullest.

***

A salty ocean breeze ruffles your hair as you gaze out over the glittering turquoise water. The sun is sinking low, painting the sky in dazzling pinks and oranges.

You sigh contentedly, snuggling back against Charles’ chest. His arms tighten around you as you sway together on the yacht’s deck.

“Happy birthday, mon ange,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.

You tilt your head back to smile up at him. “I know I say this every year, but this is the best birthday ever.”

Charles grins, his nose crinkling adorably. “Well you deserve the perfect birthday getaway.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly relaxed and blissful here in his arms. Charles always plans the most romantic adventures for your birthdays. But after three amazing years together, just being with your favorite person is celebration enough.

As the sun continues to set you chat and trade soft kisses. The conversation lulls eventually into comfortable silence.

Charles shifts behind you. “Y/N, can you turn around? There’s something I want to ask you.”

You swivel in his arms to face him, curious at his suddenly serious tone. But a radiant smile lights up his face.

Slowly, Charles sinks down to one knee before you. Your breath catches as he takes your hands in his.

“Mon amour, these past three years with you have been the happiest of my life. You are my best friend, my heart, my home. I want to laugh with you, explore the world with you, and grow old with you.” His eyes shine with emotion as he gazes up at you.

“So Y/N, will you make me the luckiest man alive by marrying me?”

Joyful tears fill your eyes. “Yes! Of course I’ll marry you!”

Charles’ face splits into the most delighted grin. He moves to stand but wobbles slightly, the boat swaying beneath the two of you.

You reach out to steady him. “Careful!”

“Sorry, just excited,” he laughs breathlessly. With exaggerated care he pulls a ring box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a dazzling diamond ring.

Your smile widens impossibly further. The sunset lights the gems ablaze from within.

Charles takes your left hand gingerly, his own hands trembling. “I hope you lik-”

But his unsteady fingers fumble and the ring slips from his grasp. You both gasp, hands shooting out too late to catch it. The diamonds glint once in the dying sunlight before plopping into the blue water.

“No!” Charles cries in horror. In a flash he’s scrambling to rip off his shoes and shirt. Before you can react, he’s diving in after the lost ring.

“Charles!” You rush to the railing, scanning the rippling surface for him. Bubbles appear where he dove down. The seconds stretch nerve-wrackingly until finally he surfaces, gasping for breath. In his clutched fist, the ring gleams triumphantly.

Relief crashes over you as Charles swims to the ladder. He clambers back aboard the boat, soaked and panting but grinning ear to ear.

“I got it!” He crows, holding up the retrieved ring.

A delighted laugh bursts from you. Only Charles would dive headfirst off a yacht to save an engagement ring. You throw your arms around his dripping shoulders, not caring that you’re getting drenched too.

“My hero,” you kiss him soundly.

Charles wraps you in a soggy hug. “Couldn’t let this ring get away when I still have a very important question to ask you … again.”

He sinks down once more to his knee, water pooling around him. With his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes soaked through, he looks adorably bedraggled but still so breathtakingly handsome.

Grasping your hand again, he asks earnestly, “Y/N, will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?”

“Yes!” You don’t think you’ve ever smiled so wide. “Yes, Charles, yes!”

Charles whoops triumphantly, surging up to kiss you passionately. This time his hands are steady as he finally successfully slips the ring onto your finger.

Admiring the shimmering diamonds you joke, “This ring might need a free cleaning after that swim.”

Charles laughs, pulling you close again. “I’ll get you a new one if you want. Anything for my future wife.”

Wife.

The word sends a thrill through you. You cup Charles’ face in your hands. “This is the only ring I’ll ever want. Because it’s from you.”

His eyes soften. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You lean in for another searing kiss as the last light fades behind the horizon.

When you finally draw back Charles wrinkles his nose. “As romantic as this is, I should probably get into some dry clothes.”

You laugh, plucking at his soaked shirt. “Good call. Then we can continue this celebration in proper style!”

Charles grins and sweeps you up into his arms. “I like the way you think, Future Madame Leclerc.”

***

“One more push, you’re almost there!”

You squeeze Charles’ hand with all your might, face scrunched in exertion, as you bear down to bring your baby into the world.

This is not exactly how you envisioned spending your birthday this year. But as you give one final push and hear your daughter’s first cries, you know this is already the best birthday of your life.

“She’s here! You did amazing, mon amour!” Charles says through joyful tears, kissing your sweat-damp forehead.

The doctor holds up the squalling, wriggling newborn. “Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

Charles cuts the umbilical cord with shaky hands before the nurses whisk your daughter away to be cleaned and checked. He turns back to you, eyes shining. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. She’s perfect.”

You beam tiredly back at him. The child you created together, your little family, is finally here. After long months of waiting, your birthday wish has come true.

Soon the nurse returns, swaddling your baby girl in a soft pink blanket. “Say hello to your daughter,” she says gently, placing the tiny bundle in your arms.

You gaze down at your daughter, tears of joy and wonder sliding down your cheeks. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes — she’s absolute perfection.

“Hello Juliette,” you whisper. “Happy birthday, my beautiful girl.”

Charles perches gingerly on the edge of the bed, staring at you both like you hung the moon and stars. He reaches out a tentative finger to stroke Juliette’s downy head.

“She’s so small,” he marvels. “And so perfect. I can’t believe we made this little human.”

His voice cracks on the last word. Your tough Formula 1 driver melts into a puddle of emotion in the presence of his daughter.

You glance up at Charles, your husband, your soulmate, and now the father of your child. The utter love and joy shining from his eyes in this moment eclipses every birthday and every milestone you’ve shared before.

“I used to think so many birthdays were the best day of my life,” you say softly. “But now … this is it. The real best day.”

Charles smiles through his tears and leans in to kiss you tenderly. “This is just the start of so many best days together.”

You both gaze back down at the baby nestled between you. Juliette blinks up at you tiredly and the sight of her green eyes looking back at you takes your breath away.

Charles lets out an awed little laugh. “She has my eyes.”

He holds out a hand and Juliette instinctively grasps his finger. Charles completely melts.

“Hello, ma petite princesse,” he coos. “I’m your papa. And I’m going to love you forever.”

Juliette seems to study his face intently before giving a big yawn that makes you both chuckle. Your heart feels fit to burst watching Charles bond instantly with your daughter.

The next hours pass in a blissful blur of feeding, diaper changes, and stealing each moment possible to just gaze at the miracle you’ve created. You almost forget it’s even your birthday until Charles speaks up.

“You know, I had something else planned to celebrate today but Juliette decided she simply couldn’t wait,” he laughs.

You just smile. “This is the greatest gift I could have asked for.”

He leans down to brush a feather-light kiss to Juliette’s forehead, then yours.

“I guess we’ll just have to plan an extra special party when you’re both home,” he says with a smile. “Our little princess deserves the biggest birthday bash for entering the world on such a special day.”

You grin up at him. “I have a feeling her daddy will go all out.”

“Only the best for my girls.” Charles winks.

Juliette stirs in your arms, letting out the tiniest of baby sighs that melts you both instantly.

As Juliette drifts to sleep cradled between you, her little fingers curled around yours, you know this birthday marks the start of your greatest adventure yet and many more amazing birthdays still to come.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[appocalipse]

see for yourself ⋆ sirius black

summary: after a party, you tell sirius how you ended things with the guy you've been seeing because he was a bit jealous of your friendship with him. sirius shows you that maybe he was right to be.

"You're in a good mood."

Sirius looks at you from his place on the floor and grins, wild and boyish. It makes your stomach do flips that you'd rather not think about too much, lest it leads to things you really shouldn't be thinking about.

"Must be your charming company," he says before looking back up at the ceiling, fingers laced behind his head.

He's laying spreadeagle on the hardwood floor, staring up at the slowly rotating fan and taking occasional swigs from an open bottle of Firewhisky beside him. Everyone but Remus, with whom Sirius shares the flat, had already gone home hours ago, leaving only you and Sirius behind in the living room.

You roll your eyes even though he can't see you doing it, setting your empty cup on the coffee table. You lean back against the sofa and fold one leg up under the other so you can turn to face him fully. "Remind me again why you're not sitting on furniture like a normal person?"

"It's more fun down here." He turns his head enough for you to catch his wolfish grin. "Care to join me?"

"Oh no," you laugh, shaking your head. "I should be getting home anyway. It's late."

Sirius frowns and pushes himself up into a sitting position. The look in his gray eyes is equal parts amusement and disappointment. "On a Friday night? Come on, love, we're barely tipsy. Besides, you still haven't told me what happened between you and that wanker you were seeing."

"There's nothing to tell," you shrug.

He scoffs as he crawls across the floor towards you. You bite the inside of your cheek when Sirius hoists himself onto the sofa beside you and pulls one leg up to his chest. There's a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth that doesn't seem quite as innocent as you'd like it to be.

"He looked pretty pissed off when he left," he says, twirling a long strand of your hair around his index finger. "What'd you say to him?"

"I didn't say anything. And we were together for barely three weeks. I was just...he wasn't the right guy, okay? Now shush."

You make a halfhearted attempt to turn away from him, but Sirius laughs softly and rests his head on your shoulder. "You don't say."

"Sirius."

"What? I'm glad you didn't waste any more time on that tosser. He would never have made you happy."

"How would you know?"

Sirius lifts his head and leans back far enough to look at you. His expression is one of smug self-confidence as he says, "Because I know everything."

"Everything, huh?"

"Everything."

You quirk an eyebrow. "Well then, what am I thinking right now?"

His eyes flick down to your lips for a brief moment before they find yours again, but it's enough for heat to rise in your cheeks. You could swear he starts to move closer before he blinks and turns away with a dry laugh, but by then you're not so sure anymore. "That you're bored of talking about this dolt."

The ache of disappointment in your chest must be almost palpable, because Sirius furrows his brow and asks, "Is everything alright?"

"Yup."

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

Sirius gives you a knowing look and shifts on the sofa to face you more fully. His knee knocks against yours. "Don't tell me you're hung up over that berk."

"Not in the slightest."

"Liar."

"I'm not," you insist. "Really."

"Did he break your heart or something? I'll break his arm."

You laugh, though you doubt Sirius is actually joking. "Nothing happened. He was just jealous. That's all."

He frowns, then narrows his eyes at you. "Jealous of who?"

"Oh, you know, the usual suspects," you say lightly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the topic completely. But when Sirius remains silent, you let out a slow breath and (as you usually do when it comes to him) give in. "You, mostly. He said some stuff, and I didn't take too kindly to it."

A wry smile spreads across Sirius' face. He looks delighted. "What'd he say about me?"

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely."

With a dramatic roll of your eyes, you rest your head back against the cushion behind you and say, "He thinks you, uh...you know, fancy me or something. That we spend too much time together. But I told him that he's crazy, obviously."

"Obviously."

The following silence bothers you.

You turn your head enough to see Sirius' face. He's staring back at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Then, after several moments of more tense silence, he whispers, "What if I do fancy you?"

"Sure you do," you mutter, rolling your eyes again.

Sirius places his palm on top of the hand resting between the two of you and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. "I could show you."

It takes a moment for you to register the offer.

"Did you drink more than I realized?"

"Just enough for the liquid courage to work."

Your tongue feels like sandpaper. "Sirius."

"Mmhm."

"Stop being ridiculous."

"Who says I'm being ridiculous?" he asks, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your skin. "Maybe I'm madly in love with you. Have you considered that?"

You swallow, trying to ignore the way your stomach is doing somersaults. "This isn't funny, Padfoot."

"It's not supposed to be funny."

"But—"

He cuts you off by cupping your cheek and leaning in close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your lips. It smells of Firewhisky and mint. "Kiss me and see for yourself."

"You must be drunk."

"Only tipsy," he reminds you. "Or maybe a little drunk on you."

"You know, you're not half as funny as—mmph!"

He's kissing you. Sirius is kissing you, and dear sweet Merlin, you could swear that the world's tilting beneath you as his hands pull you closer. He hums contentedly when he feels you reciprocating, cradling your face between his palms as if to make sure that you won't go anywhere.

Not that you intend to.

It's the kind of kiss that steals your breath away. The kind of kiss you can lose yourself in without even realizing it, especially when one of his hands slides into your hair, and you moan involuntarily into his mouth.

Sirius laughs breathlessly against your lips as he eases you down onto your back. His fingers dance along your jawline before he curls them under your chin, tilting your head back and kissing his way down your throat.

"I think this went better than expected," he murmurs, pausing long enough to gently bite down on the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder. You gasp.

Sirius sits up suddenly. His hair hangs in front of his face like a dark curtain and his eyes glitter with amusement when he pushes it back. Your pulse jumps when you see the slight redness of his lips and the hint of mischief on his face. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now."

"Shut up."

He leans down and kisses you again, groaning low in his throat as your hands slide up the broad expanse of his back. "I'm starting to think you fancy me, too," he whispers, words ghosting over your mouth.

"Yeah," you admit sheepishly, sliding your hands up and over his shoulders. "I may have been lying earlier. It's not that crazy."

"May have?"

"Fine, I did lie."

"I knew it."

He looks far too smug. Just this once, you don't really mind.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius x you #sirius x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one-shot #sirius black one shot #sirius black headcanon #sirius black headcanons #sirius black hcs #sirius black hc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black dialogue #sirius black fluff

[sytoran]

𝐊𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋, 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐌.

wanda maximoff's sons have soccer practice, while she spends some time with their young and ridiculously good-looking coach in the equipment closet.

──── 🍃 pairing. milf!wanda x buff!footballcoach!reader

──── 🍃 cont. smut (18+), sub!wanda, dom!reader, reader is gender-neutral but has a penis, shameless smut, blowjobs, thirsting, you are weak in the knees and the heart for milfy!wanda, possesiveness

──── 🍃 note. saw lizzie's oscar look and got this whole idea lmao. i am swimming in requests but here this is anyways. sue me lol.

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

every saturday, tommy and billy maximoff have football practice.

it may seem like a hassle to some parents, having to take the time out of their day to drive their kids to this place and that, but for this particular lesson, wanda doesn't mind.

the reasoning for her sweet relief doesn't lie entirely within helping her darling boys play their favourite sport, as strange as that sounds. truthfully, the answer would lean slightly more towards the person that coaches them in that sport.

but, who could blame wanda?

after all, her boys' football coach was just about the biggest heartthrob she'd ever seen.

bronzed skin kissed by the sun, expanding over broad shoulders and a sturdy figure. biceps and triceps so prominent it was nearly blinding, and forearms so structured it made architects weep. wanda felt as if you were a greek god come to life, with an unfairly charming smile and large, large hands.

wanda knew she wasn't the only one, after all, thirsting over the classic young, hot, athletic coach. 

now, watching you be surrounded by the younger moms with their kids, hanging off your every word, wanda couldn’t help but feel a bubbling feeling of jealousy rise in her.

wanda maximoff had never been a pushover.

"okay, so when scoring a goal you’re going to find small windows or open spaces. don’t wait for the perfect opportunity, take every chance you get.” you explained to the group of kids grouped in front of you in the hot sun.

“there’s no windows in football!” tommy maximoff helpfully piped up. the lively seven-year-old student of yours was always full of energy, quite unlike his twin, billy, who was generally more reserved and quiet.

you cracked a laugh at his response, before feeling a pair of eyes on you from behind. sitting in the court side benches was mrs. maximoff, with her dazzling smile, looking directly in your line of vision.

you gulped. god, as much as you loved teaching her kids, she was something else entirely. the way her exposed thighs were shining in the hot sun made your throat run dry. when mrs. maximoff gave you a playful wink, you felt something throb in your pants.

i swear to god, y/n l/n, if you get a boner in front of these seven-year olds i’ll kill you.

gratifyingly, you managed to evade the embarrassing situation, instead letting them practice goals on their own for a while. 

as all the little kids were running around in the hot sun, you retreated to a sheltered corner to grab a drink. wiping the sweat off your forehead, you nearly jumped a metre high into the air when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“didn’t mean to scare you, sorry darling.” mrs. maximoff said with a wry grin, sitting herself down next to you. you’re more than welcome to have her, noting the way her eyes raked over your taller, sweaty form. interesting.

“s’alright, mrs. maximoff. how’s your day been going?” you ask, attempting to strike up casual conversation. you ignore your heart beating faster in your chest.

wanda chuckles, leaning back with a sigh. “tiring, i suppose. extremely hot weather, though. summer is a blessing and a curse.” you’re about to agree with her wholeheartedly, before wanda’s casually unbuttoning her blouse. you choke on your words.

she’s absolutely mesmerizing. your eyes can’t seem to stray from her newly-exposed cleavage, accentuating her breasts and the pink bra that peeks through. it’s awful, you know, that your mind is running wild at the sight of the curve of her breast, but you can’t seem to help it.

the two of you spend some time, sitting on that bench, watching as the kids try and fail to kick the ball successfully within the goalposts. it’s almost therapeutic. until……

“look out!”

before you can react, the corner of your eye catches the sight of a stray ball. 

it’s flying towards wanda and the drink in her hand, and by some miracle your goalkeeper senses are awakened seconds before it can touch her.

an arm flying out to stop the ball, you miraculously catch it with one hand at such a high pace. your hand flexes with the fierce catch, a well-muscled forearm now in wanda’s direct line of vision. time’s frozen for a second, as you watch wanda’s shocked face, almost blushing too. you’d never felt more cool.

but after your goalkeeper instincts kick in, your teacher instincts kick in, and you stand up to speak to the careless kid. before you can leave, wanda tugs on your arm. you spin around and you nearly faint.

unbeknownst to you, the drink in wanda’s hand had split with the impact of the ball, and it was all over her blouse now. to add insult to injury, it easily seeped through the thin material of the white blouse, basically making it transparent, baring to your eyes what was underneath. 

the yells of the kids fade out as you stare at the wanda, shell-shocked. you can see…… everything.

despite wanda’s face of worry, you swear there’s a hint of deviousness in there, almost as if she planned to have her drink there. you shake your head. i’m goin’ mad in the sun, you think.

“i-uh, let’s get you some clean clothes, mrs. maximoff. sorry about the kids, i-”

“no worries," wanda answers promptly, holding on to your forearm. "don't want anyone else to see," she whispers, effectively hiding behind you as you lead her to the equipment closet.

the consequences of this, however, lie in the fact that you can feel wanda's nipples pressing into your back, small and hard and rubied. the searing heat in your pants is almost unbearable now.

calm down, it's not a big deal. 

wanda's hand trails over the expanse of your back when the two of you reach the equipment closet, and you unintentionally shudder under her touch. you pretend you don’t notice the smirk on her face.

you shake your head vigorously, resisting the urge to slap your hands to your cheeks. she’s just my students’ mom, you think, swearing you don’t care about how close the two of you are.

when wanda’s ass brushes against your crotch. it takes every cell of your existence not to rip off your goddamn shorts and start fucking her against the wall. you’d never been so riled up.

“here’s some clean clothes. sorry about the size, though.” you mumble, averting your eyes when wanda tries to look at you. you shove the clothes into her hands, eyes fixated on a football on the shelf. 

“help me with the button?” wanda asks, and you spin around, then you nearly choke. again.

she’s taken off her blouse, exposing her chest to your hungry eyes. the lacy pink bra is the object of your desires, distracting you in every sense imaginable. at this point, you couldn’t give a flying fuck about your boner. you know she’s as turned on as you.

"i get it, sweetheart, you're a young adult with needs, hm?" wanda asks in a sultry voice, walking up to you ever so slowly. 

you swallow, not trusting yourself to speak. all you can do is stare at wanda with a haze in your eyes. 

her hands reach the straining tent in your pants. it's erect, forming a bulge so huge wanda can barely cup all of it in her hands. 

your breathing becomes ragged as wanda traces her fingertips along the bulge. you're looking down as she gets on her knees, eyelids fluttering.

she licks her lips. 

"let me help you with that," wanda whispers, casting a look upwards. you bite back a low groan at her expression, so ready to pleasure you and take your length into her pliant mouth.

you raise an eyebrow in a challenge, staring down with dark eyes, and wanda is more than quick to rid of your shorts, admiring the sheer size of your fully-erect cock.

the tip is a cherry red, precum already leaking, and she eagerly laps up the remaining residue. you let out a moan, hands twisting into her scalp as you pull her mouth closer.

nothing could describe the euphoria you felt when wanda first wrapped her lips around your cock, clinging onto your tensed quadriceps to steady herself.

"shit," you groaned, throwing your head back, tugging onto wanda's locks of hair firmer. she let out a moan from the back of her throat, releasing your cock from her lips with a 'pop'.

moving on to languidly trail her tongue along your shaft, wanda showed off experienced skill in the way she maneuvered her way around your cock, teasing you up and down then licking at the slit.

fuck, you were close. really, really, close.

wanda was relentless in her ministrations, bringing you so close to the edge in such a short time. when she began deepthroating you, gagging prettily onto your cock, you’re sent tumbling over that edge with no safety net under.

“shit, mrs. maximoff,” you breathe, holding the sides of her flushed face, locking gazes with dilated pupils.

she gets up, slowly, brushing off her knees as if she hadn’t just brought you to a kaleidoscopic orgasm. “i’ll take my leave now, coach. the boys-”

you don’t grant her access to the exit, before you’re roughly pulling her back in for something more than just a blowjob.

after that racy encounter with wanda, the two of you seem to end up in the equipment closet a lot more. you’re making excuses, you know, pathetic, but you somehow manage to convince yourself you could ever have wanda maximoff.

you get to know her more, along the way, that her birthday is february 10, and her comfort food is parikash, and she’s sokovian, but her accent hardly ever makes its appearance anymore.

to you, wanda maximoff is more than a quick fuck, or a stress reliever. it’s stupid, you know, because she’s a divorced single mom with two kids and whole lot of responsibilities, and you’re nothing more than someone with too much love.

your role in her life is ambiguous to you. you sometimes wish you could dive into her brain to find out just what you are, but for now you have to be content with what you are. 

the first time wanda brings you back home, you're more than eager to repay every favour she's given you. 

she's hardly even unlocked the front door before you're lifting her up from the back of her thighs and up the stairs, making her so wet with that effortless, unyielding strength of yours.

it isn't long before you toss her onto the bed - the bed she used to sleep in with her ex-husband, the bed she spent hours masturbating on to the thought of you, the bed you were now devouring her on.

wanda doesn't know what she's done to deserve this, to deserve your deliciously thick cock ramming into her wet cunt, your hot mouth whispering affectionates into her ear, the silver chain on your neck dangling with each fiery thrust.

she's obsessed with the way your tattooed back muscles flex and move as you pound into her. she tries to forge it into her memory, 

you're relentless, gripping her plush thighs and pressing her knees to her head. you know she takes yoga lessons and you haven't been more thankful for that flexibility. 

wanda's spread entirely open for you, completely bare, all dripping and vulnerable, and you think you might just die.

that night, you make wanda see constellations she'd never witnessed, make her cum so hard wanda thought she might pass out, and simply take her.

that night was one that etched itself into both of your memories, of heat and fervour and lust and love.

love, those three words neither of you would dare to admit, of unsaid confessions and buried feelings.

when you lay beside a passed-out wanda, your own boundless stamina weary, you suppress the urge to stroke gently at her hair. it takes everything in you to not kiss her forehead and murmur things you'd always regret.

your heart was swelling, growing bigger each time you saw wanda maximoff, but she had little space in her life for you. 

but for now, you wouldn’t care if it came back to hit you in the face.

for now, wanda maximoff would be everything to you, and maybe that would suffice.

recently watched ant man, and i swear there was something going on with jentorra and cassie... or maybe that's my syndrome of seeing every fictional woman as lesbian LMAO hope yall enjoyed this, the fic i'll be writing next is probably this :)

masterlist / AO3 / join the taglist

#marvel women #marvel smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #x reader #wanda x reader smut #wanda maximilf #wanda maximommy #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff #marvel #my works #bottom wanda maximoff #sub wanda #top reader #dom reader #sub wanda maximoff #gender neutral reader

[wonwoosstuff]

Mr. Muscle | Seungcheol x fem.reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend loves flaunting his strength at every chance. You, on the other hand, consider yourself quite skilled at pretending not to be bothered—or at least you used to think so. Now, you find yourself in a playful tug-of-war between resisting and succumbing to the undeniable charm of his displays of strength.

Genre: fluff, pet names, sexual tension, pet names, praising, reader is thirsty over her man, reader is shorter than him, gf-bf- dynamic, protective Cheol, established relationship

A/N: Not proofread!

————————————————————————

You strolled through the park with your boyfriend Seungcheol, the sun casting a warm glow on their surroundings. Seungcheol, unable to resist the temptation, spotted a pull-up bar and flexed his muscles.

"Watch this, darling!" He effortlessly pulled himself up, showcasing his strength. Maintaining an air of nonchalance, you raised an eyebrow. "Impressive, but can you do it with one hand?"

Seungcheol, always up for a challenge, accepted with a smirk. "Of course."

You couldn't help but crack a smile. This made Seungcheol so much more attractive. You didn’t like when men bragged too much about their strength but he was definitely an exception.

"Okay, fine, you win this one."

Seungcheol grinned, basking in his victory.

——————————————————————

“Home sweet home”, Seungcheol exclaimed after entering your apartment. “Well that was a nice stroll.” You said and smiled at him.

Your boyfriend hummed in agreement and joined you in the kitchen. He hugged you from behind kissing your nape: “What’re you doing?”

“I need to prepare dinner, baby. It’s 7:30.” You answered.

“Oh well… uh” Seungcheol stopped for a moment. “What is it, Cheollie?”

“Me and the boys wanted go to the gym together and exercise a bit…”

“And?”

“There’s no and. That’s it”

“I mean why is it bothering you?”

“Baby, I wanted to help you out with cooking dinner.” Seungcheol looked at you worriedly. His eyes turning into big puppy like pupils.

You could eat him right now and then. “Cheol, you are the cutest, do you know that?” While turning around you pinched both of his cheeks and pecked his lips right after.

“You can go! It’s fine. I’ll be okay.” You assured him.

“Hm, okay. Call me when you need something.”

Oh, how sweet of him, you thought. However you were sure that there wasn’t anything you would have to deal with. Or was there?

Of course there had to be something you had to deal with.

A jar of pickles didn’t want to open. You’ve been trying to open it for the past half hour. Knives, Spoons, Forks, Spatulas- no material existing in your apartment worked on the stubborn lid.

Now you had no other choice but to wait for your boyfriend to come back home.

“Ugh, maybe I should hit the gym as well.”

“What?” you were greeted with a familiar sounding chuckle. Seungcheol was back home and he was sweating.

Sweaty Seungcheol was your biggest weakness. You couldn’t help but continue to thirst over the man mentally. The thought of him punishing you with his sweaty black hair, veiny arms and thick biceps made your folds clench.

“Earth to y/n? Are you there? Hello?” You were brought back to reality.

“Oh, uh yeah I’m back. I mean uh-“ you were interrupted by your boyfriend’s laugh. He kissed your temple followed by a hug: “Why are you so cute today? By the way the food smells so good. I could smell it from the first floor.” You grinned proudly. “Must be my cooking skills. Oh and Cheol, you’re sweaty. Please stop hugging me.”

Seungcheol pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, a wry smirk gracing his lips. He knew exactly what you were thinking about two minutes ago.

One thing you unequivocally despised was your boyfriend's uncanny ability to effortlessly decipher your thoughts. While such insight could prove beneficial, this time, it made you feel uneasy.

“Why are you smirking?”

“Since my princess wants me to take a shower I will gladly do so.” Great, he avoided your question.

Seungcheol disappeared in the bathroom and came back ten minutes later. He was watching you struggling to open a jar of pickles which made him chuckle and reflect on the “I should hit the gym as well” sentence that you brought up.

“Let me open that jar for you,” he said approaching you. Seungcheol took the jar out of your hands and gave it a try.

Without much effort he opened the lid that frustrated you one hour ago.

"Strength comes in handy, doesn't it?"

Determined not to be swayed you rolled your eyes. “Anyone could’ve opened that jar.”

“Clearly” he answered sarcastically.

Seungcheol, undeterred, decided to take a more subtle approach. As you walked away, he subtly draped an arm around your waist, showcasing a different kind of strength—gentleness.

You were caught off guard and a blushing mess. Hiding in his chest you said: “You know, you don’t always have to show off your strength.”

Seungcheol, with a soft smile, replied, "I just want to be your strong support, even if it means flexing a bit.”

“Fine, Mr. Muscle. Just promise not to crush me with your strength.”

Seungcheol chuckled, wrapping you in a reassuring hug.

"Deal. I'll save the strength for opening stubborn jars and protecting your heart."

————————————————————————

This man has my heart ❤️ I want to write a smut version of this. Should I?

#seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader #choi seungcheol fluff #seungcheol x reader #wonwoosstuff

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

��Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel

[stevebabey]

Eddie loves to complain.

It’s a known fact to Eddie, to Wayne, to every single sorry son-of-a-bitch who winds up being friends with him, that Eddie loves to complain. Half the time he opens his mouth, it’s to let an absurd about of bitching fall out of it. Trailer trash with a trash mouth, is what he calls himself sometimes, always with a wry grin.

Even more so, Eddie loves to complain about how Steve Harrington seems to get everything he wants in life.

He gets the big house at the end of the block, the spot of captain of the basketball team (not that that’s a position Eddie would ever gun for), the stupid title of ‘King Steve’ that let him soar through high school, untouched.

Missing homework? Well, King Steve Harrington just gets a gentle reprimand, a reminder to make homework a priority next time. Whereas, Mr. McKay had nearly popped his eyeball out in stress when chewing Eddie out for his missing homework in the very same week.

Double fucking standards. He’s pretty sure he’s seen Steve get free shakes down at Harper’s Diner which made Eddie scoff— as if the likes of Steve Harrington can’t pay for his own shakes.

So, yeah, to Eddie? Steve Harrington gets everything he wants.

It becomes so much of a habit — bitching and blaming King Steve for every other minuscule inconvenience as well — that even when Eddie has the week from hell and his entire worldview is shifted, quite literally, upside down, he still complains about Steve.

Because, damn it, even at all this, Steve is better than Eddie is.

Ignoring the fact it’s definitely not Steve’s first rodeo, Eddie can’t help but keep the bite in his tone. It feels a bit too humiliating, being kept bed-ridden in Steve’s empty mansion due to wounds that need tending to every day. Hidden from angry mobs because he’s that unlikable in this town.

Worse, is that even though Steve got a bite taken out of him too, he seems just fucking peachy compared to Eddie.

Pathetic Eddie who can’t even change his own bandages yet. Steve’s more gentle than Eddie probably deserves for all his bitching at him.

Because, of course he bitches. Eddie can’t help it; some defence mechanism from within that isn’t sure how to handle the fact Steve is, like actually genuinely, a decent person. It’s worse when Steve waves it off. Shrugs off his pointy comments, might make a comment about being ‘someone’s grouchy and tired’ but is still so fucking nice.

Until the one day he doesn’t shrug off the comment— this time when Eddie makes a complaint, whinging and grumbling about can’t believe I’m stuck with Steve Harrington playing nurse, Steve narrows his eyes. Then he sighs.

“What’s your problem with me, man?” Steve asks, not unkind, just probing. He’s still winding one of the bandages around Eddie’s torso, the latter propped against the bathroom sink.

Fuck, this bathrooms massive. It’s bigger than Eddie’s entire room at the trailer. He hates it for that. He hates that he’s had more gentle touches in this bathroom in the weeks living here, with Steve, than he had in his whole 20 years since— well, since his mama died really. He tries not to think about that much.

Eddie really glad he asked; he thinks he’s had this whole speech prepped since sophomore year and Steve’s stupidly fluffy hair and smarmy grin walked through Hawkins High’s front doors. Charmed his way to top of the school with his stupid perfect life.

But, well, not all of that is true anymore. Eddie knows there’s quite a few holes in his original fantasised idea of what the perfect life of Steve Harrington looks like. Doesn’t matter, Eddie’s still got a bone to pick. He’s stubborn that way.

“What’s my problem? Did you meet yourself in high school?”

Steve winces a bit at that, his eyes ducking away but his hands keep moving, winding the gauze slowly and carefully. He doesn’t say anything, thinking, but Eddie rolls on regardless.

“Dude, you get— you have everything. You have the house, the popularity- shit, half the population of the school had the hots for you.” He doesn’t mention that he was at one point part of that population. Might still be if Steve keeps being so nice to him. Damn, he’s easy.

His tone as he talks tells a completely different story though, all annoyed and dramatic. “I once saw Miss O’Donnell wave off a failed test just cos. Just cos you were you! That’s the same fucking test that failed me the first time round.”

Eddie waves his hand around, on a roll now; he’s had plenty of practice with bitching about the likes of how Steve Harrington has it all.

“I know all this shit is, well, not fuckin’ ideal but even then! It’s like, of course, you’ll roll out of this with some badass scars that the chicks will dig.”

Steve is still listening intently, Eddie can tell because his eyes flick up to meet his every couple of seconds. His hands keep working.

Eddie huffs and winces at the pain that radiates up and down his side. “If you had these scars,” he gestures up and down. His side is undeniably worse than Steve’s own, they both know. “It would just be badass. Survivor shit, yanno? On me, it’s just, like, shitty mutilation.”

The sentence hangs in the air and Eddie feels his embarrassment creep up by how quickly that turned into a pity-fest, which absolutely not the point. The point is that Steve gets it all and Eddie gets nothing — and that’s how it’s always been.

Steve says quiet for a bit thinking as he ties off the end of Eddie’s bandage. He has to pull it tight and Eddie winces again, another flush on pain. Even if it’s not as embarrassing as it had been in the beginning, Steve taking care of these wounds for him, Eddie still hates it.

“So, that’s your problem with me? You think I get everything I want?” Steve asks plainly, pulling his hands back and folding them across his chest. Eddie hates how handsome he looks doing it. Then hates himself for noticing it.

“In a manner of words, yes.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and suddenly leans forward, planting his hands on either side of Eddie’s hips on the bathroom counter. He leans into his space and Eddie has to force himself not to pull back instinctively. Steve’s face is very close to his.

“And... if I want you?” Steve asks, voice dipping quieter in a way that makes Eddie’s stomach tighten. He represses a shudder and only after, do the words dawn on him; there’s no hiding the way he gets a little wide-eyed and fuck, he just looked at Steve’s lips. Wait, what? Eddie’s heart is thudding like a trapped rabbit’s, wild and quick.

Steve’s stare is intense, eyes a little darker than usual. He looks at Eddie and just for a moment, his gaze drops to his lips. Steve licks his own, his knuckles on the counter growing whiter as he grips it tighter and steels his nerve.

“Do I still get everything I want?”

#break from da blurbs bcos i am on STEDDIE BRAIN at the mo! #i've also had that dialogue in my drafts for yoinks #yet again.... gay ppl in my phone #i trust u to find this #sorry to all my stevie followers u will have to see this just once lol #maybe twice #steddie #ruby writes steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #wahoo

[purestxblood]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 –

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 –

affectionate, approving, beaming, bright, brilliant, broad, charming, cheerful, compassionate, dazzling, encouraging, enthusiastic, friendly, gentle, genuine, infectious, innocent, irresistible, placid, playful, pleased, radiant, reassuring, sweet, soft, sunny, tender, warm, welcoming, windsome.

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 –

cold, condescending, cruel, dazed, devilish, dry, enigmatic, evil, feeble, fixed, forced, furtive, grave, grim, haughty, helpless, ingratiating, insolent, ironic, malicious, meek, melancholy, mocking, mournful, mysterious, oily, reluctant, rueful, sarcastic, sardonic, scornful, shy, slight, smug, sober, strained, strange, stony, thin, timid, tremulous, triumphant, ugly, vague, weak, weird, wicked, wistful, wry.

𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 –

amused, crooked, knowing, mischievous, quiet, quick, rusty, sudden, vacant.

𝗗𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝗽𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗲 –

chapped, cracked, moist, plump, thin, tight.

#editorials #descriptive #describing words #writing #writing fan fiction #writing tips #smiles #smile

[dee-writes-smut]

DAFFODILS (Chapter One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY The Spring Court has gone to shit, and while you would normally be able to tolerate it, the new discovery that you were pregnant pushes you to the gates of The Autumn Court and unknowingly into Eris' arms.

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy, Eris being a slight douche (you know how it is yall), violence (reader is kicked in the stomach), and mentions of Tampon (Tamlin).

AUTHORS NOTE who's excited for the kick-off of yet another series? I am! Of course, I had to start an Eris series, I love him too much not to! Strap in, darlings, I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The once vibrant Spring court had gone to shit, a shadow of its former glory. Tamlin, the once revered and compassionate High Lord, had vanished, abandoning his people to suffer in the decay his negligence had allowed to fester.

Amid the desolation, there were attempts to salvage what remained of the Spring Court. Lucien's name surfaced as one who strove to preserve our home. I recall his desperate sacrifice on Calanmai, offering himself to Ianthe in a futile bid to rescue us. He still occasionally visits, perhaps clinging to a hope that he might stumble upon signs of revival, our High Lord restored to his former benevolence. Yet each return only reinforces the stark reality of our decline, leaving him unsurprised by the sight of our dwindling realm.

And now, here I stand, just beyond the borders of the Autumn Court, clad in nothing but the ragged remnants of my escape, imploring the impassive sentries to grant me sanctuary within their walls. They offer no response, their stoic countenances unmoved as I plead and weep at their feet.

In my disheveled state, I must present a pitiful sight—my attire threadbare and stained, my once-glamorous countenance marred by streaks of dirt and smudged cosmetics, my limbs adorned with bruises like macabre adornments.

As I teeter on the brink of desperation, a voice cuts through the stillness, emerging from the depths of the forest to my right. The guards snap to attention at its sound, their posture stiffening even further, if such a thing were possible, in deference to its commanding presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, belonged to a man with cascading locks of fiery hair, who strode forth from the underbrush with an air of regal authority.

Gods, he was a vision to behold. Despite the earthy stains marring his attire and the tousled state of his tunic sleeves, he exuded an otherworldly allure.

"A mere denizen of the Spring Court, attempting to beg her way into our domain, my lord," one of the guards grumbled, offering a curt bow before callously nudging me aside with his boot. I winced as the blow landed squarely in my stomach.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, you imbecile!" The fiery-haired man's voice dripped with disdain as he strode forward, confronting the offending guard with palpable fury. "Can you not discern her condition, you fool? She carries life within her."

My heart lurched as I instinctively cradled my abdomen, a protective gesture born of maternal instinct. Though every fiber of my being yearned to retaliate against the guard's callousness, I forced myself to breathe deeply, refusing to succumb to the animalistic urges that society expected of Spring Court members in these desperate times.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired, his amber eyes ablaze with a captivating mix of concern and authority, their gaze so intense that it stole the very air from my lungs.

"I'm… I'm fine," I managed to utter, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair obscuring my face and inhaling deeply to steady my frayed nerves.

"I must apologize for the behavior of my soldier. Rest assured, appropriate measures will be taken, my lady," the man assured me, his smile radiant as he inclined his head with graceful deference. His charm nearly brought a wry laugh to my lips.

"No need for such formalities," I replied weakly, the weight of my displaced status as a refugee gnawing at my throat like a persistent ache. But I steeled myself with the thought of my unborn child, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "I am no longer a lady—well, not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"How so?" the man persisted, his expression a blend of curiosity and genuine concern, prompting me to draw my arms tighter around myself.

"I find it quite audacious for someone whose name I don't even know to ask such personal questions," I retorted, feigning a hint of indignation that rang hollow even to my own ears.

"Fair point," he conceded with a charming grin, though his adherence to formality still grated on my nerves. "Allow me to rectify that oversight. My name is Eris. Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court," he declared, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and weariness wash over me at his introduction.

Eris. Lucien had spoken sparingly of his older brother during his time in the Spring Court, but whenever he did, a profound sense of affection tinged with melancholy colored his words. I shook myself from my reverie, extending a hand in a gesture of polite acknowledgement as I reciprocated with my own name. Eris repeated my name softly, testing it on his tongue, and my heart twinged at the striking resemblance in mannerism between him and Lucien, one so distant yet familiar, the other painfully close.

"Now," Eris began, his hands making a smooth, sweeping gesture that hinted at his readiness to delve deeper into the matter at hand, "what brings you to the borders of the Autumn Court, my lady?"

"The Spring Court is…" My voice faltered, and I let out a weary sigh, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach for comfort.

"It's gone to shit," he finished for me, his smirk sharp but not unkind.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite so bluntly, but yes," I responded, my fingers tracing small circles over my abdomen. "That place and its ruler are no fit environment for a child. Considering the proximity of your court, I was hoping I might find a new beginning here."

"What about the father?" Eris inquired, one eyebrow—a mirror image of Lucien's—arching skeptically.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look at my well-worn shoes. How does one tell the Heir to the Autumn Court that they are pregnant with his youngest brother's babe? How does one also explain how he is mated to another female, that they knew as soon as that brother found out about said babe, he would give up all hope to find his true mate in order to be there for his child?

"Not in the picture," I manage to say, my voice faltering slightly as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, a gesture betraying my discomfort.

Eris hums, a low, thoughtful sound that vibrates with suspicion, his striking eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes my uneasy demeanor. The weight of his gaze feels like it could peel back the layers of my hastily constructed defenses, compelling me to confront truths I'd rather leave unspoken. Eris's scrutinizing gaze doesn't waver, and the silence stretches taut between us like a bowstring. "Not in the picture," he echoes thoughtfully, each word heavy with the promise of unasked questions.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settling around us. The air in the forest seems to hold its breath, the usual whispers of leaves and distant calls of woodland creatures falling into a hushed reverence. "And you must understand, my lord, that my child is my utmost priority," I assert with unwavering resolve, emphasizing his title with a hint of disdain, as if challenging the very foundations of our unequal stations.

The guards stationed behind me draw in sharp, anticipatory breaths, seemingly prepared for their lord to mete out swift retribution for my boldness. I steel myself against the expected blow, a silent rehearsal of defiance.

Yet, the expected strike does not materialize. Instead, Eris regards me with what could only be described as admiration. His gaze, intense and calculating, appraises me not as a threat, but as a formidable presence in my own right.

"Well, little fox," he begins, his voice carrying a playful undertone that belies the depth of his contemplation. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if to physically underline his ponderings. "It appears you've presented quite the compelling argument for yourself here."

The use of "little fox" — a term perhaps meant to denote cunning and resilience — sparks a flicker of amusement within me, mixed with a surge of cautious optimism. His demeanor suggests a blend of challenge and respect, hinting at a dynamic that could evolve beyond mere formalities or supplications. This man before me is not just the heir to a court; he is a strategist weighing his next move.

"You seek shelter for yourself and the babe?" Eris inquires with a hint of slyness, as if to subtly test my resolve, though it's a point I've already made abundantly clear.

"Indeed," I retort sharply, refusing to waver under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

"Then shelter you shall have," he declares, pivoting on his heel to fix the guards with a stern glare. "You will allow her passage," he commands, his tone uncompromising. The guards, obedient to their lord's decree, quickly acquiesce, parting to allow me entry with a mere flick of Eris's wrist.

The heady scent of spices and autumnal freshness assaults my senses as I approach the threshold, beckoning me forward with its tantalizing allure. It's as if the very essence of this court implores me to embrace my true purpose, to seize control of my destiny without hesitation. The boldness of it all catches me off guard, stirring a sense of rebellion that courses through my veins like wildfire.

Pausing at the threshold, I find myself suspended between the tranquility of the wilderness behind me and the vibrant chaos of the court ahead. I hesitate, grappling with the weight of the choices that lie before me.

Eris slows his stride beside me, as if attuned to my uncertainty, and extends his arm—an offering both courteous and suggestive. His demeanor exudes confidence and assurance, as if he expects me to surrender to his lead without question.

But I refuse to yield to the expectations of courtly decorum. Chin held high, I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, ignoring the disheveled state of my attire as I assert my independence. My feet remain firmly planted, refusing to advance until I am ready, on my own terms.

Eris's arm lingers in the air for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at my defiance. His amber eyes search mine, silently probing, yet beneath the scrutiny, I detect a glimmer of curiosity and… respect.

"I am quite capable of managing on my own," I declare, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

His expression softens, and he nods, gracefully retracting his arm. "As you wish," he concedes, gesturing for me to take the lead as we finally step through the threshold together.

The walk through the streets of Autumn was like stepping into a painting come to life. The cobblestone pathways wound gracefully between quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant splashes of ivy. Overhead, colorful banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their designs depicting scenes of seasonal splendor and courtly festivities.

Stands and stalls lined the streets, each one a miniature wonderland of treasures waiting to be discovered. From intricately woven tapestries to gleaming trinkets and baubles, the offerings were as diverse as they were captivating. Merchants called out to passersby in melodious voices, their wares displayed with care and pride.

The smells that wafted through the air were a symphony of sensory delights. Spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, their fragrances intermingling in a tantalizing dance that made my mouth water. Roasted chestnuts crackled and popped over open fires, their warm, nutty aroma floating on the breeze alongside the sweet perfume of ripe fruit and fragrant flowers.

Eris's sudden change in direction pulled me from my reverie, my gaze following his lead as we approached a magnificent structure nestled within the heart of the Autumn Court. The Forest House loomed before us, its grandeur and mystique commanding attention as we drew nearer.

Surrounded by a wrought iron gate, the house stood as a bastion of elegance amidst the bustling streets. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches reaching out to embrace the ancient structure with a sense of reverence. Vines climbed the walls, their verdant tendrils weaving intricate patterns against the weathered stone.

The sight of the Forest House sent a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to the aura of power and mystery that seemed to emanate from its very core. It was as if the house held secrets untold, whispering tales of bygone days and forgotten legends to those who dared to listen.

"Wait!" I called out, the urgency in my voice halting Eris in his tracks. His steps faltered, and he turned to face me, a glint of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across his features, lending an air of intrigue to his already enigmatic presence.

"Yes?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with playful curiosity, his smirk hinting at secrets hidden just beneath the surface.

"What's going to happen to me? Where will I stay?" I blurted out, the fierce confidence I had summoned earlier dissipating like morning mist in the face of uncertainty. Nervously, I began to pick at my nails, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

Eris regarded me with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had anticipated my question long before I had voiced it. "You will stay with me, of course," he replied simply, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance that belied the gravity of his words. There was a subtle confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that spoke of his authority within the court.

I recoiled at his casual response, a surge of apprehension coursing through me. "But what about Beron? Won't he object to having a… a lowborn in his household?" I ventured cautiously, the weight of his father's disapproval looming like a specter in the back of my mind.

"Nonsense," Eris scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest in a dismissive gesture. "You are now a member of this court, and given your condition," he added with a subtle nod towards my abdomen, "it is only fitting that you reside in more suitable accommodations." His words were tinged with a hint of defiance, a silent challenge to anyone who would dare question his authority.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind, uncertainty clouding my thoughts like a thick fog. "Absolutely not!" I protested vehemently, a surge of protectiveness coursing through me as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, as if to shield my unborn child from the absurdity of Eris's suggestion. "I refuse to stay in your chambers, Eris. It's… it's utterly preposterous."

Eris's eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze holding a hint of amusement mixed with something darker. "Stubborn, aren't we?" he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But if you prefer to sleep on the streets, far be it from me to stand in your way."

His words, though seemingly casual, carried a sharp edge that hinted at the depth of his cunning. It was a subtle reminder of his position of power, a reminder that I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not.

I bristled at his thinly veiled threat, my jaw clenching as I met his gaze with a glare of my own. "You wouldn't dare," I challenged, though a flicker of uncertainty danced behind my eyes.

Eris's smirk widened, the glint in his amber eyes turning predatory. "Try me," he replied, his tone dripping with promise and menace in equal measure.

With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly relented, realizing that I was in no position to defy him. "Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth, my hand slipping from my stomach to clench into a fist at my side. "But don't expect me to thank you for it."

Eris's smirk softened into a smirk, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Who said anything about gratitude?" he mused, his voice low and husky. "I'm merely extending a courtesy to a fellow refugee."

His words were laced with sarcasm, a reminder that his generosity came with strings attached. It was a stark contrast to the charming facade he wore, a glimpse of the ruthlessness that lay beneath.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat as I followed him towards the Forest House. It was clear that my time in the Autumn Court would be far from easy, but as I glanced back at the crumbling ruins of the Spring Court behind me, I knew that I had no other choice.

As we reached the grand doors of the Forest House, Eris turned to me with a smirk. "Welcome to your new home, little fox," he remarked, his tone dripping with irony. "Try not to get too comfortable."

My brows furrowed at his words, suspicion creeping into my mind. "What's the catch?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Eris chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Though I do have one condition," he said, his smirk widening into a grin.

"And what is that?" I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"You must walk with me once a day for the duration of your stay," Eris declared, his tone teasing yet firm.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking," I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my voice.

Eris's grin widened, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he retorted, his tone challenging.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a surge of defiance rising within me. "This is ridiculous," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won't be your captive audience."

Eris's expression softened, a hint of something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "It's not about being captive," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Consider it… a chance to explore the court, to clear your mind. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I could use the company."

I bristled at his suggestion, my pride warring with my better judgment. "And if I refuse?" I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.

Eris's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then you'll miss out on some truly breathtaking views," he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine," I relented, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Eris's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come to enjoy it more than you think," he remarked cryptically, before turning to lead the way into the Forest House.

As Eris escorted me to the grand Forest House, his steps were measured, exuding an air of regal confidence that was unmistakably his. His fiery locks seemed to dance with each movement, and his amber eyes held a glint of mischief, hinting at the cunning that lay beneath his charming exterior.

Upon entering my chambers, Eris's gaze swept over the room with a critical eye, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I trust the accommodations meet with your approval, my lady?" he inquired, his voice smooth as honey but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk of my own at his thinly veiled jest. "They're quite lovely, thank you," I replied, matching his playful tone with one of my own.

Eris's smirk widened into a grin, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips. "Excellent," he remarked, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to survey the room once more.

As I explored my new surroundings, I couldn't help but notice Eris's watchful gaze following my every move. It was as if he were sizing me up, gauging my reactions to the opulence that surrounded us. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, a depth of character hidden behind his charming facade.

Spotting the single daffodil on the table near the window, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. It was a quintessentially Eris gesture—playful yet meaningful, a subtle reminder of our earlier exchange. I picked up the note beside it, the elegant script a testament to Eris's attention to detail.

"I will be seeing you real soon, little fox. Wouldn't want you slacking off on our daily walks now, would we?" the note read, the teasing tone perfectly in line with Eris's mischievous nature. I couldn't help but smile at his audacity, the unspoken challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within me.

Setting the note back down, I turned to find Eris watching me with a knowing smirk, his amber eyes alight with amusement. "I take it you approve of my choice of decor?" he quipped, the smirk widening into a grin as he met my gaze.

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "It's certainly… unique," I replied, the hint of sarcasm in my tone mirroring his own.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

#fanfic #x reader #angst #acotar #acosf #acowar #acourtofthornsandroses #acomaf #eris masterlist #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vandaddy #lucien #lady of autumn #beron vanserra #pregnant #pregnancy #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader #eris x you #fluff #a court of thorns and roses #smut #Eris

[jaywonjuice]

📄🖇️— him meeting your family ~ p.js

pairing bf!jay x gn reader

genre fluff, oneshot

request: “hii! i was wondering if i could request a drabble/scenario for jay pls? :) i’m a sucker for fluff so maybe something like taking him to meet your family for the first time at a family reunion? and then he’s getting along so well with the baby cousins and the family loves him :’) i’m in my jay era rn and this scenario would make my whole week! no rush tho!! i love your works so far btw, and i can’t wait to follow you on this journey of growing your library! <3 xx”

warnings sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 655

‘aren’t i the one who’s supposed to be feeling nervous about this?’ said jay with a wry smile, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. you glanced over at him, taking in his calm expression and marvelling at his ability to remain so composed given the circumstances. you, on the other hand, couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting restlessly in the passenger seat. jay placed a hand on your knee gently to still it.

‘love, it’s going to be fine, i promise,’ he shot you a reassuring smile, which you attempted to return weakly. ‘mums always love me anyway,’ he added with a wink, hoping to get you to laugh, but right now you were too preoccupied to play along.

‘yeah, it’s just…’ you chewed at your thumbnail, staring out the window. ‘i don’t know. i’ve never brought a boyfriend back home before. like, ever. and the whole family is going to be there.’ you sighed, slumping against the headrest.

jay smiled. ‘try not to worry. i promise it’s going to be fine. i for one am looking forward to meeting your folks.’ he reached for your hand and gave it a small squeeze.

.❦.

once you arrived at your parents’ place, you weren’t even sure what you had been worrying about the whole time. as expected, jay had been a gentleman from the moment he stepped through the door, shaking your father’s hand, and greeting your mother politely before passing her the bottle of wine he’d brought up with him. he had charmed every last one of your aunts, who looked on impressed as he helped to lay the table and plate up lunch. your teenage cousins had giggled and whispered to each other behind their hands, eyes darting over at him all throughout the meal.

after he’d finished helping clear up all the dishes, he finally came to join you in the family room. it took all of thirty seconds for him to spot the cabinet of baby pictures and trinkets that sat on the mantelpiece, and he approached eagerly to watch you grow up through photographs.

‘this one was when we visited the states - lord, going on twelve years ago now,’ your dad passed a small wooden picture frame over to jay. ‘wasn’t (s)he cute, eh?’

jay nodded, smiling. ‘very,’

later in the evening, you’d watched from the sofa as he sat on the rug with your little cousin, who was enthusiastically presenting jay with all of her new toys. he received each one with interest, his face animated, eyes widening and giving little gasps as she explained them all to him in great detail. the way he smiled sweetly down at her made your heart ache just a little. when she had finally shown jay every last little stuffed animal, she turned to him, all of a sudden looking very serious.

‘are you and y/n in love??’ she demanded abruptly.

jay gave a little laugh, tousling her hair affectionately. then he looked up at you, softly. ‘yeah. we are,’ he replied.

.❦.

it felt oddly comforting to be back in your childhood bedroom again with jay by your side, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling providing a small fluorescent glow in the otherwise complete darkness. you rested your head again his chest and sighed deeply. the long day of travelling and socialising had taken it out of you both completely; you were exhausted.

‘your family are nice,’ jay mumbled after a while.

‘yeah,’ you said quietly. ‘they think you’re nice,’ you added. ‘i think you’re nice,’ you told him on top of that, wrapping your arms around his waist snugly and hugging him to you.

‘is that so?’ you could hear the smile in his voice.

‘yeah,’ you nuzzled into his chest. ‘the nicest.’

.❦.

the following morning, the two of you stood by the front door saying your goodbyes to your parents. as jay hugged your mother farewell, your dad gave you a kiss on the cheek, before nodding over at jay. ‘he’s a keeper, this one,’ he winked.

jay held your hand all the way from the door to the car, where he opened up the passenger side for you, but before you could get in, he pulled you close to him suddenly, catching you so off guard that you blushed furiously.

‘i love you,’ he said quietly, his nose brushing your own. you moved to say it back, but his lips were pressed to yours before you’d even got the chance.

a/n literally what a dream request ty anon !! i could go on abt domestic jay all day every day forever until my lungs give out he’s so husband bye ㅠㅠ

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla @shawnyle

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

#enhypen #enha #enha fluff #enha x reader #enhypen reactions #enha drabble #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enha scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #park jongseong #enha jay #park jay #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #enha soft hours #enha soft thoughts #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts

[dottedsilktie]

Red Chevy baby

Spring cleaning always gets you emotional, especially when it's time for Toji to try - and fail - to get rid of your beloved old red Chevy. This year, you take a trip down memory lane and Toji takes it as a chance to share a cautionary tale with your son, Megumi.

cw : +18, smut, car sex, swearing and mild degradation, love confessions, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, pet names, fluff

Toji is standing in your home’s garage, a hand on his hip, his sharp gaze zeroed in on the old Camaro collecting dust in a dark corner. You watch him from where you’re lounging on the long chair he’s set up for you on the nearby grass. It’s a scene you’re familiar with, one you’ve seen unfold many times before but it still strikes the same bittersweet feeling in you.

He mutters something to himself, now putting both hands on his hips and widening his stance. It almost looks like he’s staring down the car, a silent battle of wits. The old cherry red carcass is the same as ever - impassible, quiet, happy to rest after years of being well-loved. You peer at it over the rim of your sunglasses and it looks like an apparition, specks of muted carmine flashing through a dust haze. What used to be sleek lines, is now worn out and dulled, and somehow more charming than when Toji first bought it. You still remember the first time he’d picked you up in it.

It was his first big splurge : clean money, he’d sworn on his life and when you told him it didn’t mean anything, he doubled down and swore on the brand new pony car. He took you for a test drive in the city, a little self-satisfied smirk on his face the whole ride. Above all, you remember the way his smug smirk grew into a genuine boyish smile when you finally told him how proud he’d made you. It felt like he’d atoned for everything he’d done in his wretched life before you. It was also a tacit promise, one of a better life – a clean one.

He kept true to his words after that and the little Camaro was his witness through it all. In every little scratch to its bumper, there’s a story you reminisce about with misty eyes.

Toji snaps you out of your little daydream, grumbling “I’m getting rid of her for good this time”. He turns to face you with an already wavering determination. You’ve had the same talk countless times before ; his going in the garage for spring cleaning, gauging the car up and threatening to get rid of it, only to come back inside with a defeated air and a mumbled promise to do it some other time.

It’s endearing, the ill-masked sentimentality of it all.

So you play along, sighing and getting up from your chair, strutting to him with a wry smile. “Are you now ?”, you quip with a quirked brow. “Hell yeah I am, it’s just a pile of junk ; why the fuck should we keep it ? Just takes up space”, he grumbles.

The feigned irritation in his voice doesn’t match the softness in his eyes or the sappy upwards twitch of his scarred lip when he stares at the Camaro for a tad too long. You press yourself against him then, your arms encircling his waist, “Or we can just keep it, maybe take it out for a drive some time. You could even repair it, hand it down to Megs !”. You sound hopeful and you feel Toji relax in your hold until you mention Megumi, then he freezes and stares down at you, gaze nothing short of horrified.

“Absolutely not, do you want the fucker to knock up some girl in there ? We both know this car is fucking cursed or something”. He shivers against you and you just laugh. Your effervescent fit of giggles soothes his initial horror, and he lets out a deep laugh of his own.

There’s a beat of silence when you share a knowing grin, both reminiscing on shameless moonlit trysts in the backseat of Toji’s car, when he was still rooming with Shiu and the urge to fuck you got the better of him. It was easier to have you in the ‘privacy’ of his car than to risk having Shiu hear your pretty whimpers of pleasure Toji treasured so much, he reasoned. He was as territorial as they come - still is - so you grew well acquainted with the cool leather seats of the cramped Camaro.

One occurrence stands out, though. At the time you hadn’t seen him in days, away on a job of your own, and when you reunited you were both beyond pent-up. For the first time you were the one begging him for a quick fuck, just something to dull the edge of the sharp want twisting your insides before Shiu was out of Toji’s hair so he could make up for lost time properly.

Toji was quick to agree, driving you in a secluded parking lot. Before he could even turn the engine down, you were lunging towards him, one hand supporting you on the centre console and the other twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You were already a wanton mess, kissing the corner of his scarred lips in a silent plea for more and he was too happy to be desired to deny you, opening his mouth to sloth his tongue against yours. It was messy and sloppy, a cacophony of broken whimpers and the unmistakable rustling of clothes being shed.

He swiftly pulled you on his lap, ridding you of your blouse and kissing his way down to your collarbones. He was a man starved, sucking shamelessly at the sensitive skin above your breasts then trailing wet kisses up the exposed column of your throat, relishing in your little mewls and the fevered drag of your clothed cunt on his growing bulge.

“I missed you so much, pretty girl - fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you”, he groaned into your skin, deft fingers undoing your bra with practised ease and moving to pull at your pebbled nipples. Even in your lust fuelled high, you could find it in you to be flustered, his words going straight to your untouched clit and making you squirm harder against him.

It should’ve been ridiculous to feel so much from so little, pleasure overpowering the discomfort of the empty belt buckle digging in your knee, the shame of dripping in your underwear just from words and small kisses but you’d never wanted anyone more and you were past hiding it.

You ground your hips harder into him, cupping his face and pulling his mouth away from where he was biting down on your nipple to kiss him fervently, pleading into his mouth, “Toji, more – Fuck, I need you, I missed you too”. He smiled against your kiss, running his hands down your sides then holding your waist in a loose grip, forcing you into a slower, more deliberate rhythm against his leaking cock. “Yeah ? What do you need, baby ? Say it and I’ll give it to you”, he cooed against your lips but before you could answer he was already dragging into another searing open-mouthed kiss, his hold on your waist tightening into a bruising grip. You drank down everything he had to offer, spit running past the corner of your lips, and he was just as eager to taste you.

You wordlessly guided one of his hands down to the hem of your skirt and when his thumb grazed the damp lace of your underwear, you almost let out an airy whimper of his name. You were back to humping his cock straining against his jeans, no real rhythm to your movements, just the urge to feel more, give more then take everything he had to offer.

Toji took care of you though, like he always did : he dug his large fingers into your thigh enough to hurt, slowing you down and making you wince against his lips, then he was pulling your ruined panties to the side and running a finger along your slit. He hissed at the contact and you moaned. “Soaking wet already, my baby’s so eager for me”, he mused to himself, a heady pleasure starting to cloud his senses.

“A couple of days away got your pretty pussy leaking just from a few kisses, poor baby ; want me to make it better, fuck the neediness out of you ?”, he mumbled against your throat, hiding the alarming shade of red flushing his cheeks, relieved that he could conceal his arousal behind yours.

It only heightened your pleasure as you nodded fervently and chased the fingers he used to pinch and pull at your puffy lips, breathlessly asking for “Just one finger, please Toji”.

Your little pleas, so desperate and polite but unmistakably ravenous, made his head swim with pleasure so he stopped his teasing and traced a finger down to your hole, circling it. He swore he could hear the ecstasy in your airy voice when you sunk down on his finger, rocking your hips back and forth and fuck, you were tighter than usual, so much wetter too.

When you’ve been starved for days, every little touch is magnified so you rode his digits like you would his cock - eyes closed and walls spasming, and you were rewarded with another thick finger sinking in you and curling alongside the first. Toji spread them out inside of you and circled your clit in small, measured strokes of his thumb, eager to have more of your slick pouring down his palm, to see your pretty face twist in pleasure while you fucked yourself on his hand. He was obsessed with the idea of you using him to get off, it was exhilarating ; it sent a rush like no other in him, a tingling sensation blooming in his chest followed by a jolt of pleasure in his cock and a heady pride clouding his mind.

“Are you close ?”, he whispered in between sucks to one of your pert nipples. He knew you were, could easily tell from how much you were leaking and shaking around his fingers, but he liked hearing your whiny voice slur out the words anyway. “Y-Yeah, I’m so close Toji, please keep going”, you pleaded, high-pitched and needy. Suddenly, he stopped moving his fingers inside of you and bit down on your nipple, hard. It made you squeak and jolt in his lap, your ruined orgasm paining you more than the mean tug of his teeth around your flesh. “Ask for it" , Toji groaned. "Beg me nicely and I might just let you cum".

You were all too happy to tell just how much you needed him, frenzied pleas bubbling out past your kiss-swollen lips before you could even think, “Please, please I need you; I-I– haven’t even touched myself in days; can’t cum without you anymore”.

It would’ve been pathetic if it didn’t get Toji’s dick impossibly harder, plaguing his mind with images of his darling girl trying to fuck herself to sleep in a dingy hotel room miles away from home, only to relent and let all that pent-up lust fester. He was getting drunk off of your little mewls and your hushed confessions, spurring you on, “Yeah ? You waited to come back to me so I can get you off ? Is that why you begged me to fuck you in the car like a whore ?”.

Because you were easy, his crudeness did it for you and you turned into a babbling mess, confessing to everything ; how you counted the days down until you could see him again, how you’d tried and failed to get yourself off to thoughts of his hands and mouth on you, how badly you needed him. It sent him in a frenzy, the pace of his fingers slamming in your cunt and against that tender spot inside you becoming truly brutal. Toji thought he might cum untouched just from the unmistakable clenching of your cunt around his fingers trying to suck him in and the high keen of his name escaping your rosy lips.

He covered up his own pleasured groans against your tits, mumbling shameless praise that heightened the ebb and flow of your orgasm, telling you just “What a fucking good girl you are, making a mess on me; you’re so beautiful when you cum, I need you to soak my cock like you did my fingers”.

He didn’t waste time reclining his seat and pushing it as far as possible from the steering wheel, taking his already leaking cock out of his trousers and pumping it a few times.

You were out of it, barely lucid after your first orgasm but you were already eyeing his cock with the voracious glint in your eyes that Toji’s became well acquainted with so he had no qualms about pushing you down into his cock even as you hissed and whined. He was courteous enough to let you experimentally roll your hips and get used to the burning stretch, but when you relaxed around him, he grabbed your ass and started guiding you up and down his length at a dizzying pace.

You were a wanton mess all over again, quickly recovering from the remnants of your first orgasm and already chasing the next and Toji just had to wonder how he even had it in him to let you go in the first place.

Every time you left for one of your business trips, he found himself yearning for you more. He craved you all the time and not just for the sex, these days he’s grown content to just do anything or nothing at all with you - running errands, watching movies, playing house at his tiny apartment when Shiu finally fucked off and he realised it only really felt like a home when you were there anyway, so maybe he was getting all sappy or maybe he --

“I love you”, he blurted out without thinking, balls deep inside you and face buried in your tits.

It was barely above a whisper but it was there, soft and weightless, and the air around you shifted under the pressure of things unsaid finally snapping.

You froze above him, pretty doe eyes looking down at him in awe and…relief ? He couldn’t be sure, not when the pale light of tired lampposts barely pierced through the darkness of the small car.

He almost wanted to backpedal, tell you that he didn’t mean it or laugh it off as crazed sex talk but then you were bending down to kiss him and his brain short-circuited.

You were painfully sweet, swollen lips brushing the scar bisecting his mouth and pressing featherlight kisses against his cheeks and jaw. “I love you too”, you whispered in a honeyed voice. It made him swallow around the lump in his throat, engorged cock twitching uncontrollably against your snug walls, and he thought that he could've died a happy man then and there.

He marvelled at how easy it was for you to make him spiral, your hushed confession was like a saccharine high that cut through a lifetime of bitterness, and he had to hear it again, begged you - “Say it again, say it”.

“I love you so much, honey” this time was even better than the first, deliberate and slow, your smile apparent in your voice. He laughed a little with you, breathless and so happy his chuckle threatened to break into a stifled sob. “Honey”, he parroted and you nodded, “Don’t like it ?”.

“I love it, wanna hear more”, he admitted in hushed whisper and you were eager to please him, lifting off your hips and slamming them back down against his with a drawled out moan of the pet name. Then you were the one fucking him, a slow rhythm of your ass slapping his thighs, the lull in between the sound of skin against skin filled with your mewled “I love you”’s.

“Don’t think I can let you go after this”, he mumbled into your chest, painfully honest, arms loosely draped around your waist just to slow you down. You laughed breathlessly against him, reaching a hand to brush inky black hair out of his eyes, “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Toji”.

You rolled your hips harder against him and squeezed around his length, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me”.

That’s all the reassurance he needed before he picked up speed again, thrusting his hips up so he could fuck into you and draw more of those happy little sounds he loved so much. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in how well you took him and how beautiful you looked, then everything he’s held back spilt out, a diluvian stream of consciousness - confessions of you how long he’s loved you, how he couldn’t bear to be separated from you, how hard he’s tried to get clean just for you.

It had you sobbing against him, his new-found candour and the brutal drag of his veiny cock in your sensitive cunt igniting a white-hot pleasure deep in your belly.

What got you though is his the strain in his voice when he promised to become even better just for you, nonsensical babbles about domestic bliss - “I’ll be so good to you sweetheart, I’ll give my pretty girl anything she needs - fuck, I’ll get you a nice ring and a white picket fence house and – a-aah shit, you’re sucking me in – anything at all, just say the word and it’s yours”.

The suburban dream he painted had you clawing at his shoulders as your orgasm threatened to rush through you. “Just want you, Toji” you slurred out, tender and sincere and it spurred him into fucking you in a mind-numbing high, pumping you full of his cum and kissing you through it and promising, “I’m already yours, sweetheart”.

His orgasm felt never-ending, rope after rope of sticky cum pouring into your fluttering cunt. He smoothed one large hand over your lower stomach, musing absentmindedly, “You’re just so good, letting me fuck you full of cum. You just keep sucking me in like you want it to take, greedy little thing”.

With your sex-high wearing off, you hid your face in his neck, chiding, “Stop saying that”.

“What ? That you like being bred ?”, his thundering laugh cut through the thick silence of the car and you hit his chest to shut him up.

A pleasant quietness settled over you once again and Toji spoke up after a while, “Hey, but what if it works ?”.

“It won’t, I’m on birth control you imbecile”.

“Lose the attitude, I know you are but I’m just sayin' - hypothetically, if you were to get pregnant then…”, he trailed off, bringing one large to brush your hair out of your face, levelling a hesitant gaze at your flushed face. You let a heavy silence hang between you.

“Then ?”

“Then I’ll kick Shiu out to make room for the new brat”.

“Good thing I won’t get pregnant then”.

And surely enough, you did get pregnant (to your mild horror and Toji’s delight) and the only explanation Toji came up with after all those years was that the little Camaro cursed you into being fertile when you shouldn’t have been.

Your intimate reverie and the quiet of the late afternoon are disturbed as a chipper pair of boys runs to you on the yard, tufts of pink and black hair obstructing your view when the pair jumps in your arms. Megumi and his friend-turned-brother Yuuji are eager to tell you about their day but their attention is quickly diverted from you as they catch a glimpse of the old red car in the garage.

Before they can make a run for it and inspect it, Toji grabs them both by the collar and lifts them up, scowling menacingly at Megumi, “Now listen boy, if there’s one rule you need to follow under my roof, it’s to never get near that car - it’s cursed, you hear me?”. Megumi looks quizzically at his father, then at you, and finally nods before scurrying inside the house with his friend. You laugh at Toji, hugging him again, “So intimidating, don’t want the kid to know where he came from ?”. “Shut up, I’m just not ready to be a grandpa”, he retorts, flicking your forehead then kissing it better.

You think the old Camaro still has some good days ahead of it though, because like he’s done countless times before, Toji ends up covering the car again and vowing to get rid of it some other time.

Thanks for reading ! Any comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #toji x reader #toji fushigro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x yn #toji zenin #dilf toji #toji smut #megumi fushiguro #jjk fluff #toji fluff

[mononijikayu]

ten minutes — gojo satoru.

In the midst of the vibrant scene unfolding around him, he finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. Your allure, your seduction—it's unlike anything he's encountered before. With a wry smile, he acknowledges that no one in this bar, no matter how alluring, could ever compare to you. You possess a certain magic, a wonder that transcends the superficial attempts at seduction displayed by others. In his eyes, you are unparalleled, and he wouldn't dare entertain the thought of comparing you to anyone else.

Genre: Post - Hidden Inventory Arc, 2010s;

Warning/s: R-18, Smut, Explicit Depiction of Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Pet Names, Praises, Flirting, One Night Stand to Lovers, Romance, Smut with Fluff, Depiction of Alcohol Consumption;

masterlist

listen: ten minutes by lee hyori

note: i wrote this while in my class and i just, i couldn't get gojo and him being in a bar out of my mind. it was pretty sexy!!! so i had to come back with this~ please enjoy it~ i love you all~.

IT WAS EVER SO TEMPTING. As the ambient glow of the dimly lit bar envelops the room, casting shadows that dance along the walls, your eyes meet those of Gojo Satoru, the enigmatic sorcerer whose presence commands attention wherever he goes. In the hazy atmosphere of the establishment, there's an unmistakable electricity between you, a palpable tension that crackles in the air like static before a storm.

With each step towards him, your confidence radiates like a beacon, drawing him in with an irresistible allure. The subtle sway of your hips as you move through the crowd captures his attention, a silent invitation that he can't help but heed. As you near him, the world around you seems to fade into obscurity, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment of charged anticipation.

Time slows to a languid crawl as you approach Satoru, the weight of his gaze locking with yours in an unspoken exchange of desire. In the depths of his eyes, you see a flicker of intrigue mingled with a hint of mischief, mirroring the emotions swirling within your own heart. In this fleeting moment, the boundaries between you blur, and the world outside ceases to exist as you become enveloped in the magnetic pull of each other's presence.

As you settle onto the stool next to him, a subtle yet undeniable shift occurs in the atmosphere of the crowded bar. Your presence is a magnetic force, drawing the attention of those around you as you lean in closer to Gojo Satoru, your proximity alone enough to send a thrill coursing through his veins.

With a knowing smile curving your lips, you speak in a soft, sultry tone that seems to echo in the intimate space between you. Your words carry a playful edge, teasing and tantalizing in equal measure as you extend an invitation that promises excitement and intrigue.

"You seem like you could use some company," you whisper, your voice a seductive murmur that ignites a spark of anticipation in his eyes. Each syllable drips with allure, weaving a spell that entices him to lean in closer, drawn to the enigmatic aura that surrounds you like a veil of mystery.

In the dimly lit ambiance of the bar, your confident demeanor and subtle allure cast a captivating spell over Gojo Satoru. As his gaze meets yours, a silent understanding passes between you, acknowledging the magnetic pull that seems to draw you closer with each passing moment. The air crackles with anticipation, charged with the promise of an encounter that transcends mere chance, beckoning you both into the depths of a captivating intrigue.

With a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his breath mingling with yours as he meets your gaze with a playful glint. "Well, who am I to turn down such an enticing offer?" he responds, his voice a low rumble that resonates with a hint of mischief.

Amidst the soft glow of the bar's intimate lighting, the interaction between you and Gojo Satoru unfolds like a dance of wits and charm, each movement filled with playful banter and a palpable sense of chemistry. As his eyes roam from the contours of your body to the features of your face, the playful twinkle in Gojo's eyes grows more pronounced, accentuated by the subtle shift of his dark-rimmed glasses. With a grin that speaks volumes of his playful nature, he revels in the delightful exchange, savoring every moment of the intrigue unfolding between you. 

As Gojo's gaze flits across the dimly lit bar, he finds himself briefly observing the other patrons, each one vying for attention in their own way. A woman with bright red lipstick catches his eye momentarily, her attempts at allure evident in the boldness of her appearance. Another woman, teetering on high heels, exudes confidence as she moves through the crowd.

There was there a seductive man who dances in the middle of the dance floor, sex appeal echoing for all the others to see. Another was staring at him, in a prim and proper suit, taking a shot of whiskey. Yet, despite their efforts, Gojo Satoru's thoughts inevitably return to you, the magnetic presence that has captivated his attention from the moment you entered the bar.

In the midst of the vibrant scene unfolding around him, he finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. Your allure, your seduction—it's unlike anything he's encountered before. With a wry smile, he acknowledges that no one in this bar, no matter how alluring, could ever compare to you.

You possess a certain magic, a wonder that transcends the superficial attempts at seduction displayed by others. In his eyes, you are unparalleled, and he wouldn't dare entertain the thought of comparing you to anyone else.

As he watches you lean against the bar counter with effortless grace, a subtle challenge in your demeanor, Gojo can't help but marvel at your confidence. It's as if you know the effect you have on those around you, and you revel in it without a hint of apology.

Men and women alike may have cried over you, yearning for a taste of your attention and affection, and Gojo finds himself contemplating whether he could potentially be one of them. After all, you exude an aura of allure and mystique that seems to transcend the ordinary.

Yet, despite the allure of your presence, there's an undeniable magnetism that draws him closer to you. It's a call to action, a challenge to step up and claim what he desires. The way you hold yourself, the subtle tilt of your head, it's as if you're inviting him to rise to the occasion, to summon the courage to approach you and stake his claim.

In that moment, Gojo finds himself caught in the midst of a silent dance of attraction and desire, captivated by the enigmatic allure of the person before him. And as he contemplates the possibility of being one of the men and women vying for your attention, he realizes that perhaps, just perhaps, he may be willing to take the risk.

"What's your name?" he inquires, his tone laced with curiosity and genuine interest as he takes in your captivating presence.

With a playful twinkle in your eye, you respond with a coy smile, teasing him with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?" you counter, your voice dripping with intrigue.

Gojo's grin only deepens at your playful response, his charm radiating from every word as he leans in closer. "Well, I'd like to know the name of an angel in front of me," he quips, his smooth words delivered with effortless charm.

You can't help but laugh at his flattery, shaking your head in amusement. "Aren't you a flirt?" you tease, your own grin mirroring his playful demeanor.

"Only for you, darling angel," he replies, his tone sincere yet tinged with a hint of mischief.

Your smile widens at his words, feeling a warmth blossom within you at the endearment. As you reveal your name, Gojo's smile grows, the name rolling off his tongue as if it were made for him to speak.

"So, pretty boy, your name?" you inquire, returning the playful banter with a teasing glint in your eye.

"Gojo Satoru," he replies, his voice smooth and confident, the name carrying an air of familiarity and prestige.

Your playful teasing continues as you jest about his affluent background, Gojo matching your banter with his own witty remarks. Amidst the playful exchange, he orders drinks for both of you, his gaze never wavering from yours as he gestures to the bartender.

"Well, it seems it works like a charm. I got you, somehow," he remarks with a grin, his words laced with a hint of triumph and amusement.

In that moment, the air between you crackles with anticipation, a tantalizing dance of attraction and curiosity that beckons you both into uncharted territory. As the minutes tick by, the world outside fades into obscurity, leaving only the electrifying energy that pulses between you—a promise of an unforgettable encounter that defies the constraints of time and space.

With each passing moment, the intoxicating allure of your presence envelops Gojo Satoru, drawing him deeper into the spell you cast with your words and demeanor. As the minutes stretch into an eternity within the confines of the bar, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you immersed in a captivating exchange that defies explanation.

Despite his usual penchant for control and composure, Gojo finds himself surrendering to the irresistible pull of your charm. There's a thrill in the air, a palpable tension that hangs between you, fueling the flames of desire that flicker in the depths of his gaze.

In the midst of this heady atmosphere, you seize the opportunity to further entice him, your words dripping with allure as you lean in closer, your breath mingling with his. "Tell me, Gojo Satoru," you whisper, your voice a seductive melody that sends shivers down his spine. "Do you believe in fate?"

Caught in the whirlwind of your presence, Gojo's response is a mere breath of a laugh, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "With you here, how could I not?" he replies, his voice husky with anticipation.

“You’re quite confident,” You whisper to him, your eyes casting an alluring gaze. “With all your words, lover boy.”

“It’s easy to say things to you.” With a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin as he murmurs softly, "Tell me, what is it about you, angel, that feels so... familiar?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you meet his gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Perhaps it's destiny," you suggest, your voice a seductive melodic whisper that resonates with a hint of mystery. "Or maybe we've met in another life."

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Gojo leans in closer, his warm breath grazing against your skin as he speaks in a low, husky tone. "You have a way with words," he murmurs, his voice dripping with admiration and desire. "But actions speak louder, don't they?"

A playful smirk curves your lips as you meet his gaze, a silent challenge shimmering between you. "Perhaps they do," you reply, your voice laced with a hint of seduction. "But only if you're brave enough to find out.

As you feel the heat of Gojo's proximity, a rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, heightening your senses to the electric tension between you. His gaze, intense and smoldering, locks onto yours with an unspoken challenge, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. You find yourself drawn deeper into his orbit, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his presence.

With each passing moment, the anticipation mounts, thickening the air with an intoxicating allure that leaves you breathless. There's an unspoken understanding between you, a silent agreement to surrender to the intoxicating dance of seduction that unfolds between your intertwined destinies.

In the hazy atmosphere of the dimly lit bar, the air crackles with anticipation as Gojo inches closer, his proximity sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. With each passing moment, the heat between you intensifies, a tangible manifestation of the desire that pulses between your bodies like a living, breathing entity.

As his warm breath caresses your skin, you can feel the raw intensity of his desire, a primal force that threatens to consume you both in its fiery embrace. The tantalizing smirk that graces his lips only serves to heighten the anticipation, drawing you in with a magnetic pull that leaves you utterly breathless.

In this charged moment, there is no room for hesitation or doubt, only the heady rush of adrenaline as you lean in closer, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony. The magnetic pull between you is undeniable, an irresistible force that draws you together with an almost gravitational pull.

With each passing second, the tension between you builds to a fever pitch, the air thick with unspoken promises and forbidden desires. In this moment, there is no room for restraint or inhibition, only the intoxicating allure of the forbidden as you surrender yourself to the irresistible pull of Gojo's presence.

"Bravery has never been an issue for me," he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine. "But perhaps I need a little... encouragement."

With a boldness that surprises even yourself, you reach out to trace the line of his jaw with your fingertips, the touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. "Consider this your encouragement," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

In that moment, the world falls away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of Gojo's lips moving against yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing second. And as you lose yourself in the heady embrace of desire, you realize that fate has brought you together in this electrifying moment, where words are no longer necessary and actions speak louder than anything else.

As the kiss deepens, time seems to stand still, and you are lost in the heat of the moment. The passion between you and Gojo Satoru ignites like a blazing inferno, consuming everything in its path. With each touch, each caress, the intensity of your desire grows, binding you together in a fierce and primal embrace.

In that electrifying moment, there are no barriers, no inhibitions—only the raw, unbridled passion that courses through your veins. The world around you fades into insignificance as you are consumed by the fiery connection between you and Gojo, your souls entwined in a dance of ecstasy and longing.

But even as the flames of desire threaten to engulf you, a sense of exhilaration washes over you, filling you with a newfound sense of freedom and liberation. For in this moment, you are truly alive, swept away by the intoxicating rush of emotion and desire that knows no bounds.

As the intensity of the kiss reaches its peak, Gojo Satoru slowly pulls away, his breath ragged as he gazes deeply into your eyes. There's a primal hunger in his gaze, a silent invitation for more. You meet his gaze with equal fervor, a silent agreement passing between you.

Without a word, you take his hand and lead him towards the bathroom, the anticipation mounting with each step. As you reach the door, you lock it behind you, the sound echoing in the confined space like a promise of what's to come.

With the world shut out, you turn to face Gojo, the air thick with desire and anticipation. Without hesitation, you pull him into another searing kiss, your lips crashing together in a feverish embrace. In the confined space of the bathroom, there's no room for restraint or inhibition—only the raw, unbridled passion that ignites between you.

As your bodies pressed together in a desperate frenzy, the heat between you intensified, driving you both to the brink of ecstasy. In this moment of unbridled passion, there are no rules, no limits—only the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to desire and losing yourselves in each other's embrace.

As the music swelled around you, drowning out the sounds of the bustling bar, the anticipation between you and Satoru intensified, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with electric energy. You could hear the faint murmurs of people moving about in the background, but their presence seemed distant, insignificant compared to the magnetic pull drawing you both together.

Leaning against the cool tiled wall, you felt a surge of heat coursing through your veins, igniting a firestorm of desire within you. Satoru stood before you, his appearance slightly disheveled with one button of his expensive shirt undone and the fabric wrinkled from your heated embrace. His heart raced with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that mirrored your own.

Unbeknownst to Satoru, the fire burning inside you matched the blazing inferno in his own veins. Every touch, every glance, every word exchanged between you fueled the flames of passion, propelling you both towards an inevitable climax.

With your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed with excitement, there was no denying the raw desire that pulsed through your veins. In this moment, there was no turning back. The world around you faded into obscurity as you surrendered to the primal urge driving you both towards a moment of ecstasy.

With an urgency born of desire, Satoru's hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him in a fervent embrace. Your lips collided once more, the kiss charged with an intensity that threatened to consume you both. In this moment, restraint was a foreign concept, abandoned in favor of the overwhelming need to lose yourselves in each other's embrace.

Passion surged between you as you made out fervently, your eager hands exploring every inch of each other's bodies with a desperate hunger. With each touch, each caress, the flames of desire burned brighter, igniting a firestorm of longing that threatened to consume you whole.

Breaking apart for a moment, you whispered in his ear, your voice laden with unbridled desire, "I want you so bad right now." The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation, as you locked eyes with Satoru, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his own.

Satoru's breath hitched at your whispered confession, his gaze locked with yours in a fierce dance of desire and longing. The raw intensity of your words echoed in the air, igniting a primal urge within him that he could no longer deny.

In a swift, decisive motion, he captured your lips once more, his kiss fervent and hungry, fueled by the unbridled passion that pulsed between you. As your bodies pressed together, a wave of heat and electricity surged through him, engulfing him in a whirlwind of sensation and ecstasy.

With every touch, every caress, the boundaries between you dissolved, until there was only the primal, unrelenting need that bound you together. In this moment of unbridled passion, time seemed to stand still, as you both surrendered to the intoxicating allure of each other's embrace.

As your lips parted, breathless and flushed with desire, Satoru's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, a silent promise of the ecstasy yet to come. And in that moment, you knew that there was no turning back — you were lost in each other, consumed by the flames of desire that raged between you.

"I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you," Satoru confessed, his voice husky with desire, his hands tracing the contours of your body with a hunger that mirrored your own. “You were so fast with me, little minx. Let me have you.”

"Then take me," you urged, your voice a breathless plea, your fingers tangling in his tousled hair as you pulled him closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing you together.

With a primal growl of need, Satoru crushed his lips to yours once more, his kiss fierce and possessive, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment. In the searing heat of passion, you melted into each other, consumed by the ecstasy of the moment, lost in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

In the heat of the moment, Satoru's touch ignited a primal hunger within you, each caress setting your skin ablaze with desire. As he unbuttoned your shirt with deliberate intent, his lips trailed a scorching path down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. His hands, rough and possessive, explored every inch of your body, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intoxicating press of his lips against yours. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, surpassing anything you had ever experienced before. It was more than just physical desire; it was an unbridled passion that consumed you both, drawing you deeper into the fiery embrace of ecstasy.

Satoru's touch sent a jolt of electricity through you as he trailed his fingers along the hem of your tight leather jeans. With practiced ease, he swiftly pulled them upwards, revealing your legs to the cool air of the bathroom. The contrast between the warmth of his touch and the chill of the room sent a shiver down your spine, heightening the intensity of the moment.

As he admired the sight before him, a wolfish grin tugged at the corners of Satoru's lips. The raw desire in his gaze only served to fuel the fire burning between you, igniting a fierce longing that threatened to consume you both. In that moment, with nothing but your underwear separating you, you felt utterly exposed and yet irresistibly desired, lost in the throes of passion and longing for more.

As the heat between you intensified, the barriers of clothing became unnecessary hindrances, discarded with urgency and fervor. Soon, you found yourselves naked in the confined space of the bathroom, the air heavy with anticipation and desire.

The intimacy of the moment was both exhilarating and daunting. You were both embarking on a journey into the unknown, driven by a magnetic attraction that transcended any reservations or inhibitions. Despite the brevity of your acquaintance, there was an undeniable sense of connection, a mutual understanding of the desires that drove you together.

In this intimate space, surrounded by the intoxicating allure of each other's bodies, everything else faded into insignificance. The world outside ceased to exist as you surrendered to the primal urge that consumed you, each touch and caress a testament to the raw passion that burned between you. In this moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the throes of desire, unbound by the constraints of time or expectation.

In the intimate embrace of the bathroom, passion surged between you like a raging inferno, igniting every nerve ending in a frenzy of desire. Satoru's powerful grip tightened around your thighs as he pressed you against the wall with a primal force, the raw intensity of his movements driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

You surrendered to the sensation, arching into him as he entered you, the friction between your bodies igniting a firestorm of pleasure. With each thrust, he plunged deeper into the depths of your being, drawing forth a symphony of moans and gasps that echoed in the confined space.

His touch was rough and possessive, leaving a trail of sensation in its wake as though he was staking his claim on every inch of your skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, guiding him with gentle urgency as he peppered your neck with fervent kisses, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

As the tempo of your lovemaking intensified, so too did the crescendo of your passion, rising to a fever pitch with each rhythmic movement. In this moment of blissful abandon, there was only the two of you, locked in a primal dance of desire, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of euphoria.

Amidst the whirlwind of sensation, your voices intertwined in a symphony of desire and longing.

"I've wanted this since the moment I saw you," Satoru breathed between heated kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"You feel so good," you moaned, your words punctuated by gasps of pleasure as he moved within you.

His lips brushed against yours, his voice a seductive whisper against your skin. "I can't get enough of you," he confessed, his movements growing more urgent with each passing moment. “You’re too good for me, angel. Too good.”

With a desperate hunger, you clung to him, your breath hitching as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. "Don't stop," you pleaded, your voice filled with an urgency that mirrored his own. “Faster, lover boy, oh, oh, there!”

As the intensity between you reached its peak, every touch, every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through your bodies. In this moment of raw passion, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensations, your senses consumed by the fiery connection between you.

With each arch of your back, each moan of ecstasy, the desire between you grew more fervent, igniting a primal hunger that could not be sated. Satoru's groans mingled with your own, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the confined space, heightening the intensity of your shared ecstasy.

He held you close, his body pressed tightly against yours, the scent of sex enveloping you both in a heady embrace. Tears of pleasure welled in your eyes as you clung to him, your grip tightening with each passing moment.

Feeling his own climax approaching, Satoru's movements became more urgent, more desperate, mirroring the fervor of his own desires. In this union of bodies and souls, you were both on the precipice of euphoria, teetering on the edge of release as the flames of passion consumed you both.

Amidst the symphony of their shared ecstasy, amidst the heavy breathing and the pounding of hearts, words were rendered unnecessary. Yet, amidst the primal dance of desire, whispers of longing and adoration slipped from your lips, mingling with Satoru's own murmurs of pleasure.

"I need you," you gasped, your voice trembling with desire as you clung to him. “Please, please. Lover boy,”

"You feel so good," Satoru growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself deeper within you. “Angel, how do you feel so good?”

Lost in the intoxicating haze of pleasure, you and Satoru moved together in perfect synchrony, each movement a testament to the raw, primal connection between you. Your bodies melded together, skin against skin, as you rode the wave of ecstasy to its peak. 

"I've never felt like this before," you confessed, your voice a breathless whisper as you locked eyes with him.

"Me neither," Satoru admitted, his gaze filled with a mixture of awe and reverence as he continued to move with you. “Let me come in you, angel. I’m so…so close. I need to—”

“Do it!” You cried back to him, pleased tears pouring out your eyes. “Make me come, make me feel you!”

As the intensity of your climax washed over you, every nerve ending on fire with pleasure, you cried out in abandon, your voice echoing in the confined space of the abandoned bathroom. Satoru's relentless thrusts only fueled the flames of your passion, driving you to new heights of ecstasy.

Amidst the haze of pleasure, you felt something primal and possessive in Satoru's touch, his teeth grazing against your skin in a sensation that bordered on pain and pleasure. It was a mark of his dominance, a primal instinct that ignited a fire deep within you.

As he continued to move within you, his pace slowing to prolong the euphoria of the moment, you felt his release wash over you in waves of pleasure. His voice mingled with yours in a symphony of ecstasy, the sound reverberating off the walls of the bathroom as you both surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure of your union.

As the echoes of your shared climax faded, leaving only the soft sounds of your heavy breathing and the gentle patter of water droplets, you found yourselves locked in a tender embrace, bodies still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

For a fleeting moment, you simply existed in each other's arms, the world outside forgotten as you reveled in the intimacy of the moment. Satoru's touch was gentle now, a stark contrast to the primal intensity of moments before, as he cradled you against his chest with a tenderness that belied his earlier fervor.

With a contented sigh, you nuzzled closer to him, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor in the midst of the storm. In this quiet sanctuary, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a fleeting respite from the chaos of the outside world.

As you lay intertwined in the dimly lit bathroom, the air heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, you realized that in this moment, you had found solace in each other's arms—a brief reprieve from the trials and tribulations that awaited you beyond these walls. And for now, that was enough.

After the intensity of the moment subsided, Satoru's breaths slowed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours. With a tender gaze, he looked into your eyes, his voice soft yet filled with determination.

"Hey," he began, his tone almost hesitant amidst the lingering echoes of your passion, "I was wondering if... maybe... you'd like to go out on a date with me?"

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his unexpected question, the sound reverberating off the tiled walls of the bathroom. It was a rare moment of levity amidst the intensity of the encounter, and you found yourself chuckling uncontrollably.

"Wait, are you serious?" you managed to gasp between fits of laughter, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Satoru's expression shifted slightly, a faint pout forming on his lips as he crossed his arms in mock indignation. "Hey, it's not funny," he protested, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Between giggles, you shook your head, still unable to contain your amusement. "You should have asked me that before we had sex," you teased, the words playful yet tinged with affection.

His pout deepened momentarily, but then he grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Does it matter if it's a little backwards?" he countered, his tone teasing. "I still want to take you out on a date."

You couldn't help but smile at his persistence, touched by his sincerity despite the unconventional timing of his request. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his lips, your heart fluttering with warmth.

"Yes," you whispered against his lips, your answer filled with unspoken promise. "I'd love to go on a date with you, Gojo Satoru."

A few years later:

As the evening wore on, you found yourselves seated at a cozy corner table in the dimly lit bar, surrounded by the gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Nanami and Shoko, old friends of yours and Satoru's, were engaged in lively banter, reminiscing about past adventures and shared memories.

Satoru's voice filled the air with infectious energy as he began his tale, his eyes alight with mischief. "It was a whirlwind romance, really," he declared, his words punctuated by a playful chuckle. "I saw them across the room, and I just knew I had to talk to them, you know?"

Shoko's laughter bubbled forth like a melodious chorus, her amusement contagious as she leaned in, hanging onto every word. "Oh, I can only imagine," she exclaimed between giggles, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “I…I can’t believe that’s how you met — this is so insane. Even for you, Satoru.”

“Hey! It was love at first sight. I only needed ten minutes to fall in love!”

“I guess that’s how long you lasted too, huh?”

“HAH!? Take that back, Sho! I lasted long enough!”

“Satoru….” You groaned, ever so embarrassed about his shamelessness.

Nanami Kento, ever the picture of composure, remained stoic, his expression betraying little of his inner thoughts. He listened intently, his gaze fixed on Satoru as if trying to decipher the truth behind his embellished tale.

Undeterred by Nanami's unreadable demeanor, Satoru continued with gusto, his grin widening as he delved deeper into the story. "Of course, my angel here was playing hard to get at first..." he added, his voice trailing off with a hint of playful exaggeration.

As Satoru's narrative unfolded, the atmosphere crackled with laughter and warmth, each member of the group drawn into the captivating tale of your whirlwind romance.

As Satoru continued his animated storytelling, you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. His arm draped casually around your shoulders, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort, only added to your blush. Desperately, you buried your face in his shoulder, hoping to shield yourself from further embarrassment, but he remained entirely unfazed by your reaction, his attention wholly absorbed in the tale he was weaving.

"And then, well, the rest is history," Satoru concluded with a wide grin, seemingly unaware of your discomfort. "We've been inseparable ever since."

Shoko, still wiping away tears of laughter, offered a sympathetic pat on your hand, while Nanami cleared his throat awkwardly, his stoic demeanor masking any hint of amusement or discomfort he may have felt. As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Satoru, his easy smile and carefree demeanor serving as a gentle reminder of why you fell in love with him in the first place. 

Sometimes falling in love can take a while.

Sometimes it can never happen for some.

But for you, it only took a good ten minutes.

And  you were happy to have a whole lifetime.

You knew Satoru was happy about it too.

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[eco-lite]

I’m once again returning to do god’s work by bringing you delightful moments from Spock’s World by Diane Duane.

[Text ID: “Spock was bent over [the Science Station], making some adjustment. ‘Readout now,’ he said, straightening and looking over his shoulder at the large, shaggy-fringed rock that was sitting in the center seat. Some of those glittering fringes stroked the open circuitry of the communicator controls in the seat’s arm. ‘Point nine nine three,’ said a scratchy voice from the voder box mounted on the rock’s back. ‘A nice triple sine.’ ‘Nice?’ said Spock. Jim raised an eyebrow: you could have used Spock’s tone of voice to dry out a martini.” End ID]

There’s a Horta crewman on the Enterprise now and they’re great!

[Text ID: “Still working on her doctoral thesis, Jim thought. Uhura was busy working on improving universal translator theory, mostly by taking the old theory to pieces and putting it back together in shapes that were causing a terrible furor in academic circles on various planets. Jim vividly remembered one night quite a long time ago when he had asked Uhura exactly how she was going about this. She had told him, for almost an hour without stopping, and in delighted and exuberant detail, until his head was spinning with phoneme approximations and six-sigma evaluations and the syntactic fade and genderbend and recontextualization and linguistic structural design and the physics of the human dextrocerebral bridge. The session had left Jim shaking his head, thoroughly disabused of the idea (and ashamed of how long he had held it) that Uhura was simply a sort of highly trained switchboard operator.” End ID]

Uhura continues to be a total badass and is amazing at what she does.

[Text ID: Chatroom title in all caps: “COMMON ROOM OPINION, INFORMED AND NON- RANTING AND RAVING PERMITTED NAMES NOT NECESSARY” Regular text: “It was one of the places he came to find out what his crew was thinking. Messages did not have to be attributed to a name or terminal, but they could not be private. The office of the common room system operator rotated through the crew, offered to various members on the strength of their psych profiles in areas like calm reaction to stress and anger. The common room syops tended to be closemouthed and dependable, the kind of person that others refer to as ‘a rock.’ (Once it had actually been Naraht, to the amusement of just about everyone.) Here tempers could flare, awful jokes be told safely, suspicions be aired, rumors be shot down. The common room was sometimes a peaceful place, sometimes a powderkeg. Jim never ignored it.” End ID]

The Enterprise has a dumpster fire chat room that has just as much shitposting and vitriol as twitter.

[Text ID: “Jim bowed over her free hand. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘It’s good to be back,’ Amanda said. ‘And in the middle of a party as well.’ She looked a little wry. ‘A little entertainment will be pleasant before the deluge.’ Sarek’s eyes flicked to Kirk, a considering look. ‘My wife speaks figuratively,’ he said, ‘in the tradition of her people. Deluges are not common on Vulcan.’ ‘My husband speaks circumspectly,’ Amanda said, just as dryly, ‘in the tradition of his.’” End ID]

Amanda and Sarek are as charming as ever.

[Text ID: “Jim was mildly surprised to see that to his other rank tags and decorations, McCoy had added a small, understated IDIC. ‘If I didn’t know you better,’ he said, ‘I’d think you were going native. When did you get that?’ ‘Today in the gift shop, when you were looking at the snowball paperweights with Mount Seleya in them. Tackiest things I ever saw.’ ‘Yes,’ Spock said; ‘they were imported from Earth.’ ‘You be quiet. We can’t let these people leave the Federation, Jim. At least not until they teach us how to make tasteful souvenirs.’” End ID]

Just this.

[Text ID: “There was Sreil, the burly, brown-haired biologist from the Academy, and T’Madh, a little bright-eyed woman of great age and curiosity, a computer programmer; and her son Savesh, who when asked what he did, said, ‘I am a farmer,’ with a sort of secret satisfaction that hinted he thought his job better than any of the more technical ones that the people around him held. Jim had to smile; the thought of a Vulcan farmer was slightly funny, even though there naturally had to be some. But the image of a Vulcan in coveralls, chewing on a stalk of hay, kept coming up and having to be repressed.” End ID]

I love Savesh the Vulcan farmer!

[Text ID: “’Jim,’ he said, ‘the best translation of nehau would be an old word: “vibes.” The feeling-in-your-bones that something gives you. It’s highly subjective.’ ‘Right. Go on, Savesh.’ ‘Well, Captain, I have heard numerous Vulcans say that losing the Federation and the Earth people would be no particular loss, because they had bad nehau, and that could not fail to affect us sooner or later.. But I must tell you that I find your nehau not objectionable at all; pleasant, even.’ End ID]

Vulcan wanting to leave the Federation because the ~vibes~ are off.

[Text ID: “His grasp of dialect and idiom as amazing for anybody, off-planet or on. He once reduced the President of the United States—then a ceremonial post, but one much loved by the people who lived within the old borders—to tears of laughter at a state dinner, by delivering a learned dissertation on computer data storage technology in a flawless Texan accent. The lady was later heard to propose an amendment to the Constitution to allow off-worlders to hold high public office, so that she could have him for her running mate in the next election.” End ID]

I would give anything to hear Sarek do a perfect Texas accent.

[Text ID: “—but when Amanda became annoyed over what she perceived as his smugness about being right, her eyes would flash and she would become splendidly insulting, usually in bizarre Anglish idiom that Sarek found as refreshing as it was annoying. She caused him to laugh out loud for the first time in many years when she told him, after a disagreement over the translation of the word for war, that he should only grow headfirst in the ground like a turnip. Later that month, when he was right about something again and made the mistake of not immediately down-playing it, she issued him with a formal malediction, wishing that the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind orphan children might pursue him so far over the hills and the seas that God Almighty couldn’t find him with a radio telescope. Sarek laughed so hard at that that he entirely lost his breath, and Amanda panicked and started to give him cardiopulmonary resuscitation, which was useless, because his heart was somewhere other than the spot on which she was pounding. It took him nearly an hour to recover: he kept laughing. He had never been cursed like that before, not even by union leaders, and it was very refreshing.” End ID]

This dynamic is perfect, no notes.

[Text ID: “The next night they sat in the Rec Deck again, in the middle of a large impromptu party that was going on around them by way of celebration. The sense of relief in the ship was palpable. A group of about a hundred crewfolk, mostly human, had surrounded Spock earlier in the evening and sung ‘For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,’ accompanied by twenty crewmen on kazoos. Sarek had been given champagne.” End ID]

I really hope the TOS Enterprise has crew performances like on Next Gen. This kazoo band needs to be heard! Also, I can perfectly picture Spock’s annoyed-but-tolerant expression as he resigns himself to the kazoo serenade.

Thank you @dianeduane for making me laugh!

#star trek #star trek tos #spock’s world #diane duane #star trek books #star trek novels #spock #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #sarek #amanda grayson