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adelheidvonschicksal · 1 year ago

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The Love and Deepspace Boys Trying to Get You to Sleep ⋆｡°✩

Tags: Fluff, teasing, needy boys, mild sexual content, gender neutral reader (I had to re-write so please let me know if I messed up.)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Xavier is surprisingly softer than you expected when you first met him on your mission together. He’s an incredibly powerful hunter but possesses a quiet and gentle, almost oblivious, aura when navigating everyday life, like a ghost floating through the space he takes up. It should also be understood that this very nature of his makes him affectionate, so much so, that he won’t unwrap his arms around your waist and stop pressing his head to your shoulder as you sit at the kitchen bar, typing on your laptop.

“Are you planning on staying up later than the stars?” he mumbles.

There’s a gentle yawn against your skin from the sluggish man, highlighting just how long he’s been trying to coax you into going to bed.

“I wanted to finish this report for work.”

“The report will be there tomorrow,” he says. You swat away his hand that reaches for the power button on the laptop causing him to pout. He grumbles. “You should go to bed. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”

Smiling to yourself, you decide to tease him. “Oh, so you’re really trying to get me to go to bed for your own benefit?”

“Well, you can’t very well expect me to do it by myself anymore.” Xavier nuzzles his head into the slope of your neck, cuddling you. “It’s your responsibility since you ruined my sleeping habits.”

“Ruined?”

“Ramshackled,” he repeats quietly, causing you to giggle. With an airy sigh, he presses his weight into you more. “How do you expect me to sleep when I can’t hold you?”

Defeated, you save your work and close the laptop. You swivel in your chair, enough to meet his eye, and cup a hand to his cheek. It never stops being endearing to you how he cutely closes his eyes and angles his head to snuggle your palm.

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to beg.”

His eyes flutter open, and the smile on his face grows as he wraps his fingers around yours. Carefully, he pulls on your hand to bring it up enough to begin to lace your wrist with affectionate kisses, tracing your pulse.

“I thought you enjoyed my begging.”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” Xavier mutters into your skin, pressing another light kiss.

“It is.”

“So, you're resolute about that position?” he questions “innocently”. There’s something mischievous about the glint in those arctic eyes, which makes your face warm. You find yourself breaking eye contact, or else you’d lose it.

“Yes.”

Xavier chuckles then begins to lead his kisses down your arm. “In that case, care to explain the difference in detail, love?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Sleep.”

“But—”

“Sleep.”

Zayne narrows his eyes at you from his side of the bed. You can’t blame him for being a little annoyed right now but the movie you put on to fall asleep was much better than you expected; and instead of falling asleep, you were more awake than ever at a very late one in the morning.

“I’m almost done with the movie,” you tell him, hoping he’ll cut you a little slack this one time.

“Everyone dies at the end of their own stupidity,” he bluntly states and grabs the remote. The television turns off with an overly loud click, and you pout. “Now, sleep.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you huff. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m fine with that title if it gets you to rest,” he explains with a smooth yawn. “Poor sleep habits lead to bad decision-making later. You’re more likely to develop high blood pressure, and with your heart in particular—”

“I get it. I get it,” you say, wanting to be spared the lecture. Zayne is a good person and a better doctor, but you wish he didn’t worry about you so much just because you might have a little big heart problem. Sighing, you squiggle onto your back and pull the sheets up to your collar, kicking them a little childishly in the process (totally not to let him know that you were not pleased with his spoiling). “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Very.”

Zayne turns over onto his side, away from you, and you frown at the loneliness. Softly, you poke him in the back, once, then twice then a third time before you finally get a hum in response.

“Am I really not getting a good night kiss?”

“Do you need one to sleep?” he asks, his voice deeper from the lack of sleep, urging you to convince him to kiss you even more.

“Duh,” you explain. Slowly, he turns back over to look at you, propping himself up on one arm with a look that says “Is that so” as you continue to ramble. It makes you a little flustered when he watches you so intently. He’s always had this silent dominance that makes you obedient, but you could get what you want from him just as easily with the exact opposite strategy. Cutely, you puff your bottom lip out at him. “There has to be some health benefit to it. Kissing makes people all happy. Happy is good, right?”

It takes a second for him to take in what you say, those smokey eyes closing in on you with thought before he climbs over you. He places both hands at your sides and quickly boxes in your upper thighs with his knees.

“You’re thinking of dopamine,” he says.

“Huh?”

“That makes you “all happy”,” he explains and presses a deep kiss to your lips, leaving you thoughtless and breathless all at once. He moves to your jaw, and you begin to squirm from the pressure of his impassioned lips.

“And Serotonin.”

Another kiss, lower.

“Oxytocin.”

He’s at your shoulder when he starts to nip your skin, and one of his hands moves to ski up the back of your thigh.

“Reduced cortisol.”

Flustered, you grip his arms.

“Zayne, stop, it tickles,” you whine, but it’s the last thing you actually want as he readjusts his position and hovers above you.

His usually neat hair is messier and his breathing a little heavier judging by how his chest laboriously rises and falls. Groaning, you bite your bottom lip as he knowingly leans in and whispers,

“You need it to help you sleep, isn’t that what you said?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why don’t you just say you don’t love me anymore?”

You look up from your phone screen at the sudden accusation. You’re resting on the couch, your back propped up by the armrest and legs splayed out on the other cushion while Rafayel looks down at you with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased scowl on his face. You’re entirely confused as to what you could’ve done to make him think something like that.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been playing video games for what—the last two hours?” he says, uncrossing his arms to grab your phone. It’s too late to warn him as he glances at the screen, clicking a few times. “What are you playing anyway? An…otome? Sheesh, go ahead and say you want me gone. Come on, tell me you actually hate me.”

Holding in your smile, you shake your head and affectionately roll your eyes. It takes an enormous amount of effort to not laugh as he continues to rant. “So, it’s one of those things. I thought I was actually in trouble.”

And by those things, you mean his dramatics.

“Hush, my complaints are perfectly legitimate,” he demands as he pushes your legs aside and sits on the couch. Leaning over, he flashes the screen at you to show the evidence he has that you’re completely unfair, unfaithful, and downright mean. “What’s this game giving you that I’m not? Are my dashing good looks and even better personality not enough? Is that it?”

Gently, you take the phone from his hand and set it down on the end table. “You’re plenty, perfect even.”

He scoffs and refuses to look at you. “Apparently not. Don’t you ever think about anyone else? What if I want to cuddle with you one day but you’re too busy to notice because you’re playing silly games?”

Ah, there it is. His real want. You never know why he can never just come out and say it.

“Rafayel, do you want me to come to bed and cuddle with you?”

“Want is a strong word,” he remarks but you can see his resolve (can you call it that when he planned to give in all along?) crumbling as he slowly turns back to meet your gaze, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to it. Not that you deserve it or care.”

Humming, you sit up, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and pull him down onto you. Lovingly, you snuggle him, stopping to only take in how red his neck and ears start to get when you squeeze him and start to stroke through his hair. You’re not sure if Lumerians can blow happy bubbles like he claims, but he definitely hums and relaxes his entire body weight to lay on top of you like he wants to sink into your skin.

Teasingly, you coo at him. “You’re so needy.”

“I’d rather say you humans aren’t needy enough,” he fires back as he wraps an arm around your waist and kisses the corner of your lips. “Ah, the sweet taste of victory.”

Giving out a gentle and short laugh, you lightly tap his back. “Go to sleep.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

#zayne x reader #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace smut #adelssmut #notsfw

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river-selkie · 4 months ago

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I was raised by a bear therian

Well, my dad never said himself that he's a bear therian, but even without the word "therian" being used, his experience as one was undeniable and incredibly clear to me. He spent much of my childhood talking about his dreams of Alaska, how the land there felt like home to him more than anywhere else on Earth. So much so that when the military asked him if he was willing to move North into Alaska, he immediately jumped at the opportunity and spent several years of his life living in Fairbanks back when the weather was still frigid and sometimes volatile. He camped in the wilderness regularly and would tell me stories of caribou surrounding his tent in the mornings, large grizzlies wandering through the rivers, and scraggly wolves with summer pelts trotting across the land. His job handling search and recovery cases at the time encouraged this lifestyle, especially in winter when people would go missing on the roads or crash their bush planes in the woods and he had to find the deceased and bring them back to civilization. Funny enough, he confessed to having a search and recovery team come and look for him at one point after he got carried away and stayed out in the forest for a little too long, deciding to ride the river near him a few miles away just as a "fun idea" and scared my mother into thinking he died out there.

I wasn't alive yet when my dad lived in Alaska though. I had my dad shortly after he had left, and I saw how much he missed it even at a young age. I honestly visited the state so often with him that you'd assume I had family there, but to him, maybe the Northern animals were family. I complained about it back then since I'd be wearing puffy coats and winter accessories in the middle of summer when everyone else was going to Hawaii or Mexico, but I saw how happy he was whenever he'd have a wild caught salmon for dinner or get to walk close to a glacier. When he'd see icebergs in the water from boat tours he'd be sitting entirely outside on the deck during or, most importantly, the day he finally got a chance to visit Admiralty Island (better known as "Fortress of the Bear"). It had always been his dream to go and as he sat there at ease in the tall grass fields watching the giant brown bears graze the fields a mile away. He had a look on his face as if he was meant to be there forever, that he was never supposed to leave. It was hard to not gain a fondness for the place with how much he loved it, and my dad would even tell my sister and I that the remote wilderness of Alaska is where he wants his ashes to one day be placed. Inevitably, I'll be going back again one day to the "final frontier" for him to finally be able to stay there forever like he wanted.

When he wasn't in Alaska, he was at home with me in Colorado taking me on adventures in the Rocky mountains. He was an avid fish lover, always packing salmon, halibut, or a tuna sandwich. I don't think he ate much else when I was a kid, and before my fish allergy developed, that was pretty much my diet too. I think he honestly was disappointed when I wasn't able to eat fish anymore, lamenting on the fact that I never got to have another Alaskan salmon or try a smoked fish. Every time his back would get itchy, he'd scratch it by using the corner between the doorway and the wall, very reminiscent of a bear using a tree to get some unreachable spot which I laughed about to which he'd shrug and say "it's an instinct I guess". Dessert always had to have honey in it, but if honey wasn't available, it had to be something with pumpkin or berries. Pumpkin pie, berry pie, and pumpkin ice cream were his favorites and his birthday dinners usually involved one of the three instead of cake. He often watched bear documentaries with me too, namely one I remember about someone who was the "Grizzly Man" who lived mostly in the wild and met his end to the very bears he spent his life around and I also remember him enjoying Never Cry Wolf, a 1983 film set in Alaska's remote North as well. It inspired him to apply for the ticket lottery every year for over a decade to try and win a trip to Katmai to see the bears during the salmon run, which he inconveniently won when he was literally already in Alaska and about to head back home. Needless to say, his irritated groans and pouts weren't forgotten on the plane back to Colorado.

My mom was mostly absent from my life in the sense that she played no healthy or genuine part in raising me despite being under the same roof due to her relentless addictions, so I do feel as if my childhood was mostly defined by being my dad's "bear cub". He loved animals and taught me to respect them and nature tremendously, and his "abnormal" behaviors became something I now recognize as something I resonate with as a grown otter therian. I sometimes wonder if he raised me into otterhood and if I would still be a therian without his influence, or if my otterhood is something of a "family trait" given that my older sister strikes me as a bird therian in many ways too, but I find it amusing to consider that there are so many animalistic individuals in my family who could fall under the alterhuman umbrella, and yet have never uttered the word "therian" in their lives. I'm curious how many other people in the world are just like me and simply never wanted to label it or explore it deeper, or worse, how many people have had it shunned into the depths of themselves to be forgotten about? I for one am grateful that I can call myself nonhuman and live a life understanding why I am the way that I am, even if I'm unsure of the source.

#therian #adult therian #therian writing #therian parent #nonhuman #otter therian #bear therian

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 6 months ago

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ACE CRIES IN HIS DREAM OHHHH THE DEVELOPMENT FOR ACE MY HEART HURTSSSSSS b4 ace would have deflected yuu going oh it was a joke when i said you can message me if you feel lonely and now b7 ace is actually being more honest going dont say that i'll feel bad MS RAVEN IM ALL OVER THE PLACE

AND NOT MOST OF THE BOYS' DREAMS REVOLVING AROUND THEM AND THEIR FAMILY/DORM MATES BUT ACE'S DREAM HERE IS LITERALLY ABOUT YUU??? U TRYNNA TELL ME SOMETHING??? OUGHHH MY HEART IS IN PAINNNNNN AND THE TANGLED EVENT COMING SOON THEYRE OVERFEEDING MEEEEEEE

[Referencing the JP Feb 2025 schedule; you can read my thoughts on book 7 chapter 12 part 2 here!]

I wasn’t expecting Ace to get a unique crying expression but here we are 😂 Pretty proud of myself for calling that Ace’s dream would address these oddly dismissive comments from back in 7-17:

It’s so Ace of him to be blunt when calling others out but also having trouble being honest about his own feelings. Those lines in 7-17 definitely read as deflecting and being in denial to me. That’s just how Ace chooses to cope with his problems.

You can even see this same mentality carrying through into his new crying expression… See? He’s still trying to smile and laugh, even through his tears. (Your one true love, by the way, is coincidentally described by Ace in Ghost Marriage as being “someone you can laugh and cry with”!)

fbskwbuwnsma I find it really funny how people were theorizing that Malleus would OB over the threat of Yuu going home when he ended up OBing over the thought of losing Lilia… Then it turns out that Ace is the one centering Yuu in his foremost desires 😭 I mean, I know Ace made that long trek back to Sage’s Island back in book 4, but so did Deuce and Deuce didn’t dream of Yuu staying—only Ace did. This is most likely the result of Ace not properly processing his feelings in the waking world (because of his deflection and denial), despite deep down valuing his friendships with Yuu, Deuce, etc.

Come to think of it, it makes sense that Ace’s dream ended up taking place during summer vacation on the Stitch island… because Stitch talked about ohana—family, which means no one gets forgotten or left behind. Ace’s dream is to be able to move forward (ie the summer after the end of their first year)… with all of his friends and NRC family. That includes his Heartslabyul classmates (yes, even his tyrannical dorm leader that he always complains about) and his friends at Ramshackle.

I can see why this would feed the brain rot of Ace yumes www It really slots in with the “I-It’s not like I care about you or anything, idiot! (jk I care so much)” kind of trope. And his dream taking place on a remote island screams “stereotypical beach fanservice episode”. Bro just keeps slotting in sk well with all the classics… Wishing all Ace yumes fun with this update ^^

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muoroseowork · 1 year ago

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mahmahmahmysharona · 2 months ago

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When you realize you might be in love with Bob, and it sucks.

(Bob Reynolds x Avenger Reader) Part 2/?

Part 1

After that day, things completely change between you and Bob.

The awkwardness and silted interactions from before have disappeared, and although it takes a little while to settle into your new dynamic, you quickly realized that you maybe never found yourself as comfortable with anyone as you are with him.

The others in the team were great and all (even though the clash of personalities often ended in yelling matches across the floor while Bob sat in the corner, watching wide-eyed), Bob was different. You soon found your friendship was a quiet one, and you both often knew what the other person was thinking before they even said it.

Eventually, it manifested physically. Instead of asking Bob to pass something across the table, he seemed to know what you wanted before you even knew it yourself, handing over pepper shakers and the TV remote before you'd even opened your mouth.

And the favour was returned. Once Bob opened himself up to you, you began to notice he small patterns and gestures that hinted towards his state of mind. You knew he was unfocused when he fiddled with the page corners of his books. You knew he was restless when he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

You also discovered that Bob, despite his restrained nature, didn't miss a thing. When he didn't think anyone was looking, he scoffed quietly to himself at Walker's grandiose, self-centred praises. He rolled his eyes when Alexei pitched a new, ridiculous marketing opportunity for the team, but only when he deemed it safe to do so.

In these moments, you were reminded that Bob was another person before all this. And maybe, in the darkness of his old life, he was a more daring person. But that Bob was gone, and he masked it all with this new, careful version of himself. You enjoyed all of him, even the little slips of attitude you didn't even know he had.

The others noticed your newfound friendship, and seemed happy that there was at least one other person to help when it came to Bob Duty. But they didn't know just how close you two were growing so quickly.

In time, you found yourself thinking that Bob might be your favourite person in the room. Which, you thought, is probably why he was always he first person you looked for. In the morning, when you said goodnight, and whenever you got back from a mission.

Although neither of you would say it, you didn't want this new friendship, precious as it was, to be stolen away by the others. You wanted it to grow quietly, privately. So you two developed a ritual, often sitting out on the balcony when everyone else was asleep.

At first, Bob was careful with what he told you. He was self-conscious of his past. He wondered how far he could go back until he hit something that made you suddenly became disappointed with him. And honestly, you felt the same. You were willing to bet that your misdeeds were far greater and bloodier than his, and just as he didn't want to be thought of as a basket case, you didn't want to be thought of as a bad person. And hey, maybe you are, but you certainly don't want him to think of you that way.

But the more nights you spent together, the more you trusted each other. And several months later, you could have written a book for all you knew about him. You knew about his father, where Bob would hide when he yelled, and how he helped clean up the messes afterwards alongside his tearful mother. You knew about the first time he got high. The first time he stole money to buy more. The first time he got beat up by his dealer. You knew all about how he met Val, and his last memories before waking up in that box.

And he knew just as much about you. He knew about your time in the system, how you worked hard to get a good government job and establish a "normal" life for yourself after a childhood that was anything but. He knew how it was all taken away, being involuntarily opted into the serum programme that turned you into a superhuman weapon. How you became Val's toy soldier after she helped clean your record after you killed the wrong person in your quest for revenge.

True, you could write each other's stories now, but neither of them would be fairytales.

You grounded Bob, and he made you feel as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. After a while, you both wondered how you would ever cope without having the other person to fall back on. To listen without judgement. To laugh without embarrassment. Really, how did you go this far without each other?

One time, you even snuck him out to the movie theatre, wanting you both to do something normal people did. He hated it. Spent the whole time looking nervously around him, no doubt counting the amount of people in the audience, tallying up the potential fatalities he could cause if something happened. He only relaxed when you placed your hand on his arm, squeezing it, silently telling him, Don't worry, we're safe with you here. (The others were furious when they caught you sneaking back in.)

You knew how to handle Bob when he began to spiral, which, in his defence, was happening less and less these days. It was as simple as talking him down, maybe rubbing the back of his shoulder, or sitting with him in the dark if things were especially difficult. He didn't need talking to — he just felt better if he knew you were there.

The day you realized you were falling in love with him hit you like a train.

Seriously. In your lifetime, you've been beaten, stabbed, thrown from a three-storey building, almost blown up (twice), and shot at more times than you can count. But this really threw you.

Honestly, maybe you just thought this is what friendship is. You'd never had any real friends before to know for sure. That warm feeling in the pit of your stomach when he laughed, the feeling of utter bliss when it was just the two of you, the way your heart jolted slightly when you caught him looking at you from across the room: these were symptoms of a new way of being.

It happened when you, Bucky, and Ava were leaving for a mission. A straightforward break-in of a shady facility — you'd done it at least fifty times before. No big deal. You were bringing the last of the gear up to the elevator, Bob coming up behind you.

"Is it a long one?" he asked, his voice just low enough to ensure the conversation was just between you both. It was a volume you both used plenty of times in the tower.

"We'll be back tonight," you tell him. "Between the three of us, it shouldn't be a drag. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay." He got into the elevator with the three of you, bringing up one of the bags along with him. This wasn't unusual — he often helped out with the prep. It was his way of feeling useful.

The three of you stood in the elevator, silent, waiting for the doors to open onto the tower roof and expose you all to the bright, startling sky.

Then, from behind, you felt Bob's hand clasp around yours.

You two had touched hands before. High fives, or friendly gestures of reassurance, sure. But he was holding your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. A numbness spread up your legs and through your spine, pleasant and isolating. You were stunned. His fingers tightened.

The elevator doors opened, and Bucky and Ava stepped out ahead of you. His hand slipped away, quickly. You were frozen until suddenly, Bob's voice appeared behind you, softly saying, "Be safe."

You turned your head, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to see his face. And god, you wished you hadn't. He was watching you, his eyes searching yours, hoping you understood what he meant. That by saying "be safe", he really meant, "Come back to me."

And as the last slivers of sun came through, catching his eyes, it hit you. You were falling in love with him, and you had been from the moment you two had shaken hands.

Nobody had ever wanted you, and you learned to not want anybody in return. But in that moment, you would have been willing to rip out your future from the threads of the universe and hand it to him, saying, "Here, it's yours. Have it. Have me."

But you didn't. Ava called your name and you turned back around, walking out of the elevator and onto the jet without looking back at him. You couldn't look back, because you had to do this right. You had to protect Bucky, and Ava, and yourself. You had to get the job done.

And you had to do it carrying the fact that you were now deeply, undeniably, fucked.

Next: When Bob realizes he's in love with you, and it sucks even more.

#bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #sentry #bob thunderbolts #thunderbolts #marvel

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ghostedgwen · 3 months ago

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but I knew you | j.potter [part four]

note : THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ALL THE ENTHUSIASM towards this fic! I can't believe I got over 400+ notes on the first three parts. This is wild! I am so grateful for u guys, pls enjoy the final part<33 p.s : my requests are open again if any of u are interested in sending anything

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, some anxiety on your part but jsut briefly mentioned, James and his relentless firting, I swear this part is kinder, happy ending - sort of

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

You cannot believe you are here again.

Watching over his sleeping figure in the infirmary while Madam Pomfrey fuss over him.

You all decided to keep quiet about McLaggen for now, so you lot were being chastised by the matron over the "prank gone wrong" incident that landed James on her lap again.

You could feel the anger bubble in you but kept it at bay as James' well-being came first, obviously.

"Now, I have matters to discuss with Dumbledore so you four can look after Mr.Potter here." He tells you before leaving abruptly.

None of you dared to question her and only watched her leave. Once she was gone, you turn to the other three boys and they kept quiet, seeing the scary expression you had on. Peter looked like he was about to piss himself.

"____," Remus cautiously called out your name. "Are you okay? McLaggen said some vile things back there, we hope you know that we won't let him get away with this."

Sirius huffs. "The bloody fuck we won't, fucker will deserve what's comin' for him when James wakes up."

You nod slowly at them. "Could I - ask for some privacy, with James?" You ask them, watching them all get up and nod at you with sympathetic smiles. "I just, wanna think of what to say once he wakes up and I was hoping to have him all to myself for a bit when he comes about."

"No worries, we understand." Remus tells you and he pats Sirius on their way out as the other boy looked about ready to set the castle on fire. "We'll see you back at the common room."

You give them all the best smile you could muster while they piled out and it was just you left all alone to your thoughts. Your face was immediately encased in the palm of your hands as you allow your frustrations to settle in.

Having held onto it well enough to get James settled into the infirmary first, you could feel the tears build up. It's already bad enough your boyfriend couldn't remember you, but then he gets injured again - and you feel like everything is your fault.

You missed your James even more.

He would know how to hold you, what to say and just what to give. He always knew you so well that you couldn't even be mad at him for even a minute, he was always quick to melt your resolve and fix anything that is even remotely broken.

James was perfect - so much so that you almost thought the universe had created him exactly for you. All the time he spent chasing after another girl long forgotten when he treated you so well, and not once made you doubt his loyalty -

Lily was a story of a very distant past, but that past has come back to haunt you.

But despite all this, you still love him. It did not waver one bit, despite how much hurt you got from the Quidditch accident, despite the struggle of going through your memories by going around the castle - you still wanted James Potter.

With a resigned sigh, you look up at him again to see his sleeping figure and wondered just how it all went so badly wrong.

You look around the Great Hall pointedly ignoring the way people were whispering as you walked by, it has been like that ever since James Potter very oublicly announced that you werer the new subject of his latest fascination.

At least, that's what you thought.

There was no way a boy who pined for a girl for 2 whole years would just up and change his mind upon meeting you. He just probably got bored by the same familiar faces in the castle and barely met anyone outside.

You knew you were fresh, and even the other boys in your year wanted their slimy hands on you. You paid them all no mind and headed for the table cluttered with students clad in red and gold.

Almost full from the attention, you still managed to serve yourself Dinner and pointedly ignored how even the Professors barely concealed their interest in you. You barely made it into Gryffindor, almost getting sorted into Slytherin.

You wondered if Potter's demeanour would be completely different if that was the case.

You didn't get to think too deeply on it when he made his presence known, pushing aside the 2nd year boy that sat next to you in order to provide space for himself, which he eagerly took with a charming grin your way.

"Oh hey there, ____."

You ignore him. He did not seem fazed one bit as you learned that he's quite used to the treatment, how he's not dying from shame is beyond you. You continue eating until you could barely swallow anything, too uncomfortable from the way he watched you so shamelessly.

"Bloody fuck, what do you want, Potty?"

He lets out an exasperated laugh. "We're on nickname basis, eh?"

"Don't talk to me like we're close, like I like you." you tell him off but he brushed off your harsh words as if they never even left your lips.

"Alright, I'll take it though it's too out of my style -now what to call you. . ." he trailed off, then his lips stretched into a devilish grin. "Pretty girl."

You almost choked in your own spit. "What?"

"Pretty girl, that's your nickname."

"You are unbelievable."

"Thank you." he winks, taking a sip from his goblet.

"I'm going to be completely raw and honest, and I need you to answer me without any of your jokes and witty remarks," you tell him, biting the insides of your cheeks. "Please tell me it's real."

James frowned, he can see the tears building up in your eyes and it felt like a punch to his gut to see that expression on your face. He was too used to see you either scowling at him or laughing at either his fuck-ups or his jokes, though you admit to hating his audacity, you always laughed when he earned it.

This is new.

This is a new face that he wasn't sure how to process, so he asked - "What do you mean?"

You let a brief moment of silence pass as you gather all your strength to say your thoughts out loud. Nights spent questioning everything, wondering just what and why, you couldn't just come up with the answers yourself, so here you are.

"I need you to tell me it's real. All those months you chased after me, please tell me it wasn't just some game to you to get you out of your rejection streak from Evans - Merlin, please swear to me this is real so I can stop being scared."

His frown deepened, if that was even possible, and he took careful steps towards you. hesitantly grabbing your hand so he can hold it and the action urged you to meet his eyes. Although confusion pooled in them, there was also so much sincerity.

"This is real," James assures you. "This is very real and what I feel for you is not some game. You are not a prize to be won, ____. What are you scared of?"

You let out a humorless laugh as the tears finally fall. "Merlin, I think - I know - I am falling in love with you, and I needed you to tell me it's real because I needed to know it was safe to fall."

James' look of confusion slowly faded away and his pursed lips broke into a wide grin, his hold on your hand tightening as he felt the excitement bubble inside him.

"You don't have to be afraid, pretty girl," James kissed your hand without a second thought. "I will gladly catch you if you fall."

"James, you're not listening," you tell him with a roll of your eyes and he abruptly stopped whatever he was doing to focus solely on you. "Did you hear a word I said?"

James grinned his charming grin, neglecting to answer you because you both knew what he was gonna say anyway.

You groan. "I said I can't go with you to Hogsmeade, you snogging my face off every chance you get distracted me enough from my Potions essay that is due in 2 days."

James' expression soured at that. "You said it yourself, pretty girl," he smirks with a cross of his arms. "It's 2 whole days away."

"Uh huh, and my parchment is empty, not even a single drop of ink," you roll your eyes again. "Give my lips a break so my hands can get to work - don't even make a dirty joke or I will throw you out."

James let out a bark of laughter. "You can't throw me out of my own dorm room?"

"The bloody hell I will!"

As the memories replayed in your head, you can't help but sink deeper and deeper into your thoughts. The memories always seemed so sweet and innocent, but now had bitter aftertaste from your current predicament.

They did always say to treasure the present, for how quickly it can turn into a distant past - but you are only 17, you didn't think the past would be that far behind you so quickly.

James would apologize profusely for even bringing up Lily again, he knew how much it scared you to let yourself fall for him. How much you struggled with the vulnerability of being in love, and yet all of that came back to hit you.

You can already tell how dramatic he'd get. Maybe even get on his knees as a grand gesture.

James. . .what would he even say -

"Galleon for your thoughts, pretty girl?"

Your head immediately snap to the direction of the voice and you felt your tears finally fall once your eyes met his warm hazel hues. Without even asking any questions, you could already tell that he was back. Your James, he's here.

"Jamey?" You ask, hesitantly approaching him, and he flashed you his famous Potter grin.

"In the flesh," he managed to joke out with a wink. "Mind telling me why my head feels like it got assaulted by bludgers?"

You laughed, throwing your body on him to hug him. The implications could be minded later, you just wanted to celebrate the fact that he's back, you got him back and all your inhibitions melted away.

"You have a lot to make up for," you sniffled, face buried into his neck.

He hugged you back, his hold on you tight and secure as you allowed more tears to escape your eyes. Your James is finally back, and nothing else mattered for now.

Sirius throws his head back laughing, almost spilling the content of his goblet. Remus scooting away to avoid getting any of it to spill on him, making a face at Sirius who failed to see his disgusted expression.

"Fucking hell! We ought to thank McLaggen instead for hitting you," Sirius continues laughing, obviously having had too much Firewhiskey. "Thanks to his cheap ass attack, we got you back, mate!"

James laughed along though his eyes rolled halfheartedly. "Fuckin' twat still has to pay for trying it on with ____."

Remus clears his throat. "He's been hiding from us ever since, quite well, might I add."

Peter laughs from his seat on the floor, lap full of empty snack wrappers. "Least he's got his own head on straight, won't work though."

Sirius finally stopped cackling like a maniac and turned to you who sat on James' lap. "What are you thinkin', ____? Exploding zits? Broken ribs? A broken nose?"

You shake your head with a chuckle. "I am gonna sit this one out. I am just happy James is back."

James smiled at you, making Sirius let out sounds of disgust and Remus with a joking 'boo!' at the cute display of affection. Then Peter perked up from his seat as if he jsut remembered something very important.

"I reckon I've been told McLaggen is deathly afraid of spiders."

the end.

masterlist

Tags - @sweetstrawberrianne @d1lf-loverrr @hisparentsgallerryy @jaeviii @simp-for-fiction @froggiedragon @paankhaleyaaar @cumuluscranium @acad3miawhore @notmeduhh @cupcakesnviolets @msmarklee1213 @suyaaachin ! Thank you so much for following this fic 🌸

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter imagine #marauder imagine

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the-remote-jobs · 5 months ago

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buildoffshore1 · 1 year ago

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prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue · 3 months ago

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I was wondering if you could do a batfam x isekaid neglected fem reader. I only read one so far and I NEED more 😔👉👈

I love this ask !! Been wanting to write one :D

summary :reader comes from a post - apolyptic world where mankind was wiped out due to nuclear warfare and deadly disease . suddenly she is awaken in a world where humanity is thriving yet this weird family behaves so strangely toward her??

I coughed my lungs out - it's been exactly 498 days since my lungs have tasted oxygen . My restless body trudge on - I keep moving - keep moving despite the sore blisters on my feet that pulse and bleed with every step I take.

I don't know where I am - I don't even know if there's anywhere to go anymore - all there is is ash and yellowish fog that cover the land as far as the eye can see. I groan - throwing up bile - I grimaced as my body wasted water so unnecessary .

I was like an ordinary kid - I went to school and came home one day to a news reporter saying there was no school for two weeks - I was so blissful - no more tests for me ! Oh how much I wish to go back - those two weeks were the dawn of a nightmarish hell.

A sudden infection began spreading rapidly on a international scaling and due to poor government decisions - it continued developing , our population began depleting and there was no cure left .

Governments argued back and forth , the people rioting, and sooner than later, the world we knew fell apart . Suddenly there was no more electricity, no more running water and few surviors began to worry.

I remember vividly - ma and pa hugging me before departing with the elders to the nearest cell tower miles away in an attempt to reconnect with humanity. It was on that God awful day - I witnessed a giant flare descend into the blue skies of Alaska and touched down onto the distant cell tower with a loud explosion .

The explosion engulfed everything in its fuery, and what it hadn't burnt it had blown away and covered the skies in a perment yellow fog.I remember screaming , crying out their names helplessly I waited at that abandoned shelter for months - naively awaiting their arrival, but they never came.

Helpless , I was forced to move on without them . Now, as I trudge through ash and fog , I feel my legs give away beneath me, and I feel myself come crashing down onto the ashy floor . I choke and helplessly bang against the ground as a war cry escaped me .

No ! NO - I refuse to end it like this - I refuse to go like this - not when I haven't figured out what happened to my ma and pa - not now . I feel my lungs closing in on me as if someone has grown tired of this chapter and decided to cut the story shut.

I greedily inhaled like a drowning man , my lungs give way, and it's then my eyes flutter close for the last time.

Name awakes - her eyes met by blinding light . Immediately, she closes her eyes - her head throbs in retaliation, and she groans as she curls herself into a fetous position - a pathetic attempt to shield herself.

A long sullen moment passes before name finally grasps the situation she is in - she is alive - when she shouldn't have been . She jolts from the bed - eyes frantically as she intakes her surroundings. Her room is a luscious rich blue - it has dark oak furniture that definitely screams money .

This is not her room - not even remotely - she distinctly remembers her old room having soft pink walls filled with posters of all her nerdy things but here - this room is too dull - to void of anyone living in it.

A knock is heard on the door and name watches in horror as the knob turns , the door opens to reveal an elder male in a tux ? Name is taken aback - exactly where is she ?.

"Master Name, you missed breakfast, so I brought it for you " . Name tilts her head in confusion . Why would anyone miss food ? Food is something sarce and critical- it's precious and it's not meant to be wasted - whoever body this is surely was stupid.

Name nods her head . " Thank you ...." She trails off, realizing she doesn't know who he is whatsoever. The elderly man raises an eyebrow at her , " Alfred madam," he finishes. Name nods - taking that name to memory . " Thank you Mister Alfred," she thanks as she graciously accepts the food. Alfred excuses himself - leaving her to her own devices .

Name hops off her poster bed and waddled her way to the nearest window and sure enough the outside world looks that of her own before the incident - before life ficked everyone over and took ma and pa away from her.

Silent tears roll down her face , hands scrunched against the window sill tightly- she swore she would reunite with them no matter what. After staring into the neighboring houses for a long minute , name returns to her bed and shovels the scrambled eggs in her mouth.

Name no longer questions if her food is poison, slat on or cursed - after all food is food - it is a blessed and sacred resource that she will happily indulge in. Moments pass before her door is barge open again - this time so loud it collides with the door harshly, almost snapoingbit in half.

An angry child ? She assumes storms up to her , face red . " Name how dare you skip out on breakfast do you think k of yourself above us all ?" The child accuses her , pointing his sword at her.

Name immediately kicks him , square in the chest - sending the boy clashing into the expensive hairdresser . Name states at him and then her foot eye wide - it's only natural her body reacts that way - it's how any wounded animal would if threaten .

So why does this bratty child look so disturbed ? Suprised ? The child begins screaming his head off and another adult walks in and embraces him. Name feels herself choke up - how can anyone possibly get so close to another without risking catching the disease ?

Name holds her stance - clearly, these people are psychos and have no regard to anyone’s safety . " Name how dare you kick him he's just a child" the adult ? Starts berating you but you held your fork in front of you - tightening your grasps around it .

"Leave or I will impale you with this" name threatens darkly - leaving no room for hesitancy - only confirmation of their damnation if they dared to cross her . The adult states in her eye wide and opens his mouth, but you are quicker . You swiftly leaped from your bed and launched the fork at the adult full speed , ensuring you rolled the opposite way .

The adult barely dodges. " Name what the fuck-" They curse but you were already out the door. You had to get away from these psychos they're too loose - they're too idiotic.

Name is halfway out a door when a much older man grabs her by the shoulder and spins her around . Name stares at him - all she feels is the dread building inside her akin to the time the dread she felt when she witnessed her parents' demise. Whoever it is grabs her by the shoulders harshly and puts his face in front of hers - immediately making her feel small . The elderly man glares at her before demanding her , " Name exactly what do you think you're doing ?"

please like + share + comment !!!

sorry if this is short this was written at 1 am

#dc universe #batfam #dcu #dc x reader #damien wayne #jason todd #platonic batfam #bruce wayne #damian wayne #batfam x y/n #dickgrayson #timdrake #alfred pennyworth #batfam x neglected reader #batfam x you #batfam x isekai reader #isekai #isekai reader

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agreeewrites · 6 months ago

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Magic Lessons p.2 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Things escalate with your boss, Bill Weasley, at the twins birthday party when you plot to make him jealous. But he gets his revenge back at the office.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, jealous!Bill, reader gets a lil toxic, oral (f receiving), age gap, bill is a pleasure dom I don't make the rules, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language

part one | part three | masterlist

Things shifted between you and Bill after that night. You were more than just coworkers, mentor and apprentice, you developed a mutual understanding.

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life. You had never felt so connected to someone before, so attuned to their feelings and desires, like your souls were tied together.

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

It had been three months since the incident with the cursed axe, and it was the twins birthday. You hadn't spoken about the fact that you would both be attending the same party outside of work, but the thought made your nerves tingle with adrenaline.

You and Bill had only seen each other at work or during work-related functions. But this, attending a family party, felt like uncharted territory.

Would he be willing to cross the lines of professionalism? You weren't sure. Would you be willing to risk a career at Gringotts? Again, you weren't sure. But every day, it became harder and harder to ignore the burgeoning heat between you, that soul tie winding tighter and tighter.

You were at a standstill, paralyzed by indecision, and it was driving you mad.

The two of you were the last in the office, and you slipped away to get ready in the bathroom while he finished things up. You changed into your outfit, a maxi dress in your favorite color with a pair of heeled boots, and refreshed your makeup.

You did a small turn in the mirror, a wave of insecurity making you doubt your selection. Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

Well, it was the only one you brought, so it would have to do. You collected your things a returned to Bill's office.

When you pushed open the door, you found him mid-change, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and fastening a black belt around his waist, his shirt folded neatly on the desk.

You knew he was strong from years of hard travel, but this. He was lean and toned, broad shoulders with a narrow waist, and even littered with scars from Fenrir’s attack, he was gorgeous.

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone. The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

His hands flexed, then balled into fists, and you paused, a flicker of reality passing through the haze of desire.

“We need to go,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his shirt.

You nodded, disappointment setting like a stone in your stomach.

You took the Floo System to the Burrow, managing to arrive only five minutes late.

“Bill!” His family cried, swarming him. But the twins went straight for you.

“Y/n! Look at you!” George gushed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

The twins introduced you to the few family members you hadn't met, and you answered the dozens of questions they threw your way while dinner was served. Bill was ignoring you almost entirely, caught up in conversation with his father and Percy. You knew you shouldn't take it personally, you were just colleagues after all, but it still rankled, and you could feel an attitude brewing.

Then, a wicked idea wormed it's way into your mind.

You laughed loudly at one of George's jokes, leaning into his side while he gestured in the air. He draped his arm over you, the type of platonic physical contact the two of you did all the time, but Bill didn't know that.

You saw Bill’s sharp eye snag on the movement, and bit your lips to keep from smiling at your small victory.

A few moments later, you reached over to take a sip of Fred's beer, making a show of wrapping your lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fingers delicate on the glass. You set the bottle down, then shifted to whisper something in Fred’s ear, your hand resting on his. You didn't say anything of real interest, just a little inside joke between the two of you. Fred chuckled, turning to whisper something back to you, and you grinned, winking at him.

You risked a glance at Bill and saw him white knuckling his empty whiskey glass, eyes trained on the birthday cake at the center of the table, and your confidence swelled.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you like some help clearing up for dessert?” You asked, batting your lashes.

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” She chirped, grinning at you.

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

You huffed internally and brought the dishes to the kitchen, casing a spell so they'd wash themselves. You went to the fridge, retrieving a fresh beer for Fred and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey from the counter.

You returned to the dining room and set the beer in front of Fred, who accepted with a smile.

“Thanks, love,” he cooed, taking a sip.

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

You knew you'd done it when Bill excused himself to smoke, a habit he never indulged in at work.

You knew it was wrong to push him, to strain whatever tenuous balance the two of you held, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was driving you insane.

After dessert, everyone ventured back into the living room for games and more drinks, and you slipped outside to find Bill.

He found you first.

An arm snaked out of the shadows and tugged you into the dark, directly into a hard chest.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

“I don't know what you mean,” you replied, tilting your head.

His took a drag off of his cigarette, glaring at you through the smoke. “You know better than to lie to me,” he warned.

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

His free hand lifted, skimming your throat before moving around the nape of your neck. “It already kills me that they met you first, that they know you so well.” His grip tightened, scruffing you, and you gasped. “Is this what you wanted?” He rasped, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

It was so different than his usual professional, collected demeanor. You knew he had an edge to him, an undercurrent of darkness that made him so adept at handling curses, but you never expected this. Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you. He felt so different than the other boys you'd been with, so confident and commanding, knowing exactly how to handle you and your desperation.

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

His hand released your neck, sliding down to grab your waist. “But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.” Each snarled word was like shot of adrenaline to your heart, forcing your already dizzy self to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

You nodded, desperate to be closer to him, to have him touch you. His possessiveness drove you crazy, had you practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

He grabbed your hands and removed them from his body, and you whined in protest. “Behave, and go back inside before you smell like smoke,” he ordered, though his voice was decidedly softer than before, almost breathless. He nudged you away from him and took another draw of his cigarette, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the glowing tip.

Reluctantly, you ventured back inside, your thighs sticky with slick and knees weak. You were so focused on what you could do to drive him mad, you forgot entirely about what he could do to you.

So, you were in your best behavior the rest of the night. Charming the parents, befriending the other siblings, being as fun and social as you could manage. By the end of the night, you were buzzed, socially drained, and unbelievably horny, ready to pounce on Bill every time you caught his eye.

“Alright, we have to get to the bank early tomorrow. Y/n, I'll take you home.” He gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “Goodnight, family!” Bill called, hugging his siblings before ushering you towards the Floo Station.

“Happy birthday!” You hugged Fred and George on your way past, and half-stumbled into the Floo Station from exhaustion.

Bill caught you with a strong arm around your waist and held you up, casting the spell before his family could see how close your bodies were.

The next moment, you were back in the office, head spinning from the booze and the magic.

“Alright, love?” He asked, tightening his grip on you when you swayed on your feet.

You nodded and he released you, leaving you cold and unsteady. You walked in silence back to his office to get your things.

When you arrived, you stopped in the doorway. “M’sorry about earlier,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“So am I,” he replied, walking towards his desk and loosening his tie. Your stomach dropped.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, bracing yourself for rejection. “I was the one that acted like an idiot.”

He looked up at you, a sharpness in his eyes. “Don't speak about yourself like that,” he snapped, and you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard the tread of footsteps, then his hand reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They were stormier than you'd ever seen them, the sky before a shipwreck.

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you, I can be—�� his eyes flicked away, brow pinching in consternation. “After the attack, and the war, and the divorce…I can be cruel, angry. It's a part of me I don't like to show,” he admitted. “So I'm sorry if I frightened you, or overstepped.”

“You didn't frighten me,” you said, placing a tentative hand on his sternum, wanting to comfort him. “Far from it.”

He searched your face as you gazed up at him, starry eyed, and the silence stretched for a few moments.

“This is what I saw,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You asked, practically trembling with anticipation.

“When you wore the Chameleon necklace,” he replied, his eyes tracing the hollow of your throat before lifting back up to your face. “I saw you like this.”

“You wanted to see me like…this?” You asked, looking down at your dress, confused.

He shook his head, his hand moving up to caress your cheek. “No, not the dress,” he said, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That right there,” he hummed with a soft, satisfied smile, his thumb smoothing just underneath your lower lashline. “The desire in your eyes.”

Heat scorched your skin and your tried to pull away out of embarrassment, but he held you firm.

“No, darling. You're done hiding from me,” he said, the petname making your pussy thrum, slick collecting on the inside of your thighs. “I've been waiting to see that look in your eye. To see you need me as badly as I've needed you.”

Your heart stalled, your thoughts turning to static.

Needed me?

“I had to be sure this was what you really wanted, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to see…” he trailed off, expression softening as he continued to look into your eyes.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” you whispered, in complete disbelief. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Perhaps we both have.” He bumped his nose against yours, warm breath fanning against your skin. “You've ruined me. My entire life I've been the epitome of restraint. But with you—” His thumb tugged at your lower lip, sending a tendril of arousal curling down your spine. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to ruin me too.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, feeding his thumb into your mouth. You flicked your tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin before sucking lightly. “I intend to.”

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a breathtaking, soul-deep kiss that you felt through every nerve ending. You kissed him back eagerly, tugging his hair as he hauled you closer, lifting you into the air so you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you across the office and set you down onto one of the overstuffed leather armchairs, the same one he conducted your interview in. He kissed you a moment longer, his tongue delving in to taste you before he withdrew and lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“I'm going eat my fill of you, and you’re going to take it all,” he ordered, his voice rough and breathy, chest rising and falling quickly. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” you answered, nodding like an overeager bobble-head.

He chuckled, his eyes holding yours as he gathered up the fabric of your dress and pushed it up your legs, kissing your knees, and up your inner thighs, his long hair tickling the sensitive skin until he reached your clothed cunt, your white panties betraying how aroused you were.

“Look how pretty you are,” he exhaled, breath warm against your skin. “All this for me, baby?”

You nodded, combing your fingers through his red hair so you could see the lovesick look on his handsome face, his eyes soft and mouth upturned at the corners. It was all in such stark contrast to the brutal scars on his face, silvery in the waning candlelight.

You couldn't imagine someone being more beautiful than Bill was in this moment.

He hummed low in his throat, his tongue licking a stripe over your sodden panties and making you whine, desperate for him to touch you.

“How many times have you orgasmed in a row?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“Oh, uh—” your cheeks warmed, caught off guard by the question. “Only once with a partner. Twice on my own. Why?”

You felt him smirk as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your swollen clit. “Three, then.”

“Three—oh god,” you moaned, grip tightening on his hair as he laved his tongue through your slit, flicking against your bud before repeating the motion, two, three, five times.

He nursed your clit between his teeth, lashing it with his tongue and making you buck your hips up, the pleasure too intense to hold still. He dropped a forearm over your lower stomach to keep you from moving away, your nails dragging across his skin as you cried out.

He moved down to your entrance, lapping at the pool of slick there before thrusting his tongue inside. With his other hand, he began to massage your clit with his thumb, the rough pad creating delicious friction over your sensitive skin.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm building already, a coil of heat making your whole body tense and shake, unable to escape his pleasurable assault with his heavy arm holding you down.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, kitten licking your clit to make you twitch and gasp. He pulled back and spit on your pussy, gliding two fingers through your lips before easing one inside your drooling entrance. “Good girl, can you take another? I know you can—thaaaat’s it, love. Little pussy sucking me right in, so perfect for me.” He was speaking directly against your clit, the movement of his lips and flick of his tongue making your mind go fuzzy, your body ratcheting closer to release by the second.

He curled his fingers inside you, his lips finally sealing to your clit again, and you keened. Sensing you were close, he increased his pace, ruthlessly dragging you to the very edge.

“God, Bill—shit, I'm gonna come!” You cried, your fingers threading through his in an attempt to hang on while he sent you to orbit.

With a final flutter of his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you, you broke, a burst of dizzying pleasure making your eyes roll back, your body convulse in his hold as your orgasm tore through you.

“That's one,” he purred, only slowing for a moment so you could take a full breath before he ramped up his movements again, adding a third finger to your sloppy channel.

“Fuck, I can't—” you whined, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as your body was wound tight once again, helpless as a ballerina in a music box.

“You can. You will,” he ordered, his tone making your pussy clench around his fingers. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now, darling."

“Bill, I—” you screamed as he bit down on your clit, sending you directly back over the edge again, your first orgasm not even fully dissipated before the second one slammed into you, faster and stronger, white hot. Like he'd forced it out of you with his expert touch and tongue.

“That's two. Well done, my love,” he cooed, soothing the bite with his tongue and gently removing his fingers.

You were in a daze, trembling and liquified, practically boneless in the chair. You'd never come so hard on your life.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, reaching up to pat your cheek with his wet fingers before feeding them into your open mouth. “Not done with you yet.”

You sucked your release off his digits, mindless and happy to do whatever he wanted, so long as he keeps touching you like that.

He withdrew his fingers and lowered his head between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your sensitive folds, smiling when you shivered. With slow, unhurried strokes, he cleaned up the mess he'd made of you, making wide circles around your clit to apply less direct pressure and avoid overstimulating you.

“I could stay here forever,” he groaned, the vibration making you gasp. “Give me one more, yeah? Please? Let me be the one that takes you there.”

It was surreal, being completely at his mercy, yet he's the one begging you to let him make you come again. He'd rendered you completely brainless, and still wanted to give you more.

And you still had barely gotten to touch him.

It was the most delicious torture, the most exquisite suffering, and you knew you were so royally fucked.

There was no going back from this.

“Wanna touch you,” you whimpered, too far gone to do anything but squirm.

“Not yet, I told you how this was going to go. One more, then you’re getting some rest.” He hiked your leg over his shoulder, nuzzling against your pussy. “You don't want to be exhausted at work tomorrow, do you?”

You shook your head, having forgotten completely about anything that wasn't Bill Weasley and his magic fucking tongue.

“Good girl. Now relax and let me work.” He lifted you up slightly, angling you directly towards his mouth, and he resumed feasting, taking big, messy licks and sucks of your cunt, the sounds lewd and unabashed, and you fucking loved it.

You did as your were told and relaxed your muscles, sinking deeper into the chair with your legs in the air. You'd submitted to him already, but this was a a true surrender, passing your entire self, body and soul into his hands. Trusting that he would take care of every part of you.

“That's it, just like that,” he praised, kissing your sticky thighs before returning to suckle your clit, making your body hum back to life, pleasure beginning to mount once more.

You moaned his name, nails biting into the leather as he brought you higher and higher, his languid, self-indulgent movements making your head spin.

Feeling your body start to tremble, he flicked his tongue out, just the tip tickling against your hyper-sensitive bud, and you rolled over the edge, simmering, honeyed pleasure spilling through you as you came a third time. It wasn't a harsh, debilitating orgasm, but a blissful release of endorphins that brought tears to your eyes, your muscles and bones unraveling down to the cellular level.

“And there's three,” he said, placing a final, tender kiss to your clit before righting your panties and pulling your dress down.

You were completely blissed out, in your own world as he tugged you off of the chair and into his lap, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck and jaw.

“Come back to me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes so I know you're alright,” he murmured against your cheek, his hands absently massaging your thighs and hips to guide you back into your body.

You blinked your eyes open, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, your chest warm with affection.

“There she is.” He smiled, catching your lips in a soft, sipping kiss. “Okay, love?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “That was—I’ve never—”

“You were amazing. And if you didn’t look ready to pass out, I would be taking number four and five.” He helped you sit up, fixing your hair and wiping away a streak of mascara with his thumb.

“Not possible,” you giggled, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, your hand moving down to cup his scarred cheek. “As talented as you are, there's no way I could come again.”

He smirked, leaning into your palm. “I guess we'll have to find out. C’mon, let’s get you home.” He helped you to your feet, your knees a little wobbly, collected your things, and led you back out to the Floo Station.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You asked, taking your things from his arms.

“For a bit, but I leave tomorrow afternoon for Cairo, remember?” He looked genuinely apologetic for having to leave, and your heart deflated a bit, disappointed that you wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more.

“Right, Cairo,” you said, trying to hide how you felt.

“Hey.” He reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d take you with me. But I can’t risk something happening to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Plus I need a capable curse-breaker to manage things here.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, nosing into his neck and breathing him in.

He held you quietly for another moment, his hand trailing up and down your spine before you finally pulled back, yawning.

“Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, love.”

You stepped into the station and grabbed a handful of the floo powder. “G’night,” you said with a sleepy smile, and cast the spell to transport you home.

Though, you realized with a nervous pang, it felt like you were doing the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading!

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taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger

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