#no tricks fanfic

[waternilly]

No Tricks (George Weasley X OC) - Part 5

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x OC Word count: 1.9k Warnings: Alcohol, little cursing Ao3 link: here Summary: A tattoo shop opens across from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, immediately catching the eye of the youngest twin. The intriguing owner, though well-versed in the magical world, doesn’t quite belong to it herself. As they navigate their differences, their mutual curiosity blooms into something deeper. Harry Potter Masterlist

Once again facing the door of Olive Tree Art & Tattoos, George leaned against the wall as he knocked above the window. He had guessed Oli’s silhouette sitting by the desk downstairs, so there was no need to ring the bell. He was proven right when a dark haired figure stood from behind the table to welcome him inside.

She had a kind smile, eyes crinkling as he entered.

“How was your lunch?” she wondered, closing the door behind him.

George sighed but nodded nonetheless: “Good! Most of the family came, so we were pretty crammed, but it was fun.”

Oli motioned vaguely to the couch and lifted her shoulders.

“Can I offer you something?”

“If you have anything to accompany this,” George said as he showed off the wine but did not sit, “it would be lovely.”

Oli reached for the bottle to check its label. A french white. George had never heard the name of the domain before receiving this gift, but at least he knew what a chardonnay was.

“Perhaps some ice cream?” he suggested hesitantly.

Smirking, Oli looked up at him and let go of the bottle.

“I should have some.”

She led the way up the stairs and George followed suit. As they walked, he could not help but steal a glance at her hands, now that he knew what those markings were. He realized the illustrations were buildings, finely etched into her skin, and he longed to hold her hands in his to observe them better.

Taken aback by his own thoughts, George paused as he reached the top floor closely behind Oli. Surely his ears were turning red, weren’t they? He swore he could feel the heat rise up his neck.

Suddenly shy, George stayed by the stairs, uncomfortably looking around. He was in Oli’s bedroom, a double bed pushed against a wall with a nightstand next to it, and a cabinet filled with electronics in front of it. Across the room was a window that offered him a view of his own apartment above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, accompanied by a small table and a chair. Oli disappeared into a room on the left, which he guessed to be the kitchen, as he remembered seeing her there from across the street. There was another door to the right, behind him, that most likely led to a bathroom or closet.

“Aha!”

Oli emerged from the kitchen triumphantly, holding a tub of vanilla ice cream.

“I found some!”

She quickly glanced at the room, clothes piled on the bed.

“I’m sorry about the mess. Do you wanna go back downstairs?”

Yes.

“No, it’s fine.” Nodding to the small table by the window, George wondered: “Shall we?”

Oli smiled and approved of the suggestion.

“There’s an extra chair in the closet. Can you grab it while I get the glasses?” she asked, pointing to the door behind George.

As she disappeared back into the kitchen, George cursed under his breath. He swallowed and shuffled over to the table, putting the bottle down in a hurry.

The walls were white and largely undecorated, unlike downstairs. Only a few paintings and photographs were spread, representing nature or people. Undoubtedly landscapes and loved ones from back in Belgium.

Opening the closet door, he was grateful to find the chair easily, placed against the back wall behind half a dozen pairs of shoes and some coats.

Crossing the room again, he carefully moved the table and the already laid out chair further from the wall, so as to install the second one in front of it. Just as he sat down, Oli came back holding a small tray on which rested two bowls with spoons stuck in them, and two wine glasses. She carefully put the board down before pulling out a corkscrew from her back pocket.

“Will you do us the honor?” she asked, handing it over to George.

“I’ll try my best.”

As he busied himself with the newly appointed task, Oli emptied the contents of the tray onto the table and discarded it on the cabinet. Still standing, she asked while pointing to a record player: “Do you mind?”

He assured her that it was all the same to him, and she picked out a disc to play on the turntable. By the time she was done, the bottle was open and George filled the bottom of her cup.

As a quiet melody filled the room, Oli sat down to face George.

“Would you like to taste it?” he asked.

Briefly staring at the glass, she answered: “Quite frankly, I don’t know shit about wine.”

George chuckled.

“I don’t know much either,” he admitted, shrugging.

It was her turn to smile.

Picking up the glass, she twirled it under her nose before taking a sip. As she met George’s gaze again, she smacked her lips rapidly.

“Doesn’t taste like vinegar!”

With crinkles around his eyes, George poured her a more generous glass before serving himself. She pushed one of the bowls closer to him and took the other for herself.

A comfortable moment of silence settled between them, only filled by the melody of the record player. Furrowing his brows, George leaned into the sound.

“Something the matter?” Oli asked.

“I think I know that voice,” George explained.

“Oh yeah, you probably do!”

“How so?”

“That’s Pulp.”

“Who?”

Oli chuckled.

“The lead singer is called Jarvis Cocker.”

George’s gaze traveled back and forth between Oli and the turntable.

“Myron Wagtail from The Weird Sisters.”

“Oh!”

That voice was indeed familiar.

“Wait, what did you call him before?”

Oli snickered again.

“Jarvis Cocker.”

“Why would you call him that?”

“Because that’s his name.”

“But his name is Myron Wagtail.”

“Not for Muggles.”

George’s jaw dropped as realization dawned on him.

“Two persona’s?”

Oli nodded with a smile.

“How do you know about that?”

“Dad’s side of the family. I spent a lot of time with my aunt. She was a fan.”

Pointing to records on the cabinet, she added: “Those are hers.”

With the spoon hanging from his lips, George nodded in understanding. He stared out the window at his own apartment to keep himself from looking at her for too long.

“So what’s your story?” she asked.

Scooping another bit of ice cream into his mouth, George raised his eyebrows in question.

“You know… I’m from Ghent, my grandparents are Muggles, I’m a tattoo artist. What about you?”

Swallowing the ice cream, he started: “I’m from Devon, the fifth of seven children, I create pranks with my twin.”

Oli raised her eyebrows.

“And?”

“And I enjoy Muggle music, reading, and petting cats.”

She chuckled.

“That all sounds lovely.”

He scooped up some more ice cream as she sipped from her glass.

“I can’t offer you a cat to pet, but if you ever want to borrow any of those,” she pointed to the records, “you’re welcome to do so.”

He nodded and thanked her.

“I’d take you up on that, but I don’t have a turntable.”

She smiled apologetically.

“I guess you’ll just have to come back in that case.”

George felt his ears heat up.

“How come you know about Muggle music?” she wondered.

He suddenly noticed how soft her voice was, gentle and quiet. There was less showmanship involved than during the inauguration.

“My dad got me an old radio,” he explained as he scraped the bottom of his bowl. “I listen to it while cooking.”

“What channel?”

“Something called Virgin Chilled I believe?” he angled his head.

“I see.”

He hesitated.

“Is that not the right answer?”

Oli laughed as she grabbed her wine glass, bowl now empty and discarded.

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t listen to the radio a whole lot to be honest.”

“Prefer records?” George asked, nodding towards the cabinet with a playful grin.

“Yes,” she said, “and Spotify for convenience.”

“What now?”

She looked amused.

“An app that allows you to play music on your phone.”

“Phones play music?”

“Smartphones definitely do.”

“What about dumb phones?”

She pondered the questions for a second, chin resting between her thumb and index, trying to hide her smile.

“They could too, but you had to download the music first.”

“You know, you can’t keep making up new words,” George joked.

He was not sure if it was him or the wine speaking, but he did not stop Oli when she refilled his cup and her own.

“What’s not clear?” she asked.

“Well for starters, what’s a download?”

Patiently, she explained the foreign concepts. A part of him could not wait to explain all of those things to his dad. He would be over the moon about all this new knowledge. But then again, perhaps his father should speak directly to Oli. She was doing a wonderful job, not sounding condescending but rather excited at the prospect of sharing these facts with him. He could already picture her and Arthur, deep in conversation over a handful of biscuits and tea, or at the end of the dinner table.

As he listened to her, he did not realize that a smile bloomed onto his face until he was almost beaming. 

Clearing his throat, he forced his gaze towards the street, looking down at the cobblestones. Heat rose up his neck again and he wondered if it was time for him to leave, or if he could blame the wine. He wanted to, but he knew deep down that the wine was not the sole responsible.

“A last one?” Oli asked, holding the almost empty bottle above his glass.

George stole a glance at his wristwatch. How had an entire hour passed? Sure, she had explained downloads, and apps, and smartphones, and maybe 10 other concepts, but still. An hour?

The small hand was reaching 6 and he figured it was time for him to go home to prepare dinner.

“Actually, I better leave.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, I should start cooking.”

“Okay.”

Oli offered him a small smile.

“You can keep the bottle.”

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you can use it for a sauce?” he suggested, trying to keep the conversation going for a little bit longer.

“I’m not that good of a cook.”

“Oh.”

George licked his lips.

“Perhaps I could show you some day?”

Oli smiled and looked down, bashful.

“That would be lovely.” Meeting his gaze, she added: “I’ll bring a bottle then.”

With crinkles around his eyes, George nodded: “Sounds like a plan.”

They sat in silence for a moment, grinning at each other. The record had reached its end many eons ago, but neither of them had bothered switching it out. 

Finally breaking eye contact, George cleared his throat and stood up, followed suit by Oli. He led the way back, as she followed right behind him. A tension formed as they walked down, suddenly unable to exchange a single word.

Standing by the door, their gazes met again at last. George swallowed hard before speaking.

“Thank you for the afternoon.”

“Well thank you for providing the wine.”

He licked his lips.

“Should we do this again?”

“Definitely.”

They exchanged shy smiles.

“Can I count on you for the ice cream?” Oli asked.

“My freezer will always be full.”

A final moment of silence stretched.

“Right…” George whispered as he left.

“Get home safely,” Oli called out from behind him.

Turning around, he continued walking backwards, and took a bow. Oli laughed and shut the door.

George walked into the empty store and quietly closed behind him. Resting his head against the wall, he activated the lock. A sigh escaped his lips and he caught himself beaming once more.

He was in so much trouble.

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes:

Updated 9th September 2024 More writing tips, review tips & writing description notes

Facial Expressions

Masking Emotions

Smiles/Smirks/Grins

Eye Contact/Eye Movements

Blushing

Voice/Tone

Body Language/Idle Movement

Thoughts/Thinking/Focusing/Distracted

Silence

Memories

Happy/Content/Comforted

Love/Romance

Sadness/Crying/Hurt

Confidence/Determination/Hopeful

Surprised/Shocked

Guilt/Regret

Disgusted/Jealous

Uncertain/Doubtful/Worried

Anger/Rage

Laughter

Confused

Speechless/Tongue Tied

Fear/Terrified

Mental Pain

Physical Pain

Tired/Drowsy/Exhausted

Eating

Drinking

Warm/Hot

[frownyalfred]

want your favorite author to update but don’t want to be too pushy in their comment section?

here’s 5 things you can do to encourage them:

Reblog their fic link on tumblr (bonus if it’s with tags)

Bookmark the fic with a note about what you’re excited about/love in the fic

Recommend the fic to your friends or local discord channel

Draw art or create other media for the fic (as indicated by the author’s comfort level)

Leave them a comment when re-reading about the parts of the chapter/story that stood out to you the second time

[coffeetank]

Ideas to Show Secret Pining

"Why don't you join me?"

"I'll give you a ride, don't worry."

*does something they don't like* "What? I like it."

*immense staring at every chance they get*

*thinking of their crush while listening to songs*

"You said you liked it so I brought it for you."

*finds ways to spend more time with them*

*friendly bullying intensifies*

"I'm looking forward to seeing you there."

"Are you gonna be there?"

"How about we sneak off, just you and me?"

"Why don't I cook for them? What's their favourite dish again?"

*aggressive google searches about how to propose to your crush*

"I'll join those dance lessons, maybe then she'll notice me."

*hopeless around them*

*failed flirting attempts*

*increased compliments*

"My problem is that I like them a little too much for my sanity."

*gets jealous* "So, are you seeing them or something?"

"Are you okay?" // "Completely okay!" (definitely not okay)

*tries to sabotage their crush's date*

*gets into trouble so they can be scolded by their crush*

"I want you to come with me, please?"

-ashlee

[museaway]

ask box trick-or-treat (fic writer edition)

Send an ask with "Trick or treat!" to the writer who reblogged this & you could receive a 3-sentence fic, drabble, headcanon, sneak-peek at a WIP, the last sentence they wrote, a new fic idea, random line from a fic, picture of their notebook, a deleted line they love, an idea for a sequel, something they're researching, behind-the-scenes info on a published fic, or something else!

happy halloween!

reblog to welcome trick-or-treaters to your inbox! 🕸️🦇

[alistairsprayerwarrior]

Showing versus Telling

I struggle a lot with "showing and not telling." Here's some exercises and techniques I've tried to practice this from researching different methods that I just conjured up together (please take with a grain of salt, everyone is different, lol.):

Object Observation: Choose an object in your immediate vicinity and describe it without naming what it is. Include details about its texture, color, size, shape, and any other distinctive features. Basically: have someone else to identify it based on your description.

Character Emotions: Write a list of emotions and for each one, write a short scene that shows a character experiencing that emotion without directly stating what the emotion is. i.e., Instead of saying, "Alistair was angry", you could say... "Alistair's fists clenched, his jaw tightened; his face turned red as he stared at the broken amulet on the floor."

Active Verbs: Challenge yourself to rewrite sentences using more active, specific verbs. i.e., "She walked into the room" (telling) could become, "She strutted into the room, her boot heels clicking against the marble floor" (showing).

Sensory Details: Choose a setting, real or fictional, and describe it using all five senses. What can a character see, smell, hear, taste, and touch in this environment, or moment?

Dialogue: Use dialogue to reveal information about your characters and the plot. Instead of telling the reader that a character is upset, show it through what the character says and how they say it.

In-Depth Character Description: Take a character from your story and describe them in detail. Show their personality through their actions, speech, and appearance, rather than direct statements.

Rewrite Telling Sentences: Take a piece of your own writing or a passage from a book and identify the "telling" sentences. Rewrite them in a way that "shows" instead.

Hope this helps! ✍(◔◡◔)

[maesonc-artistic-adventures]

Based on Chapt 13 of @cutebutalsostabby ‘s fanfic “Big Oof 2022, aka Whumptober”

“‘You,’ Hyrule declared furiously, ‘are an absolute, complete dumbass.’

Lying prone on the ground with a deeply pissed-off mage looming above his head, it was rather difficult for Warriors to argue the point. He gave a weak thumbs up and croaked back, ‘Yep.’

Hyrule shook his head disbelievingly and announced, ‘You and Legend give me shit for this all the time, but you’re both equally as bad.’

Warriors nodded. ‘Very true,’ he rasped peaceably. ‘Be sure to learn from our bad examples.’”

————————————

Hyrule and Warrior’s dynamic is so excellent and few do it as well as this fic!

[justaz]

when merlin asks arthur for things, the king is usually inclined to give him what he wants but it is not always guaranteed such as when his emotions cloud his judgement. but merlin’s surefire way of getting arthur to give in? he steps into his space, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says “arthur, please” and he folds like a house of cards.

[navybrat817]

Teacher's Pet

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You role-play a bit with Bucky before a costume party. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, role-play, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #6 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Not exactly a costume party with this Stud and Smartie poll winner, but close? @mumbles411, I think you'll appreciate it.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tonight was Tony's Halloween party and it was the perfect excuse to bring one of Bucky's fantasies to life. Months back, he told you about a particular role-play he wanted to try. You, shockingly, didn’t jump him then and there when you asked him to repeat himself, which he did. Right against the shell of your ear.

"I wanna fuck you while you wear a schoolgirl outfit."

Whatever you want, Stud.

You had to admit to yourself, that particular fantasy sounded like fun. You hadn’t thought about fucking any of your teachers before. Had Bucky actually been one of your professors, however, you would’ve been more than willing to cross a line. Who wouldn’t risk it all for him?

You inspected yourself in your mirror with a soft groan as you twirled. You reassured yourself after a moment that you looked good and Bucky would love your costume, if that's what you'd call it. The soft blue cardigan matched one of the shades in the short plaid skirt, which barely covered your ass. The white button-up exposed your midriff, along with the top of your bra, and the knee-high socks provided the finishing touch.

I look sultry, right? No, innocent. Both? Sulocent? Innotry?

With a deep breath, you pushed your door open and left your room to find him.

Oh, fuck.

You weren't sure if you said the words in your head or out loud as you spotted him standing beside the bookshelf in the living room. Everything went quiet in your mind as his gorgeous eyes met yours, but your heart almost raced out of your chest. Instead of his normal work or casual clothes, he had a tight sweater vest over a nice shirt and tie. The outfit made your massive boyfriend look even larger than normal somehow. He even wore a pair of fake glasses to complete his look.

“Well, look at you,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging in a smile as you bit your lip.

Yeah, look at me.

Something predatory in Bucky’s gaze surfaced as he dragged his eyes down the length of your body. You worried initially that the costume was cliche when there were so many others to choose from, but you felt sexy from the way he looked you over. You could’ve worn a hideous costume and he would’ve managed to find a way to compliment you. Tearing your gaze away to glance at the clock, you realized you had time to have some fun together before you had to leave for the party. At least, you hoped he wanted to fool around.

“Professor Barnes,” you breathed, hoping the next words out of your mouth wouldn’t sound ridiculous as you smoothed out your skirt. “Do you have a few minutes to discuss my paper? I want to make sure it’s perfect before I turn it in.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted to experience a bit of role-play before the party, but you wanted to give it to him if he did. The two of you did your best to please one another and it would be something for him to remember for days to come. You would, too.

And I can play it off if he decides he’s not into it, right?

He pushed himself away from the bookshelf to walk toward you, taking slow and deliberate steps as your breath hitched. “Do you normally violate the dress code when you want to discuss a paper? Not what I expect from my top student,” he said, making you swallow as he brushed a finger along one of the buttons on your top. “Or were you just trying to get my attention?”

“I’m going to a party,” you answered, smiling to yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll catch someone’s eye.”

Bucky jaw clenched he stepped closer, forcing you to take a step back with wide eyes. “Is that right? Who said you’ll have time to go to this party?” he asked, backing you up until you were in your bedroom again. “If you really want your paper to be perfect, we’ll have to go through it line by line. That could take quite a bit of time.”

You tried to keep your breathing even as your eyes stayed on him, praying you appeared seductive as you walked backwards until your hips met your desk. “A bit of time? That could take all night, Professor,” you protested, lost in his gaze as he pushed a thigh between your legs.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice quiet and deep as he braced a hand on each side of you. How was it possible for you to come undone when he hadn’t actually touched you? “You still want to be my top student, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” you answered as he leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, not kissing you just yet as you whimpered. Praise from Bucky always spread warmth through your core. “You do want to be my good girl, right?”

A shiver rolled down your spine when he brought his hands up to cup your face. It didn’t matter how he dressed or acted or what games you played. You knew in your heart this was your Bucky, your roommate, your everything. You were his as much as he was yours. So if he wanted you to be his good girl, you’d give him that.

“Yes, Professor,” you whispered.

His mouth hovered over yours before he kissed you, your mouth moving in perfect time with his. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when you inhaled, the touch and smell of him a sensual assault on your senses. The kiss was deep and thorough, a promise of what was to come. It made your head spin when his tongue brushed against yours, your hands flying up to his shoulders because you feared you’d collapse otherwise.

We really might not make it to the party.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough as he backed up enough for you to face your desk. Your body felt hot and needy, desperate as you fell into that familiar pit of need you often found yourself in with him. “And bend over.”

Blood warmed your cheeks as you bent over as instructed, your ass on display. Well, almost. You wore a pair of snug underwear that covered as much of you as possible. No doubt he saw the wet spot that formed and you didn’t have it in yourself to feel embarrassed with how turned on you were.

“I don’t even have to look at your pussy to know how pretty it is,” he said, flipping your skirt up a bit more. “Bet it’ll look even prettier when it’s taking my cock.”

Please, please, please.

“I thought we were going to discuss my paper,” you said, peering over your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that, but I think we should take care of each other first,” he said, making you clench around nothing as he touched your covered slit. “Or was it your goal to make me hard in my pants and go along your way?”

“No, Professor. I wouldn’t tease you,” you promised, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he slid your underwear down to your ankles.

“Of course not because you’re my good girl,” he said, your thighs trembling as he pushed them further apart. “My brilliant, sexy, good girl.”

Your head nearly collapsed against the desk, your eyes squeezing shut. Why did his praise make you feel hot and want to cry at the same time? “I…”

Bucky’s hands froze on your thighs when you sniffled, immediately leaning over you and touching your cheek. “Are you okay? Check in, Smartie. Please,” he said softly.

As if you needed more reasons to love Bucky, the fact that he stopped to make sure you were okay meant the world. “Green, Stud. Very much green. I'm okay. I’m sorry,” you replied after taking a breath, your heart nearly beating out of control. “ The praise just hit me all the sudden. And I just love you so much.”

And here you were trying to do something sexy and fun for him and you ruined the moments with your emotions. The erection in his pants probably faded as soon as you sniffled. Maybe the two of you could leave for the party and try again later.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple where you felt him smile. “First, you don’t need to apologize for getting emotional. Second, I love you, too. So much. And third, we'll only keep going if you want to.”

Your eyes shut, the urge to cry both surfacing again and subsiding at his words. “I didn’t ruin the moment, did I?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“You’d never ruin the moment,” he replied, his lips touching your temple once more as you sighed. “Trust me.”

It was comforting that you could talk to Bucky about what was going on in your head or heart, whether you elaborated or kept it short. Which was why you felt confident again when you opened your eyes and glanced back at him, seeing only love, desire, and something soft in his stare. “In that case, I want you to fuck me bare, Professor.”

Bucky groaned, his soft hair tickling your neck, before he leaned up. He kept a hand on your back like he knew you needed his touch, his other hand quickly working to open his pants. “You think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re at the top of my class?” he asked, easily slipping back into his role. “You think you’ve earned my cock?”

“I can take whatever you give me. And I’ve earned it. I’m your good girl, remember?” you said, your nipples aching through your clothes as he pressed you further into the desk. Fiery shocks and heat went through your body as his finger teased your clit. “Please.”

You whimpered as he moved the digit to your folds, spreading the growing moisture around with a hum. He teased your hole, but didn’t push inside. The slow torture made you quiver and you wondered just how much more begging you had to do.

“Really is a pretty pussy for me to ruin,” he said, finally pushing in with little resistance. Your eyelids fluttered as he slid in and out, but you needed more. “Maybe I should let you go to that party. Send you in there dripping with my seed and show those boys who you belong to.”

“Please, ruin me,” you begged when he pulled his finger out, looking over your shoulder again. He was going to fuck you with the glasses on and the thought had your body going up in flames. Almost as much as the fact that he was stroking his hard cock to the sight of you. “Make me yours, Professor.”

“You’re already mine, baby,” he told you as he lined himself up. “But if I need to come inside you to prove it, so be it.”

You cried out as he thrust into you, the stretch intense and the force hard enough that you had to grip the desk to hold on. Waves of sensations threatened to explode through you at the deep slide of his cock, your body more worked up than you initially thought. You crushed your chest against the hard surface beneath you and you moaned as he pushed in more. There was no doubt in your mind that he was in control.

And you loved every second of it.

“Fuck, I needed this,” he groaned, his hand mapping along your back as you melted under his tender touch. “Should make you ride me wearing this. Put your hands behind your back with my tie.”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant when you moaned, licking and lightly sucking as his hips rocked against yours. The image of you in his lap filled your mind, your hands bound as he helped you bounce up and down on his cock. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he was practically pounding you into your desk and you wondered why you hadn’t worn an outfit like this for him sooner.

“Should keep you under my desk,” he went on, feeling his weight press you down more as he thrust. “Such a smart mouth in class, I know you can use it to keep me warm.”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, trying to push your hips back. He drove harder and deeper, your wet walls on the verge of quivering with bliss. “Please, Professor.”

He chuckled low in your ear, your eyelids fluttering again as you mewled. Your building orgasm threatened to rip through you and you barely registered that you begged for him again. “Already close, aren’t you? And I thought you were a good girl,” he said, his breath hot as he sped up his thrusts. “But bad girls let their professors fuck them bare, don’t they?”

“Y-Yes,” you whined, your eyes starting to roll back when he angled his hips to hit that glorious spot inside you. “Oh- There. There! Please!”

“My good and bad girl,” he grunted, moving faster as you arched your back, needing desperately to come.

“Want you to come in me,” you blurted out, teetering on the edge. Just a bit more and you’d fall. You needed it.

“I’ll come in you when you come for me,” he urged, smiling when he said the words that made you come undone. “You can do it, baby. Make me proud.”

The cry you let out was a decibel you didn’t think you were capable of reaching when you came, succumbing to pleasure as you shivered beneath him. He let out an impressive string of swears as you quivered around him, chasing his end as ecstasy flowed through you. A few more thrusts and he was gone, painting your walls with a growl before he rested his head on the back of your neck, both of you trying to steady your breathing.

You made a sound of protest as he pulled out of you, both because you didn’t want him to leave your body and you didn’t want his release spilling all over the floor. As if he sensed the latter, he pulled your underwear back up your legs. “Hey. I’m here,” he said, carefully guiding you to the bed so you could cuddle together. You were thankful he moved you since you didn’t have the strength to move yourself.

Fuck the party. I can’t walk.

“So,” he said after a minute, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed your back. “You earned an A.”

You giggled when he smiled, the sight making your heart speed up again. “Yeah?”

���Oh, yeah,” he sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. You were glad he was satisfied. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Don’t thank me. It was fun for both of us,” you said, tracing a heart on his chest. “The glasses really are a nice touch. You should wear them again.”

“Yeah? You like how I look in these?” he asked, adjusting them on his nose.

“I do. You’re always handsome,” you said, his blue eyes crinkling behind the lenses.

“I like looking good for you,” he said, tilting your chin to give you a soft kiss. “And I’m fucking you at the party.”

Oh, Stud. You know how to make a girl feel special.

“You better,” you said, burrowing yourself closer. “But I need a minute before I try to move, Stud.”

“Whatever you want, Smartie,” he whispered, linking your fingers together as he took your hand. “Whatever you want.”

These two will always have a special place in my heart. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[theyluvlyss]

age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

I am thirsting so hard for remy after watching the movie… with this I can just imagine a young yet powerful mutant coming to the void and she never got the experience in sex in her timeline. So remy takes it upon himself to teach her the ways of the bedroom… first time may have involved a mistake with her powers when she cums for the first time but he’s so understandable and says like “you need to practice your control mon cherie” so he just dives back in for more (he makes her cum like 5-7 times from head alone cause he makes his woman feel amazing I bet) this is so long sorry hope you like this 😅🩷

𝐇𝐅𝐉𝐒𝐊𝐂𝐈𝐉𝐆𝐊𝐆𝐏𝐋𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐊𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐈𝐈𝐅𝐊𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐆 !!!!!

first of all,,, never apologize for length, especially to me who makes everything way longer than need be, we (I, it's just me, idk who "we" is lol) love and appreciate that shit over here. ppl who love absurdly long fics, requests, and other media unite✊🏽 !!!

second of all,,, *ugly sobbing* I'm always the writer and never (how does one actually say this properly🤔?) the writee, so for someone to have actually dropped this for me in my inbox is SO flattering and sweet and ughghfhf, you guys, I HIGHLY encourage more of this, I love it, I truly do.

third of all,,, THIS IS SO GOOD omg literally giggling and kicking my feet (I do that a lot on this app) !!! I am the same way, I saw gambit and just... idk what happened to me, something in my organic chemistry just altered forever and while I'm not and will probably never be a channing tatum girly, he did his goddamn JOB in that role, ATE IT TF UP👏🏽 (and I knew he would, it's about damn time like c'mon, he'd been promised the role for idk a decade or so like, again I say, about damn time) so while I might not be all over tatum, I am all over his portrayal of remy lebeau and I need more fics/content NEOOOWW😾 (plz😽) from y'all's little writer brains of yours.

anyways, onto what you've sent in specifically lmao, you said "young yet powerful mutant" and "mistake with her powers" and "...practice your control..." and for whatever reason, my brain conjured up a mutant reader with wings or just a power that involves maybe floating/telekinesis...😃✋🏽hear me out...

so, remy's getting busy, right, and he's making reader feel so good and, like you mentioned, she ain't got much control over her powers yet cuz she's younger than him, so she cvms and boom, her wings (whether they be feathered or fairy) just pop out without her realizing😻. or with telekinesis, the better she's feeling/closer she's getting, the more stuff/higher she's causing things around them to float because again, little and/or loss of control because he's making her feel that good (we all know he's got the tongue work of a god, I mean, just listen to the man speak for fuck's sake lmao🥴).

I think it'd definitely be a cute touch and fs something she'd get teased about from remy lmao.

[waternilly]

No Tricks (George Weasley x OC) - Part 7

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x OC Word count: 1.3k Warnings: None Ao3 link: here Summary: A tattoo shop opens across from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, immediately catching the eye of the youngest twin. The intriguing owner, though well-versed in the magical world, doesn’t quite belong to it herself. As they navigate their differences, their mutual curiosity blooms into something deeper. Harry Potter Masterlist

“Georgie!”

He looked up from the accounting book on the desk before him, eyes travelling to the door that led to the shop. That was his brother’s voice.

“Georgie!” he heard again, spurring him to stand up and hurry to the front of the store.

“What’s wrong?” George asked in a hurry, brows furrowed.

Fred did not bother turning his head, still leaning on his hand over the desk. Instead he only nodded across the street.

“Your girl seems a bit down.”

“First of all, she’s not my girl, thank you very much,” he said, walking closer to his brother, “and second, what makes you say that?”

“She hasn’t had a lot of clients since she opened. Looks like she’s turned to traditional portraits as a result.”

George’s gaze travelled in the same direction and noticed Oli sitting alone in front of a tall canvas, brush in one hand and paint pots spread on a small table next to her. His brows furrowed.

“That’s strange,” he admitted.

Still not averting his eyes, Fred leaned towards his twin and stage whispered: “You should go talk to her.”

Yes. He should. He was going to before his brother suggested so. But now, he did not want to satisfy Fred’s ego and matchmaker mannerisms.

Cocking an eyebrow, George turned to him: “And why’s that?”

Finally looking away from the window, Fred furrowed his brows.

“Are you being daft right now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Oli clearly likes you! Even if you insist that she’s not ‘your girl’, she’s at least your friend, yes?”

Repressing a smile, George sighed and admitted: “I suppose.”

Of course they were friends. They had dinner together five times over the two weeks since she moved in. And no matter how hard he was trying to repress certain other feelings, he knew he cared about her a whole deal. But it was too soon to openly show that to people. Yes, Fred was his twin, but ever since they moved out and he married Angelina, they had grown slightly apart. Nevertheless, he would be the first to know. In fact, George was sure he already knew.

“So?” Fred pulled him out of his thoughts.

Turning towards the window, George nodded.

“I’ll go talk to her later.”

“Why later?”

Motioning his arms as to show off the store, George deadpanned: “Because we’re working.”

“You know damn well I can man the shop alone.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

Fred pursed his lips.

“Besides, I’m busy with our accounting.”

Cursing under his breath, Fred stood tall. Sighing, he placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

“Stop making excuses for yourself, love.”

George opened his mouth to protest, but Fred did not give him a chance to. Leading him towards the door, he added: “It’s clear you wanna go talk to her. So just go do it. Now.”

Opening the door, he gently nudged his twin out.

“And don’t bother coming back until you’re done.”

Staring at the door, George blinked slowly then chuckled as realisation dawned on him. Fred definitely knew something.

Shaking his head and a smile plastered on his face, he crossed the street, trying to suppress the bounce in his walk. Having reached the familiar door, he knocked above the window panel in a reflex and waited with a hand in his pocket until Oli opened.

“Hello there,” she greeted, immediately walking back into her shop once she saw who it was, letting him close behind himself.

“You know you can just enter, right? This is still a store,” she pointed out with a smile.

“Of course, but it’s much nicer when you welcome me inside,” he replied, trying to be charming.

“Can I get you something?” she offered, already climbing back on the stool facing the canvas.

“No thanks,” George turned down politely. “I just came to chat.”

“As opposed to when you don’t?” Oli joked.

Stepping closer, George looked over her shoulder at the painting.

“New piece?”

“An order,” Oli nodded.

It was a landscape, most likely of the English countryside, George guessed. In the distance, a large white mansion was nestled between bright green trees.

“Some rich wizard’s country house?”

“More or less,” she sighed. “Got the oil paints out for this one.”

“Why not the watercolours?”

“Because that’s not what my client asked.”

George remained quiet, admiring the large canvas. The house and its neighbouring trees were bright, a warm yellow light bouncing off them on small, individual leaves and roof tiles. Below them, what looked like a lake was still only an indistinct mass, not yet reflecting the environment. Above, Oli was applying a cool shade of grey to white puffs against a light blue sky.

“Will this one be a moving painting?” George wondered, squinting at the trees, through which he could already imagine the wind blowing.

“Unlikely.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I never learned.”

Furrowing his brows, George turned his gaze to the back of Oli’s head.

“What do you mean?”

She put down her brush on the small table, next to reference images of the mansion and countryside.

“I’ve never been taught how to make moving paintings,” she explained, shrugging and turning the stool to finally face George. “Besides, this is for a Muggle client.”

“Is that why all your watercolours are still?”

“What do you think?”

Oli had a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but George also noticed how she swallowed with difficulty.

“Would you like me to teach you?” he offered without thinking.

Smiling with brows furrowed, Oli asked back: “What?”

“If you’d like of course!” he added in a hurry. “I’m no expert but it’s nothing too complicated from what I’ve seen.”

“Uhhh…” she looked away, opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I- I don’t know, really.”

“Oh.”

“Like I said, this is a painting for a Muggle client anyway so could you imagine him opening the delivery box and seeing a tiny version of himself waving at him through the painting, he’d probably have a heart attack or at least faint, perhaps he’d think I’d pulled his leg and sent him a screen with a video playing or something instead of a painting haha!”

Oli turned silent, swallowing and licking her lips.

“Besides,” she said, meeting George’s gaze again, “I quite like the look of still paintings.”

George smiled gently at her, sitting low on the stool, shoulders turned inwards, making her appear smaller than usual. Then, slowly, he nodded, afraid any brusk movement would scare her off.

“So do I.”

Hesitant at first, Oli allowed a bright smile to cross her face. Suddenly blushing, she looked down and closed her eyes, laughing at the spectacle she had made of herself.

George chuckled quietly, trying to not make her feel worse about the situation, but unable to help himself. He never turned his gaze from her, finding her embarrassed reaction endearing.

Without thinking, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Oli’s shoulders. Still looking down and laughing nervously, she leaned into his touch, resting her head against his chest. 

As their laughter died down, her arms snaked around his middle. She relaxed into his embrace and George looked over her wild hair tenderly, brushing it back into place. In the silence of the shop, they remained like this, peacefully, but not escaping the watchful eye of the other Weasley twin across the street.

“How about dinner tonight?” George offered.

Still pressed against his chest, Oli’s voice came out muffled: “I don’t think I’ll have the strength for another class.”

“Not to worry,” he whispered, motioning to peck her scalp but ultimately holding back. “I’ll cook for you.”

Thank you for reading! Also, I'm starting something new: a taglist. If you'd like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters of this fic or any of my other works, feel free to DM me or send me an ask :)

[thewatcher727]

Writing Description Notes: Physical Pain

Updated 6th June 2024 More description notes

It was as if his bones were made of glass, shattering into a million pieces with every movement and sending waves of sharp, shooting pain coursing through his limbs.

His muscles screamed in protest with every step, each movement sending jolts of electric pain shooting through his body.

The ache settled deep into his bones, a dull, persistent throb that seemed to resonate with every heartbeat.

Every inch of his body felt tenderized, as if he had been used as a punching bag in a brutal workout session.

The sensation of blood trickling down his skin was a grim reminder of the violence he had endured.

His ribs screamed in protest with every breath, each inhalation a sharp reminder of the blows he had taken.

The world seemed to spin around him in a dizzying blur, his vision clouded by the stars of pain that danced across his field of vision with every movement.

A sharp, stabbing sensation shot through his lower back, making him wince.

Her temples throbbed with a relentless, pounding headache.

He clutched his side, pain radiating from the bruise with every breath.

Her muscles screamed in protest, the soreness a reminder of yesterday’s workout.

A burning ache spread through his chest, each heartbeat intensifying the agony.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle the groan as pain flared in her twisted ankle.

His knuckles were raw and throbbing, evidence of the fight.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, a dull ache settling behind her eyes.

A searing pain lanced through his knee, nearly buckling his leg.

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white as pain shot through her arm.

Her trembling hands betrayed the unyielding agony in her joints, a relentless companion.

Doubled over, he fought against the relentless cramps that seized his stomach.

A sudden, searing pain in her wrist forced her to relinquish her grip, the cup clattering to the ground.

Every step reverberated through her aching feet, a reflection to the miles she had traversed.

Rubbing his shoulder provided little respite from the persistent agony that gnawed at the joint.

A sharp sting on her finger brought fresh irritation, the paper cut a small but sharp reminder of vulnerability.

His tooth throbbed incessantly, a deep, pulsating ache that clouded his thoughts.

Each movement of her stiff and sore neck elicited a fresh wave of discomfort, a constant reminder of strain.

A stabbing pain in his chest made each breath a struggle, a reminder of mortality's grasp.

The throbbing in his hand, where the door had slammed shut, served as a relentless reminder of his own clumsiness.

A dull ache settled deep within her lower back, rendering even sitting a feat of endurance.

His leaden legs protested with every step, each movement a symphony of agony.

His head spun, the pain behind his eyes making it hard to focus.

Sharp pangs in her side served as a reminder of the physical toll of her exertion, a stitch from pushing too hard.

His throbbing ankle, swollen and tender, made each step a test of willpower.

Gritting her teeth against the shooting pain, she cursed the strain from overuse that tormented her wrist.

Pressing a hand to his chest, he felt the pain radiate outward in relentless waves, a reminder of vulnerability.

Her burning shoulder protested each movement, the pain a constant reminder of her injury.

He winced as sharp pains flared in his elbow, each movement a reminder of his body's fragility.

A deep ache throbbed in her hip, a persistent discomfort that refused to be ignored.

His fingers tingled with pain, a result of gripping the tool too tightly for too long.

[preyofolympus]

Bernard: I always saw him as like a kind of funny little man.

Tim, trying to contain himself but Bernard loving the Red Hood is pushing his limits: he’s a fucking criminal Bernard.

[coffeetank]

Dialogues to Kick-start your Chapter/Writer's Block

"Excuse me?"

"Why?"

"Where?"

"How?"

"When?"

"What?"

"No."

"Yes."

"Hell no."

"Hell yes!"

"Fuck off!"

"Fuck me!"

"In what world!"

"Which time?"

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think so."

"Not really,"

"Maybe, if you think about it—"

"What the fuck."

"Okay, catch this (insert ridiculous proposition)"

"So, I'll meet you at 6?"

"For the millionth fucking time—"

"Ya think?"

"This is it, then?"

"Come to my place. Now."

"She's called you. Right now."

"Oh, we're so screwed!"

"Hey."

"Don't do that."

"You've lost it. Completely lost it."

"What were you thinking?"

"I am confident that you belong in an asylum."

"I think you should get some help."

"Shove it up your ass!"

"Piss on it."

"I have a list and you're the top 5."

"I'd never do that."

"I'd definitely do that."

"It does sound like something I'll say, but I didn't say it. I swear!"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is?"

(as a response to the above dialogue ^) "Not harder than me for sure." / "It's not hard. Or else you wouldn't be doing it at all."

"Maybe I just need a little alcohol."

"Smells like jealousy to me."

"Lord, please."

- ashlee

[redz0nez9]

TELL ME THE TRICKS YA'LL WOULD DO???

[gallusrostromegalus]

Approximately six years before Rangiku Matsumoto is sworn in to the Gotei-13, at 2AM, Gin's phone beeps:

🍈🍈> Heeeeeeeeey Sugar!💋🍡 🩶> …The combination of too many E's and total absence of Horny Y's concerns me. 🍈🍈> Can't bootycall you I'm hiding from the cops🤫🚓💔 🍈🍈>Anyway, is your Shiny-kami gig still hiring?🥺💸 🩶> 1. Shinigami, beloved 🩶> 2. The answer depends on how related those last two sentences are 🍈🍈> I burned the bar down!🔥🍻🔥 🩶> WTF? 🩶> On purpose? 🍈🍈> Sorta?🤷‍♀️ 🍈🍈> I mean, I definitely intended to set One Particular Guy In The Bar on fire🤏🍑😡 🩶> WTF??? 🍈🍈> But fire does this REALLY weird thing where if you panic and instead of the Mop Bucket you grab the Bucket of Jungle Juice for 10¢ Shot Night and dump it on the fire it FUCKING EXPLODES???💥💥🍶 🍇🍶🍬🍶💥💥 🩶> WTFWTFWTF??? 🍈🍈> Who knew?🤷‍♀️🌠 🩶> MOST PEOPLE????? 🍈🍈> Anyway, at least the conflagration got rid of the evidence!👍 🩶> Beloved 🩶> My Morning Star 🩶> What the hell 🍈🍈> Ain't Morningstar that guy who founded Hell? That's probably what the hell🌟😈 🍈🍈> So Y'all hiring or what💹❓ 🩶> I'm going to regret this 🩶> but there's an entrance exam next week to apply for the academy's 6 year program that MIGHT get you a job IF you graduate 🍈🍈> YIPEE!!🎊🏫🎊 🍈🍈> Are the uniforms cute?🩷 🩶> Rangiku, this is a test that most people fail the first six times they take it even after studying for years! 🩶> You NEED a backup plan!! 🍈🍈> Bestie, you WALKED IN OFF THE STREET, aced it, and graduated in a year-How hard could it be?😎🍹 🩶> Rude 🍈🍈> We both know you're the Most Cleverest Little Boy Ever, sweetie 🧠🐍 🍈🍈> AND we both know I'm God's Most Specialest Little Slut, so I've got this!💪😇💋 🩶> I hope so 🩶> I have missed you, it'll be nice to see you again 🍈🍈> WE CAN BE STUDY BUDDIES!!📚 🩶> Will you even get here in time to study? 🍈🍈> Look Outside👀 🍈🍈> Also come tell this guy to not arrest me? 🚨🆘 🩶> R A N G I K U ! ! !