#my curiousity Is peaked

[the-carlos-cow-eyes]

Transfem Juniper Wheeler AU

Order of people Juniper came out to in the Final Family AU (yes I’m including Glen and Glenda, they’re a part of this too)

Andy

Glen

Glenda

Leo

Jake

Devon

Nica

Lexy

Kyle

Aweeee! I honestly don't blame her for Jake being lower on the list because they're still working on their relationship. However, I am wondering where Jules & Coraline rank on this list🤔

[mistythedritten]

Trailer just dropped. Its a dumpster fire. Im so excited.

Nice, I’ll have to go watch it after classes. Is it like the Sonic movie bad?

[jrueships]

Omg the flowers are so pretty 🌸 worth revealing my chart even tho everyone apparently hates geminis so maybe I'm the worst?? Idc

Sun: Gemini

Moon: Scorpio

Rising: Leo

Venus: Aries

don't listen to the haters, smh!! they hate ur power !!!!

[jtownraindancer]

So what's up with Burn playing all these spies then?

[gallusrostromegalus]

Might I inquire as to what, precisely, a Mustain't is? (Aside from a string of letters I hesitate to Google in that order.)

In October 2014 I went on a road-trip to the Driest Place In America.

I was having a rough year, very depressed from having dropped out of college for the third time. I decided a road trip was in order to re-set my brain and get a little distance. Being that it was October, and therefore all the campgrounds in the American Southwest were filled with people who have the good sense to camp in reasonable temperatures, I elected to take my parent's minivan so I could car-camp anywhere suitably isolated, and looked up some of the southwest's geographic extremes- the highest place I could drive to (Pikes Peak), the lowest place (Badwater Basin), and for fun, the Dryest Place in the continental US, which turned out to be the Pinacate Volcanic field just west of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument. It gets rain maybe twice a century and has no standing water, despite being less than 100 miles from the gulf of California.

It's a startlingly beautiful and alien place. The ground is a deep chocolate brown to black volcanic sand, and in mid October, the rabbit brush is turning bright yellow as it shifts to autumn, the organ pipe cacti are a dark green and stand, partially concealed in the brush at exactly human height. The air is alive with birds and insects and bats at night. The stargazing is like looking into the eyes of God.

You get there by driving down a little dirt road called "El Camino Del Diablo", or "The Devil's Road".

I drove out about three hours from Glendale, AZ to get there, arriving at sunset, and felt a profound sense of peace. I stargazed, listening to the bats hunt and sing, and slept peacefully for the first time in months.

I stayed out there for three days, sketching and painting the landscape, taking strolls through this almost alien landscape, and enjoying the light and sound and total absence of human intrusion besides myself.

On the fourth night, it was a new moon, and I awoke in the middle of the night. Something was amiss, and it took me a while to realize it was because I could NOT hear the bats. I was sleeping inside the van with the rear windows rolled halfway down rather than trying to set up the tent, so I when I sat up, I looked out of the van's reflective windows to discover what at first appeared to be A Horse.

It was something between pale gray and bright white in the starlight, standing maybe a dozen feet from the van, sniffing curiously. It made sense- I was in the middle of mustang country and there was quite a bit of foliage in the area for it and it did look like a truly wild horse- lumpy where the bones were jutting out, dusty about the hooves and face.

I was instantly seized by the sort of paralytic fear Sleep paralysis is made of. I couldn't move. It wasn't quite looking at me because it couldn't quite see through the windshield into the shadowy into the shadowy interior, but I had the distinct impression that if I looked away, it would know, and get me.

I already had problems with horses. My beloved Aunt Helen's Prize mare tried to kill me on two separate occasions, and the year before I had to carry my sister-in-law backwards out of a slot canyon whilst reciting the Saint Crispin's Day Speech as loudly as possible to keep a mustang from trampling us to death.

This is approximately what it should have looked like:

Instead, it was... off. like trying to draw a horse from memory.

The waist tapered in.

The legs were slightly too long or the torso slightly too short, probably both.

The ears were Triangular.

The head wasn't quite right- Too narrow and the jaw wasn't heavy enough.

The tail was too long and arced unnaturally away from the body.

The neck arched.

The nostrils were too high and close

The mouth too long.

Whatever this is, a Mustang it Ain't.

I watched it from the back seat as it sniffed around the front of the van, curious with about the side mirrors. It moved around the van, nibbling experimentally on the front door handle. It came up to the side windows, sniffing like a dog, and it's breath didn't fog up the glass.

Finally, it came up to the rear window, which was rolled halfway down to let the fall night air in. Not even half a pane of glass and two feet of air between us, and I could clearly see it's bright blue eyes.

Horses have Elongated pupils to give them a wide field of vision, and eyes that rotate sideways in their sockets so the pupil remains parallel to the ground. Rather creepy to watch, especially the ones with blue eyes.

A real horse that was curious about the interior of the van would have come up to the window more or less sideways, and looked at me with something like this:

Instead, the damn thing walked up and faced the back window head on, staring back at me with this:

I'm not sure how long we watched each other like that, eyes locked. My eyes burned. I couldn't blink. My mouth was dry. I couldn't swallow. My throat began to ache. I couldn't make a sound. My skin began to twitch, like I was severely dehydrated. I couldn't move. My lungs burned. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move. I couldn't move.

Something was touching the side of my hand on the seat next to me. It's my water bottle.

The realization must have broken the terrible paralysis in the lower parts of my brain first, because by the time I consciously realized I could move again, I was already flinging my water bottle out the window at it.

The top was open, and splashed out the window at the Mustain't.

I've never heard such a scream out of an animal. Something halfway between the sound of unquenchable rage vibrating in someone's chest and the way rabbits cry out to God when the dogs catch them.

It jumped back, pivoting away from the van, snarling at the water bottle. I don't think you're supposed to be able to see All of a horse's teeth at once, no matter how angry it is.

I watched it run into the night for some distance, it's pale body visible against the black sand and the dark gray shadow of the ancient volcanic cone it was headed for.

When the blood stopped pounding in my ears, I could hear the bats again.

I debated leaving right then, but I didn't want to get out of the van with that thing in the area, nor litter by leaving the water bottle out there. I also had the awful idea that if I left now, it might somehow be able to follow me home. I ended up staying up three hours to watch the sunrise, shaking and trying to figure out if I'd woken up from a vivid dream, if my meds had stopped working, or if that had really happened. I didn't dare move until I actually felt the temperature rise, before stepping out of the van to grab the bottle. I had my camera ready- I was still using a DSLR back then- to take pictures of the hoofprints, to show how close it had gotten to the van.

No hoofprints.

Beetle tracks in the soft sand around the van, and the clear foot-and-wing prints of a bird that had hopped around then taken off. But no hoofprints.

I went over the entire campsite with the tent broom, to make sure I removed every scrap of evidence I had ever been there, including my footprints, grabbed my water bottle, and drove the three hours back back to Glendale, then decided to do seven more hours of driving to Moab, Utah just to put more than 500 miles, the state line and at least nine things that could be considered "running water" between me and the Mustain't.

-

I still have that water bottle. It has a dent in the bottom from hitting something, but that could have happened at any time. Strange thing though. I can't drink that bottle dry. I'll have it on me, drink whatever I've put in there- water, juice, iced coffee- and eventually feel like I've drunk the whole think and that it's empty. But I open it up and it's still at least a quarter full. I drink that. I get thirsty. I open it up again. ...and there's always a mouthful left.

Not sure what the side effects of drinking from a bottle cursed by a Mustain't to always have some left are, but it lives in the Emergency Breakdown Kit in my car now, just in case I meet another one.

---

(I'm a disabled artist and make my living telling stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or Pre-order the Family Lore book on Patreon)

[youareinlove]

I have a theory about some stuff but we’ll see what happens

i am too nosy for asks like this SPILLL

[catssluvr]

𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒍, aaron hotchner

aaron hotchner x fem!reader (906 words)

in which you get a necklace with aaron’s initial and he’s absolutely whipped for you <3

warnings: none, clingy hotch :)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

One of your hands holds the generous amount of shopping bags, the other moves to unlock the door. You open it slowly, in case Jack's already asleep. It's just after dinner time but after all the plans Aaron and him had for today, you know he's probably fast asleep in his bed by now.

"Aaron?" You call out gently as you take off your shoes, immediately hearing his footsteps approaching. He appears seconds later, towel draped over his shoulder from doing the dishes.

"Hey, honey. How was shopping with the girls?" He asks with a small smile, leaning over to peck your lips before taking the bags from you and setting them down on the coffee table.

"Pretty good, got everything i needed to get. I also bought Jack a shirt." In your defence, it had a picture of his latest cartoon obsession. How could you resist it?

"You didn't have to." He takes a step towards you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I disagree." You retort, though you know he doesn't mind you buying thing for Jack. He's not your own, but he's your boy nevertheless. "Is he asleep?"

"Yeah, just put him to bed." Aaron moves to hold your face, leaving kisses all over you forehead. Barely getting to see you on his weekend off feels like some kind of torture and he has plans to not leave your side until Monday.

"Hm, can i go give him a goodnight kiss? Wanna leave his new shirt there so he wakes up to a surprise." You smile eagerly, chuckling at his false annoyed groan.

"Sure, hun. I'll finish the dishes and meet you upstairs." He answers, giving your back a soft tap as you rush to pick up the bag and run upstairs.

You pad into Jack's bedroom, kneeling besides his bed to kiss his forehead gently. Setting the bag at the end of his bed, you leave the room as silently as you came in.

You head to the bedroom that by now is just as yours as it's Hotch's. Gathering one of his shirts before entering the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When you come out, you're met with the sight of Aaron in only a shirt and boxers. Sitting against the headboard of the bed as he waits for you.

"How was your day?" You move under the covers to get comfortable while he starts listing all the activities him and Jack did today.

His hands move to massage your sore legs and you can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness. But they come to a stop once his gaze falls on the gold necklace peaking out from your shirt. He hooks a finger around it, pulling it out from it's hiding place.

Aaron eyes you curiously as it is now completely visible, a small 'A' adorning the middle of the necklace.

"What's this?" He asks, the answer quite evident but he can't get himself to believe it. He looks at you lovingly, brown eyes contrasting with yellow light and making your heart race.

"Oh, i saw it at store and it was too pretty not to get. Besides, you're a part of me and i wanted people to know it." You answer almost sheepishly, fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt. "It's also waterproof so i never have to take it off."

Aaron swears his heart might jump out of his chest. He knows you love him, he just didn't know it was this loudly. He hopes you never stop doing it.

He wonders what the best reaction to this would be, but he can't get himself to think about it too much before he's tugging you closer. Lips pressing against yours in a gentle kiss.

"I'll get one with yours." He mumbles a bit too seriously and you can't help but laugh.

"You don't wear necklaces, Aaron." You hold his face gently, making sure he knows you appreciate the suggestion anyway. You don't need him to get one too, you're content like this.

Aaron hums with a thoughtful expression, "I'll get it engraved on my watch then." He insists and you have to hold back another laugh at the way he raises his eyebrows trying to persuade you.

"Aaron." You try to sound stern but it's prove quite impossible when he kisses your cheek over and over again.

"How about on my handkerchief?"

"Please don't. We'll be looking like an old married couple." You tease with an affectionate smile.

"We could be." His answer is way more sweet than you expected it to be, heat rushing to your cheeks. He smiles at that and pulls you impossibly closer.

"Are you proposing, Hotchner?" You tease further, though your heart is beating wildly in your chest. He's way too nice.

"You think lowly of me." He plays along, his own smile never leaving his face.

Silence falls over you two for a moment and you take advantage of it to lay your head against his chest, relaxing at the sound of his heart beating against your ear.

"Thank you, seriously." Aaron mutters with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder and kiss against your hair.

"Don't bother." Your words come out a bit slurred, sleep starting to evade you. "Love you."

"I love you." He pulls the covers up to your shoulders. He makes note to start looking for rings before his own eyes fall shut.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

love you,

cat 🤍

[covetyou]

you all the way down

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: vaguely dub-con (power imbalance, reader was paying a debt), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), face sitting, spanking, cum swallowing, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k summary: You have a rare moment of privacy, a chance to luxuriate in bringing yourself closer and closer to a peak you've been teasing yourself with for hours.... Until a knock at your door snatches it all away.

A/N: I hit a follower milestone this week - thank you all so much for your follows, comments, reblogs, friendship, sneaky trips into my DMs and asks, and for loving the same silly, absurd, and horny things I do.

see you next week 💛

title from I, Carrion (Icarian) by hozier.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

You didn't often do it like this. You didn't often have the time. Or the privacy.

It was a rare luxury to have the apartment to yourself, and so, for the best part of an hour - maybe more - you'd been slowly and steadily teasing yourself. With no plans and no work, you could take your time, turn the slow drag of your hands all over your body into steady smooth movements that dipped between your legs. Fingers that pinched nipples, scratched at your belly, dragged themselves over your thighs found themselves nestled between your legs dipping down and teasing. Down, and up, and around, and back down again. Sweeping through wet folds and swiping over your clit in gloriously slow strokes. You were making your own skin prickle, your own breath catch in your throat, and it was divine.

How long you teased yourself and made yourself smile and sigh in the confines of your own room, you didn't know exactly. It didn't matter. Your dad was at work and you weren't. You were here, alone, finally pushing one slicked up finger inside yourself and making yourself gasp.

Fuck, did you deserve this. You deserved the soft and the slow way you teased yourself, brought yourself close to the edge and then eased off. You deserved the way you made yourself moan, catching yourself with a laugh when you heard yourself through the blood in your ears.

You deserved to come, right here, nestled in all your soft things, thinking glorious thoughts about hands and bodies surrounding yours, overwhelming you until you came, shuddering, in their grasp.

You deserved to come begging and urging yourself on to the emptiness of your room, your own filthy mouth finding flight and soaring, working with the fingers in your cunt and on your clit to bring yourself to an edge you'd let yourself teeter on, almost making yourself cry as you held back, held off, and kept that fierce explosion at bay.

Until a knock at your door snatched it all away.

Your body registers it before your brain does. The fuse you'd ignited sputters out, your fingers still working over your clit that has suddenly gone shy and numb and unfeeling, making you twitch uncomfortably. Then, your door rattles with a heavy handed knock again, and you sit up with a start.

Fuck this asshole.

Tumbling from tangled sheets, you frantically reach for something to cover you. As you hop through your apartment, one leg in your pants, the other out, another knock hammers at the door.

"Okay! I'm coming!" Only you weren't, because that was ruined now, thanks to this heavy handed asshole and their impeccable timing.

Wiping damp fingers on your pants, you huff out a frustrated breath and try to pin a fake smile onto your face before opening the door. It swings inward, just as the start of another impatient knock begins, and in with it comes a man you should be surprised to see.

Joel Miller breezes past you - barely having to push his way in as you stare at him in stunned silence - to stand in your living room, looking curiously around at the small space.

"Nice place," he says, with a look on his face that says differently. You know it's far from a nice place. There wasn't a single apartment in this building that was a nice place. If this were normal times, the whole block would have been condemned years ago, but here you were, stuck at the end of the world in a shitty apartment that was the only place you had to call home.

As you close the door, you take a quick glance down at what you'd thrown on. The pajama pants have seen better days - everything had seen better days - and the shirt you'd grabbed has more holes in the seams than you care to even check for. It was in your pile of things to fix that you hadn't quite got around to yet and now here it was, hanging off your body like you were wearing lace, not flannel.

"What're you here for?" you ask, trying to hide the holes in your with a not-so-subtle movement of your arms.

"Like to check in on my clients from time to time," he says, finally looking you over and noticing your arms tucked tightly over your chest. "Am I disturbin' somethin'?"

Yes. "No."

"You ain't workin'?"

No shit. "Day off."

"Alright," he says, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

You aren't wearing any panties. "Nothing."

He's crossing the small space to stand right in front of you, and you know from the second his nostrils flair that he knows. He probably knew from the moment he came in, probably somehow even from the other side of the door. You weren't exactly being quiet, or discreet, and if there's one thing you knew it was that Joel Miller knew you just about better than anybody else.

"Bullshit, sweetheart."

If you weren't already so turned on at your own hand, you know you'd be rapidly getting wetter. Just the smell of him in your home is sending your mind, and your pussy, into overdrive. He's never stepped foot in here before, and you know you shouldn't like it. A man like Joel, a man who has clients to come check on, isn't someone you should be happy to have snooping about in your apartment and your business.

But one look at that cocky smirk on his face, and you know you'd be very happy to have him snooping around your business. In fact, by the way your pussy pulses at the sight of him, you think you'd be happy to have him very deep in your business right here pressed up against your front door.

Instead, in a last ditch effort to retain your dignity, you push the frustration back into your voice and step around him, throwing your hands into the air.

"You just come here, pound at the door, and then bust right in here the second I open it! I was - I'm busy, Joel."

"Busy?" Joel scoffs. You can see the thought as it comes to him, sly smile twitching the corners of his mouth as he fakes disinterest. "Then go right on ahead and get back to what you were doin', don't mind me."

You stare him down, heart pounding in your throat. The distance between you is still small. You could be on him in an instant. You think you could use the element of surprise and tackle him to the ground. His coat would come off easy enough, but beneath that who knows what he's wearing. Probably layers. Fucking Boston. Still, you didn't exactly need all of them off, you only needed access to one thing, and when your eyes flick down to the bulge in his jeans you resolutely set your shoulders and turn around.

"Fine."

A button falls from loose threads as your hands fly down the front of your shirt. In no time at all you're flinging it over your shoulder, hitting Joel square in the face where he stands in your bedroom doorway, watching.

He catches it in one hand, fingering one of the holes. "This what you call, busy?"

The pajama pants you'd tied about your waist drop to your feet and in no time at all you're naked again, climbing onto your bed, the pillows and sheets you were nested in welcoming you back in - still warm. "Like you didn't know, asshole."

"I ain't got a sixth fuckin' sense, sweetheart."

You glare at him from across the room and he shrugs, leaning casually on the doorframe as he watches you lie back. If you didn't know better, you'd think he didn't know where to look. One moment he's looking at the scowl on your face, and the next he's looking down at your breasts, the curve of your ass, taking a peek between your legs as you shuffle down your bed. It's all going so fast, you think for once you may just have the upperhand. Joel Miller, you think, is flustered.

He watches you as you stroke down your body, quicker than the slow, teasing pace you'd set with yourself earlier. Your thighs fall open as your hands reach your hips, and your fingers reach down to spread yourself as he watches on.

"This what you were doin'?"

"Yes, now can you shut up."

You shut your eyes and get back to where you left off. You're still wet and slick, your fingers slipping easily back into the grip of your pussy. If you just try to block him out, standing in the doorway staring between your spread legs, you can get right back where you left off. You can find that edge again, even through the oversensitivity. You know you can, and this time, you're going to throw yourself screaming over it.

Curling your fingers, you reach down and twist your torso until you can reach that delicious spot you found earlier. Then, your other hand begins working back over your clit, spit slicked and swiping eagerly over the sensitive nub. Picking up the pace, you try to ignore the twitches in your legs and the way your thighs already want to clamp shut on your own hands.

You ignore it, that is, until Joel chimes in from the doorway.

"You're gonna rub the fuckin' thing clean off if you keep goin' at it like that."

Hitting the bed in frustration, you growl and sit up again, staring wild eyed at him. "If you're such a fucking expert, then why don't you get over here and help me. I am naked, Joel, and my cunt is right here."

Your mouth snaps shut the moment you gesture down to your spread legs. You snap them shut too. By the way he's silently peeling off his coat, you're certain you've fucked up, though you can't say you're too mad about it. With any luck, he'll fuck you to within an inch of your life in a way so satisfying your ruined orgasm will be all but forgotten.

With his coat discarded, he pulls off a sweater and unbuttons his shirt - flannel and significantly less holey than the one you've just thrown at him. Then, he grabs a pillow you'd discarded earlier and sits at the edge of your bed.

"C'mere," he beckons as he lays back, folding the pillow and shoving it behind his head.

You don't move. You're frozen in place as he shifts and gets himself comfortable. You don't know what this is, what he's planning, but you're certain it's something he's never done before. And it's going to happen right here, in your bedroom, the very place you'd spent night after night dreaming of the many wonderful ways he would fuck you.

"You want my help, or not?" he says in frustration, looking over to you where you're rooted in place. You nod stupidly, and follow the beckon of his fingers until you're kneeling by his side.

His rough hands find your thigh and push you until you're sat up on your knees. Then, he's dragging one of your legs over his clothed chest until you're straddling him, trying to keep the wet mess between your legs from soaking through his shirt.

"Up here," he says. "Want that pussy, and I ain't kneeling for it."

And suddenly it all clicks into place and you are mortified. For everything he'd done to you, for how much you knew he loved to look, you'd never once done something like this to him. You felt awkward even riding him, until his flithy words of encouragement and the drag of his cock inside you knocked every thought out of your brain.

Now, he was wanting you to sit on his face, somehow not suffocating him in the process. So, you laugh, shaking as you hold your weight above his chest.

"Look like I'm jokin' to you?" he says in a tone so stern and serious your eyes force their way down to where his face sits perilously close to the apex of your legs.

Which, of course, is a fucking mistake. He's licking his lips and looking up at you - all over every inch of you - eating you alive with his stare.

He pushes and pulls you then, dragging you up his chest until your knees are settled either side of his face. You can feel the gust of his breath against your thighs just before he hauls you forward a little more until his half face is completely covered by your cunt, only his eyes and the bridge of his nose visible now.

"Fuckin' christ. You're a mess down here. You been goin' at it for a while, huh?" he says, and you can feel every word blow against you even as you hover as far as you can above his face.

"Uh-huh," you say, a kiss sucked to your thigh striking stealing all thought from your mind.

"Get real close?" he says, with another kiss, hands kneading at your thighs and ass as they wrap around you and try to tug you closer.

You nod, hoping he can see you as your eyes slip closed with the feeling of him right here, between your legs, in your room.

"Hm. That's a damn shame, sweetheart. Bet you're achin' for it somethin' fierce right now, ain't you?" he asks from between your legs. You look down and you know in that moment the fucked look on your face says more than you ever could when he hums, spreading your thighs apart with his strong fingers.

"Better sit your ass down then," he mumbles into your thigh, pulling you down. "That's it, bring it here. Ain't strainin' my fuckin' neck for it, give it to me."

So you do. You settle down slowly onto his face, listening as he guides you down until you feel the first broad swipe of his tongue up through your folds.

"What'd I say," he says, swallowing the taste of you. "A fuckin' mess."

He kisses around your clit, nudging it with the curved tip of his nose when he finally licks up into you again. And then, he's pulling your flush to his face and feasting.

The noise that leaves you is stupid. Somewhere between a gasp and a moan and a question all at once. His nose is pressed against you, his laughter fanning out across your mound as you try not to squirm and wiggle against him, fearful of crushing his head beneath your weight, or at the very least suffocating him.

His face burrows deeper, his hands holding you firm, squeezing and scraping calloused fingertips against your delicate skin. The scruff on his cheeks feels rough against the places you were so soft with earlier, and you don't care in the slightest.

It works, you think.

Where the soft feel of your own hands felt too much - too familiar - to the parts of you that were now too sensitive to them, the rough, all consuming movements of Joel's mouth on your swollen pussy feels like a welcome relief as he laps at your hole, slick and dripping from your thwarted solo session.

His hands move from anchoring you to his face, locked around your thighs, to pressing against your ass, gripping the globes of them in each of his broad hands.

And then, as if it wasn't all so much already, he begins to stroke up and down your seam, pulling you apart, dipping into your dripping cunt and teasing over your exposed asshole as he laps and suckles away at your clit.

Still, as good as it all is, you can't let go. You can't get back to that place you'd climbed so close to. You feel exposed, sat upright with the frigid October air of your bedroom encasing you. Self-conscious too - all chins and bad angles and slouchy shoulders. And, most of all, you were terrified you were going to hurt him. One wrong twitch or snap shut of your legs and his air supply would be gone, or his neck snapped, and you'd have a dead man in your bed and -

A sharp slap connects with your ass cheek, Joel's strong hands pulling you upwards from his face, cheeks glistening and lips swollen red.

"Lean forward," he says, with a nip to your thigh.

As you go to move, walking forward on your knees, a hand grips your waist, and another slap hits your thigh, rippling your skin where it frames his face.

"Said lean, not fuckin' move off. You're gonna sit right here 'til you come, but you ain't comin' any time soon if you don't fuckin' lean and relax."

A strong hand pushes at your lower back then, making you hinge forward until your elbows collide with the bed. Your ass is in the air, legs spread just wide enough that your bare cunt is tantalizingly close to Joel's mouth, and now you get it. You shift on your knees, soothing the small ache that had built up, and look down at the brown-grey hair between your legs that's sucking hickies into your thighs.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs as he marks you, delivering swift, gentle smacks to your ass as you groan, planting your cheek firmly against your bed.

You drag a blanket toward you, covering yourself a little and tucking your face into the softness of it. Joel's smacks turn to scrapes of his blunt nails over the backs of your thighs and then, when your brain finally switches off and you fall into that mindless, soft place that has you feeling heavy and floaty all at once, you press your hips forward and drag your bare pussy across Joel's waiting tongue.

Joel's groan of approval blends into your own wanton moans. What was a soft drag of his tongue on your clit quickly turns to the sensitive nub being sucked into his eager mouth, your hips winding and grinding now you can finally relax.

"Fingers. Please. Need your fingers."

It doesn't even sound like you. It's breathier and more pathetic than you think you've ever sounded, but you can't bring yourself to care when suddenly Joel is releasing your clit to slurp on two of his own fingers, before plunging them deep into your empty pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes, like that. Fuck. Joel."

Each orbit of his tongue on your clit sends a new throb directly through your core, clenching down on the digits curling into you, and you're right back to teetering on that edge. You figure you could let yourself fall over it now. It'd be more like collpasing over it in an exhausted heap, but you know it'd be a satisfaction you wouldn't otherwise have got today.

Or you could wait. You could hold yourself back and use his face to tease yourself, to bring yourself back from the brink once, twice, before you take the final running jump right over it.

Your hands have made up your mind for you when you card trembling fingers through his hair and pull him back, forcing his head down into the pillow he'd propped under it not long ago, and stopping your orgasm in its tracks.

One.

Then, when he's licking broad stripes up and down your glistening folds, something takes hold of you and you begin to fuck yourself against his fingers, swiping your pussy against the flat of his tongue as you rock gently back and forth. His tongue, then his nose, grind against your clit with each rock of your hips, and soon your shaking legs can't move yourself any more.

Two.

Whatever running jump you'd hoped for isn't in your hands now. It's not in your control from the moment Joel tucks a third finger into your pussy, so slick and dripping you're certain you'd have no issue taking more if he decided to give them to you. Instead, you're being carried by him, limp and panting in his arms as he throws you mercilessly over the edge, and you let him.

You come with a cry, fists balling in sheets. Your hips rock and cant against his face, twitching uncontrollably as you pulse and gush around his fingers. His tongue is relentless on your clit, circling over and over until you're begging a jumbled garble of words, too weak to lift yourself off of him.

Then, in a last ditch effort, you throw yourself forward, still coming as you finally release yourself off of his face.

It takes your brain a second to reconnect with your body. Even after the aftershocks have subsided, you're still panting and groaning. Or he is. Maybe both of you are.

Both of you are.

Still quivering, you turn to him. His eyes catch yours before you can take in the state of him. They're darker than you've ever seen them, his blown pupils turning his irises almost black. Then, you see the glistening wet on his chin, his plush lips turned plumper, red and swollen from kissing and sucking at you. And, even lower still, you see the movement of his arm, his bicep rocking in a steady movement, his forearm flexing with each jerk of his fist, his cock weeping in his hand.

"Get down here," he growls.

You scramble to turn, limbs clumsy, and flop down against his side, knees tucked awkwardly under you. His free hand grips your ass, kneading and spreading you so he can look at the mess he made of you, while he guides his cock to your mouth with the other.

"C'mon now, ain't gonna take much. That's it. Fuck."

He groans when you swallow him down, almost gagging when you take him too deep too quickly. Your fist curls around the base of him, taking up the space you can't quite reach, and you bob your head, swirling your tongue, unable to keep your moans quiet as you taste him.

No sooner have you started, and he's twitching beneath you, the muscles in his groin flexing to hold back, to hold on.

"Want you to swallow it all," he pants. "Don't want - fuck - you to miss a single drop."

His fingers push back into your tender hole then - the inviting warmth of it obviously too much to resist when it's swaying there right in front of him, and you welcome him back in with a sigh.

"Such a fuckin' mess."

You moan in agreement, sucking his cock deeper into your mouth. You can't see him. You don't need to. You know he's close by the way his balls draw tight and his moans get so desperate, his fingers stilling their slow exploration inside you.

And then, he's spurting into the back of your throat - you bet he has his eyes closed - and you swallow over and over, the salty burst of him barely registering on your tasetbuds as you eagerly swallow everything he has to give.

"Get it all. That's it. Swallow it. Fuck, sweetheart."

You suck and lick until his fingers pull out of you and grip your thigh, too sensitive for you to carry on your gentle licks against his head.

With one last gentle suck, you release him with a pop and flop beside him, smiling dozily to yourself as your hands play against your belly.

Joel lays with you for a moment too, his cock going limp against his belly before he tucks it away and sits up.

"Y'always like this after you fuck yourself?" he asks, and you nod, watching the way he stretches his neck and shoulders. You think you are, anyway. Mostly, you fall straight asleep. It's only on these rare occasions you get to fuck yourself with your fingers and take your time that you ended up smiling and satisfied at a job well done.

"Get up here," he says again a moment later, tugging gently at your limp arm. He could manhandle you - he's done it before, he's plenty strong enough - but he doesn't. Instead he waits patiently until you're on your knees in front of him, almost matching his height where he stands and you kneel.

"What'd'ya say?" he asks, pinching your chin. "Tha..."

"Thank you, Joel," you say, with a roll of your eyes. "But, technically, it's your fault I even needed your help in the first place."

With a quick slap to your ass, he pushes your chin away with his thumb, before dragging your face right back to his. "Alright smartass. C'mere."

Then, he kisses you. Full on the mouth, kisses you.

And, when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip, tasting yourself on the fullness of it, he doesn't object. He meets you in the middle instead, tasting himself on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

"Always go so fuckin' dopey for kisses," he says with a laugh against your mouth, and you moan an agreement as your head falls back. You're exhausted, right down to the bones, and now the mornings events are catching up with you.

"I do. You don't mind tasting your cum."

Honest too, apparently, and Joel shakes his head.

"S'mine, and I fuckin' put it there. Nice knowin' you taste of me, sweetheart. If it ain't one hole, it oughta be another."

He shrugs his jacket on, and pulls his shoes onto his feet, before he sees himself out. He pats you gently on the ass as he leaves, closing your bedroom door behind himself. You listen out for the front door, and when it slams, you let the fuzzy feeling take hold - your eyes catching sight of his flannel shirt on your dresser right before you're dragged under.

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[httpsleclerc]

the second date

pairings: Charles Leclerc x Single!Mom!Verstappen!Reader, Charles Leclerc x Romy Verstappen (BABY!OC)

summary: A peak into yours and Romy's second meeting with Charles

warnings: none for this part!

word count: 1.7k

a/n: I really love this little part I think its so cute! Let me know what you think by leaving a comment here or in my inbox!

series masterlist // main masterlist

The sun beamed down on Monte Carlo, an accurate symbol of how you had been feeling in the days since your first meeting with Charles. Talking to and with him, you felt like you could almost forget everything that had happened with Lukas - Almost. You were well aware that you would always have constant reminder of your ex, but that was in no way Romy's fault, you had spoken to Max and Kelly, proposing the idea to them that until or if she asked, you wouldn't tell your daughter about her father, and even then, depending on her age, you would only tell her the appropriate parts - That at some point he had been a good man, and that there came a point where you did what was best for her.

Max had laughed, saying that you were being too polite by calling Lukas a good man - Claiming that that would have been like calling Jos father of the year. Kelly had elbowed him after that, telling you that that sounded like a good plan.

You looked down, smiling at Romy as she curiously eyed all of the trees and greenery above her, giving you a gummy smile as she saw your face in her vision. You adjusted the umbrella to cover her face, protecting her sensitive skin from the harsh rays of the sun - You and Kelly had laughed as you asked Max if he could help you try and apply a layer of sunscreen onto Romy, which you two had known would be no easy feat. However, your older brother, seemingly the baby soother, had managed to apply not one, but two layers of heavy duty sunscreen onto your daughter.

"I see you, Romy," You spoke to her, fondly smiling as she babbled back to you. "Oh you're very talkative, I think you know who we're going to see." You said, scanning for the brunette Monegasque, waving over to him as you saw him sitting on a bench.

It had been Charles' idea to meet you in Romy in a more secluded park in a beautiful area of Monte Carlo, Max had told him that you would most likely need worked up to going to busier areas, especially with Romy. You had always been anxious, your older brother knew that better than anyone did, but he couldn't imagine how you would be feeling having been isolated for so long and going back into such busy environments, never mind adding the single most precious thing in your life into the mix. So, Charles had thought of the small, yet beautiful park that his parents had brought himself and his brothers to as children.

He was trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach he got when he saw you make your way over to him, smiling as he heard Romy babbling from within her stroller. He knew that it would be wrong to propose a relationship to you right now, considering the relationship you had just come out of - He understood if you just wanted to be friends for a bit, he loved both you and Romy too much to miss out on anything.

"Hello you two," He greeted you, a charming smile on his face. You had to admit, Charles was incredibly handsome, but you had always known him to be.

"Hi Charles, nice to see you again," You said cheerily, putting the brake on Romy's stroller so you could lift her out and on to your lap, settling down on the bench beside Charles. "You picked a beautiful day." You told him, smiling as you placed your daughter on your lap, letting her play with the rings on your fingers. 

"I know, you know my parents used to bring me and my brothers here? I thought that maybe it could be something we could do with Romy," He said, only to stumble over his words as you looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "Nono, I-I didn't mean like a date or anything like that...not that I don't want something like that with you! I think you're really pretty and Romy is the most perfect little girl and-...I am making a fool of myself, aren't I?" He held his head in hands, his cheeks heating up as he realised how much he had been rambling.

You giggled, placing your free hand on Charles' back as a means to try and comfort him. He looked up at you, a blush creeping over his cheeks as he made eye contact with you.

"I'd love to do this with you as a tradition, Charles, I um...I just don't think that I'm quite ready for anything more than friends right now," You told him - Charles was at least happy that you could be honest with him, instead of dating him out of pity for his inability to shut up. "I really like being friends with you, Cha, Romy loves you too. You really make me feel listened to, in a way that Max and Kelly don't really get - they look after Romy and I but you..you're different, but in a good way." You assured him, smiling as you ran your hand up and down his back.

As if sensing his sadness, Romy started wriggling in your arms, babbling as she reached for Charles, who immediately perked up as the small girl reached out for him.

"Can I?" You nodded, you loved how he asked before taking your daughter out of your arms. You softly smiled, seeing how content both him and your daughter were with each other - You had seen Charles in interviews, talking about he had wanted 3 children, you could see him outnumbered by girls, begging their daddy to do their hair and play princesses and tea parties. It was funny, you had never imagined yourself having kids, especially not one at 22, but now that you had Romy, you couldn't imagine your life without it, it felt like her being here with you, she completed you - She was your baby and you were her mother, nothing could ever, and would ever change that. "She's so cute, and I see that she let you put her socks on her this time." He recounted, making you laugh as you remembered the day that you had first met up with Charles, more specifically you remembered the 15 minute battle you had with Romy about putting her socks on.

"Max actually got her sorted for today, you would be surprised at how good he is with babies," Charles nodded - He, more than anyone, was probably most familiar with how you and Max were raised, so hearing you talk about how great that your older brother was with your daughter, was almost a shock; Two people who he had expected to want nothing to do with children, had become in closest contact with them, with you being a mother and Max having such a close bond with Penelope. "I'm going to go get something to drink, do you want anything?" You offered him with a smile, watching as Romy, who normally screamed and cried any time you left her, remained perfectly happy in Charles' arms.

"Just a water please, cherie," He responded, gently bouncing Romy on his knee as he watched you nod and walk away, over to the small concessions stand. "Such a pretty girl, aren't you Romy? Just like your mama." Charles spoke to the baby girl on his lap, grinning as she giggled and clapped her small hands together, babbling to him. He sighed as he sat back against the bench, Romy resting against him as she settled down - Charles was thankful he hadn't made a complete fool of himself, although disappointment did weigh on the fact that you weren't looking for a relationship at the moment; However, he understood, and would continue with your friendship.

You made your way back over to the bench where Charles and your daughter sat, Romy having settled against him, almost asleep on his chest. 

"Oh, she um...I think she's asleep, Charles," You said quietly, placing a hand on your daughter's small back. He looked down, noticing that Romy, had in fact, fallen asleep on him. He looked up at you, clearly never having had a baby fall asleep, judging by the almost bewildered look in his eyes. "It's okay, just relax, I'll put her in the stroller so she can sleep with the sun umbrella covering her." You told him, lifting your sleeping daughter off of his chest so he could move without fear of waking her. Making sure that she was in securely, you sat back down, handing Charles the water you had bought him.

"She's so calm, I don't think I've seen a baby sleep so much or fuss so little," You chuckled at Charles' thoughts on your daughter. "Uh oh, that tells me otherwise." He grinned, prompting you to tell him more.

"She's cute, but she uses it to her advantage. She's got her uncle Max wrapped around her little finger already, Kelly and I told him off the other day because she was being fussy because Max had a stroopwafell and she wanted some," You told him, smiling as you remembered the look on your brothers face as Kelly told him off, while you attempted to take the sweet treat out of your daughter's tight grasp. "Getting her onto solids has also been a nightmare, she's a fussy little monster sometimes."

"I bet you wouldn't change her for the world," Charles smiled fondly at you, watching as you studied your sleeping baby carefully. You shook your head, turning to look at the Monegasque once more.

"Absolutely not, I wish I could change her father, but the only plus from him was that he gave me her...my baby girl," You smiled widely, your heart beaming with nothing but adoration for the life that you created. He also smiled, watching you with the same adoration, even if you didn't share the sentiment right now, Charles was almost certain you shared the same feelings, and he would wait until you were ready.

<3

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[starmapz]

man's best friend - r. sukuna

❦ biker!ryomen sukuna x biker!f!reader [non-curse au]

❦ oneshot

❝ you know those videos of people falling in love with the pet they didn't want? yeah, turns out your husband sukuna could be the star of one of them. ❞

❦ cw ; 18+ only. mdni. sexual themes. fluff! husband!sukuna. soft!sukuna. part of the love & company series of oneshots but can be read separately.

❦ words ; 1.8k.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

Shutting the door behind you, you kick your boots off and pad slowly into the house. “Ryo!” You call out in search of your husband, peeking into the kitchen.

He rounds the corner in only a pair of gray sweatpants, every peak and valley of his washboard abs on display. If it were any other day, you would be jumping him in a heartbeat and he knows it. So when you don’t, even as your eyes trail down his body, he approaches you suspiciously.

“Who are you n’ what did you do with my wife?” He asks, a hint of playfulness decorating his tone. He eyes your outfit, still in your riding gear aside from your boots and helmet. You haven’t taken off your leather jacket yet, which is odd.

When his gaze lands on your chest, he narrows his eyes. “You get a third tit at work today?” He asks as he realizes you have a lump hidden beneath your coat. You can’t help your giggles at his stupid joke, shaking your head. The lump shuffles beneath your coat and his eyes go wide.

“You did not,” he deadpans, searching your expression.

Oh, but you did.

“Okay listen, I know you didn’t want a pet until we got a bigger place, but hear me out!” You plead as the lump shuffles more before it finally pokes its tiny little face out from your coat.

Facing Sukuna is the tiniest, most disheveled bundle of fur he’s ever seen. The little kitten is pure black, hair sticking out in every direction and wide green eyes that take in the world as the little furball tilts its head curiously at your husband with a pathetic mewl.

“No. No way, that thing’s gotta be covered in fleas. We talked about a dog,” he shakes his head. “Where did you even find it?”

“Ryo, come on!” You pout at him with a look entirely too similar to the kitten and his glare flickers between the two of you. “I found it in the bushes outside work and my co-worker said it’d been there for a while. I couldn’t leave it!” You insist, pulling the furball gently from within your jacket to hold them tightly to your chest.

He’s probably right about the fleas, but how could you not immediately fall in love with the little kitty as it calmly abides to you holding it like a baby, chewing softly on your gloved thumb as you hold it up to Sukuna.

“We don’t even need a big place to get a cat!” You insist. The kitten stops chewing on your thumb, rounded green eyes turning to stare up at Sukuna as it mewls pleadingly. Sukuna has half a mind to wonder if the kitten can understand you because between the two of you pouting at him, he thinks you have to be conspiring specifically to get him to break.

He sighs dramatically, rubbing the crease between his brows. “Fine. But it’s your responsibility.”

And how is Sukuna ever meant to resist his beautiful wife with the way your eyes light up?

Of course, you knew from the moment you brought the bundle of soot home that Sukuna would cave. What you didn’t expect was the way their dynamic shifted.

After getting cleaned up and visiting the vet, you discovered she’s a sweet little girl and insisted on naming her Jiji, after the cat from Kiki’s Delivery Service. Your husband had more… creative name choices. Pawasaki and Yameowha were among the worst of his horrible bike-related names, but Ducati had to be the one that really took the cake for the one that made you groan the most.

… And it also happened to be the one that stuck.

“Kuna! Have you seen Cati?” At least Cati sounds close to Kitty, right? Peering into the living room, you catch a glimpse of Sukuna laid out over the couch in a black hoodie and gray sweatpants, his arms folded back behind his head and his eyes trained on the TV.

“Yeah, she’s in here,” he replies nonchalantly. Stepping into the room, you look around for her but she’s nowhere to be found. Turning to Sukuna finally, your lips purse and your heart absolutely soars at the sight of the little kitty curled right into the crook of Sukuna’s neck, almost invisible buried in his hoodie.

“Oh. My. God,” you gasp, pulling out your phone to take a photo, which quickly becomes thirty photos to Sukuna’s dismay as his smirk becomes a scowl by the fifteenth. “You two are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. This is gonna be my wallpaper.”

It doesn’t take long for the two to warm up to one another either. Ducati is like his shadow, always following right behind him even as he brushes her off. She’s constantly rubbing against his ankles and mewing for his attention. He doesn’t pay her much mind at first, but his resolve crumbles after only a few weeks.

Brushing your teeth one morning before work, Sukuna walks into the washroom in a red hoodie to grab his razor. As he slips past you, your jaw drops at the realization that Ducati’s little tail is poking out from his hood.

“No way,” you barely manage to mumble through the toothpaste and toothbrush, spitting it out and darting back to your room to grab your phone. It hardly matters that you have toothpaste on your lips still when you need a photo of this right now.

“Your camera roll must be mostly photos of her,” he chides, plugging his razor in.

“You say that like it’s a problem.”

A puff of air leaves his nose in a laugh as he watches your mirth through the mirror. Who is he to deny his wife of having a camera roll full of photos where you can barely make out where your kitten’s limbs start and end?

The day everything changed was when you woke up early enough to see their morning routine. Sukuna got up early to work out and have breakfast before work, while you would practically rush out the door, but your body had other plans today.

The sun warms your cheek as it peeks over the horizon and with a yawn you realize your alarm hasn’t gone off yet. Usually you would just flip over, but a morning with your husband sounds even better.

Slowly shuffling down the hall, you blink sleep from your eyes as you make your way into the kitchen in time to see what might be the funniest thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Sukuna sits down at the table with a breakfast burrito on one plate and another smaller plate in his other hand. He sets it down at the chair beside him with some coffee and your jaw drops when you realize what’s on the smaller plate.

It’s Ducati’s fucking breakfast. He pulls the chair beside him out and pats it before pushing her plate to the edge of the table so that she can reach it.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out. Like a deer in the headlights, Sukuna’s eyes widen, before his expression hardens.

“What? She’s hungry,” he grunts like any of this is normal by any means and he isn’t the cheesiest cat dad on the planet. To think he was a dog person a few months ago.

You burst into laughter as his tough-guy persona crumbles. You may be his princess, but that cat is his queen.

“I need to get my phone, oh my god-”

“Don’t you dare!” He roars, but you’re already racing back to the bedroom in a flurry of giggles. Sukuna sighs, slumping back in the chair as he stares at the ceiling.

“You’re such a sucker,” you tease as you snap another dozen photos of the pair to add to your collection.

“Don’t call me that,” he grumbles, holding his hand up to block the camera’s view of him as though the tattoos on his wrist don’t spell out exactly who he is.

You found out a week later that the next step from breakfast at the table is apparently coming with you on dates.

Finishing up your makeup for your beach day with your husband, you bound over to the door with your duffle bag of towels, sunglasses, and sunscreen ready to go. Sukuna, on the other hand, packed very differently.

Kneeling on the ground, Ducati’s on her side, her fluffy black tail happily swishing back and forth as Sukuna adjusts a harness on her.

“Kuna, as cute as that is, I don’t wanna lose her,” you gently scold, deciding you have to put your foot down when it comes to your cat joining you on your beach date.

“We won’t lose her,” he gruffs, scooping her up into his arms. “She has a tracker tag. It’s connected to my phone.”

You have to stifle a laugh. “Right, of course. That’s super normal. Normal people do this with their cats.”

Sukuna glowers, heat rising from his neck up to his cheeks. To think that this is the same man who cuffed you to your bed frame last night that’s now brimming with embarrassment. “She likes being outside,” he grumbles.

“I know she does but I thought the front yard would be as far as she would go,” you sigh, unable to help your smile. “Fine, Ryo. She can join us, but you better watch her like a hawk.”

“Promise, princess,” he agrees, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Your hickeys r’ showing, by the way.”

You shrug. “My makeup would come off in the water anyway if I tried to cover them and I know you like them,” you smirk. Something dark flashes in his eyes, his free hand that isn’t supporting Ducati in his arms reaching out to rest on your waist. His fingers tighten, his grip sinking into the plush of your skin as he pulls you into him.

“I like when people know you’re mine,” he purrs, eyes lidded. 

“That’s good, because now,” you begin, a gleam in your eye that he recognizes all too well, “people will know that I’m with the big burly biker and his tiny little kitty,” you tease with a grin as you push off of his chest, adjusting your duffle bag over your shoulder. “Come on, you big sucker. Let’s go to the beach.”

Of course, you’ve seen the videos and stories of men who didn’t want a pet later becoming said pet’s best friend, but you could never have imagined that would be your hardened and often cold husband. Especially given that when you had discussed getting a pet, he wanted a big dog like a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd.

Like many other times over the course of your life, he surprises you at every turn as you find him in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of Cheerios with Ducati atop his shoulders. Another time, you find him doing pushups in your bedroom with the cat laying on his back, earning a raised brow. On rare occasions, he even calls both of you ‘his girls’.

Turns out, Sukuna is a cat guy. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way, even if it means you’re not Ducati’s favorite.

main masterlist || love & company masterlist

❦ a/n ; was feeling inspired since i adopted my cat a year ago tomorrow and couldn't help but think this would suit this sukuna really well <3 as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are super super appreciated <33

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writing & format © starmapz. art © too-many-owls. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune.

[punkitt-is-here]

Occasionally I take a peak at DnD Podcast Criticism Subreddits out of morbid curiousity and by god you will find people out there who hate entertainers with every fiber of their being. If they're not playing exactly one-to-one with DnD rules and if they even ATTEMPT comedy or drama dudes online in these miserable little circles shake with rage. I totally think criticism towards a lot of DnD shows is fair, it's great to want the shows you listen to to improve, but good lord

If you talk like this about DnD shows online I know in my heart of hearts playing a tabletop game with you would be misery incarnate

[sageo7]

ask and you shall recieve (regarding stiles req) anyway luv stiles seems like he'd be a munch if you feel me so maybe some stiles being annoyingly persistent in asking for a taste ... because he's a begging loser lol

thank god someone thinks like me ☺️ a bitch is sick so gonna start working through my requests !

it would be completely innocent at first, his head resting on your stomach while your fingers thread through his hair absentmindedly your other hand propping up a book while you read. he gets restless easily, practically trying to bury his face into you completely, arms wrapped securely around your waist. it doesn't take long before he's pressing kisses against your skin lifting the hem of your shirt to grant himself more access. you pause mid sentence to glance down at him curiously mumbling a small "what are you doing?"

he doesn't give you an answer just looking up with those puppy eyes, cheeks flushed scarlet. deep down you already know what he wants, it wasn't uncommon for him to just bury himself between your thighs for hours lapping at your cunt like he was utterly starved. you liked toying with him when he was like this though so you persist "i thought you wanted to cuddle?" you say feigning ignorance.

"please.." is all he murmurs out planting more kisses down your stomach "just.. wanna little taste"

you tut softly going back to your book like you hadn't heard him and that's how you really got him pleading.

"baby please.. just for a little" he borders on whining thumbs tracing small circles over your hip bones. "please."

the only answer you give him is spreading your legs slightly wider nose still buried between the pages. he doesn't hesitate for even a second fingers hooking in the hem of your sleep shorts dragging them down and groaning at the lack of panties. now stiles usually takes his time, making sure to tease and mark you as much as he can but something has him completely impatient this time. his tongue instantly finds your wetness licking a long stripe up and sighing contentedly into your pussy. he works languidly, really savoring the feeling of tracing through your folds and suckling at your clit every so often. with shaky hands you give in setting the book aside and carding your hands through his hair again making his eyes lock onto yours as he continues his ministrations. he was practically drooling into your cunt wetness smeared around his lips and down his chin. his tongue prods at your entrance gently before just shoving in fully making soft moans of bliss fall from both of you. his grasp wanders from your thighs up to your tits grabbing at the soft flesh desperately while he babbles out incoherent praises into your pussy. your thighs start to shake involuntarily and you can feel yourself start to tip over the edge making it your turn to spew pleas and desperate versions of "I'm close" while tugging at the hair locked in your grasp. even after you finally reach that peak stiles lapping up every drop you give him he doesn't stop. he's too pussy drunk to register the sounds of your complaints and protests, instead just spreading you a little wider for him so he can keep going how he pleases.

[taeyongdoyoung]

wicked game

summary: you try to seduce the unpopular virgin to win a bet with your stepbrother. your stepbrother wants to sleep with you and you want his car. but the virgin guy has more to offer... pairing: loser virgin!haechan x popular girl!reader genre: angst, romance, smut, high school setting warnings: the bet trope my beloved, manipulative stepbrother!jeno, ex-boyfriend!mark, innapropriate groping in school, one non-consensual cheek kiss, past man-eater y/n, lowkey corruption kink, lots of kissing, handjob, blowjob, eating out, attachment issues, protected sex (unbelievable), classmates to lovers, non-consensual photo-taking, breakfast in bed, break-up, no pain no gain author's note: this is loosely based on the movie Cruel Intentions minus the dying part; disclaimer: this is a work of fiction, i don't actually think Jeno is an A-hole, i just needed such a character for the sake of the plot word count: 3.7k

You're bored. Being the most popular, prettiest and richest girl in high school is not enough to satisfy your greed. Boys are literally throwing themselves at you in every corner. It's almost too easy. You want a challenge. Something to make the last year of school a memorable one. Something fun.

So, when your stepbrother Jeno presents you with an idea, you accept it eagerly.

"If you're so bored, why don't I propose a bet?"

"What kind of a bet?" you eye him curiously.

"See that guy Haechan? I heard he's a virgin and saving himself for his one ~true love~. How fucking pathetic is that?"

"So? What is it to me?" you scoff, though you already have a feeling where this is going.

"If you manage to seduce that fucking loser, I'll give you my Jaguar."

"Oh, that's very tempting," you smirk. "And if I don't?"

"Then, you'll sleep with me," Jeno whispers in your ear.

"Ew, as if. You're my brother," you make a gagging motion.

"Stepbrother," Jeno points out.

"Still, it's gross," you shake your head.

"Are you scared you'll lose?" Jeno sticks his tongue out.

"I haven't agreed to the bet yet," you answer.

But Jeno knows you too well. You are already thinking of ways to ruin that poor boy Haechan.

You approach him that same day, sitting on the empty seat on his desk. Asking him to do homework together...

"Why would I want to spend time with you?" Haechan spits out.

Ouch. Little one is too feisty for a regular loser. This might be more interesting than you initially thought.

"Why not? If you hang out with me, people will think you're cool," you try to attack where you believe it'll sting.

"So? Popularity isn't everything, you know?" Haechan rolls his eyes. "Besides, people who peak in high school spend the rest of their lives leading a mediocre, non-satisfying existence."

Damn. Pretty harsh. You didn't anticipate this would be so difficult. Oh well, all the more motivation to try harder.

"You admit it, then? That I'm at my peak right now," you smile flirtatiously, running a finger across his face.

"It doesn't matter to me where you think you are," Haechan glares at you, grabbing your finger and removing it from his skin. "As long as you get out of my face."

Gee, so aggressive.

"Did I ever do something to you?"

"No, but you messed with my best friend Mark's head. Leading him to believe you cared for him and then ditching him is so not cool. Now, piss off," Haechan grunts angrily.

You don't even remember half of the names of the guys you slept with. But you do remember Mark. He was really sweet. And if you could feel something at all, it would have been guilt. But back when you were with Mark, your mother had just announced she's getting re-married to Jeno's father. So, you were angry at everyone and everything. And you took it all out on Mark.

"Well, I can't change the past, so don't blame me without knowing the circumstances."

"It doesn't matter anyway. Mark found a girl much better than you who's treating him right."

"What about you? Got someone special taking care of you?" you touch him again, this time more forward and shameless, trying to elicit a reaction out of him. Sneaking your hand underneath the desk and caressing him fondly.

"It's n-none of your b-business," Haechan stammers but he doesn't remove your hand this time. Oh, he's so touch-starved this is going to be a lot of fun. For you.

"I could take care of you, you know? Turn all your wildest dreams into reality."

"I know what you are," Haechan shakes his head.

"A vampire!" you gasp in mock surprise.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Haechan fakes a smile. "You're a man-eater. You fuck around with guys and then you leave them to rot. I want nothing to do with you."

"Really? Then, why haven't you removed my hand yet?" you remind him, though perhaps you shouldn't have.

Haechan grabs your wrist, pushing you away firmly.

"You're wrong, you know," you try to convince him of your sincerity. "I'm just as eager to find someone who loves me. Someone worth staying for."

"And what, you expect me to believe that someone is me?" Haechan stares at you sceptically.

"Let's find out, shall we?" you give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he can escape.

And then, you let him be. Enough torture for day one.

You start interacting with Haechan every day. During the first month, you are consumed with thoughts of Jeno's bet. The abominable idea of sleeping with your stepbrother is enough to keep you going. Of course, you know he's not gonna force you into it. But you need the motivation to not lose the bet anyway. The gorgeous car is also pretty seductive.

During the second month, you are consumed with thoughts of Haechan. You begin to realize how lovely, clever and funny he is. And the fact he's even letting you spend time with him is enough to make you happy. You're no longer bored. Because everyday you have something fun to look forward to. You spend time at the school library, doing homework together, occasionally sending memes to each other. You go on little walks and picnics at the park. You even go to the cinema a couple of times, bonding over your shared love for horror movies.

During the third month, the miracle happens. Haechan decides he trusts you enough to invite you over to his place one evening. He even makes the point of notifying you that his parents aren't home. What does he mean by that? Is this an opportunity for you to finally seduce him?

Naturally, you don't get much homework done, before Haechan starts kissing you out of nowhere. You kiss him back eagerly.

"W-what are you doing?" you ask as you notice Haechan has started unbuttoning his jeans.

"I t-thought you wanted this. S-sorry," Haechan looks down, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. He's in a hurry to zip himself again. God, you feel so cruel.

"I d-do," you admit, no longer giving a shit about that stupid bet. "But I don't want to rush you into anything you're not ready for."

"So, you've heard about what I said at that fucking party?"

"What did you say?" you ask, even though you have an idea of what it involves.

"That I'm saving it for someone special," It being his virginity, you suppose. "Someone who loves me. To be honest, I was really drunk that night. I don't care all that much anymore."

"It's okay to have your principles, Haechan," you try to reassure him and stroke his soft hair gently. "I think it's pretty admirable, actually."

Haechan shakes his head, visibly disagreeing.

"Well, it's fine. I'm ready for this, I promise. Just...don't leave right after, okay?" he pouts.

"Oh, Haechan, of course I won't leave," you reply and surprise yourself in that you really mean it.

Kissing him deeper, you finish what he started and take off his jeans. You touch his cock softly, as if it's the most precious thing in the world. You've done this hundreds of time with guys you didn't give a fuck about and felt nothing, the actions methodical and quick. But this, right now, is more special than your limited vocabulary could ever describe. You realize you genuinely don't want to hurt him. You bow down and envelop your lips around his length. He gets hard easily, considering it's his first time. You suck on him a couple of times and he cums even faster than you anticipated. But for some reason, it's never tasted sweeter.

"S-sorry," Haechan mumbles shyly.

"It's okay, my sweet boy," you coo in his ear, after you're done swallowing his cum. You run your hands through his hair once again. God, it's so silky. You could never get enough of him.

"W-what do I d-do now?" he asks cutely.

"Whatever you want, mon ange," you kiss him once more.

"C-can I eat you out?" Haechan inquires.

Oh, so virgin boy is not so clueless, after all.

"Sure, I guess," you shrug. Not really a huge fan of that, the few times guys have offered, they quickly grow tired of it and could never make you cum as hard as you could by yourself. But it's okay. If Haechan wants to...

"Just...guide me, okay?" he pleads adorably and soon, you find out he needs no guidance at all.

What he lacks in experience, he definitely makes up for with enthusiasm. He seems so eager to please you, licking and biting and kissing your pussy that you cum faster than you have in...well, ever, actually. You grip his hair for support, panting and chanting his name like a prayer.

"Was that alright?" Haechan feigns a self-conscious smile, though judging by your reaction, his smile is already turning into a proud smirk. That bastard.

"Are you kidding? It was...out of this world," you say honestly. Funny thing about honesty is how something that used to be so difficult for you comes so easily to you when you're with Haechan.

"Glad to hear," he grins widely. You want to kiss him every second till the rest of your life. The thought terrifies you.

"I s-should go," you try to get up. You can't do this. You can't be the one to take his virginity. Considering how this all started. It'd be too cruel. He should be with someone special, someone loves him more than anything, someone who'd never hurt him.

"W-what, w-why?" Haechan asks, grabbing your wrist in a panic, not wanting to let go. "I thought you liked me."

"I do like you. I like you so much. That's the problem."

"It doesn't have to be," Haechan disagrees, pushing you back on the bed. "Please, let me."

And here you thought you'd be the one begging him to have sex with you.

"O-okay," you can no longer find it in yourself to deny him. To deny your growing feelings...

Haechan digs through his jeans and pulls out a condom. His hands are shaking and he's having a hard time putting it on so you help him and pull him out of his misery. You give him a soft, reassuring smile, paired with a quick squeeze of his hand. He smiles back just as fondly.

And then he slides inside you so easily. As if he belongs there. As if he's meant to be yours. You kiss him desperately to distract yourself from the truth. To hide the tears that are threatening to come out.

"You f-feel so g-good," Haechan grunts in your ear.

"So do you, baby," you admit sincerely.

This time around, he lasts longer, fucking you until your release comes for the second time. He cums right after, with his hands touching your cheeks, his lips on your neck and his heart on his sleeve.

"Wanna stay inside you forever," he whispers once it's over.

"That wouldn't be very practical," you chuckle. Though you would like nothing more.

But he gets up to get rid of the condom and then comes back, hugging you tightly.

"Can you be my girlfriend?" Haechan blurts out. "I know you probably don't like clingy guys but...considering you've been pursuing me for the past three months, I thought..."

"I'll be your girlfriend," you agree rightaway, not giving a shit about the consequences. "Of course, I will."

He laughs, the sound so precious and filled with joy it breaks your heart.

Maybe he never has to know how it all began. Maybe you could hide it from him forever. Maybe...you could allow yourself to be happy. Just this once.

Soon, Haechan falls asleep, feeling comfortable around you. You know what you have to do, but you feel like shit anyway. You secretly take a picture of his half-naked figure sleeping soundly. You sigh quietly and send the photo to your stepbrother Jeno.

Then, you put your phone down, trying to forget about the whole ordeal. You cuddle up next to Haechan and enjoy his warmth until you fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake up before Haechan and quickly run out to make him some breakfast. You have no idea when his parents will be home but you don't want this to be their first impression of you. So, you leave the breakfast on Haechan's nightstand with a little note.

See you at school, boyfriend! XOXO, Y/N.

Rushing back home, you are satisfied when Jeno gives you the car keys to his Jaguar without protesting. Your stepbrother may be kinda freaky, but at least he's a man of his word. What gives you the creeps is the slight smirk on his face as he hands you the keys. As if he didn't lose the bet. As if he's the winner.

You try not to think about it too much, as you get dressed for school, excited to see Haechan again. You still can't believe he asked you to be his girlfriend. That pretty, sweet boy makes you so unbelievably happy. You look forward to spending more moments in his sunny company.

Haechan wakes up to the smell of warm pancakes, covered with chocolate and strawberries and accompanied by coffee. It immediately brings a smile on his face, which only becomes wider as he sees the little note you left him. He giddily enjoys the breakfast and then rushes to get dressed for school. You're his girlfriend! He's never had a girlfriend and he's so pleased you're being so nice to him. Maybe you really are better than people say and all that past drama was just everyone being jealous of your beauty and popularity...This is going to be the best day of his life.

But when he gets to school, everything changes. He knows that he's considered one of the "losers" in the hierarchy but usually people just ignore him and don't pay attention to him. He's fine with that, really! But today, whenever he walks by, people are snickering and whispering something. It feels so weird and makes him uncomfortable. He can't quite hear what they're saying and this kind of unexpected treatment is killing him.

He goes to his friend Mark to ask him what's up.

"Bro...I don't know how to tell you this," Mark looks away, as if the thing is so bad he can't even say it.

Haechan impatiently begs him to just enlighten him as to why everyone is giving him weird looks all day.

Mark sighs and shows him a secreenshot. There, he sees a photo of himself, half-naked and sleeping soundly. Fuck, that's from last night. And what the messages between you and your stepbrother Jeno reveal...shocks Haechan out of his senses. No...no way it was just a bet. No way you spent three months courting him for a fucking car?! This can't be true. It's gotta be Photoshopped or something.

"Listen, buddy, I warned you that she likes messing with guys and then leaving them."

"No, she...she really seemed to care about me," Haechan is still in denial as his vision becomes blurred with tears.

He runs away, unable to believe what is happening. He needs to speak to you. Hear it from your own lips. To be sure this is real and not just a sick joke.

When he finally finds you, he grabs your wrist as he did just yesterday. But this time, he's not doing to get you to stay. But because he's furious.

"Is it true? Did you really make a bet with Jeno on whether you can fuck me? Did you seriously do all of that over a car?!"

Your facial expressions are enough of an answer. Guilt. Something you never thought you were capable of.

"H-haechan, I swear I can explain," you beg him to hear you out.

"Explain? How can you explain that?" Haechan shakes his head, letting go of your hand. You try to touch him again but he shoves you off furiously.

"It was just a bet at the very beginning. But somewhere along the way, I really started having feelings for you, I promise," you cry passionately. "I don't care about the car, I'll fucking thrash it, I just wanted to get Jeno off my back."

Haechan takes a step back, feeling so betrayed. So...used.

"Whatever you say, I don't think I can believe you anymore. Was it fun, at least? Was this all just a wicked game to you?"

"N-no, it wasn't, I swear it," you are bawling at this point, feeling so pitiful. You don't care if the whole school sees. You only care that Haechan understands. You never meant things to go this far... "I truly care about you, Haechan."

"Yeah?" he scoffs, annoyed. "You only care about yourself."

And with that he leaves. And you lose the one person you truly, genuinely loved.

This is the worst day of your life.

Throughout the rest of the school year you don't dare approach him again. You know you fucked up so badly. You can't even look at that stupid car, let alone consider driving it, so you sell it. Partly because you're angry at Jeno for spreading the screenshot around the whole school. Partly because you no longer want to have anything that will remind you of the biggest mistake you ever made.

With the money you get for the car and some of your own savings, you secretly sponsor Haechan, Mark and their other friends' singing club. You don't even want Haechan to find out. It just...feels right. They could use the extra help.

As the final year of school nears its end, you begin to imagine a future where you never get to see Haechan again. At least, during the past couple of months you had the privilege of looking at him from a distance. But the idea of a world with no Haechan is like a world with no sun.

So, you decide you have to do something as soon as possible. He doesn't have to forgive you or accept you as a girlfriend again. You just want to be in his life in some form.

As you approach the school's radio booth, you feel all the bad things of your past coming back to bite you in the ass. Maybe you deserve to be forever alone. But you need to give it a try. It's your last chance.

"Hi, Mark," you greet your ex-boyfriend.

"What do you want, Y/N?" he sighs, not at all happy to see you.

"Before I get to that, let me just say how sorry I am for the way I treated you in the past. I'm really happy you're finally with someone who appreciates you for how totally awesome you are."

"That's...unexpectedly nice of you to say," Mark eyes you suspiciously. "We were never right for each other anyway. So, what do you want?"

"I want to apologize to Haechan. Through a message broadcasted to the whole school..."

"Gee, and you couldn't do it the old-fashioned way, face to face?" Mark jokes.

"Haechan doesn't wanna see me," you say, fully convinced.

"How would you know without trying?" Mark asks. Has...Haechan told him something? No, you couldn't allow yourself to hope.

"I just know, okay? Please, let me do this. We're graduating in one week, this might be my last chance to talk to Haechan."

Mark nods, agreeing.

"Five minutes," he takes off his headphones and vacates the seat in the radio booth for you.

"Thank you! I mean it," you have never been more grateful for anything.

Mark shrugs as if it's not a big deal and leaves you to it.

"I want to dedicate this so someone I hurt," you speak into the microphone. "Someone who didn't deserve it. Someone very dear to me. Someone I still care deeply about. Haechan, I'm so incredibly sorry, please, give me another chance."

And you start singing.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you

Your voice is off-key a couple of times and halfway through the song you start crying inconsolably, all the guilt and pain consuming you. The whole school is probably laughing at you but you can no longer bring yourself to care. The only thing that matters is that Haechan hears this.

When you finish the song, you leave the radio booth and are surprised to find Haechan right outside the door, willing to talk to you.

"H-haechan," you stammer and barely resist the urge to give him a hug. You don't want him to feel pressured or anything.

"I'll give you a second chance on one condition. I want Jeno's Jaguar," Haechan jokes.

"Too bad, I already sold it and donated the money to your music club so you guys can get new instruments and stuff."

"YOU DID WHAT?!" Haechan exclaims. He doesn't sound angry, though, just...shocked.

"Sorry, sorry, I know it wasn't my place. But it was so unfair the football team and the cheerleading team get so much money but no one cares about the arts."

"Okay, okay, I guess this is better than that ugly car," Haechan chuckles. The car is not ugly. Not even a little bit. But you appreciate Haechan all the more for saying that.

"Can you really forgive me?" you ask desperately, eyes still watery.

"I can forgive you but I'll probably never forget," Haechan admits with a sigh. "If you break my trust again..."

"I won't, I swear!" you vow seriously. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and treating you the way you deserve. You're the best person I've ever met, Haechan. If you'll have me, I want to be around you forever."

"Forever is a long time" Haechan muses out loud. "Considering we're going to college...I don't even know where you're applying."

"I'll go wherever you go," you say hurriedly.

"You can't give up on your dreams just for me, though."

"I'm not. You're my dream, Haechan. You're my sun and I want to be in your orbit. If you'll allow me, that is," you can't take it any longer and hold his hand softly, asking, begging for that second chance not to slip away.

"I'll allow it," Haechan smiles sweetly. "Let's run towards our dreams together, from now on."

"I won't let you down," you promise from the depths of your heart.

And you finally, truly mean it.

The End

[aurynsia]

Hellooo, so I am obsessed with the James Potter fic and can’t help but think of how James would react if he caught Harry writing a letter for Ginny the same way he did for reader? Or maybe his daughter received a letter from someone?

Like Father, Like Son

Dad!James Potter x Reader

Summary: James discovers Harry has inherited his lover boy gene…

Warnings: Mum!Reader x Dad!James, reader is referred to as Harry’s mother with she/her pronouns, not edited.

Word Count: 1K

Masterlist

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Thank you so much for the request! This acts as a sequel to this series, but feel free to read it as a stand alone one shot <3

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Dear Ginny,

there have been three occasions in my life when I’ve known what love is.

The first was watching my parents fall in love more and more everyday, reminiscing on their years spent as high school sweethearts. My dad had confessed to my mum in a series of love letters, initially anonymous before she found him out. They’ve been together ever since, and I long for a love like theirs.

The second time I knew love, it was platonic. My best friends mean the world to me, and they’ve shown me more love in these past few years of school than I’d ever known before. I can trust them with my deepest, darkest secrets, and for that I am truely grateful.

The third time was brought on by you. Ginny Weasley, I’m in love with-“

“Need any help with that holiday homework, love?”

James peaked his ever messy head of hair around the young Potter’s door, balancing a plate of his various house husband specialties in his hand.

Harry flushed with a wide-eyed shock, frozen in place as James pushed further into the room and placed the food on his desk.

“N-no, thanks dad! It’s uh…it’s not hard!” Harry managed to stutter out in reply after a beat, eyeing James curiously as he dotted around the room.

“What do you have there? Is that potions?” James lit up, scurrying over to Harry’s desk, “You know, your mother and I excelled in potions in seventh year! I was head over heels-“

He paused, glancing between the letter on Harry’s desk and his son’s sheepish grin, his eyebrows furrowed in the guilt of being caught.

“My boy…” James began, “Is that a love letter?” Harry looked away, worry clouding his features as he often sought to avoid conversations about love with his dad - he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

“You really are my son!” James exclaimed, running on the spot to release some pent up energy, “Oh, this is great! Who’s it for? Have I met her? Or him! You know I’d never judge-“

“It’s for Ginny, dad,” Harry groaned, interrupting the man who was behaving like a fourteen year old boy. “The Weasley girl?” James paused as Harry winced. “I know she’s my best friend’s sister, but-“

“She’s lovely! Oh, this is perfect! Yes, what a sweet girl - such a welcoming family, her parents are such a treat-“ James rambled as he paced his son’s room, ignoring the way Harry released the breath he held as he broke the news to his dad.

Harry always prayed his parents would never succumb to the expectations of blood status, marrying him off to some pretentious pure blood girl when he’d rather be with the quick witted red head who stole his heart.

Today, it seemed, those prayers had been answered.

“C’mon, son, let me help! I’m good at this, you know, swept your mother right off of her feet! A poet, she had called me, yes! What have you written so far?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You pressed your key into the lock of your front door, twisting and turning to release the latch and enter the warmth of your home.

Letting out a shuddering breath from the frost that hit your neck in the street, you plunged into your hallway, throwing off your coat, bag and shoes before shuffling to the living room fireplace.

“Jamie,” you breathed, smiling with adoration at your husband’s perked up expression, anticipating your approach to the couch like an excited puppy after hearing the door slam.

“My lovely girl, welcome home! How was work? Are you hungry? There’s dinner on the stove,” he rattled off in a string of ecstatic exclamations, jumping off of the couch to wrap you in his strong arms.

You softened at his touch, humming in the warmth of his chest as you told him about your day and asked for late dinner.

“That sounds exhausting, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he mused, pulling you to his chest on the couch after guiding you to the plush cushions with a bowl of food in your hands. “We had quite the eventful day here, too,” he started, bright eyed and reeling, “I’m sure it’ll cheer you up!”

“Tell me all about it, Jamie,” you murmured, cuddling into his chest like it was moulded perfectly for your head. “Harry’s written a love letter, a good one,” he began enthusiastically, “for that lovely little Ginny Weasley he’s been so infatuated with recently!”

He practically squealed at the confession, adding pressure to your waist out of unconscious joy. You grinned in surprise, eyebrows reaching for your hairline as you spun around to face James. “Well, he really is his father’s son, hmm?”

James bounced you on his lap in glee, describing the letter that Harry planned to take back to Hogwarts with him. “And then he’ll slip it under her door! Oh, love, it’s perfect!”

You smiled sleepily at his explanation, rolling your head across his chest to stare up at him dreamily. “He deserves a love like ours,” you mused, “I remember that night, I was so enamoured by your beautiful writing…Harry’s got your big heart.”

“And your beautiful brain,” he kissed your forehead, “and your gorgeous eyes,” another kiss, “and your stunning smile,” one kiss more. You giggled at his touch, leaning impossibly closer to him on the couch.

“If all goes as planned, I suppose we should have the Weasleys over for Christmas,” you mumbled with a sleepy smile, closing your eyes and tightening your grip on James’ arms that captured your waist. “Oh! I’ll make dinner! We can have a big party!”

James Potter, the big, strong man with an even bigger heart who just had to make you fall for his hopeless romantics.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[demonic0angel]

Assistant Jazz au!

Someone records a lovesick Red Hood just ranting about how women who can break him in half are stupidly sexy and posts it to social media. #RelatableRedHood is trending within the week.

(It got long bc I got excited 😭)

The first video goes like this: It starts off with a woman clad in tight leather and a black helmet single-handedly fighting against a group of five men. She fought like a beast, with weapons and guns and on the occasion, her legs as she kicked a man so hard that he had puked his guts out. At one point, she had picked up one by the neck and tossed him to the wall.

The phone camera, shaky and quiet, then turned to face the infamous Red Hood's side profile. He didn't seem to notice that he was being recorded. He had his hand on his helmet-covered chin as he then said, "Do you think if I ask, she'll kill me with her thighs?"

That was when the video cut off. It was posted at 1:32 AM in the morning by an anonymous account with only one tag #RelatableRedHood.

It went stupidly viral. After that, there were more and more videos with the same tag, taken in more and more ridiculous ways to avoid the Red Hood noticing. Gothamites, particular ones from Crime Alley, were all having a great time watching their resident crime lord vigilante make a fool of himself in front of his hot assistant, who hadn't shown any reaction to the recent fame she gained as the woman who owned the legs that could make Red Hood beg for death.

The #RelatableRedHood videos always featured the same thing. Wolf would go about her business and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, or Wolf would complete an impossibly awesome feat with her intelligence or skills in weaponry and fighting, and Red Hood would then absolutely lose his mind afterwards.

Viewers both agreed to his thoughts and laughed themselves silly as they watched the infamous crime lord show just how head over heels in love he was with his assistant. Reaction images and memes went viral as the Red Hood simped over his assistant.

Video after video popped up and they were all clearly taken by goons within the Red Hood's gang due to sheer proximity and brilliant timing. Although videos came out somewhat rarely, probably due to Red Hood's perceptiveness, Gothamites gobbled up each one eagerly.

It all reached to a peak when a livestream link from the Official Robins account was posted at midnight.

In it, the Red Hood could be seen ranting and raving to himself in his office, smacking his helmet-covered forehead. An invisible camera captured it all. "Dammit!! Where are these videos coming from?! Who the fuck keeps making them?!"

He was presumably on call because after a moment, he answered an inaudible voice with a shout, "Like hell I do! Of course take it down! Why the hell would I want Wolf to see them?! She doesn't even know my feelings for her!"

Another pause. And then, "I'm not going to confess!! Why would she even like me anyways?!"

Viewers felt sympathetic for their favorite crime lord, but curiously, the livestream did not end as Red Hood continued to pace and mutter to himself angrily.

Their questions were answered as the door to the room opened and Red Hood hurriedly sat down in his seat, looking up at the door. The camera then captured the sight of Wolf striding into the room. She held papers in one hand and a coffee cup in the other.

Red Hood, silent and tense, clicked on a button, presumably disconnecting the call and then reached for the things she was holding. Wolf avoided his hands, placing the items on the table before she detached part of her helmet and placing it next to the papers.

Both the viewers and Red Hood were confused. More images of Red Hood's bewildered posture on the livestream appeared on the internet with #RelatableRedHood, but people were still focused on Wolf's strange actions.

The camera did not reveal any part of Wolf's face as she left the disconnected piece of metal on the side . She went around Red Hood's desk and sat on his lap confidently as the Red Hood froze like a deer in headlights. She took off his helmet without any resistance, tossed it to the floor, and then grabbed him by the lapels to kiss him senseless.

Cheers and celebrations erupted all over Gotham City as if they had suddenly won the lottery.

Unbeknownst to the Gothamites who were nothing but civilian viewers obsessing over Red Hood and Wolf's romance, Red Robin and Oracle were celebrating in the Watchtower with the rest of the Batfamily, who were all cheering loudly as they closed the livestream and then celebrated for successfully bringing together their brother and his crush.

Mission: Fairytale Ending was a success!

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Little Lupin {Blurb}

James Potter x Lupin!Reader

Part 2 - Part 3

AN: I wrote this on my lunch break, so it's not proof read. Just needed it out of my head RIP.

WC: 1313

“Mate! We are bloody brilliant!” Sirius bellowed out, getting applause from a few of the other red-robes. “Mate! Mate?”

Sirius’s shouts slowly lowered and he looked at James curiously, who was simply staring across the grand hall with heart eyes.

The clatter and hum of students and professors fell on his deaf ears. News of one of the Marauders' newest pranks on Slytherin had sent the hall into a frenzy of giggles and explosive laughter. Watching as the poor Slytherin tried to hide their red hair, the Gryffindors were practically doubled over. Sirius brandishing their win socially while James remained in his own little world.

Eyes on {Y/N} Lupin, who stuck out like a sore thumb. You looked around at your fellow green-robed seatmates and made a playful jab at Dorcas, who then threw a bun at you. Ignoring the glares from Snape and Avery, who were even more pissed that you didn't fall victim to your brother’s trick, you always managed to find some humor in the situation.

Even Regulus Black had his hair dyed; not that he didn't use a potion to change it back instantly. His usual icy demeanor was barely ruffled, but he shot a glance towards you, a mix of curiosity and annoyance. It was no secret that being related to Remus Lupin put {Y/N} in a peculiar position within Slytherin House. Unlike Regulus, she refused to delve deeper than necessary into mediocrity.

"Honestly, you'd think they'd come up with something more original.” You quipped, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you deftly dodged another flying bun.

Dorcas laughed, "Maybe next time they'll get you too, Lupin."

Your shouts across the hall faded further out as Sirius hit James on the shoulder.

“James!” He laughed and James shot up with a loopy smile, glasses sloppy on his face.

“What?” He cheeked, sticking his tongue to his cheek and stealing a glance at you again.

“Oh dude, don't tell me.” Sirius smirked.

James's cheeks flushed slightly as he tried to play it cool, pushing his glasses up to sit properly on his nose. "What are you on about, Pads?" He smirked, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

Sirius waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "You're gone, mate. Absolutely smitten with {Y/N}, aren't you?"

James's eyes widened, and he quickly looked around to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. Wrapping his arm around Sirius and yanking him down so they were closer to the table. "Keep your voice down!" He scolded, though his tone was more embarrassed than angry. "It's not like that."

Sirius grinned, like he had just learned the secret of a lifetime. James knew he was screwed. "Sure, sure. You’ve been staring at her for the past ten minutes like she's the Snitch and you’re about to win the Quidditch Cup.”

James opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as he caught another glimpse of you, laughing and shoving Evan Rosier’s shoulder was he inspected your hair playfully. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged on his lips at your smile, he couldn't even bring himself to be jealous, he'd play with your hair too if you'd let him.

James glanced back at Sirius when he realized he had zoned out again, looking like a guilty puppy as he smiled up at him, talking far louder then he intended to. “You know, Remus’s sister.. she's fit, yeah?”

As if Merlin was having a laugh at their expense, two large hands grabbed their shoulders. Remus peaked his head between them with a chillingly sweet smile, tooth and all.

“I'll cut your eyes out, James.”

James's face went a shade paler as he felt Remus's grip tighten on his shoulders. He gulped audibly, trying to muster a nervous laugh, but it came out as more of a squeak.

"Moony! I-I didn't see you there," James stammered, his eyes wide with a bright nervous smile, trying to play it off.

Remus's smile didn't falter, but his eyes were steely. "Oh, I bet you didn't.” He said, his voice calm but hiding a threat. "Now, what was that about my sister being 'fit'?"

Sirius, deciding to abuse his power as boyfriend, leaned forward to smirk at Remus. “She is though, yeah? It's the Lupin genes. Glad I got mine when I did.”

Remus glared down at Sirius with a scandalized look.

"Sirius.” Remus practically growled through gritted teeth, "I can deal with you later. Right now, I'm more concerned about our dear James."

James looked pleadingly at Sirius, silently begging him to stop making the situation worse. Sirius, however, was having far too much fun to let it go.

"Oh I bet you will.” He smirked and looked Remus up and down before leaning back into his hand. “Come on, Moony.” Sirius chuckled with a playful grin. "It's not like Prongs is planning on asking her out. He's just… appropriating her beauty.”

“Sirius-” James hissed before they were all interrupted.

You had walked up, with a playful glare and a bright smile. “You boys are ridiculous. When I let you into the Slytherin commons I thought it would just be a handful of us. Everyone? You dyed everyone's hair? You laughed in disbelief.

Sirius smirked, crossing his arms. “No clue what you're on about, bird. Do you, Remus?”

“Not a clue.” Remus hummed, playing along with Sirius's game of plausible deniability. Still glaring at James.

“Do you, James?” Sirius then looked down at James who was giving that same love sick look, a million miles away. James snapped back to reality, his eyes widening as he realized you were standing right there. He stammered for a moment, the color returning to his face tenfold. “Uhm- nope,” His voice cracked and he looked like he wanted to die. Looking down at his plate absolutely ready to jump into the black lake.

You couldn't help but laugh at the sight of James looking so disjointed. "It's alright, James. Next time, maybe don't make me guilty by lack of evidence?” You laughed, gesturing to your hair with a teasing wink, though you had no idea just how much that affected him.

James's cheeks flushed even more, if that was possible, and he muttered, "Ya, yeah agreed, {Y/N}."

You curled your eyebrow at him and your smirk deepened. Instead of tease him further, you nodded and turned your attention to Remus. “Hey, Rem, can you help me with my transfiguration study today?”

“Why would I do that?” Remus smirked as you gave a helpless scoff.

“Well.. if you don't, I'll tell Sirius on you.” You challenged and Remus looked down at Sirius as he gave a dramatic gasp.

“Do as she says, Remus, we'd hate for that to happen.” Sirius chuckled and you smirked triumphantly.

“I'm still not done with you.” Remus grumbled to Sirius before he looked at James. “You either.”

“Thank you Rem!” You chirped as turned to leave, meeting up with Dorcas and Pandora at the entrance of the grand hall.

The second the grand doors closed behind you Sirius nearly lost it as he fell over laughing.

Remus covered his mouth and snickered as well as James flushed and hid his face in his hands.

“Merlin! You practically proposed to Lily Evans but you can't even look her in the eyes!?” Sirius fell back and Remus was quick to catch him, equally amused.

James groaned, his face still buried in his hands. "You're not helping, Pads.” He groaned, absolutely mortified, his voice muffled.

Remus shook his head, though he couldn't hide the amusement in his eyes. "I think what Sirius is trying to say, is you need to relax, James. {Y/N} isn't going to bite your head off."

“At least not with that attitude.” Sirius cheeked and earned a hard smack from Remus.

“I'll end you both.”