#That someone sees that endears them to him.

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae!!! I love your writing and have been a silent supporter for a long time but I was wondering if I could request something with one of the marauders (or all of them) having an oh moment, but not like an “oh I love them,” kinda thing but like an “oh I’ve made it” sorta thing? I don’t really know how to explain it well sorry, but like they didn’t think they’d actually be in this relationship or they didn’t think they’d get this far in life with them? I’m really sorry I’m just babbling on about something that doesn’t make sense but if you could find some way to write this or if I spark any kind of inspiration I would be so grateful!! Thank you for even considering and sorry for such a long request, love you! Can’t wait to see what you’ve got next! (But don’t overwork yourself! eat, drink, and sleep!!!)

Thank you for your lovely request angel! And thank you to @ellecdc for helping me figure out what to do with it :)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

James listens as your voice changes, drifting into the kitchen and back out again as you go to toss an old newspaper into the bin. You’re tidying as you talk, telling him about the book you’ve just finished. Not so James will read it, but so he’ll feel like he has. Simply because you like to share things with him. 

You gather envelopes from the dining table between your hands, flicking through them absentmindedly, pausing in your rambling to ask, “Do you need this notice?” 

“No, that’s alright,” he says from the couch. “Bin it.” 

Your table has become a mess. James doesn’t know when it happened. It’s the closest thing to the door when you come in, so it’s accumulated receipts, flyers, and anything else the two of you don’t want to hold onto when you get home. You sort it all into piles, voice a reassuring melody. 

Outside, the sun is going down. Syrupy golden light bathes you in a warm glow, coming in through the window like it was meant to find you. James is honestly unsure how he got so lucky. 

James Potter is no stranger to love. He was brought up to feel with his whole heart, and he knows how fortunate he is to have parents who raised him that way, and friends as good as he has, and a girlfriend so lovely. But this life.

There’s your mail, all mixed together on the dining table. And the meal you’ll likely share there later, maybe with the tall candles you were so happy to find on sale earlier in the week. You could have last night’s leftovers, or James could make you his mother’s pasta, which you love, and lean over the table to kiss sauce off the corners of your lips. Afterwards you’ll probably curl up on the couch to watch one of your shows. James loves that you have shows you watch together, loves that you wait for him to watch new episodes and always say let’s just watch one more when you’re already heavy and yawning against his side. He loves your flat, and your inside jokes, and all the things you don’t need words for. 

He wonders how often people get this lucky. That they just go and make the perfect life with someone without even realizing. 

“Hey, sunshine.” 

You look up at him through the aureate glow. You appear amused at the new endearment, not of James’ usual repertoire. You don’t realize how fitting it is. 

“Could you come here for a moment?” 

“What’s up?” you ask, setting down the stack you’re working on. You sit just where he knows you will, tucked up against his side. James wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in snug like a key fitting to its lock. 

“Nothing,” he says, turning to give you a proper hug. You let him half haul you onto his lap, your hands on his shoulders and his face in your neck. You smell like home. Like your lotion and the bathroom after you shower and lazy Sunday mornings. 

“James.” Your voice is a happy hum by his ear. “What’s this about?” 

“I love you.” He nuzzles underneath your jaw, relishing your surprised laughter. “I love this. I love us.” 

Your fingers burrow into his curls. “I love us, too,” you say, softly. 

“Do you want my mum’s pasta for dinner tonight?” 

“Ooh, yes. Always.” You pull back from him, holding his head still so you can look at him. Your thumb draws a loving semicircle by his temple. “I was thinking I could light those candles I found.” 

James beams. “I thought you might.” 

You give an odd smile back. Bemused, but also horrendously besotted. “You’re being weird.” 

James kisses you sweetly with a smile still on his lips. “Only for you, my love.”

[ariestrxsh]

shy!sub!chris x babysitter!reader

˚₊ · »-♡→ content warning: smut, mommy kink, age gap (Chris is 22 & reader is 28), innocence corruption, virginity loss, size kink, oral (m & f!receiving)

˚₊ · »-♡→ summary: chris runs into his old childhood babysitter, and their innocent reunion takes a turn when the two can't deny the sexual tension between them.

If the age gap or the fact that the reader used to babysit Chris bothers you, then don't read this fic ! The ones that get it, get it, and the ones that don't, dont.

Part 1 | Part 2 (final part)

Baby Sitter (part two)

"I have your shirt, Chris. See? Can't even tell it had coffee on it," you remarked, handing over his white tee as you stood on his doorstep.

"Wow, that's amazing," Chris gasped, holding it up and searching for the remnants of the mocha he'd spilled down the front of it, but there was no evidence of it having happened at all. "Thanks!" Chris replied, tossing the shirt over his shoulder.

"Dishsoap and white vinegar," you casually mentioned. "Good to know," Chris responded, leaning up against the door frame. "Whatcha got there?" He motioned towards the brown, paper bag you had clutched in your arm.

"I got you a couple of apartment warming gifts!" You announced, pulling out a fancy bottle of avocado oil from it. He gave you an inquisitive look as you passed it off. "You cook with it," you giggled, sensing his confusion.

"Right," Chris replied, pointing the bottle at you as if you said the words that were sitting at the tip of his tongue. "Thank you!" He added. "That's not all," you relayed, grabbing another fancy bottle from your shopping bag.

"Oh, I know what to do with this one," he chuckled, taking the rosé from you. "Yeah, I got you a big bottle. So you could share it with someone if you wanted," you suggested, nibbling on your bottom lip and flickering your gaze between his eyes and his mouth. He shrugged his shoulder.

"I-I don't know who I would share it with," he admitted, holding a bottle in each hand as he read the label on the avocado oil. You jokingly looked around as if you were about to volunteer a stranger from off the street, and then finally said, "I'm free. Maybe we could split it over dinner."

"Oh. Cool. Yeah. I don't have anything to eat here, though," he continued staring at the label, still completely oblivious to the fact that you were hoping he'd invite you into his apartment.

"Don't worry, Chris. I remember my first apartment. You're probably mostly living off of ramen and takeout. I figured you might like a home-cooked meal," you replied, gesturing towards your paper bag.

"Oh, that's nice of you," he said, staring at you like a deer in the headlights. "So. Can I come in, baby?" You finally asked, cocking your head to the side and batting your lashes in his direction.

"Yes. Please. Of course," he eagerly nodded, finally stepping to the side to let you in. He silently kicked himself as he slowly realized that's what you'd been alluding to with your body language the whole time you'd been standing on his door step.

You didn't mind, though. You found his social awkwardness endearing.

You entered his apartment, placing the bag on his marble countertop. "Hey, you cleaned. It looks really nice in here," you observed, smiling in his direction as you started to take off your fur coat.

"Thanks for noticing," Chris nervously replied, his eyes dropping to the low neck line of your powder blue top and the short hem of your tight, black skirt.

"Is spaghetti still your favorite, baby?" You asked him, slinging your coat over the back of a chair and pulling out the contents of the brown paper bag.

"It is. I haven't had homemade spaghetti in such a long time," Chris responded, unable to conceal his excitement, a smile spreading across his lips.

You rummaged through his cabinets, retrieving a pot, filling it with water, and bringing it to a boil on the stove. "Would you grab us some glasses for the wine?" You requested from the blue-eyed boy.

"Will red solo cups work?" Chris asked, opening his cabinet. You laughed. "Look in the bag. I came prepared," you responded, uncorking the wine. He reached into the bag, revealing two neatly wrapped glasses.

"You thought of everything, didn't you?" He asked, placing them delicately on the counter side-by-side. "The only thing I forgot is a condom. But I don't mind if you don't mind," you leaned in, softly purring into his ear. Chris nearly fell to his knees at your words.

"I-I don't mind," he stammered, wiping his sweaty hands off on the front of his sweatpants. You smirked, pouring a big glass for each of you.

"You ever had rosé before?" You inquired, corking the bottle back up. "No, I've never had wine before," he admitted, swirling the pink liquid around in the clear glass. You held your glass up, and he followed your lead.

"To all the firsts you're going to experience tonight," you seductively said as your glass softly clinked against his. He swallowed hard, his palms beginning to sweat again. You took a swig of your wine while you held your gaze on Chris, waiting for his reaction.

He hesitantly took a drink, but he was pleasantly surprised when he did. "It's sweet," he commented, nodding his head in approval.

"You like it?" You asked. "I do, actually," he told you before taking another sip. "You shaved," you observed, running the back of your hand over his soft face.

"I did. You noticed," he quietly replied, reaching up and touching his flushed cheek as a smile spread across his lips. He loved how attentive you were, pointing out all the things that most people missed.

"You know, I've missed you these past few days. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," you admitted, taking his glass and setting it down on the counter next to yours. You placed your hand on his chest and leaned in to kiss his neck.

He bit back a moan, gently rolling his hips forward and pressing his erection against your hip. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either," he returned the sentiment, his shakey hand wandering to the small of your back.

You bit down and gently sucked on his soft flesh right above his collarbone as he melted into you. "You know, I brought dessert, too," you told him, your voice taking on a suggestive tone.

"What did you bring?" He eagerly asked, trying to glimpse into your bag as you kissed his neck. "It's not in there, silly boy," you teased him, lightly tapping the tip of his nose with your finger. "Where is it?" He smirked at you.

"It's right.." you started to say, gently grabbing his wrist. "Here," you cooed, putting his hand up your skirt. You rested his palm on your heat, his fingers grazing your clit as his breath caught in his throat.

"You're not wearing any panties," he observed in a low whisper as he looked into your eyes, feeling the warmth radiating off of you. "Oops. I guess I forgot them," you smugly responded, your lips curling into a devious smile.

He started slowly running his middle finger up and down your slit. "It's getting so wet," he whimpered, his breath growing shallow.

"Are you excited to eat it?" You purred, running your manicured fingernails along his jawline. He nodded and dropped to his knees in front of you, leaning in to taste you, but you stopped him.

"No, baby. Not yet. You're gonna spoil your dinner," you taunted him, running your thumb softly along his jawline. "But I wanna eat my dessert now, mommy" he pleaded with you, staring up your skirt. You shook your head.

"Just one little taste.." he whispered, rubbing your clit in small circles. "Christopher Owen," you scolded him, lightly swatting him in the face and gently tightening your grip on his jaw. "Be a good boy and listen to mommy."

His desperate, blue eyes gazed back at yours, and he slowly nodded as he stood back up. He was completely under your spell.

He wiped some sweat from his brow with the back of his trembling hand and picked up his glass of wine, lifting it to his lips and taking a sip to distract himself. He felt the buzz coming on, but he couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or if it was all the blood rushing to his dick that was leaving him feeling lightheaded.

"You wanna know the trick to keeping your noodles from sticking together?" You asked him as you turned your attention back to the now boiling pot. He could barely focus on what you were saying over how hard you made him, so he just weakly nodded in response.

"Add salt to the water right before you put the pasta in," you replied, gathering all your seasonings. You added a few shakes of salt into the rumbling, hot water, and then you emptied the box of angel hair noodles into it.

"Then we wanna keep stirring it around every couple of minutes until it's soft enough to eat," you taught him, taking your wooden spoon and agitating the pot. All he could think about was how you weren't wearing any underwear beneath your short skirt.

"Here. Take this. You keep stirring while I prepare the meat," you directed him, your fingertips lightly brushing against his as you passed off the utensil to him. He felt a current of energy passing through his body as you grazed him, and you felt it, too.

He did as you said, stirring the pasta as you splashed a bit of avocado oil into the hot pan on the front left burner and started to brown the ground beef. You shook some salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, and Italian seasoning into the meat and started cooking it.

His blue eyes fell to your figure as he wet his lips. He was almost certain you were going to try to sleep with him tonight, and while he was excited to finally lose his virginity, especially to you, he was nervous to lose it, especially to you.

His heart pounded in his ears, and thoughts raced through his mind, imagining how you'd taste, what you'd sound like, what you'd feel like.

"Did you hear me?" You asked, nudging him in the arm. "Huh?" He replied, realizing your lips had been moving the whole time, but he'd been too busy having dirty thoughts about you to register what you were saying.

You peered down at the tent in his sweats and smirked back up at him. "Whatcha thinking about?" You cooed as if you hadn't just teased him relentlessly while standing in his kitchen without any panties on.

He blushed and let out a laugh. "I'm sorry. I get hard so easily," Chris nervously apologized, nibbling on his lip and trying to hide his erection. "I don't mind," you smirked at him.

The two of you finished making food, made your plates, and sat down to eat. You teased him throughout dinner, running your foot up his leg and making flirtatious comments as you made eyes at him in the glow of the candlelight.

You poured yourself a second glass of wine and then another one. Before you knew it, you and Chris had nearly finished off the bottle, and the sexual tension between the two of you was growing.

"You don't mind if I stay the night here, do you? I've had a lot of wine," you asked him, slightly slurring your words as you twirled your noodles around your fork. "No, I don't mind at all," he replied nervously, taking the last bite of his spaghetti.

"You still get nightmares?" You wondered, taking a sip of your wine. He let out a small chuckle. "What's so funny?" You asked.

"I hate to break this to you, but I never really had an issue with nightmares, not since I was really little," he nervously confessed, fidgeting with the base of his glass.

"What? What about all those bad dreams you used to have when I babysat you?" You inquired, looking puzzled. "I was faking," he said, biting back a grin.

"Christopher," you replied sharply, glaring in his direction and slugging him in the arm. There was a bit of real anger behind your tone.

You'd spent many nights worrying about Chris and his bad dreams. So much to the point that it had cut into your own sleep on many occasions and caused issues in your relationship, which didn't matter in hindsight, considering how much an asshole your boyfriend at the time was.

Chris, on the other hand, loved how genuinely you cared for him, and the way you'd always drop everything to lull him back to sleep with your warm, inviting voice and the soft caress of your hand against his cheek.

You couldn't stay mad at him, though. In a lot of ways you found it endearing how much he wanted to be around you, but you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that an eleven-year-old had come up with such an elaborate scheme.

"I know, I know. I just wanted you in my bed," he smirked. "Naughty boy," you rolled your eyes. "Maybe I'll pretend to have one tonight, so you'll have to come to bed with me and help me back to sleep," he lustfully responded. "Yeah? I bet I know how to tire you out," you flirted back.

His cock strained at the cotton fabric of his pants as you stared into his eyes, wetting your lips and parting your legs to give Chris another glimpse at what you had between them. He nibbled on his bottom lip, his sparkling eyes traveling to your glistening folds.

"Can I eat my dessert now, mommy?" He sweetly asked, but you slammed your legs shut and gave him a mischevious look.

Now what? He thought to himself, wondering what hoop you were going to make him jump through next before giving him what he wanted.

"I want mine first," you snickered, kneeling down in front of him and tugging at his sweats. He swallowed hard, looking down at you wide-eyed, but he listened, lifting his hips and allowing you to pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out of them.

You could sense how tense and nervous he was, literally sitting on the edge of his seat and his breath growing shallow and irregular.

"You're so hard," you observed, wrapping your fingers around his thickness and stroking it up and down. "All for me?" You cooed, watching a bit of precum gather at his tip.

"Yes, mommy," Chris said in a gravelly whisper. "All for you," he eagerly nodded, waiting in anticipation for what you were about to do next.

You leaned in, planting a kiss on his swollen head and slurping up the clear liquid from his slit. His cock twitched in response. You felt his whole body relax beneath you.

He slowly sunk back into his chair as he gave himself over to the wonderful feeling of your tongue fluttering around on all his sensitive nerve endings. "No one's ever done that to me before," he admitted in a timid voice as you wrapped your lips around his swollen tip and gently suckled on it.

"You like it, don't you?" You cooed before licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft all the way up his length and slipping him back into your mouth again.

"Mhmm," he whined, nodding as his hands found their way to your shoulders. He gently dug his fingernails into your back as you combined the two techniques, swirling your tongue around on his tip while you created a bit of suction.

He had always fantasized about getting head, but he didn't know it could feel this magical. He adored every subtle motion as you learned what he liked best.

His hand tenderly grazed the back of your head as he silently encouraged you to take more of him. You smirked, sliding down his length, feeling every vein with your tongue and swallowing him inch-by-inch until your nose was pressed up against his lower abdomen.

"Oh, yes. Just like that mommy," Chris pathetically whimpered as you hummed against the base of his cock. He slid down further into his chair, his eyes locked on the way your lips stretched around him.

You started bobbing your head up and down, eliciting a few soft gagging noises from you. The sound of you lightly choking on his dick drove Chris crazy.

He brushed a stray hair out of your face and placed both his hands on your ears as he tossed his head back and let out a strangled moan. He lifted his hips, driving his cock further into your throat. You could feel him quivering against your tongue as you slid back up his length, pulling your mouth off of him with a pop.

His lips curled into a smile as he peered back down at you. "Mommy. I was so close," he whimpered, his chest rising and falling with his labored breath.

"I know, pretty boy, but we gotta clean the kitchen before you can cum," you taunted him, climbing to your feet.

He licked his pouty lips as he let out a defeated sigh and pulled his sweats back on over his hard cock. He followed you to the kitchen, dragging his feet and silently throwing a fit about not being able to finish.

You put away the leftovers while Chris did the dishes, the whole time his cock aching at the absence of your mouth.

His erection was pinned between his stomach and the lip of the counter, and as he squeezed the excess water out of the sponge, he found himself rutting his hips forward and gently grinding against the marble finish.

You hoisted yourself up onto the countertop beside him and whispered in his ear, "Easy. You better not cum in your pants or mommy's gonna be really mad at you."

A pained whine drifted to your ears as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. He went back to the dishes, trying to ignore his raging boner and trying to keep himself from rubbing up against the furniture like a dog in heat.

As he finished up drying off the last plate, you hiked up your skirt and flashed him your pussy again. His eyes widened, and his tongue darted out and slithered over his lips.

"Please, mommy. Can I have my dessert now?" He begged you, his voice saturated with lust and his eyebrows furrowed together in a look of desperation. "Yes, pretty boy. Come eat it," you nodded, spreading your labia open with two of your fingers.

He kneeled down in front of you, nervously leaning in to close the distance between his mouth and your cunt. You felt his warm breath first and the tickle of his smooth cheek grazing the inside of your thigh. He planted a delicate kiss on your pussy, causing you to grip his soft hair and gently tug on it.

He moaned against your sensitive bundle of nerves before gripping your legs and pulling you closer to him. Your mouth curled into a smile as he placed his hands on the insides of your thighs, pushing them as far apart as they could go. He gently nuzzled your clit before his pretty blue eyes flicked backed up at you, silently asking for your validation.

"Good boy. You're doing a perfect job. You're a natural," you praised him, running your fingers through his brown locks. That was all he needed to boost his confidence.

His kisses became more deliberate and more passionate as he drooled all over your cunt, periodically slurping up the mixture of his saliva and your wetness. You squirmed and squealed beneath him, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs while he kissed, licked, and sucked on your sensitive area.

"Mommy, you taste so sweet," he complimented you, coming up for air for a moment. He lapped away, his tongue swirling around on your delicate folds as you started to tremble beneath him. "Chris.." you hissed, your body tightening.

Your head fell back against the wooden cabinet behind you as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He couldn't tell if he was wine drunk or pussy drunk, but a warm, fuzzy sensation overpowered him as he lost himself in you, forgetting the boundary between his mouth and your heat.

He almost couldn't believe that he was making you feel that good, but the way your body was reacting to him seemed genuine. A few loud moans fell from your lips as you shivered, finishing onto his velvet tongue.

"Wow," you whispered, panting as you tried to regain your composure. "Was that your first time eating pussy?" You asked him, still gently combing through his hair with your fingers. He peered up at you, timidly nodding.

"That was the best head I've ever gotten, Chris. Your tongue is every girl's dream," you giggled, reaching for the hem of Chris' shirt. He loved the way you showered him in compliments. "Please. Take this off, and put your big cock in me."

"Big?" He whispered, looking into your eyes. "What? Does that surprise you, baby? That you're big?" You asked him, helping him take off his shirt. He slowly nodded, pulling his dick back out of his sweats and peering down at it as he lined it up with your entrance.

"You gotta be gentle with me at first because of how big it is, okay?" You cooed, biting back a smirk. You knew you could handle it, but you knew your words were like music to his ears.

"Okay," he replied, gently tapping it against your clit before slipping the tip into your hole. It felt better than he ever could have imagined. He gingerly rocked his hips back and forth, allowing you to get used to his size as he firmly placed his hands on your hips.

His jaw fell slack, and a look of pleasure seeped into his expression. It took everything in him to go slow and gentle, trying so hard not to get carried away. A couple faint whines unfurled from your lips, and Chris immediately stopped, glancing up at you.

"Are you okay? Am I hurting you?" He sweetly asked, concerned that the noises you were making were out of pain. "No, baby. I'm making those sounds because it feels really good. Go deeper," you whispered, tenderly cradling his face.

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, fucking you a little deeper and a little faster. He leaned in to kiss you, your lips locking with his as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. His shaky hand slid up the hem of your shirt, and he gently squeezed your breast, noting to himself that you also hadn't worn a bra.

The soft clicking sounds of your mouth filled the space between you. You could taste the rosé mixed with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue as you pulled him deeper into the kiss. He felt completely intoxicated - drunk off of the wine and drunk off of you.

Once he pulled back, his eyes wandered between your legs. He took in the lovely sight of your pussy expanding around his girth.

"Harder, baby. Fuck me harder," you ordered him, resting your hand on his chest and feeling his sped up heart rate. You heard his breath quicken as he picked up the pace.

He pushed up your pretty, blue top, exposing your tits. He was immediately enamored with them, gently pinching your nipples between his fingers and listening to the pretty sounds that left your mouth as he played with you.

"Suck on them, baby," you directed him, and he nodded, leaning in to take each one into his mouth as he squeezed each one in each hand.

"Such a good boy," you purred, petting the back of his head and massaging his scalp with your manicured nails. He whimpered against your breast, the vibration sending pleasure through your nipple and causing you to clench around his cock.

"Faster, Chris. Faster," you demanded, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. "Fuck," Chris muttered, stopping abruptly. You felt his cock pulsating inside of you. He was afraid if he moved at all, it would send him over the edge before he could finish you off.

"What's the matter, baby? Hmm? Why'd you stop?" You cooed, cradling his head and pushing his face into your breasts. "So close, mommy," he whimpered, holding his body still and using every last ounce of willpower to keep from drilling into you and letting his orgasm run its course.

"Fuck. I can't," he whined, pulling out of you and waiting for the feeling to subside. "It's okay, baby. Yes, you can. Take a breather," you encouraged him, placing a hand on either side of his head with his nose just inches from yours as you peered into his beautiful, blue eyes. He nodded, taking a few deep breaths.

After a few moments of fending off his climax, he slid it back in, letting it go in all the way before pulling out again. He watched in awe at the way you stretched so perfectly around him as he plunged into you with his thick cock over and over again.

"I wanna turn you around so bad," he whispered, peering into your eyes as he pulled out again. You hoisted yourself off of the counter, spinning around, and propping your leg up on the edge of the marble cuntertop.

"Give it to me, pretty boy. Fuck me as hard and as fast as you can," you instructed him. "Yes, mommy," he answered, pushing up your tight skirt and slipping his length into your cunt from the back. He loved being told what to do by you.

"Good boy," you moaned as he started pistoning his hips forward, driving his cock deep into your drooling pussy as he reached around and grabbed a handful of your breast.

You could feel his hot breath against your ear and hear his pretty moans as he fucked you with all his strength. "Oh, Chris.. so big.. gonna cum.. gonna cum all over your big cock," you babbled as you shook violently.

Your orgasm hit your system, feeling like a series of explosions going off in your body. You tightly gripped the edge of the cool, marble counter as you clenched around him again, finishing all over his rod. Your juices flowed down the sides of his dick as he railed you, extracting your climax from you.

"Good boy. You made me cum all over it," you breathlessly whimpered, trying to catch your breath. A satisfied smile started in the corner of his lip as he realized he'd made you finish. "Fill me up, Chris," you demanded, letting your head fall back against his chest as he pounded into you.

He couldn't take it anymore. The feeling of your pussy convulsing around him and your words encouraging him to shoot his load inside of you, it was all too much.

He delivered a few more powerful thrusts, jerking his hips forward and triggering his own orgasm. His strokes slowed to a stop as he filled you to the brim, pumping you full of his liquid.

Pleasure coursed through him, leaving him feeling completely drained after, but in the best way, like he'd just finished running a marathon and had won first place.

He finally pulled out of you, nearly collapsing onto the floor and having to steady himself on the counter as all the blood rushed back to the rest of his body.

You spun back around, hoisting yourself back up onto the marble counter and spreading your legs and your puffy lips open for him again.

"Look at how much you came," you smirked, putting yourself on display for him as his thick, sticky fluid leaked from your cunt. He focused his blurry vision on the way it gushed out of you every time you clenched around nothing.

"Oh my god. It looks perfect," he responded, admiring the mess he made before slumping over and nestling his nose in the crook of your neck. A wave of embarrassment overcame him, wondering if he'd done a good job or if he was too awkward or shy about it all.

"Was I o-okay?" He nervously asked, his voice becoming small and shakey. "Chris. I can't feel my legs," you chuckled back in response. "Is th-that a good thing?" He timidly asked. "It's a great thing, Chris. You give the best dick. Best I've ever had in my life."

Your praises had blood rushing back to his cock, and it sprung to life once more.

"Oh, don't tell me that. You're gonna make me wanna give it to you again," Chris whispered as you felt his erection poking you in the thigh. You chuckled, surprised by his stamina.

"Give it to me again, baby. I promise. I can take it."

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[strayingawayy]

doodle princess (dad! hyunjin)

it was a lazy afternoon, and the sound of soft brushes against paper filled the cozy room. the sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. hyunjin sat on the floor, his legs crossed beneath him, a canvas of vibrant colors spread out in front of him. his tiny daughter, only a little over a year old, sat in front of him, a small paintbrush in her hand. the little girl giggled as she dabbed the brush into a cup of water, the bristles swaying playfully as she mimicked her father's every move.

hyunjin was in his element. he had always enjoyed painting, but since becoming a parent, he found himself getting lost in more than just his art. his thoughts often wandered to his family, and now, as he painted, they became the subject of his work. he had always doodled, usually sketches of his love for you—lines that captured your smile, your essence, your very being. but now, his art had evolved. no longer were his doodles just of you; they included the tiny miracle he and you had created together.

as hyunjin worked on his newest piece, he couldn’t help but glance at his daughter sitting beside him. her chubby little hands clutched her brush as she carefully made tiny strokes on her own little paper. the sight made his heart swell, a sense of pride that no canvas could quite capture. his daughter was a masterpiece in her own right, and every day he spent with her was like painting his own personal heaven.

"look, sweetheart," he said, his voice tender, "you’re making art just like daddy."

you stood by the door, arms crossed, watching the scene before you. you had always admired hyunjin’s dedication to his art, but seeing him like this, in such a domestic, tender moment, filled your heart with something more. your little girl was a perfect mix of the two of you, with her father’s expressive eyes and your smile.

she babbled to herself, her eyes locked on the colors in front of her, her tiny face scrunched in concentration. her gaze shifted between the painting and hyunjin’s hands, as if trying to decode the magic behind each stroke.

a giggle broke your thoughts. your daughter’s tiny finger pointed excitedly at one of the doodles hyunjin had painted—a rough but endearing image of her. the likeness was undeniable, though a bit abstract, with big eyes and an exaggerated grin.

“na-ri!” she babbled suddenly, pointing directly at the doodle of herself.

hyunjin’s eyes widened in surprise, and he quickly looked at you, barely able to contain his laughter. “did she… did she just say her name? as her first word at that?”

you blinked, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you approached them. “i think she did. but wait—why is she saying her own name instead of ma or da?"

hyunjin’s expression shifted from surprise to a proud, mischievous grin. “she must be taking after her old man, huh?” he said, giving his daughter a teasing look. "so humble, so self-aware. you definitely take after your daddy, little one. you already know how to recognize your own greatness.”

you snorted, unable to hold back the laughter. "oh, so you’re teaching her narcissism already, huh? at least wait until she's older for that."

“she’s a genius," hyunjin said, his voice dripping with pride. "it’s not narcissism if it’s true.”

your daughter giggled, clearly enjoying the attention. she looked at her father with the same gleam in her eyes that you had seen countless times before. it was the gleam of someone who knew they were loved, who knew they were everything.

“you’re so spoiled,” you said, teasing hyunjin now. “i can't believe you’re making our daughter narcissistic already."

hyunjin chuckled, placing his paintbrush down and scooping her into his lap. “she’s just confident. that’s all. but i guess you’re right. i’ll take it easy on her. let’s see if she says da next time.”

but as he held her close, the little girl turned her attention back to the paper, where her name was written in swirling letters beneath her doodled face. she babbled again, sounding almost like she was repeating the syllables. it was clear that she was as in love with her own name as her father was with his art.

you sat down next to them, leaning against hyunjin. “well, at least she has good taste.”

hyunjin rested his head against yours, a playful smile on his face. “she’s my masterpiece. of course, she’d be a little self-absorbed.”

you couldn't stop laughing as you watched them together- father and daughter, both lost in the magic of art and family. you had always known hyunjin was talented, but there was something even more beautiful about his creations now. they weren’t just art; they were a reflection of the love he had for you, for your little girl, and for the life you had built together.

with a loving sigh, you wrapped your arm around him, your daughter still babbling happily in in his lap. as the laughter echoed through the room, you couldn't help but feel that this was the masterpiece you'd always been waiting for- perfect, in every little way.

___

everybody say thank you @hwajin @astraystayyh for indulging with me 🙂‍↕️

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[akookminsupporter]

Hello, I'm not sure if you'll see this or not but I thought I would ask so I know everyone is excited about BTS year this year and is eager to anticipate their return, and I kind of wanted to talk about the infantilization of BTS prior to their MS and when they come out, so I do know at their core, BTS will still be the same loveable people, but my thoughts are running on who defines what infantilism is when it comes to the boys, for example: I was being accused of infantilizing Jimin and Jungkook because I found some of the things they do cute and adorable, I mean, they have cute moments right? (AYS for example) I still acknowledge they are grown adults and respect them as the adults they are, but now I'm questioning if these things that I'm finding cute really are babying them and I don't want to treat them like that/that way, so i wanted to know if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts on this?

Hi anon, how are you? Happy New Year!

Oh, this is an interesting question.

I think what’s happening in the case you’re describing is that the people saying that to you don’t really understand what “infantilisation” means.

Infantilisation happens when we treat or perceive someone as if they lack the maturity or ability to be a responsible adult, regardless of their actual actions. For example, if someone dismisses their ability to act, their opinions, or their choices by labelling them as "childish" or incapable, that’s infantilisation.

A fandom example is when people think they have the right to decide for X members whether they should stay with the agency, collaborate with certain artists, or interact with certain members. It happens when someone undermines a member’s decision-making ability, treating them like a child who doesn’t know what’s best for them. It’s not about finding them cute or endearing – it’s about treating them as though they can’t differentiate between right and wrong or make their own choices about what to say or do. That’s the kind of infantilisation many of us criticise in fandoms and, honestly, on the internet in general when it comes to fans of public figures.

In your case, what you’re describing sounds more like appreciation for their natural charm and personality rather than denial of their maturity. In Korean culture, there’s something called aegyo, which is basically acting cute – almost like a small child being adorable. It’s a big part of Korean entertainment, not just in K-pop, and BTS is known for doing it too. Sometimes it’s their personality shining through, and other times it’s part of their persona. You can usually tell the difference depending on the context.

So finding someone’s actions endearing without dismissing their adulthood is perfectly fine. For example, enjoying how Jimin and Jungkook interacted during AYS (or their playful dynamics in general) doesn’t mean you’re erasing their adulthood. They were often super cute during the show, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s not infantilisation – that’s you finding their actions adorable or cute.

Before Jin and Hobi were discharged, I wondered if that side of them would change – if they’d stop being these cheekily adorable and sometimes mischievous people for their fans. But it hasn’t. From what we’ve seen, they’re the same as they were before, just with a year or two more life experience. That’s it. We don’t know if they’ve changed in private, but honestly, that’s none of our business.

Jungkook’s December Wlive was a perfect example of my point. He behaved just as he always has in his lives, especially over the past few years, and more than a few fans called him cute and silly or said they just wanted to squish him because he brings out those emotions in his fans. That doesn’t mean we think he’s a child – some people do, and that is infantilisation – but most of us simply find him endearing at times.

The misunderstanding of terms or labels also reminds me of how some people in the fandom label anyone who happens to see a member in public, take a picture, or mention it as a sasaeng. Or how some even describe certain fansites as sasaengs. A sasaeng is an obsessive fan who invades a celebrity’s personal life and privacy; in this case, is someone going to extreme lengths to follow or interact with idols. A fan spotting a member in public and taking a picture or just mentioning seeing them in X place isn’t being a sasaeng. This behaviour of misunderstanding terms or labels is not new.

I don’t know what’s going on lately, whether it’s newer fans or something else, but I’ve seen people on social media trying to police things that really don’t need policing or making others feel bad for things that are pretty standard in fandoms like this. For example – and I think this wasn’t specifically our fandom but a K-pop stan in general – someone tweeted criticising people who collect photocards. Like, why? Why should anyone feel bad or embarrassed about collecting photocards? Collecting is one of the most normal hobbies ever. Some people collect photocards, others collect toy cars, and some even collect women! (That last one should honestly be a crime, but that’s another conversation.) Why is it okay for men to collect photocards of sports players, sorry, I mean “sports cards” but not for people to collect photocards of artists? The double standards in society are wild.

Anon, I think it’s amazing that you’re so self-aware that you’re checking in with others to see if your behaviour might be problematic. That says a lot about the kind of person you are. In this case, I don’t think you have anything to worry about – but the people who told you that definitely do.

[altocat]

Would the Firsts, Zack and Cloud seek revenge on someone who slights them? Not the revenge that would ruin one's life, but the petty kind of revenge that would ruin someone's day or week?

Angeal: No. He has better things to do. Work and looking after the recruits, for starters. He doesn't have the time to waste on these immature little escapades.

Genesis: 100000% would seek out revenge, the pettier, the BETTER.

Sephiroth: My shitpost answer is that he sees this slight as someone treating him like a normal person and INSTANTLY latches onto them lmao But in truth, I don't think he'd really care. Much like Angeal, he's got other things to worry about.

Zack: His form of revenge is mostly just good-natured and innocent, but nothing really all that mean. If anything, it sorta endears him to the person who slighted him in the first place.

Cloud: Would want revenge, but is too skittish and self-conscious to try anything, even if it's small and petty.

[numberonetacostan]

I actually really like the idea of Taco speaking French.

I wanted to ask if you have any other headcanons for that, honestly not many people use that, I've seen here and in one fic where Taco's personality changes to her s1 self and she doesn't understand English.

The idea of Mephone watching movies with both French and British villains in them and mixing those ideas together is a interesting one.

HELLO THERE!!!!^^ WELCOME AND THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR SENDING IN AN ASK ABOUT TACO SPEAKING FRENCH. ESPECIALLY ONE ASKING FOR MY HEADCANONS ABOUT TACO SPEAKING FRENCH. I LOVE THINKING ABOUT TACO SPEAKING FRENCH <3<3<3<3 MY BILINGUAL QUEEN!!!!!!! ☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

Taco occasionally forgets a word in English, but can remember it in French. No one else speaks French. This leads to an impromptu game of semi-charades as she tries to mime what she's talking about while saying the French term for it over and over again. It doesn't usually work but she tries.

When Taco is speaking English, her insults are often as refined as her diction (see: vile vial for Testy, tablet tabloid for Mepad). In French, this is not the case. Her insults in French are the equivalent of derogatory terms such as "raggedy bitch" and "ass muffin", but no one else can understand them, so they assume they're just as fancy as her English insults.

I'm not sure if this one counts, since it's not really a headcanon since it's very much not able to fit in canon, but if Taco had a place of origin that wasn't Inanimate Island, like if she wasn't made by Mephone, I like to think she'd be from one of the islands in the English Channel, off the coast of Normandy. Some of them are owned by France, some of them are owned by England. The English ones are significantly more populated though, so I'd say she'd be from either the Bailiwick of Jersey or the Bailiwick of Guernsey. She'd have grown up with both English and French. (And possibly Norman but that's not canon nor the point) Okay sorry onto more actual headcanons.

Someone at some point gifts her the flag of France and calls it a "French Pride Flag". If you want it to be a well-meaning misunderstanding, Goo gives it to her. If she's being mocked, it was Nickel. It could even be a joint gift from both of them, in which Goo had a nice little idea first and Nickel joined in to be a little shit.

Speaking of Goo, I think he'd find her being bilingual very cool and want to learn French himself!!! He tries, but silent letters end up deeply confusing him. Why are they there if you don't say them? Is French scrabble different from English scrabble because of this? Are the letters upset that they don't get pronounced? So many questions. Taco gives up on teaching him.

Post tacomic getting together (none of my posts are immune to propaganda sorry) Taco would say that she is Mic's little flea. "Ma puce", meaning "my flea" is a term of endearment in French that sounds a tad more... derogatory in English. Taco does not realize this and everyone agrees that she is indeed Mic's little flea.

I think shows and movies that Mephone watched while he was still at Meeple definitely influenced him making his own characters!!! As for who Taco might be based on? Hm. Well I don't watch the widest variety of things, I tend to find one thing I like and obsess over it, but maybe Veruca Salt from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory could be one character that inspired Taco's accent? She's a little British girl who wants and will makes sure she gets. Maybe Scar from The Lion King, another liar and betrayer? Even Frollo has a British accent, there are a lot of solid villains that could have inspired her. As for the French, we could continue with older Disney stuff and say Lumière, even though he's not a villain, with his proper attitude he could work. Even Gabriel Agreste from Miraculous Ladybug could work. Although he doesn't have a French accent, he is French and a terrible father just like Cobs, so he may come to mind when Mephone is making his "evil" original character.

Before you sent this ask I'd already been planning to make a post of Mic's adventures in learning French so that will be coming soon as well!!! Thank you for this request!!! :D

[pistol-grippump]

->

Taking it upon myself to actually research into the columbine case has taught me that I really see myself in Dylan. Alas, many people do, but something about him tells me his sadness is my sadness. Something so endearing about the way he felt and how he visualized what he felt that is so strange. It constantly feels like I am the only one who feels this specific type of sad and alone, though I understand it feels like that about many things.

Seeing myself in someone like Dylan Is quite scary, I'd say? I would never go through with things he did, but I can't say the case doesn't have an influence. In total time, I have probably spent more than 7 hours in the last couple days crying and wanting nothing more than to be gone; to have an escape. I don't agree with Dylan and Eric's actions. Of Course, I can find a way to understand but I can admire their suicidal tendencies. I can admire the confidence to have actually taken their own lives.

Of Course though, it was a mix of not wanting to deal with their consequences as well as finding it as the perfect moment, yeah? They had already ruined their lives, he felt as though as Life wasn't worth living. I just want to know if it was fulfilling to him? To Eric? I want to know whether or not it had happened all exactly as they wanted.

It's ashame nobody will know now.

I don't think I could have prepared myself for the recent emptiness I've felt, not so much of a want to have been in Dylan's presence but just so desperate to escape. Maybe it is insensitive but can you blame me for wishing it was me?

Me who they shot? I wouldn't have to do it myself, that's more than enough. And alas, we'd both be dead together after all. A feeling of peace. A chance to genuinely solely understand their thought process.

As someone who is still fairly tame about true crime yet have an insane boundary problem about every case I get infatuated with, I get worried my words will just be seen as surface level fangirling to any of the cases I cling to. And of course this is cringe as well, but I always feel like I have a special sort of understanding towards these people? Not like a, 'i can fix him' way but in a, if I were them, I would illute to the same things.

Obviously their actions are horrible (that goes without saying) but I kind of wish the average person took time to understand that everyone is troubled. I don't believe 'good' people exist in the world. Yes, you can do good acts and you can make good impact, but there are no good people. Perfection isn't possible and I truly feel that the only way to be a good person would be to be perfect.

Everyone is evil. Everyone has faults and hopefully it eats at everyone. I feel like everyone on this planet should feel a sense of hopelessness to an extent; you don't know what it's like to be dead. You don't know if your actions here have genuine consequences when you're dead and gone. You don't know anything, neither do I. Neither did Eric and Dylan, neither did anyone who did similar acts. Nobody here knows anything. Nobody knows anything about anything and I wish we as a whole could accept that.

It bleeds into religion for me. I have never had faith or anything despite being brought up Christian. It was one of those things that have always just been fantasy to me. The concept of the Bible is so warped, inconsistent, unrealistic. It doesn't seem justifiable under any circumstance to me, good for anyone who can see it in the light but I don't think I could ever think that. There is something so false about any concept of any god or afterlife.

It's frustrating though because I know I don't truly think that. I think there is some sort of after life, whether it's reincarnation or infinite nothingness for those who died. I just don't think my - or anyones - actions right now have any impact when it's all said and done.

[queermccoy]

[[for @dark-alice-lilith who submitted the 13th song and buddietommy]]

the 13th song on my spotify wrapped 2024 was After Midnight by Chappell Roan

(on ao3)

Tommy didn't go out often.

Well, he went out; to a badge and ladder with his co-workers, to the movies on his own, to dinner with Sal and his wife, but not like this. He didn't go to clubs, was what he meant.

Except that night be was in a gay club, hanging out by the bar and nursing a drink that was all dark liquor and nothing else. He wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but he was facing the bar and not the dance floor, taking up one of the few actual seats, drink going warm in his hand.

He'd specifically gone out because he was feeling lonely and old, but being in this club wasn't helping either of those feelings. Surrounded by mostly younger people, people still spry enough to go drinking on a weekday and still work in the morning. Tommy hadn't been young like that in years. With a sigh, he checked his watch. It was coming up on midnight and, in Tommy's experience, nothing good happened after midnight.

He was about to drain his drink and order up an Uber, head home and scroll through Grindr instead, when someone bumped into him, jostling his shoulder. Annoyed, Tommy turned. His mouth was already open, biting words halfway out, but then everything he wanted to say flew out the window. The metaphorical window. The guy was so handsome it struck him dumb.

"Sorry," the man said, not sounding sorry at all. He looked at Tommy with dark eyes ringed with striking lashes. His mouth was generous and his shoulders were strong. He was solid all over, Tommy noticed when he let his eyes rove from the man's thick boots to his mussed hair. His eyes were alert, like he wasn't drunk at all. Jesus, this guy was good looking. It made Tommy's mouth dry.

"My name's Eddie," the guy—Eddie—said. He leaned on the bar, elbow propping him up. His arm flexed distractingly.

"Well hey, Eddie". Tommy mirrored Eddie's posture, spinning in his stool to face him. His knees nearly bracketed Eddie. "I'm Tommy."

"You here alone, Tommy?" Eddie asked. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his throat.

Tommy leaned in. "You know I am," he replied because it was obvious and he knew Eddie knew it.

Eddie tilted his head. He smiled and it was...dazzling in the flashing lights of the club. "My boyfriend wants to dance with you," he said, bringing one square hand up to point behind Tommy.

Tommy felt his eyebrows fly up his forehead, chin dipping to his chest. He assessed Eddie, no longer an easy flirt. He was something else entirely. Tommy pursed his lips and glanced over his shoulder to see if this something else would be worth it.

And Jesus Christ. Okay. Yeah, okay.

It was probably going to be worth it.

Eddie's boyfriend was tall, all long legs and broad shoulders. He looked like a mountain, an absolute wall of a man. Tommy couldn't tell what color his hair was in the wash of purple and then pink and then purple again strobe lights but his smile was wide, the duck of his head both endearing and obviously practiced. Yeah, Tommy could do that.

"Why," he started, and then realized Eddie probably couldn't hear him. He turned back and caught Eddie's dark eyes, glittering with amusement. Tommy repeated himself, eyes on Eddie's mouth. His lips were full and twisted in a smirk.

Tommy's heart stuttered. "You can't keep up with him? Is it?" he asked, desert dry.

"He's a handful," Eddie replied and Tommy liked the shape of it. He leaned into Tommy's space, so close Tommy could feel the heat of his sweaty body. "He thinks you look like a good time." He reached out and touched the collar of Tommy's henley, fingers just brushing where Tommy left the top two buttons undone. "Are you?"

Wild fire licked its way up Tommy's spine. He said, "Could be."

That made Eddie grin, filthy and dark. He pulled his hand away from Tommy's throat and cupped Tommy's hand on his hip. Eddie tugged his fingers out of his belt loop, tangling them together. His hand was large and warm, a little damp, and his grip loose. Tommy felt his stomach flip pleasantly.

Eddie weaved his way through the crowd, leading Tommy across the dance floor. He delivered Tommy to his waiting boyfriend.

"This is Tommy," he told the boyfriend. He didn't let go of Tommy's hand.

"Evan," Evan said, pointing to himself. His eyes were roving all over, taking Tommy in. Tommy shifted and felt his lips curl into a grin. With his other hand he reached out to shake Evan's. His hand was smaller than Eddie's, even though he was so much bigger.

His hand lingered in Tommy, eyes blue and then purple in the flashing lights. The shadows over his face made him look boyish and then smoldering. He was so hot, Tommy couldn't look away. His hand still in Tommy's he asked, "do you want to dance," but it didn't sound like a question. It sounded like a forgone conclusion, like Tommy wouldn't say no.

Well, he hadn't been planning on it anyway.

Tommy followed Evan onto the floor, their hands latched together. Eddie followed behind him, their hands still linked. Like a daisy chain. Evan lead them to the middle of the dance floor. He molded his body to Tommy's front, Eddie snugged up to his back. They danced together to the music, the bass so much heavier with all the bodies writhing around them, with the speakers so close. The beat was opposite to the pounding of Tommy's heart and it made his body feel strange and foreign and new. Evan's arms around his shoulders and Eddie's hips pressed to his ass floated him over the sounds until all he could hear was them, all he could feel was them.

When the first song flowed seamlessly into the second, Evan reached around Tommy. He turned his head enough to see Evan kissing Eddie, their mouth fitting together like pink puzzle pieces. The sounds of their tongues and their teeth rang in Tommy's ear, reverberating through his body and collecting under his belly. He could feel himself fattening, growing harder and harder in his jeans, cock pressed against Evan's solid thigh. His chest rubbed against Evan's, nipples catching on the fabric of his shirt. Eddie behind him was grinding against his ass.

They moved their bodies together to music Tommy didn't recognize, too old or too uncool to know. He sank his fingers into Evan's sweat-damp curls, other hand reaching behind him to clutch at Eddie's hip. They were still kissing, Evan making pretty noises with every tug of his hair. Tommy felt wild with arousal, legs restless and fingers clenching. He wasn't thinking, not with his rational mind, when he yanked Evan back.

His lips disconnected from Eddie's with a wet sound that went to Tommy's dick. He moved his hand from Eddie's hip and turned, watched himself curl it around the back of Eddie's neck, pulling him closer.

"I'm going to kiss your boyfriend," Tommy told him. Then, "If you don't mind."

Under his palm, Eddie was nodding. Hands slipped over Tommy's torso from behind, tips of fingers skirting under the waistband of his jeans. "Fuck, yeah," he breathed into Tommy's ear.

And Tommy didn't need to be told twice. He dragged Evan closer, his blue eyes half-lidded and bright. Fuck, wow, fuck, his mouth was already kiss bitten and puffy under Tommy's lips, tongue pushing its way into Tommy's mouth. The hot, slick slide of it against his own making him shiver. He raised up on his toes to force Evan to tip his chip up.

"Let us take you home," Evan rasped when they broke apart.

Tommy, dazed, nodded. Eddie was a firm line behind him and propelled him forward, Evan's fingers threaded through Tommy's. They left the club in a fucked up, horny conga line.

Later, sweaty and sated and half asleep between two hot as hell guys Tommy thought, maybe something good can happen after midnight.

spotify wrapped is in!! send me a number (1-100) and a ship and i’ll write a little fic based on the prompt

[tubbytarchia]

For the ranchers a bit more shleep i just really like charakters comfy and nice:Dc /nf

Eepies. Jimmy woke up to really sore wings but its okay because Tango

[dukeofthomas]

I hate the insistence in pushing Jason into the batfamily.

If he doesn't wanna go to dinner, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't wanna hang out with them, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't want to see them, he doesn't have to. If he doesn't even want to contact them, he doesn't have to.

It's so annoying to read fic and always see it presented as his Family Knows Better. Jason is just being silly by not realizing how much they love him and he just needs to let them break into his home and comms and life because they want him there.

[lotus-pear]

bsd fic authors i understand yalls pain SO well right now why is it so fucking HARD to write dazai. like i have a whole fucking spreadsheet dedicated to tireless analysis i have done on my part so i can accurately characterize him but he is such an unpredictable and morally gray character that it's hard knowing his limits and boundaries and where he draws the line for himself.

[dakotac0le]

holding your hand so gently. listen to me. this character could be so so much if u just think abt her for two seconds and then have fun with it.

All the canon text we are given about Katori Blake's personality is that she was a leader and athletic and a lot like Dakota . WHICH IS VERY INTERESTING TO ME because looking at her parents there so obviously not !! that !! they have an all white living room and her mom looks like kat but wears a high bun and pearls . theyre like the type of people to buy out a modern art gallery beacuse they can and it makes them look rich and fancy w out giving a fuck about the art.  and we don't know much about how they were as parents and obviously they care a lot about katori . but they also didn't care enough or were  too busy or out of the house enough that she could sneak out and go run around on rooftops .  To me , I see her as someone who felt very ignored by her parents. and she didn't have friends with anyone at her school. She was very very quiet growing up , very polite , but not exactly friendly. She didn't know how to keep a conversation going or connect with people easily - she was never taught how to do those things by her parents who don't really know  either. and she's also struggling because her body doesn't feel like her body in a way no one around her is able to explain so she just kinda. shoves that down. so she felt very alone and weird and ignored by the people at her school and her parents.  and this continued to a point where she started to sneak out and not do her homework  - at first to get any attention she could from her parents. and when that failed. when they just got quietly and tiredly angry at her (not shouting or screaming  - just grounding her and locking her in her room and giving her the silent treatment or stonewalling her) -  just to get out of the house.  

and then she met dakota damascus- this other neglected kid who's just a bit younger than her and a lot smaller than her. this kid who also needed to be anywhere else but his apartment.  

all she needed was someone to acknowledge her existence.  and all he needed was someone to talk to . and he's so incredibly kind to her. He's very loud and energetic in a way no one should be at 3am. like he has years of pent up conversations he's been waiting to have with literally anyone. and he is always hungry and thirsty and cold and he breathes a little ragged. so she brings him all the food she can steal from her pantries - or she takes her moms cash and they go get food together. and very slowly she starts to return that energy back to him . it's sort of contagious and impossible not to bounce off of and be endeared too. her grades start getting even worse and she has permanent eyebags and is always exhausted and  always feels a little bit like she's slipping. but she also has a friend !! and she knows who she is for the first time in a really long time.  

and dakota is always going on about  how cool and awesome the fucking heros were so she showed him how to climb from roof to roof and how to balance and how to jump and brace yourself if you fall.  and for her heros were never important or really impacted her life - she doesn't care about them and has never had any reason too. but she likes how passionately Dakota cares about being there for people. and she likes hearing him talk about all his dreams and goals. But it's also concerning because Dakota does not have innate powers  and he's reckless (like reallly reckless). and  Kat has no idea how to teach him to be a superhero like she knows how to teach him to scale a building. but she cant and wont try to dissuade him either. She gets what he feels this way. It's just hard and complicated because selfishly - she wants to protect him and help him like he helped her come into herself.  and the only way she can think to fix that is if she tries to be a hero too.  

i think about kaotri way more than i should for the amount of screentime she had (0 minutes)

[tuesdayscanons]

Every now and then, I think about The Simpsons RPC and how there's an occasionally a spike of Simpsons muses that inevitably crumbles away and leaves me waiting for the next short lived Simpsons RPC Renaissance

[firefl1ezz]

i just. hit s+ rank in splatoon and i never honestly thought this would happen?? am i cool now.. do i get to be a part of the s4? do i get to be watered down to my running joke all the time?

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Extremely odd idea but like

reader who like keeps calm most of the time and yk doesn’t really raise their voice much

but they unintentionally switch to latin when theyre like super pissed off

and the first time in happens with human childe… he wasn’t expecting it ofc. got surprised, then got used to it

but i’d like to imagine FL and Childe whilst share important memories, dont like know EVERYTHING the other does and they do have like similar thinking processes and personalities but some differences that makes them a little different from one another(its ok we love them both)

Foul legacy when he first saw this happen though was after the events of the 4.0 archon quest. When he woke up(lets pretend he woke up as FL transformed bcs his body thought he was in danger when he got knocked out mid transformation) he heard yelling. particularly the reader yelling. more elaborately the reader yelling in latin of all languages.

The guards who only know english and frencb are dumbfounded and reader is so pissed off theyre rampaging with their words in latin, not capable of even thinking to language switch back from hor fucking furious they are that the guards hurt and locked up their precious moth

wait this is perfect actually since Khaenri'ahn languange is (i'm pretty sure) based on Latin, and Khaenri'ah has connections to the Abyss!!

normally the prison guards would be stricter with who was allowed into which cell- but you're stubborn and absolutely furious with them, shouting words they don't understand, looking like you're about to straight up maim one of them. Foul Legacy watches in awe as you berate the guards in Latin, catching a few words here and there, words that he's seen carved in stone and on walls deep beneath a lightless sea. finally the guards relent, possibly out of fear, and let you into the cell

immediately your angry demeanor falls away as you rush over, wrapping your arms around Legacy as he chitters in relief, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. you whisper soothingly to him- a stark contrast from your yelling a few minutes ago- as you caress his plated cheek with a hand. your words are still peppered with Latin, phrases that are completely new to Foul Legacy, but he knows they must be good from how sweetly you say them. there's one you say often- "amica mea"- and you murmur it with a shine in your eye as you place a kiss on his forehead, Legacy's claws wrapped around your hands like they're made of glass. the guards simply watch, dumbfounded and astonished upon seeing the Abyssal creature that was just viciously growling at them melt in the hands of a mere mortal

later Ajax asks you what "amica mea" means, a vague memory tugging at his mind, and with warm cheeks you tell him that it means "my love"