#I NEED CAT VERSIONS OF THE OTHERS NAMES HELP ME WITH THEM
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I was told that if you're having frequent headaches that prevent you from normal activity, those are migraines.
This was a radical thing to learn for someone who had severe migraines as a teenager. When you've camped out (literally, a pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor) in the bathroom so that you can wake up to throw up directly in the toilet, this is a radical idea. When you've had to go to the hospital to get three shots in the ass because you can't stop throwing up, and the migraine medication didn't work, this is a radical idea. When you've missed 30 days of school, minimum, two years in a row due to your frequent migraines and headaches, this is a radical idea.
I wasn't classifying the frequent headaches I got as migraines. They made me light- and sound- sensitive. Moving made my head throb even more. I needed a dark, quiet room, sometimes laying on or wrapping a heating pad around my head and hours of sleep to be functional again. But they weren't accompanied by auras or throwing up. I didn't need to go to the hospital. So, they must not be migraines.
It's a trap I still have a tendency to fall into, honestly. How can this headache that didn't send me to the hospital possibly be in the same category as one that did? But it's not normal to take Excedrin + Sudafed/Hydroxizine mutliple times a week and still be in pain. It's not normal to need to slap an ice pack on your head, affix it in place with a beanie, and go to sleep with ear plugs and an eye mask to get over a headache (if all that even works). Pain is not the norm.
Those are migraines. If a headache is interfering with normal function even after taking medication, that is a migraine. Especially if it is happening multiple times a week/month.
See a doctor, if you can. They can run tests. There is medication you can try.
They may not work. I've had migraines since I was 8 years old. I've had cat scans, MRIs, EEGs, etc. We've never been able to figure out what caused them, only things that make them worse (barometric pressure is a big one). I tried Imitrex and Midrin, if not others, as a teen. They didn't help. I don't have access to the kind of healthcare I did then, so it's just something I have to cope with as best I can now. But just because those things are true for me, doesn't mean they will be for you. It's worth pursuing, just in case you do happen upon something that helps. Don't resign yourself to living life like this if you can avoid it, or at least try to do so.
Just because things could be worse, doesn't mean that what you're experiencing isn't bad. Just because others have migraines that put them in the hospital, doesn't mean your headaches that knock you out of commission for the afternoon multiple times a week aren't migraines. Don't compare yourself or your symptoms to others, even past versions of yourself.
You have migraines, sis/bro/yo. Name it. Own it. Get help.
it's wild that popular discourse around migraines is that there are too many people who claim to have migraines but "just have bad headaches". this is the exact opposite of my experience? i'm still trying to convince several of my friends that their "bad tension headaches" that are unilateral, throbbing, cause light sensitivity, nausea, etc, are migraines lmao. migraine is underdiagnosed and undertreated by every metric i can think of.
this narrative is not harmless! it prevents people from getting treatment that could really benefit them. so i would like it to die. thank you.
#random#health#chronic health conditions#migraines#chronic migraines#headaches#chronic headaches#pain is not the norm#it's a radical notion#i know#but if you're frequently in pain#see a doctor#if you can#make them listen#don't resign yourself to living in pain#don't think that just because you've got ways of coping with or managing your symptoms that it's enough#you deserve better#get help
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nanami's not about to fight with u... he's just gonna show u who you truly belong to. read part 1 for context
"i'm not fighting with you, just get on your knees."
"ken, we have a houseful of guests-
he's shaking his head, tugging his zipper in a fateful swoop. you don't lie and say you weren't buzzing with the idea of what he'd do next, but it felt so wrong. now was not the time to be getting him off.
"i won't repeat myself." then his pants are down and he's easing his already-flushed cock from its confines. he's rubbing himself to his full potential right in front of you, so comfortable with you standing in front of him, wide-eyed and nervous.
luckily your kitchen is closed off from the rest of the house, but it's not completely closed. someone could easily pop their head into the arched entryway and see everything you're seeing. deep down you know kento wouldn't let that happen. he has the awareness of an anxious cat, so you trust him enough to get on your knees, crawling to close the distance between you two.
"i'm doing this because domination tends to make you mild-mannered," he explains briefly, voice tinged with a hint of arousal. "and that's what I need from you right now. do you understand?"
"mhm." you reply, looking up at him with silent doe-eyes. from this angle at his feet, he looks so much bigger. daunting and familiar. so beautiful... and all yours.
"relax your throat." he demands just before taking a handful of your hair and guiding you down the length of him. he's not easy to take in the slightest - your jaw burns, eyes screwed shut as you try to swallow back a gag.
then, a thunderous bout of laughter erupts from the other room and you fold -- gagging and choking all over his pretty cock.
he yanks you backward, face screwed up in distaste. "what did I just tell you?"
"'m sorry." you whine as he smushes your lips with his tip.
"if satoru walks in here and sees you like this, i will be extremely upset."
"'m sorry." you repeat, genuinely sorry and just wanting him inside of you again. he's barely gracing your lips, but every atom in your body is screaming for him. if you thought satoru was charming five minutes ago, you didn't even know who he was now. all you want is your husband.
"him and his righteous savior complex.. makes me sick." he mutters, mostly to himself. he has two big hands on either side of your head, squeezing like only he can. it's been too long together, he knows you're not a china doll.
so, he fucks your limp throat like he hates you, eye twitching as he watches your face go more flushed with each mean thrust he's delivering. you've never taken him like this, feeling the drippy tip of his cock at the base of your throat, giving you goosebumps all around his touch. you've never felt closer to him, yet so pained by every one of his movements.
it's like your entire mind goes limp. etched with scrawling versions of his name only. he's you can think about, all you can taste...
only when he's finally done and marked your stomach with his seed, does he help you up with a strong hand, just holding you close for a second until yours stops shaking.
he doesn't say a word, just watching your eyes as they stare back at him expressionless but teary and bloodshot nonetheless. he leans forward and kisses your forehead.
"sorry. you know i'll always love you."
you nod, because... yeah. same. that makes him smile.
and he guides you back to your party holding your hand, watching out for you as you take the seat next to satoru back. it's like he doesn't even notice your presence, he's far too preoccupied teasing utahime about some nameless story from the past.
once the party has concluded and kento is seeing them all out, does satoru stop and say something.
"poor, little nanami..." satoru stops just before he reaches the first step past the front door. ken regards him with a nod, leaning against the doorframe. "this is what happens when the lamb chooses a wolf."
"do i even want you to explain?"
satoru shrugs him off, throwing up in hand as a curt goodbye as he turns around. "she's too nice. it's sad to know you yelled at her... she was all teary-eyed and mellow for the rest of the night."
kento turns around, chuckling to himself as he finally shuts the front door. reveling in the quiet comfort of his home he thinks:
ha. did much more than make her cry...
#fr if ken and gojo were fighting over u who u pickin#idk i'm always choosing ken#unless geto's an option#also hello to the 700 of u on here? :o#.the wife guy!! <3#.nanami <3#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami x you
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picking up strays
sevika x gender neutral reader
summary: you found a kitten in a dumpster on your way home from work and sevika is less than thrilled
a/n: sevika is a cat person idc idc
tags: fluff, cats, sevika, reader, jinx, and isha family, slightly suggestive
ao3 version
you had been begging sevika to adopt a cat with you ever since you moved into her apartment, but she always shot you down.
today however, the cat distribution system had worked its magic and you heard a high-pitched mewing coming from the dumpster on your way home. when you investigated, you found the fluffiest little black kitten with bright orange eyes that had been left all alone. you cooed down at the little kitten and picked her up, holding her against your chest. she immediately nuzzled into you and started purring loudly, happily settling against you. you couldn't help the 'awe' that left your lips as you looked around for her mother just in case. finding no other cats in the area, you happily started up your walk back home once again with the little fluff ball in your arms.
“i’m home,” you called out into the house, jinx waving absentmindedly in your direction and sevika calling out a greeting from the kitchen.
you walked into your busy house, greeted by jinx and isha working on yet another new project in the living room with parts scattered all over the place. the two were so occupied in their own little world that they didn’t even notice the kitten sleeping away on your chest.
you giddily walked into the kitchen with the kitten hidden under your jacket and waited patiently for sevika to turn the burner off of her current cooking project before she turned to face you.
“hey baby, how was your day?” she asked with a small smile, walking up to you and kissing the top of your head
“good, i have a little surprise though…”
“oh yeah?” she said lowly with a smirk, leaning her face down close to yours.
you giggled and lightly smacked her shoulder, “not that kind of surprise sev.”
her posture slightly deflated, but she still cocked her head to the side curiously, “then what is it?”
the brightest smile crept onto your lips as you opened your jacket and held up the kitten to her face, the kitten’s little body dangling as you held her under her armpits.
"absolutely not."
"awwwe cmon! if you can take in strays i can too!" you insisted, hugging the kitten back into your chest.
“hey! we heard that!” jinx called out in a slightly annoyed tone from the living room. you stuck your head out of the kitchen doorway and stuck your tongue out at her, isha returning your gesture as jinx flipped you off with her mechanical middle finger.
turning your attention back to sevika, you pressed the kitten against your cheek and stuck your bottom lip out in a pout, “please sev? i promise i’ll be her main caretaker you won’t have to do anything!”
sevika tried to hard to resist your pleasing eyes, but her resolve seemed to easily crack when it came to you.
“fine. but it’s not sleeping with us.”
“yay! no promises,” you said in a sing-songy voice and pressed a kiss to her cheek, cradling the kitten in your arms. she couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she watched you show the kitten to isha and jinx, the two of them quickly enamored with how playful the tiny cat was. isha decided on the name pumpkin, but sevika refused to call her anything but ‘cat’ to “not get too attached”.
after a late-night run to the nearest pet store, you set up everything that the kitten would need but couldn’t seem to find her when you got home. going up to your room and opening the door, you had to cover your mouth to stifle your giggle as you saw sevika passed out on her back with the tiny little kitten asleep on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing.
a/n: sorry this is super short but it was stuck in my brain
taglist: @maneskinwh0re @archangeldyke-all @fandoms-will-be-the-death-of-me @sevikasfan

#sevika#sevika arcane#jinx#jinx arcane#isha#isha arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x gn reader#sevika fluff#cat au#strawberrykidneystone#strawberrykidneystone writes#arcane sevika
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LIGHT UP FLOOR | Natalie Scatorccio
pairing: natalie scatorccio/reader
request: what abt natalie and the reader coming to parties to get loose (in all senses of the word iykwim) - and it kinda connects with "casual" by chappell roan in my head, idk; like a more sentimental, melodramatic version of it
i imagine it being a drunk sex fic, but i think you'd like to throw some weed into the mix. natalie pretending to be nonchalant, unbothered and "unfeeling" by reader's presence on the party which they said they weren't gonna attend, and ending up angstyliciously talking-beefing-fucking <3 (@/postmorteum)
wc: 7500
warnings: y/n usage, ambiguous ex-relationship w/nat, strap-on usage (referred to as cock/dick), alcohol consumption, implied drug use (nat), rough sex, toxic relationships, breathplay, spanking, hair-pulling, semi-public sex, (slight) exhibitionism, overstim, forced orgasm, (accidental) watersports, dacryphilia, subspace, aftercare, emotional damage (as is the usual when it's written by me), these idiots need emotional help, someone get them in touch with a good therapist,
a/n: oh lads. this is a fic. slightly ooc in the name of porn or w/e. anyways. wanted to play around a lil and explore some themes i wouldn't normally touch
ao3
Natalie doesn't know why she thought going out tonight would be a good idea. Truthfully, she never thinks it's a good idea to go out; she just… does it anyway. Sue her, a girl likes to have some fun now and then.
And you… you didn't plan to go out tonight, either. You had fully planned on spending it in your dorm, curled up with your cat (that you aren't technically supposed to have in a college dorm), and watching some B-Movies on your shitty CRT television you stole from your parents when you moved into shared housing.
But, now, here both of you are; opposite ends of some dingy club in Philly. You were dragged out here by friends, something about 'getting out and having some fun,' or whatever. Regardless, they ditched you within ten seconds of arrival. Now you sit at the bar while some generic house music plays, a drink in one hand and your head in the other.
You try to hype yourself up—have a little fun for once—but… shit. You find sitting at the bar and downing drink after drink is much more appetizing when compared to actually trying to hook up with some pretty face in a sweaty crowd.
Natalie isn't in a much better state, but you don't know that—you're too absorbed with the bottom of your glass.
If you were to look up right now, you'd see Natalie standing almost directly opposite you, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest as she surveys the dancefloor. She's wearing what she always wears when she goes clubbing—something equally as alt-rock as it fucking sexy, but she's not dressing up for anyone else.
Well, maybe one someone else. But what are the odds of that one 'someone else' being here?
Pretty fucking high, apparently, if that's you sitting at the bar and staring into the bottom of your glass. What the fuck? Since when did you go clubbing in Philly? You were always someone who preferred heading into New York to do that shit!
Whatever the reason you're here, she clocks you before you see her. Not that she was looking for you, of course not. She wouldn't be caught dead admitting that. But her eyes catch your face anyway—the purse of your lips as you bring your drink to your mouth, the way your fingers tap idly against the glass, the way you look—
Sad.
She doesn't like that.
…or maybe she does. If you're still sad… maybe you still care. Maybe you still think about her. Maybe you still wish things had gone differently, just like she does, though she'll never fucking say it.
Natalie watches, waiting for you to look up from your drink, but you don't. It shouldn't sting, realistically. It's not like you would know she's here or looking at you.
It stings anyway.
And, all of a sudden, she feels the need to prove something, though to whom she isn't quite sure.
So, Nat pushes off the wall and walks straight onto the dance floor. There's no difficulty in finding someone willing to dance with her; after all, who wouldn't? Nat knows she's something to look at, and she shows it.
Her outfit says it all: a black, vintage cropped band tee with the sleeves rolled up, showing off the faded stick and pokes that litter her arm. It's slashed at the hem and hangs just enough to reveal a sliver of her stomach when she moves. A ratty plaid miniskirt clings to her hips, frayed at the edges, just barely hiding the ripped fishnets underneath. Combat boots thud against the sticky floor, laced halfway and scuffed from nights just like this. Around her neck, layered silver chains catch the low light, one with a rifle bullet dangling from it. Her eyeliner is smudged to perfection, her eyes smoky, and the textbook example of the 'sloppy punk' makeup look she's coined as her own.
She doesn't have to try. That's the point. Natalie Scatorccio doesn't chase. She lures.
She catches the eye of a girl with her hair streaked a neon green and too much glitter on her cheeks. The girl grins. Natalie smirks back.
And then she's dancing, pressed close, moving like she doesn't know you're here.
She doesn't look at you. Not yet.
You look at her, though.
You aren't quite sure what caused you to look up from your glass at the exact perfect moment, but you do. And there, in all her glory, is Natalie Scatorccio. The same woman that you haven't seen in over two months because of some fucking bullshit—
That isn't relevant right now, regardless. What is relevant right now is the fact that Nat is doing the exact thing she does best: making you fucking pissed off, jealous, and turned on at the same time. A dichotomy you will never properly understand.
Despite yourself, you keep watching, and goddamn, does Natalie move. The deep bass from the music pumping through the speakers radiates up your legs and through your bones, a thrumming sensation pulsing through your mind. Further reminding you of all those nights you've spent in bathrooms of clubs with the titular blonde currently grinding on someone that isn't you.
It's all you can do to glance down into your glass once more, trying to ignore the way she's still dancing on someone who isn't you. She was the one who ended things—you have every right not to be over her yet! You have every right to be upset and jealous that she's currently dancing on someone the way she used to dance on you.
You know what? Fuck it.
You shoot back the remainder of your drink, stand up (swaying slightly), and push your way onto the light-up floor, its colour shifting to a neon green in time with the start of the next song.
Natalie's always had a sixth sense when it came to you. Her eyes flick up to meet yours almost the second you step on the dance floor, her mouth twitching into a smirk—not wide, not gloating, but sharp and knowing, like she’s already won. Her body doesn't stop moving: hips swaying, hands floating in the air, the subtle shift of her weight as her knee brushes lightly against the person she's dancing with. The way she moves is electric, fluid, and maddeningly deliberate—but still so careless, like she hasn't got a thought in the world except the beat of the music.
You take your time cutting through the crowd. It's far from easy—people spill drinks, stumble into your path, and laugh too loud (which is saying something, considering the music is already very loud). Your eyes don't leave hers. You know she sees you. You know she's watching you right back, even when she tilts her head like she's still focused on the person she's dancing with. She's toying with you, and God help you; it's working.
When you reach her, she doesn't stop moving, doesn't pull back from the stranger whose hands rest awkwardly at her waist. She tilts her head to the side, feigning surprise like she didn't know you'd be there.
"Hey," she grins, voice low and just loud enough to carry over the music. "Having fun?"
You scoff, voice sharp with bitterness. "Having fun? Fuck you."
Her grin sharpens, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Yeah, bet you'd like to." She leans slightly into the person behind her, a deliberate press of her shoulder. "As you can see… I'm a little busy right now. Maybe later?"
"No," you hiss out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the other person before you can think better of it. She stumbles slightly but doesn't resist, letting you guide her until her chest is flush against yours. "I'm talking to you."
Natalie doesn't flinch or pull back. Instead, she leans in, arms looping lazily around your neck like it's the most natural thing in the world. Her smirk lingers, teasing but not quite mean. "Well, that's one way to get my attention."
You scoff again, your hands finding her hips without hesitation, gripping tighter than you probably should. "Don't bullshit me. You knew what you were doing. I've had your attention since you started dancing."
Her laugh is low and smokey, her lips brushing just close enough to your ear to make you shiver. "So you've been watching me, then?" She hums, her fingers threading through your hair with an easy, practiced motion. She tugs lightly, just hard enough to remind you exactly how well she knows you. "Guess I should be honoured. Didn't think you'd even glance in my direction again."
Your jaw tightens at her words. There's a flicker of something underneath the surface—not vulnerability, not exactly, but something close. You know her too well to miss it. She's not over it either.
"Yeah, well, trust me," you shoot back, running your fingers under the fabric of her shirt just to feel her bare skin under your palms again. "I didn't want to."
Her grin widens, sharp and unapologetic. "Yet here you are, huh?" She leans in closer, her lips grazing your pulse. Her voice drops, husky and low. "How've you been, y/n?"
Your jaw ticks at the teasing lilt that she speaks your name in, "I've been fucking fantastic, Natalie. How've you been?"
She hums in response, her kisses growing wetter and more deliberate as she moves down your jaw. "Great," she lies easily, her voice brushing against your skin like a whisper. "Thanks for asking, princess."
Neither of you believes the other's words, but truth hardly matters here—it never did.
Her hands tighten in your hair as your bodies move together, the rhythm between you growing hotter, more erratic. You can feel the heat of her skin, the way her breath hitches just slightly as you tug her hips closer.
Her lips move back up to your ear, voice low and teasing. "Can I be honest?"
You pause, considering that. It's not like she's ever asked before.
"I doubt you know how to be," you shoot back, but your voice wavers as her teeth graze your skin.
She laughs, a warm puff of air against your neck. "I'm tired of pretending we're enjoying this conversation."
Then your lips are on hers—or maybe yours are on hers, it's difficult to tell who initiated it—brutal, uncoordinated, and reckless. Nat's lips part against yours, tasting of booze and weed and every fucking thing you missed and hated all at once. The world around you blurs, boiling down into nothing but the heat of her mouth and the weight of her body against yours.
Your hands continue to run up her sides and deeper under her shirt, thumbs slowly tracing the outlines of her ribs as your tongue presses against hers, battling for a dominance you both know is already yours.
Her nails scrape lightly against your scalp, sending a shiver down your spine that you're almost embarrassed by. Almost.
"Missed me, huh?"
"Don't flatter yourself," you shoot back, though your hands betray you, sliding lower to grip her waist firmly, pulling her even closer, though there's hardly anything left to close.
She laughs, and you feel it more than hear it. Her teeth graze your bottom lip, playful and just shy of rough. "You're full of shit, y'know that?"
"And you're full of yourself," you counter, tilting her head back slightly with a hand on her jaw.
The kiss deepens, sloppier now, teeth and tongues clashing like neither of you can quite control the urgency. The warmth of her skin under your fingers and the press of her body against yours feels all too familiar, like slipping back into a bad habit you swore you'd kicked.
The song shifts once more, a pulsing rhythm slower and heavier than the one before. It's almost too perfect—like the DJ is playing music specifically to remind you just how much you're still hooked on her—an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice after a long period of abstinence. Her hips press into yours, moving with the beat, and you're so caught up in her atmosphere that the surrounding dancers just seem to vanish.
"Y'know," she says suddenly, her lips leaving yours to brush against your ear, "mmm… my hips have missed your hips."
You exhale shakily, your voice edged with lingering pain. "Maybe your mouth should’ve admitted it sooner."
She leans her head back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed, a delicate sigh slipping past her lips. "Maybe yours should've stayed."
You pretend not to flinch at that. She pretends not to notice.
For a moment, that sexuality that had been burning between the two of you seems to simmer down to something… softer. That lingering pain and tension that had been sitting on your chest for the past few months… it all seems to fade to black, and the only thing you can remember is the warmth you two had shared.
Your fingers tighten instinctively against her, digging into the soft flesh at the sudden rush of memories and endorphins that flood your veins. A sound—soft but unmistakably approving—spills from her lips at the action.
Her eyes meet yours. There's something else there—something raw and unsaid that you don't dare to name. Regardless, it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that infuriating smirk.
"We were always better at this than talking," she purrs, spinning around in your hold so her back is to your chest. Your hands instinctively move to her hips while hers reach back to tangle in your hair, encouraging your face into the back of her neck.
You don't hesitate, lips brushing her nape. The skin there is warm, the faint scent of her dollar-store shampoo mingling with the cheap cologne, booze, and smoke that clings to her clothes. It's a heady combination, one that takes you back to nights you thought you'd buried—nights just like this one, with your sweaty bodies moving in sync.
Her fingers curl tighter in your hair as her hips roll back against you, perfectly timed with the bassline reverberating through the floor. Your hands drift lazily up her torso, cupping her breasts gently before moving back down to rest on her lower stomach, holding her against you..
Nat's head tilts back and rests against your shoulder, and her laughter dissolves in a soft, breathy sound that you feel more than hear. Her body practically melts into yours, her movements slowing just enough to draw attention to every subtle grind and shift of her hips.
You feel her fingers trail down from your hair to your arm, wrapping around your wrist and guiding your hand lower, just beneath the hem of her skirt. The gesture catches you off-guard for a fraction of a second, but you willingly let your hand trail down the flat of her stomach.
"Careful, Nat," you murmur, the pad of your forefinger teasing the waistband of her panties. "We're still in public, hmm?"
She chuckles lowly, the sound vibrating against you. "And? When'd you start caring about that?"
Her words are a dare, and you both know that. Unfortunately for you, you also both know she's right—neither of you has ever given a flying fuck about other eyes in the room. One could even say it makes things better.
You should stop. You should untangle yourself from her and find someone—literally anyone else—to dance with. You should do a million different things in this moment, but then she presses her hips back into you with just enough force to make you both gasp, and any thoughts you had about preserving your sanity go flying out the window.
"You're a fucking danger to society," you mutter, dipping your hand underneath her waistband and teasing lower. "A fucking menace."
"Mmm, and you love it," she quips, her smirk audible as your fingers run through her folds, the wetness already palpable.
"Not as much as you do, apparently." You shoot back, pulling your hand out of her skirt before you can get thrown out of the (mediocre) nightclub you were in.
She looks at you over her shoulder as if she can still read your mind. "We gettin' outta here?"
"Yeah?" You’re not even sure why you sound so uncertain—especially since you’re already dragging her toward the exit.
You lead her out into the brisk Philly night, the cool air sharp against your overheated skin. You're not thinking clearly—you're not thinking at all—when you pull her into the narrow alleyway beside the club, pressing her back against the rough brick wall.
"Good to see you never stopped being a romantic," Nat quips breathlessly as her arms come to circle your neck. "Missed the charm."
"Thought you'd appreciate the ambience," you move your lips to her neck, starting at the hollow of her throat before tracing up her jaw and to her mouth. "You always did like it dirty." And, well, it is dirty. You've positioned the two of you between a rotting stack of wooden pallets and a half-full dumpster.
Nat doesn't seem to mind or care.
And, much to her dismay, she doesn't get the chance to fire a teasing quip back when you slot your lips against hers and kiss her like your life depends on it. You've fucked in far dirtier (and more life-threatening) places than a grungy back street in downtown Philly; plus, your tetanus shots are up to date. You and Nat made sure of that after the… incident that happened last summer in Atlantic City.
She hitches up her right leg around your hip, using the leverage to tug you even closer to her as her fingers thread through your hair, angling your head so she can deepen the kiss.
Nat's lips are chapped and cracked against yours, splintering open when you tug her bottom lip between your teeth. The metallic taste of blood pebbles upon your tongue, stirring up a moan that threatens to spill from your throat into her waiting mouth.
When her hips start grinding into yours with growing ferocity, she breaks the kiss with a gasp. "You're packing?" It's phrased as a question, but you know her well enough to understand it's a statement.
Of course she notices. She always does.
"Yeah," your breath ghosts over her face, eyes boring into yours. "Planned on getting laid tonight. Just happened to be you."
"Lucky me."
"Lucky's one word for it." Your hands slide down to her waist, pressing her harder against the wall. The rough brick scrapes faintly against her back, the friction mirrored in the scrape of your teeth along her neck.
She hisses in a breath, tilting her head to give you more access. "Fuck, you're insufferable."
"And you love it," you shoot back, echoing her earlier words. Your fingers slide beneath the hem of her skirt, the fabric bunching up as you inch closer to what you both want.
Her fingers tighten in your hair, angling your head back until your eyes meet. They're blown wide, pupils dark and wild—whether from lust or intoxication, you neither know nor care. "What're y'waiting for, then?"
You don't answer, not with words. Instead, you push her skirt up fully, exposing the smooth skin of her thighs to the cold night air. The actions feel familiar—almost second nature—when your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties and tug them down her thighs, the sight of her naked skin making your pulse palpitate.
Truthfully, it's a sight you'd never thought you'd see again. You're ever-grateful that you were wrong.
"C'mon," you murmur, removing your hands from her body. "Bend over."
Nat smirks, "Why? Can't handle seeing my face, princess?" Her back arches as she bends over the wooden pallets, the curve of her body oh so inviting. "This what you had in mind?" she purrs, looking back at you from over her shoulder.
You step behind her, hands running down her sides to rest on her hips. Despite the teasing front she tries to put up, you see past it. "God, yeah," you murmur, grinding your hips into hers, letting her properly feel the strap you had tucked away. "Missed you more than I fucking hate you."
"Shit," she hisses, pressing her hips back into you. "Yeah? Prove it, then—fuck me like you mean it," she adds a moment later, though her voice wavers just enough to betray the ache beneath her bravado.
You steady her with one hand on her hip as the other hand moves to undo the buckle of your belt. The sound of it coming undone echoes against the concrete and brick. The tension between you two feels thick enough to cut with a knife. With a torturous amount of slowness, you unzip your jeans and reach inside, taking out the silicone toy.
You spit onto your hand and bring it to the length jutting out from between your thighs, spreading the saliva across its ribbed surface. It’s cold to the touch at first, but warms quickly in your palm—slick and ready, almost like it's as desperate as you are to be inside of her again.
Her head falls forward, breath quickening as you push into her, watching her heat slowly consume every inch. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the edge of the pallet, body trembling at the harsh intrusion without preparation, and still, she takes you like she always has.
"Fuck, don't I get a fucking warm-up?" she seethes, but the words lose any strength they had behind them when her voice melts into a low moan as her expression shifts—eyes heavy, mouth parted, brows just barely furrowed in that way you’ve only ever seen when she’s falling apart for you.
"You don't need one. You never do when you're drunk." One of your hands moves to grip the back of her neck, pushing her face down against the pallets. Nat groans as the rough, dry wood digs into her cheek, but provides no further protest to the action. She's always liked you a little rougher.
It's when you start moving your hips that Nat stops her faux fighting, a pleased sound spilling from her lips. "Fuck, yes," she mumbles out, meeting your thrusts every time you snap your hips forward. Your movements are harsh—driving into her roughly and removing yourself almost entirely before plunging right back in and doing it all over again, switching between speeds as you go.
God, Nat would never admit it to anyone, but she fucking missed this. Missed you fucking into her like you had a point to make. Like it didn't matter who saw. She missed the way your cock stretched her out so perfectly every time—like it was moulded specifically for the shape of her pussy. It was everything she had been craving and looking for in partners since you but had yet to receive.
So, she allows herself to go along for the ride, letting you use her how you see fit. If this were any other encounter, you'd probably feel bad about how punishing and unrelenting your thrusts were. Right now? Right now, you can't find it in you to care. After everything she put you through, maybe this is the only way you know how to touch her anymore.
Your nails dig into the flesh of her hip as you drive into her, the smack of skin against skin echoing in the narrow alleyway. The cool night air bites at your exposed flesh, a stark contrast to the burning heat where your bodies connect. Each thrust draws a quiet, gasping moan from her lips, further muffled by the wooden pallets pressing into her cheek.
"God, Nat," you growl, free hand sliding up her back, nails raking lightly over her spine. "Look at you. Fucking perfect."
She tilts her head back just enough for you to catch the curve of her lips—a smirk, of course. Even like this, she still can't resist being a tease. "Don't stop," she murmurs, voice shaky but still holding that infuriating edge.
"Didn't plan to."
You lean over her, chest brushing against the curve of her back as you press her down even further. The angle shifts, and the new depth drags a sharp cry from her throat. She claws at the edge of the pallets, nails scraping against the splintering wood as her body writhes beneath yours.
You adjust your stance further, one hand moving back to her hip while the other gathers her hair into a makeshift ponytail. The strands are slightly damp from the club's heat and exertion of the moment, sticking to your fingers as you twist your hand into its length. With a sharp tug, you yank her head back, exposing the column of her throat, skin flushed and slick beneath your grip. Her back arches deeper with the tug, a cruel smile stretching across your lips at the sight.
"Fuck," Nat hisses, voice breaking into a gasp that's half surprise, half desperate need. Her eyes squeeze shut as she instinctively pushes back against you, meeting each thrust with a renewed fervour.
You chuckle darkly, tightening your grip on her hair and pulling harder, the motion eliciting a strangled moan from her throat. "You trying to get us caught?" Your free hand slides up from her hip to wrap loosely around her neck, palm flat against her windpipe.
She goes still for a moment, her body taut beneath yours as your fingers press lightly into the sides of her throat. You can feel the rapid thrum of her pulse beneath your fingertips, a tangible reminder of the control you have over her right now.
"Harder," she whispers, the word barely audible over the sound of your bodies colliding.
You don't need to be told twice. Your grip on her neck tightens just enough to make her gasp for air, lips parting, breath thinning, eyes glazed. It's intoxicating, the way she submits so willingly, just like she always has.
Nat tries to speak—she really does—but all that results is a weak, strangled sound that you feel vibrate down into your hand from where it's pressed over her throat.
The sound goes straight to your lower gut, forcing a low groan from your mouth at the way she still lets herself fall into pieces for you. You ease up on her neck just enough for her to catch her breath, not because you're feeling generous, but because you want to hear her again—want to feel the way her voice trembles when she breaks.
"There she is," you murmur, breath hot against her ear. "Still know how to be a good fucking girl when you want to be."
You feel the shiver rake down her spine at your breath against her ear, and her whole body twitches. Her legs spread further, and her face flushes with the kind of raw, dizzy submission she always tried to pretend she didn't like.
You give her a moment. Just long enough to catch her breath (although your hips never cease in their relentless assault, so you really don't give her a lot of opportunity to breathe properly), and then—your palm connects with the round of her ass.
She gasps, loud and shocked, but her hips jerk back toward you instead of away.
"There it is," you mutter, hand settling back over the area you'd hit in a strange form of apology. "Knew you'd still come when called."
Natalie makes a sound like a sob dressed up as a moan—muffled by the pallet, cracked in the middle. You don't slow down. If anything, you give her less now. Less mercy. Less rhythm. Less time to think.
Because she never needed gentleness.
Not when it came from you.
Not after what she did.
When your hand rears back and connects with her again, it's hard enough for the sound to echo off the brick, but not hard enough to hurt. Just to remind her she's still yours, even if only like this.
A pathetic sort of whine slips through her teeth, but there's no protest at your roughness—just her ass pressing back harder into your hips. You know Nat well enough to know she wants the pain—it makes things easier than just dealing with the emotional aspect of it all. She doesn't have to think when another sharp crack echoes against the objects surrounding you, all she has to do is close her eyes and feel you inside of her.
God, it feels good.
Just like it feels good for you to watch the way her skin reddens where you strike it, or the way she grips the wood underneath her so hard you worry she'll limp away with wooden splinters lodged in her calloused fingers.
You're so deep inside her now, it's a miracle she's still holding herself upright. She'd be a mess on the pavement if not for the pallets underneath her. Every thrust punches another fractured sound from her throat—moans, gasps, half-formed curses, maybe your name—but it's the way she clings to the pallet that tells you just how close she is. You've seen the signs before and learned to memorise them: the trembling in her thighs. The twitch in her back. The frantic, instinctive way her hips keep trying to meet yours. The way she doesn't even realise she's begging.
You let a sardonic smirk cross your face as you lean down again, lips pressed to her ear. "Gonna come already, Natalie?"
She whimpers—high and broken—and it's the most honest sound you've dragged out of her all night.
"Of course you are," you sneer gently, snapping your hips harder into hers. "Always did like being used, didn't you?"
Her entire body tenses under you, and she's gone. Her teeth dig into her hand to muffle the sharp, guttural cry that rips itself from her throat. She shudders, her muscles seizing and convulsing as she crashes into her first orgasm with brutal force.
"Shit," you laugh darkly, never once ceasing your drives into her. "Still so easy, huh? Bet no one else makes you come like this."
Nat swears she can taste copper as her teeth dig into her hand, biting down until the pain flares bright under the skin. She can't find it in herself to dispute your claim, not when she can feel the ridges of your cock dragging against her fluttering walls, nudging that spot inside of her that has her seeing stars.
When she finally manages to speak, you can't make out the garbled words she spits into her trembling fingers, but you don't need to hear them. You already know what they are; some variation of her telling you to go fuck yourself.
With a sudden abruptness, you pull out of her spasming pussy and slap your dick against her sensitive cunt a few times, watching her twitch and wiggle away from the actions.
"C'mon. Flip over."
Nat makes some weak, pathetic whining sound before realising she still has a voice she can use, and moves her hand from her mouth. "Fuck… fuck off. Give me a minute. I just—"
You don't let her finish. You don't want to hear it unless it's begging.
With strength surprising even you, you flip her over before she can even breathe properly. One hand continues to stroke the length between your legs slowly, the other running up her torso before your thumb comes to rest under her chin, fingers resting loosely over her hammering pulse.
Her bleached hair fans messily against the pallet, cheeks flushed, lashes sticky with sweat and God-knows-what. Her eyes are glassy—half-lidded, half-lost—and the second they meet yours, you feel something like grief claw at your throat.
You chose to ignore it.
She doesn't speak as her pulse bounds against the tips of your fingers, just lifts her hips in a silent ask. You don't give her what she wants—not yet. Instead, you just look down at her with faint pressure against her windpipe.
Nat doesn't want to admit it, but she still recognizes that look.
Her hand tentatively moves between her own legs, shaky and uncertain.
"C'mon," you murmur, voice low. "Show me how much you missed me."
She squeezes her eyes shut, ashamed of how fast her body responds. Her fingers slide through her wet, puffy folds, circling her clit. Pleasure shoots up her spine, and her whole body trembles—brows knitting, lips parting into that perfect little 'o' you’ve missed.
"Yeah… just like that. Such a good girl. You miss having my cock ruining you?"
She whimpers. And, much to your surprise, she nods her head—no bratty comment or easy quip, almost like she's finally submitting herself to you fully.
"Words, Natalie." You lightly squeeze her throat at the command to prove a point. "Say it. Tell me."
"Missed it," she whines reluctantly, eyes still squeezed shut as her fingers start to find a comfortable rhythm. "Missed you inside of me—"
You smirk down at her, thumb pressing harder into her jaw. "Open your eyes. C'mon, lemme see that pretty colour—ah, there we go. You can be such a good girl when you want to."
She nods frantically, green eyes blown wild with lust, meeting yours in the claustrophobic darkness that surrounds you. Dark mascara streaks down her cheeks, and it's a damn good look on her.
You watch her like a goddamn animal—eyes glued to the way her fingers circle faster now, how her breath catches every time your name slips from her mouth without thought.
"Touching yourself just to make me proud, huh?" you murmur, hand still wrapped around the toy between your thighs, stroking it like it's a part of you. "Look at you. Such a fucking mess."
Nat nods again, frantic and desperate, the heel of her palm grinding down against her clit as her thighs begin to twitch.
You press your body back between her legs, guiding the tip against her soaked entrance, splitting her labia and rubbing against her slit. Her hand slips away immediately—instinctively—as if her body knows exactly who it belongs to when it counts.
"Did I tell you to stop touching yourself?" you ask harshly, the hand on her throat moving back to grip her left thigh and pull her towards you. Nat's leg wraps around your hip like it's still second nature to her, and she shakes her head as her hand moves back to where it was.
"Y'didn't…" she says meekly, the overstimulation starting to get to her. "'m sorry…"
The grin that cracks your face at her whimpered apology could only be considered feral. "Mm, apology accepted, pretty girl."
You nudge the head inside her—barely—and pull back, teasing again, and again, until Nat whines and tugs you closer with the leg she has around your hip.
You click your tongue and slap her thigh. "When did you think I gave you control, Natalie?" It's a rhetorical question, and you both know it. She doesn't opt for a verbal response; instead, she just shakes her head in place of an apology.
You'll take it.
For now, anyway.
You keep rubbing the tip against her, collecting her slick and coating the length with a sardonic grin.
That's another look that Nat has seen before.
You want her to beg.
Any other day, any other time of the week, she'd be more annoying about it. She'd make you earn her compliance, but she's already so far gone for you; the idea of being a brat doesn't even occur to her.
"Please," she whines out, fingers failing to find the rhythm they had previously found before she pulled back. "God, please. Just…" She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, clearly battling with the words she's going to say next, but she says them anyway. "Fuck, I'm yours. Goddammit, I'm yours. Just—please—!"
Well.
Who are you to say no to that? She begs just like she used to.
You thrust into her in one slow, claiming stroke, bottoming out and staying there. Letting her feel every inch of your cock inside her sensitive cunt. She instinctively clenches down around you, pulsing like she's trying to draw you in deeper.
God, a part of her wishes you wore a bigger one. She wants to feel you in her goddamn throat—but maybe that's just the liquor talking.
The hand that had a death grip on her thigh moves to press over her lower gut, and fuck, Nat feels full. She knows she was just wishing you wore a bigger strap, but she feels full, and it feels good. It's a sensation she hasn't felt before, but it isn't necessarily a bad one. Just a lot of pressure that's adding to the rampant pleasure.
You don't give her a warning when you pull back until just the tip remains, then start to pound into her with reckless abandon.
She feels dizzy. Drunk on you. Drunker than the last shot she took. No substance ever hit like this. No, there isn't a single pill out there that could ever come close to touching this rush.
Your hand presses harder into her lower belly, fingers splayed like you're trying to cover as much skin as possible. Nat whimpers—it's all she can manage—and her legs twitch again as another wave of pleasure hits her.
The pressure's unbearable now.
Not just the pressure from your cock, but from the ache building behind her pubic bone. The kind of full that doesn't feel like just sex anymore. It's deeper than that. Heavier.
Worse.
She doesn't want to admit it, but she knows what she is. And like most things in her life, she’d rather not face it head-on. So, she doesn't think about the fact she's had shot after shot at the bar and never went to the bathroom. Doesn't think about the fact she pre-gamed before coming out. Doesn't think about the fact that she's had even more to drink because of the goddamn cottonmouth that comes with railing rackets off a porcelain basin.
Nat squeezes her eyes shut rather than telling you to stop or pushing you back, because she doesn't want that. She tries to breathe through it. She can't come like this.
And you don't stop. Your thrusts are brutal, steady, and almost cruel in their rhythm. And your hand—your fucking hand—is still pressing down over her gut like you know. Like it isn't just about the external stimulation anymore.
"You feel full, baby?" you murmur, voice low and sweet and horrible. "Feels like you're about to break for me."
"Don't—" she chokes out, voice barely coherent, but it's too late.
Her body jerks. Her thighs lock around your waist, like she's trying to hold it all in. Like she could hold it all in. Her stomach twists. Her muscles fail.
And then it happens.
The warm rush overtakes her in an instant—wet and unrelenting, gushing against your thighs and the inside of hers. A sob bubbles from her chest, and she can no longer bear to look at you, thrashing her head to the side as she tries—and fails—not to come again.
No, it would be impossible not to. She was already so close, and with the urine being pushed from her bladder, your hand is pressing directly over where your cock is hammering into her.
You feel the warmth spread across your thighs and seep into the fabric of your pants, and for a second, all you can do is laugh. "Oh, Nat… really?" But your voice isn't mocking. It's indulgent. Like you knew it was coming. Like you wanted it to.
Nat's eye makeup runs down her face in rivers now as pathetic sounds rip from her throat, but you don't stop. No, not once. You don't even slow down as you push her through the waves of her second orgasm. You don't stop when her hand falls from her clit to grip the edge of the pallets.
You don't stop.
"You can cry about it later," you hiss, bringing your hand back to her throat and applying just enough pressure on her windpipe to help her further slip into that fuzziness that's been floating around her head since the first time she came.
"Fuck, such a good little piss-soaked bitch for me, aren't you?" Your thumb presses under her jaw, turning her back to face you again, your pace never ceasing. "All you did was just make it easier for me to fuck you, you realise that?" You laugh sardonically, applying pressure to her carotid now. "All you did was give me more lube. Not that we didn't have enough already, but…"
"Please—" Nat begs, but she doesn't know exactly what for. "Please, please, God, please—!"
"Oh, gonna give me another one, baby? Even after all that?" Your voice is a low, brutal coo, and Natalie hates that she nods immediately, another broken sob escaping her mouth in the form of a "please," which seems to be the only word she can bring herself to say right now.
She doesn't want to come again, but she's going to. Even if it feels like every thrust of your hips is the equivalent of a wildfire running through her veins. She can't help it—it's like you still remember exactly what buttons to push to force her over the edge.
Her thighs are shaking. She doesn't even bother keeping them around your waist anymore. Before they can fall limp, your hands are there—gripping her, pulling her back into each thrust like there was even a sliver of a chance she would try to pull away right now.
Sobs catch in her throat, cut short every time your hips slam back into her. She feels it blooming in her stomach again—too soon, too much, too hot—her skin prickles, flushed and slick and far too sensitive. Every inch of her body feels lit up, wired and overworked, raw nerves singing with every movement.
Your cock slams into her, again and again and again, and the sound of it—the obscene squelching sounds that seem endless—bounce off the alley walls like your own private symphony.
Nat's breath hitches, a stuttering inhale that never quite becomes an exhale, and she whines, long and high and fucking mortifying. Her body arches up into you involuntarily, back bowed and muscles tensed like she's ready to snap at any second.
"Yeah, that's it," you murmur, the sound barely audible over the repetitive collisions of your bodies. "Let me have it."
And then she snaps.
Her body convulses violently beneath yours, a ragged cry tearing itself from her lungs as her orgasm rips through her like a wave of static. She's gushing around you, all slick and salt and noise, a tremor rattling straight up her spine as every part of her feels like it's shattering into a million little pieces.
Her grip on the pallets falls slack. Her mouth opens in a silent scream. Her cunt clamps down so hard you can feel it, and have to bite back a moan of your own. She comes like a house being torn apart by a tornado, and it's only then that you finally—finally—cease your relentless assault on her well-used and overly sensitive pussy.
It feels like eons between her final climax and when you finally pull out of her, but Nat doesn't mind the wait. Not when she's floating in this hazy space she's only been in a handful of times before—which, ironically, have all been with you, but that's a problem for sober Nat.
And you, well, you don't know what you're gonna do when you're sober. But that can be dealt with when you are sober.
For now, you drunkenly tuck yourself back into your pants—grateful that today was the day you chose to wear a dark colour, God forbid you be seen walking around with a giant piss stain on the front of them—and pull a tissue from your pocket, attempting to clean her up.
You're careful. Just like you used to be. You take your time cleaning her up, mindful of her oversensitivity and her state. You may be a drunk asshole right now, but you aren't a complete asshole.
Her breathing is still shaky. Her mascara's bled halfway down her cheeks. She doesn't flinch when your fingers brush between her legs again. She just exhales, seemingly… grateful.
You don't say anything as you wipe her down. You don't have to. You're safe. You always have been.
By the time you get her clothes back in place and help her up, Natalie's just coming out of that fog that has clouded her mind.
You murmur something about a payphone. She nods without question. She clings to you just like she used to after you'd pushed her into subspace.
While you wait for the cab on the sidewalk, she leans her head on your shoulder. You hold her hand.
You already know she'll be gone by the morning.
a/n: do u guys know how crazy it is that i went from writing a fic where reader literally kms'd to writing this. wild. anyways. stream melodrama
#natalie scatorccio#nat scatorccio#nat scatorccio smut#natalie scatorccio smut#nat scatorccio x reader#natalie scatorccio x reader#nat scatorccio x you#natalie scatorccio x you#yellowjackets x you#yellowjackets smut#yellowjackets x reader#ladles (fics/blurbs)#from the cutlery drawer#steak knives (nsfw)#q
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A Universe In Your Smile ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.



pairing : James Potter x female!reader
summary : A fluffy, poetic friends-to-lovers tale where James Potter and a hopelessly smitten reader stumble through longing, laughter, and chaos—too in love to admit it, until they finally do.
warnings : Excessive fluff, Mutual pining / yearning, Jealousy (mild), Idiots in love, Sirius and Remus suffering secondhand embarrassment, Soft romantic tension, Overuse of the word "darling" (sorry, not sorry), May cause uncontrollable smiling and heart-squeezing feelings. Please let me know if I missed any.
author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.
word count : 0.8k
main master list <3
banners : @dollywons and @roseschoices
It was widely accepted at Hogwarts that if you found James Potter, you’d find her. And if you found her, James wasn’t far behind—carrying her books, stealing her quill, or whispering something ridiculous in her ear to make her smile when she didn’t want to.
They weren’t dating. Merlin, no. They just did things like feed each other chocolate frogs and wear matching socks and fall asleep on the Gryffindor common room couch, tangled like ivy vines grown too close over too many years.
No, definitely not dating. Just… being ridiculous.
── .✦
The thing was—James Potter had always looked at her like she’d hung the stars, even when they were eleven and she punched him in the arm for hexing her hair blue. And now, at seventeen, he still looked at her like she was the sky itself. A breathless kind of awe in his gaze when she tied her hair up, or laughed too hard at one of Sirius’s jokes, or fell asleep with her nose in a book beside the window seat in the common room.
The world faded a bit when she wasn’t around.
And professors—bless them—caught on quickly. “Potter, where’s your other half?” And James, wide-eyed and traitorous smile on his lips, would answer, “Oh, you mean her? She said she’d meet me here—wait, why do you think I know where she is?”
“Because you always do,” Professor McGonagall deadpanned. “You practically breathe in sync.”
── .✦
Sirius was done. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just snog already!” he groaned one night as James and the reader argued over who would get the last of the pumpkin pastries. “It’s not snogging if you’re feeding it to her like a lovesick kneazle,” Remus added, not even looking up from his book.
James blushed crimson. “I’m not a lovesick kneazle.” “You purred when she scratched behind your ear last week,” Sirius muttered. “That’s a reflex!” “She was laughing in your lap,” Remus pointed out. “While you pouted. Like a cat.”
── .✦
But James—brilliant, chaotic, brave-hearted James—was oblivious. Or perhaps too aware. Because sometimes their pinkies would brush beneath the table and he’d freeze like she’d set his skin on fire. Sometimes she’d look at him like he’d handed her the sun, and he’d have to look away before he did something stupid like tell her he loved her. Again.
He did, of course. Loved her. Every version of her. Her morning yawns. Her ink-stained fingers. Her star-gathered eyes. Her laugh when he tripped over his shoelaces. Her fierce way of defending the underdog. Her quiet strength. Her chaotic mind. She was poetry in freckles. A heartbeat he’d memorized.
── .✦
And she? She was wrecked for James Potter. It was humiliating, really. He’d touch her shoulder and she’d forget her own name. He’d grin, and she’d want to bottle it, drink it, wear it like perfume. He’d call her “love” or “darling” in that stupid, careless way and she’d have to resist the urge to scream into her pillow for an hour.
And when he wrapped a scarf around her neck because “It’s bloody freezing, you’re going to get sick again,” she melted. Her friends were no help.
“You two need therapy,” Lily said, not unkindly. “Or a closet and seven minutes.”
── .✦
And then… Then came Amos Diggory.
A charming Hufflepuff. Too smooth. Too clever. Too tall. Too good-looking. Too close.
He was leaning a little too far into her space near the library shelves. His laugh too loud. His hand brushing her wrist. And James—James Potter saw it from across the room.
Something primal clawed in his chest.
He stormed over, heart roaring, fists clenched, wearing jealousy like a second skin. “Hey, mate,” he said, too loudly, too cheerfully, slipping between them with the grace of a bullfrog. “Didn’t know my girl needed help finding Charms.”
Your. Girl.
She blinked, stunned. So did Amos, who looked from James to her with the wary expression of someone who’s realized they’ve stepped into a dragon’s lair.
“She’s not—” she started to say, cheeks flaming.
“Am I not?” she whispered back.
And James—bless him, stupid, sweet boy—froze. Because he’d said it. Finally. The quiet truth soaked in years of almosts and pinky brushes and shared sugar quills.
“You are,” he said softly now, voice low and reverent. “If you’ll let me be yours.”
She stared at him.
Then she laughed. And hit his chest. “You idiot. Of course you’re mine.”
── .✦
Their first kiss was on the Astronomy Tower. She kissed him first. He kissed her second, third, and fifth.
And suddenly, everything made sense.
The world tilted and shifted like it had been waiting for them to stop being stupid and finally admit that their hearts beat for the same ridiculous, poetic kind of love.
── .✦
The next morning, when James wasn’t in class, the professor didn’t even blink.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” She smiled.
“Probably stealing my quill again.” “Tell him to at least show up with you next time.” “Yes, Professor.”
(He did. With her hand in his. Pinkies entwined. Eyes soft. Stupidly in love.)
── .✦
And Sirius? “I’ll pay someone to jinx me into unconsciousness if I have to watch them cuddle again.” “I think it’s sweet,” Remus muttered. “You would.”
But they didn’t mind. Not really. Because James Potter had finally found his home—in her laugh, her smile, her love.
And she?
She’d been his all along.

#𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 della 𝄞#james potter imagine#fluff#drabble#marauders#james potter x reader#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter x y/n#marauders era#the marauders#james potter x fem!reader#james potter fluff
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THE WOLF IN SHEEP'S SKIN. Arlo Kent is warm, lively, bright, cheery, bubbly. Every other word in the dictionary that would make anyone in their presence feel comfortable, maybe even safe. Because they ask the right questions at the right time, laugh in a way that makes you feel relaxed. The sort of person who remembers your pet's name, your favourite drink and the off-hand comment you made some six months ago at lunch.
To the crew, they are background noise. To the rest of the world, they don't exist. To you? Arlo doesn't know what they are to you. Yet. But they know what they want to be. And they know what you are to them.
Arlo likes to think of you like this parasite that lives under their skin and feeds off them. The only difference is that this host likes it. Isn't the highest form of love just complete devotion? There's a sick of kind of pleasure in willingly submitting themself to you. Yes, you breathe in my veins. Yes, I will gladly cut myself open if you were to ask. Would you stitch me back up, baby? Yes, i would bleed on the bathroom tiles for you because how I could I not? You asked. You.
You. You. You. You.
How do you do this?
You will grow out of it, most people say but you see, Arlo is not the type of person who ever grows out of things. They still order the same ice cream flavour they did when they were nine, even though their friends think it's basic. Because Arlo Kent never learned to fall out of love like that.
*ROMANCING ARLO KENT : Arlo believes that their hands have no other purpose than to hold yours against them. There are 206 bones in the human body and all of Arlo's crave the feeling of your frame against them. 365 days and not a day goes by where you don't invade their thoughts. You are Arlo's only home. Is that bad? Arlo hopes you don't find that pathetic.
All Arlo desperately, tremendously, murderously, wants is you. Is that too much to ask for? There is just so much of you living inside Arlo without their permission. Why won't you let them in too? You know. To make it equal.
Arlo doesn't believe in a God but they pray for you anyway. Every night before they go to bed, they hope there will come a morning where they will not wake up alone but with the feeling for your warm body beside them.
But it's alright. It really is. Arlo will take their time. Not because they are patient, but because they are certain.
You two are inevitable. Arlo will take as long as you need. The sea kisses the shore until it forgets what it was like to exist without them. Until the jagged edges soften.
Until surrender feels like choice.
Because when you will have nobody, you will come to no one but them. Arlo will make sure your eyes begin searching for theirs, when they aren't around. You will begin to laugh more when they are near. You will start calling it fate, as if it was some divine intervention and they didn't weave the threads of fate themself. But despite that, they will not correct you.
Arlo will never not chase you. In every universe they will find you. Over and over and over and over— until there is no version of you that doesn't love them back.
PERSONALITY : Arlo is an amicable person. The kind that always pssts at a cat, that passes by, feeds the strays in their area and helps an elderly woman cross the street. They are helpful, thoughtful, observant, endlessly polite and a great listener. Has a huge friend group. Chatty and loves social media.
APPEARANCE : m!short dyed blonde hair in surfer waves. f!medium dyed blonde hair with curtain bangs. They have a fake tan. m!5'6. f!5'3. Likes to dress casually, stuff like a white tee and sweatpants but has no qualms dressing up for you.
*romance progresses slightly differently for naive and skeptical mcs.
#FINALLY GOT TS OUT OF THE WAY#WAR IS OOOOVERRRR 😩#if wip#interactive fiction#crew: arlo kent#YO THERE WERE SO MANY TYPOS IN THIS ONE#HIEGHTEST?#STICH?#365 FUCKING BONES?#WHAT BREAKING ONE BONE EVERY DAY?#WHAT WAS I ON?#THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD ALWAYS EDIT BEFORE YOU HIT POST KIDS#FORGIVE ME I WAS FUNCTIONING ON ONLY 3HRS OF SLEEP#char intro
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꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡ I loved the batman reader one your so talented! If you don't mind would you do a joker reader? Like skills like the joker, crazy like the joker maybe this reader has their own version of Harley Quinn but doesn't love them and they get obsessed with mark idk full free to ignore I don't wanna bother 😭🙏🏽 also fun fact joker in one of the animated shows used to wear heels so you do what you want with that info. Can it also be male reader to if you don't do that that's okay but overall I love your work, and drink lots of water 🌊
Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m really glad you liked the Batgirl reader one! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ I love the idea of a Joker-like reader and i made it gender netrual, hope you dont mind!

Cecil had been keeping tabs on the situation for a while now. This new mysterious person, Joker.
Midnight City had seen its fair of madness, but you? Oh you were something different, something even Darkwing was struggling to handle. So much that Cecil had to send Mark in.
“Are you serious? Mark snapped, arms crossed. “You want me to work with him? The guy who got away with murdering people?”
Cecil sighed, rubbing his temples. “This isn’t about your issues with Darkwing, Mark this is about them” He slid a file across the table, a collection of grainy photos showing that wide grin of yours. “They call themselves The Joker – which I may say is stupid name but here we are.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. The image of you, your manic grin, burning buildings in the background. Sent a shiver up his spine. “They're causing that much of a problem?”
“They are completely unpredictable,” Cecil continued. “Darkwing has been trying to keep them contained, but let's just say.. It's not going so great.”
“So why send me? Mark questioned, suspicion creeping in on him. “You have other people for this. Hell, let Darkwing deal with it.”
“I'm not asking you to like it” Cecil responded, voice firm. “He needs help and you're the best option. It's not just some street level thug we’re dealing with. This person is chaos incarnate”
Mark slammed his hands against the wooden table. “Fine. But I'm not going easy on Darkwing and if he steps out of line. I'm not backing him up.”
When Mark arrived in Midnight City, it felt like he stepped into an entirely different world. The city, always in darkness, seemed heavier tonight. As if the shadows themselves were watching him. He met up with Darkwing on a rooftop, standing across from each other. “You've got some nerve” Mark said, glaring at Darkwing. “Working with you, after all the people you killed?”
Darkwing’s mask hid his expression, his voice cold “I don't have time for your moral lecture right now. We’ve got bigger problems. And if you want to stand on a soapbox while the city burns, be my guest.”
“Let's just finish this mission,” Mark muttered.
⸝⸝
Your obsession didn't start immediately, you've heard of invincible before. You were curious at first. The way he fought, the way he held back even when he had enough power to crush a person's head in his hands.
‘Mark’ was his name, how did you find out? You've been playing cat and mouse with Darkwing for months. The way he moved and worked, you even listened when muttered into his little communicator.
Eavesdropped on his grumpy little conversations with Cecil.
One night, after yet again another failed attempt to capture you. Darkwing slipped up “Mark should have handled this from the start” he grumbled under his breath, thinking you were too far to hear.
Oh-ho-ho~ Who’s this mark? It wasn't hard to put the pieces together.
A little digging here and a little breaking and entering into some GDA files. Man, Cecil really needed to toughen up his security.
And just like that, you had found a name.
Mark Grayson. It rolled off the tongue so nicely, didn't it?
⸝⸝
When you met Mark, you made sure it was grand, a charity gala. Packed with people completely oblivious to what was about to unfold. You crashed the party.
Quire literally.
A well placed explosive gadget sent the chandelier crashing to the floor. Screams erupting as people ran, you walked in through the chaos, humming as flames erupted.
And then? There he was.
Invincible.
“Oh? I just wanted to see the boy wonder myself” you clapped your hands together. “Let’s see if you're good as they say.”
Mark didn't hesitate, flying straight towards you.
But you? You avoided him effortlessly, the click of your heels as you spun away.
Your combat skills are chaotic, blend of acrobatics, agility, and unpredictability. All in high heels too. There wasn't really a technique, just an utter disregard for your own well being.
“Tsk, tsk, so aggressive! Where's the fun in that?” Mark swung again, you ducked giggling as you twirled behind him. “Oh, pretty boy, you're precious.”
“Tell me” tapping his chest with your finger.
“Are you here to stop me? Or are you here because you're curious?”
His jaw clenched. “Shut up”
“Hit a nerve did i?” you grinned, leaning in close. “Tell me Mark.. when you look at me, do you see a problem, to fix? Or do you see something more.. Interesting?”
He then hit you.
And oh darling, that was when you felt it. The raw, barely contained power behind his fist. The heat in his glare. Frustration dripping from his words when told you to stay down.
Oh, sweetheart, how could you not fall in love?
That stupid smile of yours never left your face, Mark hated that look.
It wasn't fear nor anger.
It was delight.
That was dangerous.
As if things were not complicated enough, you had your own little tag along, devoted, lovesick shadow. Who hung off of every word you said, makeup smeared, and their very own existence revolving around you. Except.. Something was off.
When they came to your rescue , cooing your name. You looked downright bored.
They giggled. Pressing close “Oh, Joker, you're so amazing! Tell me what to do next, to make you happy!”
But you? You just signed, pushing them off you with an unimpressed wave. “Ugh, please, spare the dramatics.”
Mark brows furrowed. “You don't even like them do you?”
Your smile widened “Oh i love them! The same with a cat loves playing with its food” You stared at him, voice a whisper. “But you? You're the real fun.”
Mark felt a shiver down his spine.
Cecil was frustrated, Darkwing getting more aggressive. Mark? He was pissed.
“You have to take them seriously Mark” Darkwing warned after another failed attempt to take you down.
Mark ran his hand through his hair. “I am taking them seriously!”
Darkwing shook his head. “Then why haven't you stopped them?”
Mark clenched his fist
Because stopping you meant playing into your game. Because everytime he hit you, you laughed. The more he resisted , the more you wanted.
And maybe.. Just maybe you were starting to get under his skin.
Mark may never fully understand you, you'll always be a challenge, a dangerous puzzle that he can't solve no matter what. The obsession is there and it may never fully go, and though you may be beyond redemption. Mark hopes – just for a second that there's a chance for you to snap out of it.
Cecil was right.
Darkwing had been right.
You weren't just another villain. You weren't just some threat that could be beaten down and forgotten.
You were a problem.
And the worst part?
Mark had a feeling that this was only the beginning.
#invincible#mark grayson x reader#invincible x reader#mark grayson#invincible season 3#Joker reader#dc joker#Darkwing#villian x hero#gn reader#batmanjokerdynamic
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Only asking if you wanna and have time to do it. No worries if you don't but asking anyway because it would be so helpful. I find it a bit difficult because I'm new. Maybe you've done this before and can add linkto that. Please.
My ask is if you could make a list of McLennon fics on AO3.
A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)
A list of finished fics with lots of smut.
A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happend.
A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.
A list of your own and or own favorites.
Thank you!
Thanks for the ask, Anon!
I recommended some fics in the past, it’s true, but it’s been a while. This is a chance to mention some stories I read & loved since then. (I’ll also link to the older recs, so you can check them out as well.)
(This is long, so I'm editing this to insert a break)
But first there's this:
A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)
I can’t speak for the fandom as a whole, because everyone’s taste is different. What I can do is name some stories I personally love, and that are also beloved by many others.
These fics have probably been recced many times, including by me—and for a reason: they’re excellent.
Also: all of these writers have many great fics. The stories below are just entry points to their work.
• On the Way to Work by @roundthatcorner. (Paul gets a job after Hamburg.)
• Lifting Latches/Sending Postcards by ThinkPink20. (Early Days. Paul and John swap clothes.)
• Now and then (there’s a fool such as I) by @stonedlennon. (The trip to Caversham.)
• Six hours in August by @stonedlennon. (John and Paul meet in NYC in 1976.)
• Bird Passing Through by @savageandwise. (John is tripping and visiting Paul after his moped accident.)
• I was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) by @fingersfallingupwards. (McLennon as The Time Traveller’s Wife.)
• baby, it’s all relative by @pauls1967moustache. (Early John and Paul and daddy issues.)
• but still they lead me back by @revollver. Paul remembers the moment when John asked him, do you like me?
• Double Fantasy by @javelinbk. John and Paul’s (modern) Flower Shop AU.
• The Same as it Ever Was by RedheadAmongWolves. John and Paul through the eyes of the newsagent.
• The First Year by candle_beck. Still feeling the reverberations of this one in my bones years after reading.
• Portrait of the Artist by @scurator. (John and Paul take sexy pictures…to sell them for money. For no other reason.)
• Kissing the Blarney by @zilabee. Paul is the Beatles’ talisman. (This is magical realism at its best.)
• Smutlets by @unchaineddaisychain. (Don’t let the flippant name deceive you: this is a massive collection of shorter and longer fics across many genres, eras, and themes. There’s something in there for everyone!)
• The Cat by @merseydreams. Post Beatles break-up. Paul thinks John has a new boyfriend. He has thoughts about this.
And, of course, my personal favorite of all time, my desert island, gold-disc-for-space, “printed it all to make sure I won’t lose it when The Internet™ is gone”: I Need You Darlin’ (So Come Go With Me) by @beatlessideblog. Omegaverse version of John and Paul’s love story (do not scroll away!), with Paul being the alpha. I keep saying this, but it’s fantastic how the writer combines omegaverse ideas with late 50’s/ early 60’s Liverpool. Novel length plus 9 extras, what can I say. We are all blessed.
A list of finished fics with lots of smut.
Here are some recent smutty favorites. (Below are links to older smutty recs!)
• Loops by @dailyhowl. Sgt. Pepper’s era. John and Paul create tape loops of themselves during sex.
• just to make me misbehave by @dykebeatles. 1967. Paul and John have sex before, during, and after the Sgt. Pepper’s launch party.
• Lonely Hearts Column by @unchaineddaisychain. Modern AU, middle-aged composer Paul and younger artist John, and a lovely night followed by the sweetest breakfast.
• Ask the Glass by @unchaineddaisychain: Young John and Paul, and two séances.
• Put A Spell on You by @eveepe. Help! Era. The size difference between Smaul and John works very well for both of them.
• monkey’s paw by @ameliepoulain. Repressed tension and catharsis during the Japan leg of the ’66 tour.
• lift up your heart and sing you a song by @wronglennon. Sex during the making Magical Mystery Tour. Paul wears the white suit.
• it’s good to touch by @pondpossum. Smutty mclennon art!
• The Look of You by @ohjohnnysblog. Paul is fisting John.
• the chronicles of trying to keep quiet and almost getting caught by lazydaisychain. On tour, John and Paul are trying to make space for their love.
• Piston Engines (Shift to Overdrive) by SwishyNibblyNibbly. John and Paul join the Mile High club on the way to their first US visit. Also:
• NSFW favorites (Feb. 2024)
• What’s the most raunchiest, dirty, and just explicit Mclennon fic you’ve ever read? (March 28, 2024)
• Hi, I would love recs for mclennon fics dripping in sexual tension, like six hours in August by stonedlennon. It doesn't need to have explicit sexual content. Thank you! (March 6, 2024)
A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happened.
I think that’s an interesting ask, to be honest. I’ll take this to mean stories that feel “in character” and are compliant with canon events as we know them—not stories presenting a plausible explanation/only possible version of events. (Subtle difference.)
Here are some fics I could think of that fit this description (more links at the end of this post, if interested) : Krankenstand by @savageandwise. John takes care of a sick Paul in Hamburg. Two Truths, and Two Lies by J_Deandra_j. John and Paul from 1965-67, based on four quotes.
the best of times, the worst of times by @crumblingcookies. John and Paul during the Beatles' 1964 visit to the British Embassy in Washington.
Someone Else Can Worry About Me... by @idontwanttospoiltheparty. Paul comforting, and being comforted, through the years.
in france, they kiss on main street by @orphanbeat. Paul is spiraling about John during their 1966 visit to Paris.
The Dream by monkberrymoon. Screenplay-format story centered on the Did you dream about me last night? scene in Get Back.
Transatlantic by @therealsaintscully. Don't let the incomplete chapter count distract you; the first two chapters each stand on their own. John and Paul are talking on the phone after the break-up.
and when i touch you by @forthlin. Early days. John and Paul notice the different size of their hands.
Huddersfield, 1963 by @dovetailjoints. The story behind the adorable 'boyfriends' photo.
The Sober Cannibal and the Drunken Christian (Anonymous). John and Paul wake up together in Paris.
(help me) get my feet back on the ground (ladeedahblue). The toboggan sandwich!
Unsaid in Studio Two by the Beatlefix. John and Paul yearn for each other as they work on Strawberry Fields Forever.
knows not where he's going to by @dovand. Liverpool days. Brian finds John in his office one morning.
See Us in the Real Life by RedHeadAmongWolves. Two EMI canteen workers observe the Beatles, and especially John and Paul, in the early days of their career.
Shooting Star by @pie-of-flames. Early days. John and Paul see a shooting star together.
Giving me the excitations by @backbenttulips. After the Pet Sounds listening party, Paul writes a song—while having sex with John.
Field-Boxing by @the-paper-apricot. Paul considers going back on tour.
all by design by @thegirlwiththeaxe. Early days. A smitten and determined Paul is plotting to sweep John off his feet at the fete.
A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.
Music save your mortal soul by @backbenttulips. (This writer is a specialist at middle-aged/old mclennon fix its! In this one, John persuades Paul, who he accuses of being a sell out, to go on a tour though the pubs...as The Nerk Twins.)
Leads Me To Your Door/The Four of Wands by @bluewater9. Gorgeous, real and warm two-parter about John and Paul in '89/'90: together, and on the brink of coming out...but not quite there yet.
And the fics listed here:
• Fics in which John is old and happy (Dec 8, 2024) ( this probably should have said middle-aged or old)
• mclennon fanfiction in which one or both of them is/are old (June 24, 2024)
• Old mclennon recommendations (2/2/2025)
A list of your own and/or own favorites.
Here are some Beatles fics I loved recently, with some space for non-mclennon.
John/Paul/Brian. Series (1963, 1967) by @scurator. Goes well with: Billet doux (Brian/Paul).
Paris, 1961 by whiteisthewarmestcolor. "A young Parisian woman meets two British musicians staying at the Montmartre hotel run by her family." I love this unusual outsider POV on John and Paul, and Beatles when they're famous...
cool about it by ohhamlet. After Hamburg. George and Jürgen, George and Paul.
a lesson in not caring by @javelinbk. John's thoughts and feelings during Paul's arrest in Japan. With a beautiful final chapter...
visionen christi by @dykebeatles. Hamburg. John has visions...Paul and George take care of him. The emergence of a tender trinity.
Lay, Lady, Lay by @aquarianshift. Paul and Jane, noble lady & stable hand role play.
love is a finder, always by @wronglennon. Instant all-time favorite. Hamburg: Paul and John and their demons are in love without knowing...until they do.
All Flesh is Weak by @thegirlwiththeaxe. 1967. Paul is a priest, John is a writer. They meet in grief, and make each other come alive. I love how warm and kind John is...!
She's not a girl who misses much by Anonymous. Yoko studies John and Paul.
half of what i say is meaningless, but i say it just to reach you by @pauls1967moustache. "CIA agent Tom Dawkins tries to decode Lennon/McCartney" — and finds himself. An awakening!
Oh Dear What Can I Do by @louiselux. 1966. John and Paul kiss on stage...and what happens after.
Your Song Will Fill the Air by Sminking: Strange days after Brian's death. India. And a happy ending? Unfinished, but hopefully finished soon. Dark and interesting.
i walked with you once upon a dream by @menlove. A Christmas Carol during he making of Magical Mystery Tour.
With a Little Help by @notgrungybitchin. 1967. John and Paul are such a couple during the Sgt. Pepper's photoshoot...
this boy would always feel the same by @adriennefrombrooklyn. 1975. Paul is divorced, and traveling to NYC with Robert Fraser. John, back with Yoko after the lost weekend, is jealous....
And finally:
• Here is a big blog post I made in December 2023 with my overall favorites in various categories at that point...
• Here are all my fic recs (many different asks) under the #fic recs tag on my blog
• Here are all my bookmarks on AO3
• And (since you asked) my own fics are here
Thanks again for asking, Anon, and I hope you find something in this huge mess of a post that you enjoy!
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okay so i normally don’t req cause i get really anxious ab if i’ve done smth horrible in my request but i think a kurt wagner x reader where kurt gets really frustrated because the bamfs are like REALLY babied by reader and hes okay with this until they get too comfortable to the point theres millions of the little blue guys in his bed at night, always under his feet, clinging to his partner.. yk just EVERYWHERE and he can never js be with his love alone!!
KURT WAGNER • 💜



Never Alone || 1.1 K Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Marvel (X-Men)
Author’s Note: Oh my goodness, anon! Please never be afraid to send in requests. I adore this one heavily! It’s super creative and an amazing idea. I promise writers love receiving requests because not only can we learn from our readers about what they like, but we can also help form your ideas into fics!
CONTENT WARNINGS: Kurt gets a little frustrated but nothing too serious, Fluffy Kurt, Pet Names, One of the bamfs bite Kurt.
You click your tongue as a few of the little bamfs crawled and hopped around the living room floor. Kurt sat next to you with an arm around your shoulder. He taps his fingers impatiently on the area between your shoulder and collarbone. “I’d like it if we could watch our little movie now, darling,” he says in a slight growl. A little frown forms on your lips. “I know, Kurt. Just give me a second! I want a few of the bamfs to cuddle with,” you tell him. The second the bamfs hear you say “cuddle,” four of them immediately came to crawl up onto you. Some of them use your pajama pants like a cat tree. Their little claws nick the cloth while they chitter and babble. The others teleport onto you. One lied on each of your shoulders and the other two lied in your lap. Kurt rolled his eyes in annoyance. His bottom lip subconsciously pushes out in a pout. The way his eyes glow like a warm lantern didn’t hide his expression at all. You chuckle when you notice it. “Are you jealous by any chance?” you ask. Kurt looks at you and sighs. “No. Not jealous. I simply like to have you all to myself,” he shrugs. Definitely jealous. Your eyebrows go up in amusement and you slowly shake your head. You start the movie and settle against your fuzzy, blue boyfriend.
About fifteen minutes in, a few of the bamfs start pawing at your socks. They chitter and chirp at you. You’re too zoned in on the movie to notice. Kurt attempts to nudge them away with his foot. One of them hisses at him aggressively. He mutters some profanity under his breath. He tries to lovingly squeeze your shoulder, but the bamf laying on it bit him. The mutant sucked in air from behind his teeth. “One of your ‘babies’ has just bitten me,” he told you, his tail flicking against your leg. “Huh?” you said thoughtlessly. “One of the bamfs bit me,” he told you once more. You let out a little gasp as Kurt shows you the bite mark on his hand. “Ah, Kurt. I’m sorry,” you coo to him. You carefully take all four of the bamfs off of you and sigh when you stand up. “Let’s go clean that up,” you say to him. He smiles as you lead him to the bathroom. He can finally be alone with you! He hates to seem so possessive over you, but it gets to a point where having all those mini versions of him begin to annoy him. Espically when they get all of your love and affection instead of him. Kurt stands behind you in the bathroom as you search through the cabinets. You grab some disinfectant and bandages to keep the bite from getting all nasty. He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head in the crook of your neck. You giggle softly and turn to kiss his cheek. “You are all over me,” you sigh. “Just like your little bamfs,” he chirps at you. His tail wraps around your thigh. “My little bamfs?” you question. He nods against your neck. “They’re always on you and never on me. They hate me like teenagers seemingly hate their parents.” he quips. You shrug in agreement. He’s right. “Not to ignore your complaint, but we need to take care of your little wound,” you tell him. He lifts his harmed hand from off your waist and looks at it. “Mmh. I suppose so,” he hums.
As you finish dressing his wound, the sound of the bamfs’ little paws padding along the hard floor outside of the bathroom. They chirp, Kurt groans. In a split second, several of them are in the bathroom with you and Kurt. “Is there any way you could get them to leave?” he asks pitifully. You look at him, biting back your bottom lip. “I don’t know. I mean, I can try,” you drag out without an ounce of confidence in your tone. You turn to the bamfs and there they sit. They’re lined up together like lovebirds on a branch. Their big, yellow eyes begging you to pet them, to let them stay. You put your hands on your hips like an authority figure. And…
You just can’t! You can’t bring yourself to tell them to leave! They’re too cute. You start to awe over them, getting down and petting each of them. “I’m sorry, my little ones! I wasn’t trying to scare you. I promise I still love you,” you say in a high-pitched voice. Kurt groans into his hands. He can’t blame you, though. He knows how much you love the bamfs. You turn around at the sound of his annoyance. “Sorry,” you mouth with a guilty expression in your face. He rubs his hands together before dragging them down his face. “Could we go to bed now, darling? I’m getting tired,” he asks. His eyes spoke to you. He truly wanted to be alone with you. It seemed like an impossible concept, but you’d do anything to see Kurt calm for once in a while. You walk over to him, the bamfs following behind you like ducklings would follow their mother. “Of course we can,” you whisper. Your hands rest against the fluff of his face as you kiss his forehead. His tail flicks and he chitters softly.
You two get to your shared bedroom, the bamfs still following you around. You carefully pluck them off of your body before placing them outside of the door. “If you guys stay out, I’ll give you some treats, okay?” you offer in a loving, soft tone. They chitter and nod before scurrying away. Kurt is sitting on the bed, waiting for you with wide eyes. You chuckle at the goofy sight and cock an eyebrow curiously. “I don’t have a single clue how you managed that,” he whispered. You stood silent for a moment before shrugging. You make your way over while Kurt lifts the blanket for you. You smile gently and rubbed your face against his chest. “Finally alone,” he hummed happily. You ran your hands through the fur on his back. Your fingers trailed down to the spot where his tail connected to his spine and scratched it. His body tensed slightly before relaxing, his tail wrapping around your forearm. “That’s nice,” he tells you before kissing your forehead. You let out a huff of air into his fur. Kurt wraps his arms around you to hold you closer. After a while of cuddling, kissing, and petting, you and Kurt are left alone with the soft hum of the ceiling fan and each other’s breathing.
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I'm so sorry I didn't get to finish but as Dan's Teekl is a Phoenix snake and he takes after Vlad since of dressing
When something big is going on the magical world and they need King Phantom's help he decides to bring along his children this is how the Justice League finds out just like Robin is a past dumb title so is Klarion all the Justice League deal with a bunch of hyper up chaotic children who have been antiheroes let's find out
I wanted this to be just like a we are robbing thing except with Clarion all of them showing off the fact that Teekl have never been a cat would be so funny to me
Anywho I haven't been able to come up with anymore ideas for Dan is Klarion but I did come out with this one hope you find it funny sorry that I messed up on the first part of the writing
Okay... so version one got deleted, per my rant post notices... so here is version two hopes to that it will still be as good... also... i didn't remember how I ended this the first time soooooo yea... sorry again for having messed up in between...
[Link to the first part of the Ask here!]
I hope this will still be as enjoyable....
------------------
Vlad didn't regret a lot of things but he regretted having told Bruce Wayne that he had a way of summoning the Ghost King. Why you ask? Because Bruce Wayne apparently leaked that information to the Justice League.
Well originally Vlad had told Bruce only about this because he was after the deal he had wanted for years with Wayne Enterprise. That man had been able to avoid Vlad for years now, and during his years when he hadn't been a redeemed man it had infuriated him.
But he was a redeemed man now. He had reformed his entire Company and since Wayne Enterprise was contracted with the Justice League, he had felt it was appropriate to boost that his Company had valuable connections too.
He also just wanted to rub it into Brucie Waynes face that he wasn't the only one with big name Hero / other worldly connections department. Okay it might have been a bit of an ego thing left. But he was a redeemed man.
And because he was a redeemed man he had not used his ghost powers to throw Batman out of the window the hero had used to barge into his hotel room at 3 -goddamn- AM only to demand the method on how to summon the ghost king.
No sir, Vlad was a redeemed man, he was nice now, a good guy.
He only grumbled and demanded the reason, which apparently was a demonic thread to the magical world that indirectly could wipe out the entire world itself. Great, little badger will not be amused hearing about that.
Daniel would be cross with him for using the summoning stone in the middle of the night but Batman was giving him a valid reason to use it. Surely Daniel would understand right? Plus Vlad could use that as change to see the little badger again. It had been a while since he last saw him.
Well Vlad regretted agreeing with Batman with the condition that he would be the one to do the summoning. That man in a bat suit did not hesitate to drag Vlad with him then bringing him, blindfolded mind you, to a place where he then was faced with several heroes, including but not limited to the Justice league.
Just great.
At least Vlad got to inform Danial about the situation and the reason for his summon as Ghost King via summoning stone, even if that blond British man had scoffed when he saw Vlad pulling it out, about the situation and what the little badger could expect the moment he stepped out of a portal.
What Vlad did not expect were several RED portals opening and similarly dressed young adults as well as one teen stepping out of them.
"Sup old man! Mom told us you called him about some world ending problem!" Dan greeted him in his Klarion get up, perfectly styled hair and his ghost pet, a phoenix snake, Snape (yes Dan named his pet after a mage from a wizard movie series) on his shoulders. Vlad could feel the distinctive illusion magic around the pet and he was pretty sure everyone without ghost powers were not able to see through it.
"KLARION?!" One of the present heroes yelled.
And of course all of the kids had to answer in reflect turning to where the voice came from at the same time.
"Yea"
There was a brief moment of silence in which Vlad face palmed.
"Ah sorry, that was on reflex. Old habits die hard!" Ellie laughed, she had grown into a young woman and was currently wearing what looked like a black suit crossed with a 90s style witch dress.
"I am the current Klarion, lose that fucking habit already." Dan grumbled annoyed as he crossed his arms glaring at every sibling that had answered to his alias.
"I am telling mom you cussed." Ellie instead grinned instead, before she looked around for a moment before her eyes landed on Nightwing, her face instantly lighting up. "ROBIN! I mean Nightwing! I haven't seen you in ages!"
"Do I know you?" Vlad could feel sorry for the hero, but these where the phantom kids, so he wasn't in the slightest and he was still cross with he heroes for waking him up at 3AM!
"I am hurt! Don't you recognise me!" Ellie gasped and Dan unashamedly elbowed her for acting so familiar.
"Misrule." He warned her. Ellies current Anti-Hero -Chaos Agent- Alias Vlad remembered. A name she specifically chose because it sounded like Miss Rule and she knew that the word play would annoy Nabu. That girl had some serious beef with the Ancient of Order.
"Oh shush little brother! Let me reconnect with the kids I used to mess with!" She shushed Dan ruffling his hair and nearly messing up his horned hairstyle, before turning back to Nightwing. "Don't you remember my lovely Armadillos? Though I only know you were the Robin I first meet because I looked into Grandpa Clock's time mirrors..."
There was a brief moment of silence on the other side where the heroes stood and Vlad swore he could have heard a pin needle drop.
"Oh god..." One of them finally spoke up as apparently some kind of realisation sunk into the heroes. But before Ellie could add anything more the one Vlad recognised as Red Robin cut in.
"Klarion is like Robin!"
"RR what are you...?"
"The title of Klarion got passed down like Robin!"
There was another brief moment of silence before Dan, Ellie and the rest of their siblings burst out laughing.
"It took you idiots this long to see that?!" Dan called them out, laughing as he hugged Snape.
Vlad would probably feel sorry for the entirety of the heroes before him if he wasn't amused by this himself, even he had seen the differences whenever 'Klarion' got passed on.
"For your information, I was the first Klarion, so i could mess with Nabu." Ellie grinned. "I was also the one that used a bit to much eyeliner."
"I never got the the horned hairstyle right."
"I was the one with a fancy black suit."
One by one the phantom kids listed of all the differences in their versions of Klarion until they all looked towards the youngest Dan, the current Klarion.
"What?" He grumbled as his elder siblings grinned at him.
"Fucking fine. I use a suit similar to the old man's style and I like to do more than just mess with Nabitch." He muttered after enduring his siblings stares for.
"And you cuss." Ellie grinned brightly causing the rest of the siblings to to chuckle.
Vlad recognised the look in Dan's eyes and before the kids could break out into an argument or a brawl, depending how violent Dan was feeling, he coughed loudly to get noticed by everyone.
"World threatening situation." He reminded everyone. "Where is your mother? The Ghost King?"
"Oh Mom is already dealing with the situation." Dan shrugged. "We more or less came to watch and see the heroes suck and fail at 'Order' to rub it into Nabitch's face."
Vlad really wanted to scowl the kids and he was going to but then the heroes cut in again.
"Can we get back to the thing about Klarion being a title passed down like Robin? With how many different Klarions did we have to deal with over the years!?"
"Red Robin not the right time..."
"Yes the right time! So many comments from Klarion make sense now! Like the first time he went right up into my face!"
"Red Robin!"
"Oh that was still me! The first Klarion!"
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#crossover#danny fenton#danny phantom#dick grayson#tim drake#ellie phantom#dan phantom#dc robin#Klarion is a title passed down like Robin#Ellie created the first Klarion#dc Nabu#mom danny#ghost king danny#Ellie is the first klarion#Like Dick was the first Robin#Dan is the current Klarion#Tim wants answers#he is hung up on the there were multiple Klarions fact#Vlad was sort of in the know#He is responsible for the reveal...#not really#but the kids wanted to see Danny beat up a big bad demon#Part 2
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Salutaions!
Hello, I know that there are quite a few of myself on this... app and I'm glad I have an army of them here! Together, we shall take over This app! but also, please, I've got nothing to do, so out of shear, absolute bordom, I will respond to anything you send me! Okay then, I'm the mod of this whole blog, and to help you differentiate me and Al here, he has the red text and I have the black.
Also, here! Take some guidelines because, dear God, you people need them!
#1. Please, if you are a minor... it's fine if you ask really... just be nice! And... uh... if you don't like swears, go on... get.
#2. Have fun... I found this the second most important
#3. Y'all, this is just for shits and giggles so please, don't leave hate comments! That's just rude...
#4. Please, respectfully, no NSFW stuff... I'll just block you and plus, Alastor is Ace! Just saving you the trouble.
And don't mind the stupid art from the notes app I'll make sometimes...
Oh! And call me Lu Lu! No, that's not my real name, and no, my real name isn't Lucifer.
And! Update! I've got Roleplaying partners now because I some how made friends here!
Lucifer: @mischievously-royalty
Beelzebub: @ask-the-queen-beelzebub
Charlie: @certified-autistic
Oh! And this one surprised me, but made me really happy!
Lucifer... and Alastor? I dunno: @ask-radioapple
AND WE GOT A VAGGIE! YAY oh shut up...
Vaggie: @hazbinsprotectorxxx
Husker: @husksaysno
Allie (cursed cat Alastor): @cursedcatastor
Angel Dust: @ask-angel-dust-w
Rosie: @askyourauntierosie
Niffty: @nifftyyyyy
The fuck ass bitch of an annoying picture box (Vox): @voxrpblog
Blitz (lizard): @blitzascbog
Alastor again: @alastorisbestdad
Alastor again again: @alastor-ask
Zestial: @ask-zestial
Fuck ass bitch of an annoying picture box the second: @voxtek-enterprises-offical
The bird who hit our window yesterday: @asksheablog
The reason the horny police exist: @mothmandarling
Fizz: @ask-fizzy-jester
Stupid bird: @adamforthewin
Stupid bird 2: @angelofwrath2
cupcake flavor: @therealbackboneofthevees
Vox blackmail buddy: @justificated-catalyst
The emo version of Vox blackmail buddy: @unjustified-chaos
Signal (Don't ask how the hell this happened or I swear to all things unholy, I will find you and kill you.): @asktheradiostaticfamily
Lilith: @queensaskblog
And then we have the random friends that make no sense but here we are :3 (we love the randos)
Hoppy Hoppscotch: @justsomeonewow
Ayuda: @shortmomma1993
Willam Afton and Henry Emily: @spring-lock-scars137
Ludwig: @chosen-ludwig-and-koopalings
Jax (the damn purple muppet): @ask-jax-things
Bestie: @specified6
Nice Anon: @the-horrible-anon
Other bestie: @alohaitsb1114
THANKS! :D
Random shit you might want to know: pets
Pets: Nathaniel, Silas, Darwin, Dame, Allie, Chester, Sam and Tink
Nathaniel is a rubber Chicken. Silas is a duck. Darwin is a crocodile. Dame is a platypus. Chester is a beaver. Sam is a squirrel and finally Tink is a tabby cat
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"GIRL!LEO" . . . a study by a shifter who rlly loves her gf

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ dedicated to @junoshifts who wanted to hear more about lou!!! (i hope this inspires you to make a genderswap!percy dr or two lol)

SO. THE BASICS. her name is louise joan (after her grandma) scott, and her 80% of the time fc is sab quesada. her original "debut" is my percy jackson dr, which basically functions as a summer camp romance dr (i will be posting a form to script yourself into this dr if anyone is interested!!!) in which she's an aphrodite kid who is just. Shit Out of Luck when it comes to romance. she's kind-of done with it and that's where i come in <3 (i'm an ares kid who hates violence and would be much better suited to be an apollo kid lol)
A FEW DRS WITH HER INCLUDE:
⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ PERCY JACKSON / SUMMER CAMP : louise "lou" scott , 19 , head aphrodite co-counsellor. romance skeptic & soccer player. capture-the-flag enthusiast & the "sporty" counsellor. (fc sab quesada)
⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ INFLUENCER : louise "lou" scott , 20 , olympic bronze medallist in women's rugby. minecraft pvp & fortnite sweat. plays college rugby at university of southern california. mackncheese fan to gf. (fc sab quesada)
⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ "DISNEY" PRINCESS : lady louisa , 22 , personal knight to princess sofia mignonette of solaria. (secretly the second daughter of king midas of lunaria). skilled swordswoman and friend to any that may need a helping hand. (fc ruby cruz)
⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ OTHERS INCLUDE : (WIP) twilight dr , gravity falls dr , spider-girl dr &&& a few other WIPS!



some fun things about her :
⊹ in the way that i always smell like a vanilla-lemon cupcake (my hair products are 'lemon dessert' scented & i have matching body wash lol) she always smells chocolatey. like idk what she uses but she always smells like chocolate. (even when she's sweaty. idk how the hell she does it.) her deodorant is cinnamon scented too so we both smell like very different baked goods.
⊹ at least in my influencer dr, she's got 6 tattoos - a tramp stamp that says "most valuable ass" (not even fucking joking?????? i have no idea where it came from) in cursive, 2 (two) patchwork tattoos on her arms - one each of mj (her twin sister & my bff)'s cats (that are also practically her) named luna and nova, a little safety pin right on her hand before her pointer finger, a bunch of sparkles like the kaomoji i use in my posts (in brown ink too so they kind of look like freckles from far away) on her arm, and the olympic rings where her right underboob is. i'm pretty sure she has more but those are the ones i have found so far lmfao
⊹ in my influencer dr she was originally a fan of mine! she watched my minecraft streams when i was a minecraft lore streamer in the dark ages (unfortunately the dsmp is in my lore. it helped kick-start my voice acting career though so i'm a big fan lol) and dm-ed me on instagram when i went to paris in 2024 to go to the olympics!
⊹ the bodyguard trope is a STAPLE in my drs lol it's in three drs - my marvel dr, my princess charm school dr, and my "disney princess" dr (i call it this bc it sort-of follows the plot of the original disney animated film i star in in my influencer dr lol) and i will never tire of it esp bc she's in a suit of armor lol
⊹ lou and leo are literally the same person obviously (just genderswapped) so there aren't any emotional / personality changes BUT! she's mj's twin sister instead of mj's older half-brother (i'll explain the lore someday lol) so her upbringing is probably a bit more pleasant lol

soundtrack to her life . . . fresh out the slammer , taylor swift. bags (live from electric lady studios) , clairo. capable of love , pinkpantheress. bad religion , frank ocean. fable , gigi perez. part of me , noah kahan.


⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ as we can tell, i love yapping ab any version of leo/lou so if u have any qs send them my way through my ask box!!! i'll be posting about some of these drs soon as well :D
#mack yaps#mackleo#mack's pjo dr#mack's influencer dr#mack's disney princess dr#shifting scripts#shifting motivation#reality shifting#shiftblr#shifting#shifting edit#shifting blog
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[15] DAYLIGHT — thinking bout you





you didn’t expect karina’s version of talking to be, literal talking. the bright shine of a voice call request makes you rub your eyes in the dark, in disbelief. hesitantly, your fingers press the green accept button. a deep, almost raspy chuckle is the first thing you hear. in the late night, or early morning, it sends shockwaves throughout your body.
“hey, darling.”
a lump forms in your throat. you mumble back, “hi, karina.”
she giggles and the husky tone elicits a warm and tingly sensation across your skin. you wouldn’t mind hearing her voice for the rest of your life. you could only imagine how it would sound in real life, her breathy and gruff voice in your ear. it causes you to shudder. you should really sleep if you were eluding such delusions.
“what’s up with the late talk?” no nicknames, no annoying and snide remarks, just the hint of concern in her words, “do you need help with something?”
you shake your head even though karina can’t see you, “no, just couldn’t sleep.”
“you said you were thinking about stuff. wanna talk about it?”
an involuntary blush rises. you can’t tell the person you were thinking of, that you were thinking of them.
“can’t tell you,” you say in hushed secrecy.
you can almost hear the smirk karina has. “oh really? that’s such a shame. did you just want to hear my voice?” you splutter indignantly, “no way.”
karina laughs. it’s music to your ears.
“it’s okay, darling. i know i have a nice voice.”
your throat constricts and turns dry.
“you’re so insufferable,” you scoff, but unable to deny the fact that the influencer does have a nice voice. a mesmerising one even.
“so,” karina drawls, “what’s the real reason of you texting me at 3am? only my booty calls do that.” a deep pit forms in your stomach. booty calls? just knowing the fact that karina might have had girls at her beck and call made your insides coil up. confused at the unfamiliar feeling, you simply remain silent.
“hm?” she urges.
“i don’t wanna talk to you anymore. bye,” you spit out, eyes narrowed. if anyone were here to witness your current state, they would have immediately darted from your fiery gaze that could kill someone.
“woah,” karina blurts out, “don’t be so haste, darling. i was just kidding.”
you roll your eyes, “and i wasn’t but whatever.” her nonchalant flirting with pet names only fueled the insecurity in your head. guess you were just another girl to play with. if she was so comfortable saying such things, it would only make sense that she’s done it countless of times before. you were probably just an easy target. as your finger hovered over the end call button, karina’s voice rings out again.
“as the winner of the bet, i command you not to end the call,” you can envision her proud grin.
“command? i’m not your dog,” you frown. your cat, bobo, snuggles up to you. if this were any other day, bobo wouldn’t be so affectionate. but maybe he sensed the inner turmoil you faced.
as you stroked his fur, karina says, “of course not. but seriously, are you not gonna tell me why you texted me?”
i wanted to talk to you because even though you’re the most annoying person alive i’m still madly attracted to you.
“just wanted to talk to someone. all my friends are asleep,” you lie.
“so i was just a second choice? that hurts my feelings, darling.”
“yeah, sorry to break it to you.”
karina guffaws.
“also,” you suddenly remember, “what are we going do on saturday?” you hear rustling from karina’s side, assuming she’s changing positions.
“i actually haven’t thought about it yet. what do you wanna do?”
“don’t you just normally walk around the city and shop?” you ask, recalling karina’s previous vlogs that you definitely did not watch countless times.
karina voice takes on a teasing lilt, “does park yn watch my vlogs? that boosts my ego knowing you hate youtubers.”
“i just saw it on my recommended page, don’t let it get to your head, dumbass. also, i hate a youtuber, not all youtubers,” you say, not bothering to explain any further.
“mhm, sure. anytime you wanna see this pretty face you can just text me instead of watching my videos,” karina says playfully.
you change the subject rather quickly.
“i wanna go to a cat cafe.”
“oh! yeah, actually we can do that. i always wanted to do that,” karina confesses, but then she laughs, “won’t bobo be jealous that you’re meeting other cats?”
“bobo isn’t my boyfriend,” you purse your lips. karina’s voice perks up, “and do you have one?”
you’re bewildered.
“what? have what?”
“have a boyfriend. do you?”
“none of your business, stupid,” you sneer. karina can’t help but pout. “but aren’t we friends, yn? you said we were acquainted on your stream. by now, we should be considered friends.”
you laugh sarcastically, “of course, we’re best friends and i will definitely tell you about my personal love life!”
“actually, i don’t think you have a boyfriend,” karina replies, amused, “you play league, overwatch and valorant. no single person plays all three, and more.”
your eyebrow raises as you bring the phone closer to your ear, desperate to hear more of karina’s voice.
“you play overwatch too, dumbass.”
karina yawns, “whatever, you’re still a stupid virgin who doesn’t have a boyfriend or any love life.”
“shut up, freak. i’m going to sleep.”
she hums, “fine. wear something cute on saturday.”
“that’s like five days away.”
“put in effort for me, ‘kay? i need to milk this bet as much as i can, and a cute yn on my thumbnail would get clicks.”
you snort, “okay.”
“good night, or morning, or whatever. rest well, darling.”
“night, karina.”
her voice is gone. just the beep of your phone.
tossing your phone to the side and almost hitting bobo, you’re unable to stop the grin on your face from forming.
you fall asleep with a smile.
masterlist | next
TAGLIST ! @flolio @imahallucination11 @wallfl9wer @edamboon @seullovesme @twicesserafim @klvarchives @rinapomu @pandafuriosa60 @jisooftme @cwpiqwon @yoontoonwhs @limbforalimb @xen248 @r4cjh @dni-unavailable @yukianism @i3lia @ryujinsdimple @httpisaoki @haerinsloverr @masuowo @multiliker @edenzeepy @1luvkarina @yeetaberry127
#daylight ft. yjm#aespa#aespa smau#aespa x reader#karina smau#karina x reader#yu jimin smau#yu jimin x reader#jimin smau#jimin x reader
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ocean tides
↬ gojo satoru x gn afab!reader ↬ masterlist // ao3 version
cw: pwp, reader has a vagina, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (reader receiving), lots of teasing, edging, orgasm control, pet names ("thing", "doll") summary: your box with sex toys disappears in mysterious circumstances right as you need it. the main suspect is, of course, lingering around, ready to give you a helping hand. word count: 3.8k a/n: repost from the old account. divider by saradika
It’s the third drawer—and still nothing.
At this point you don’t have much hope. You’ve checked all possible hides, plus a few less possible extra, and your box with sex toys is still nowhere to be found. All other places either wouldn’t fit it or are too much on display for you to consider them; for the peace of mind, you even ducked under the bed—just to find a long lost sock and a few overlooked candy wrappers.
And here you’ve been waiting for this little moment of solitude all day long…
Frustrated, you throw yourself on the bed—and groan as the phone, stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans, pokes you. You snap it out, finger against the screen activates it, and your boyfriend’s infuriatingly stupid smirk flashes right in front of your face from the lock screen.
As if the last cog just clicked in and finally put the machine back on the right track. Of course, the most obvious answer and solution have been right under your nose all time long!
Satoru, have you seen my toy box?
He’s not one to catch himself into a cleaning spree—and especially not at your place—but he’s always the center of chaos. If you left the box on display when he was around, it was almost certain he would mess with it. Though, in this case you would be immediately attacked—he wouldn’t let such a discovery come to waste. Well, there’s also a chance he helped himself and stuck his nosy fingers where a normal person would never. After all, such things as privacy or social boundaries don’t exist in his dictionary.
Your phone vibrates before you can put it away.
naaah
Such a fast answer would be suspicious even if Satoru wouldn’t be one walking definition of dubious truth himself.
Are you absolutely sure?
what you dont trust me y/n (ノД`)・゜・。so mean
Despite frustration you can’t help but smile at the memory of his perfectly played kicked puppy face. He’s a bastard and a reckless clown—but an adorable one, you have to admit it. There’s a good reason for you to have such a weakness for him despite all the shit he constantly pulls on you.
Shaking your head and sighing, you start typing your answer—just to be interrupted halfway.
need help looking?
You throw the phone away and groan into your hands, pressed tight to your face.
“You’re right behind the door, right? You ass.” The walls of your apartment aren’t thick, he can easily hear you all the way from the bedroom. “It’s open.”
Satoru slides in almost soundlessly, announced only by the click of lock as he closes the door behind himself. Soon, he’s marching into your bedroom, not even bothering to take shoes and jacket off. Mischievous gleam of bright blue eyes blinks at you over sunglasses; he leans against the doorframe, casual, unbothered, so obviously lying it hurts to watch.
“So. Where is it.”
“Where is what?” He springs straight, puts hands behind his back and wobbles back and forth, like a student asked an uncomfortable question. “I don’t know anything about boxes.”
“Don’t play coy, I know you did something with it. Did you take it?”
“Nope!” You want to tear his throat open just for the way he prolongs the vowels as he speaks. “Why would I take your toys? I don’t even know what you are talking about.”
“You always know everything you shouldn’t know.”
“Touché.” He clicks tongue and leans forward, frozen mid-step, like a cat ready to pounce at its prey. His eyes meet yours directly for a split moment again, and it’s enough for the build-up tension in you to pick its head up and roar. How are you supposed to play the tough cop in this routine banter, if he only adds to the fire that’s been itching you all day long?
You clear your throat and try to subtly press yourself against the mattress, to ease the traitorous itch between your legs at least a little without dragging his attention to it.
What have you been hoping for? Of course, Satoru would never miss something of this sort…
“All this fuss because you couldn’t rub it out?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You would gladly strangle him on point. “Fingers too short? Can’t reach? Babe, and you made me wait? I could—”
“You’re such a jerk.” You throw a pillow at him. He doesn’t even bother to catch or dodge, it stops an inch away from him and falls by his feet, sliding down the invisible shield of his cursed technique.
“You want it or not?” He takes his jacket off and throws it on the bureau. Tight, black t-shirt, fitting snugly his impressive musculature, doesn’t leave much to your imagination. “I’m busy, you know, and we’re sooo understaffed… I can’t waste my time.”
And that’s why you’ve been following me from work and waited all this time by the door? You asshat…
You roll your eyes and fall flat on your back, “Fine, if you’re already here. But wash your hands.”
“Your wish is my order.”
At the back of your head, you feel you’ve just been pulled into a multi-layered prank, but you still kick your pants and underwear off…maybe a tad too fast for your pride’s liking. Feeling the cool air against your dripping slit drives you mad and even more impatient, the sensation of emptiness only more present and pinpointed when you’re lying alone, stripped and waiting. Satoru, of course, takes his time, turning a simple task into a damned show, washing his hands profoundly at least three times (as you judge from the flushing sounds) before eventually wiping the hands dry and marching back. The need to strangle him—with your thighs, for extra flavor—just grows stronger with each passing second.
He stops in the doorframe again, cleaning his illegally long fingers with hand sanitizer and a tissue, each individually, a few times, with an extra attention paid to the nails. His hands are enormous, even for someone of his height and posture: a fact that has always been grasping your attention, pushing your thoughts straight into the darkest circles of lustful hell. You know well what he is capable of with their help, how deep and wide he can stretch you with only two fingers. Your insides twitch just at the thought, shallow breath almost whistles between your grit teeth, and a wave of heat crashes against your skin. It feels as if you were burning and blushing like a girl from shoujo manga—and regardless of what your face really looks you have an itching need to hide behind hands or pillows.
You win against the urge—but your legs aren’t as obedient. They close as soon as Satoru approaches, the echo of clapping thighs has his eyebrow cock in surprise.
“What, changed mind?” He takes glasses off and threads fingers through hair. So close, from the angle you took lying flat on your back, he seems even taller: blue-eyed giant towering over a lamb he chose for a snack.
Even if curling inside, inch by inch giving the reins away to the horny beast ready to bat eyes at him for a crumble of attention, you decide to still play tough. Your legs snap open, confident and welcoming, wobbling at knees only a little bit. You hope he hasn’t paid attention to that.
Abnormally blue eyes skim down your middle. Satoru stretches wrists, then cracks knuckles, one last time doing a show out of his hands. He beckons you closer, the movement of his finger almost hypnotizing, then points at the edge of bed. You expected him to climb on top, but you can’t complain when already rushing to follow the order. At the back of your head, you’re scolding yourself for being so obedient and nice for an asshole who surely pulled all of this circus to trap you for whatever reason his messy mind created. In fact, you’re just enthusiastically lifting hips for him to pile the pillows until he’s satisfied with the level and drops to his knees with a pleased, breathy sigh.
Even when kneeling for you, Satoru seems to tower over your body and soul. He slots himself between your legs, not without a stretch to fit his broad shoulders flush, hands rest on your hips and pull you closer, almost dragging you off the pile of pillows he picked himself. Your mind is already freezing at the feel incomparable to any other hold—but, of course, he can’t stay still. Huge, warm palms, long fingers, skin so smooth you can compare it only with velvet, trail down torturously slow. Your thighs seem to draw between them, their size underlined so well against your flesh. Instinct nudges you to shut your knees together—at the slightest budge though soft hands turn into iron and hold you almost forcefully where he wants you, where you belong.
He’s kneeling for you—but you’re the one left on his mercy. Little, fragile bird closed in the cage of his hands.
“So wet already?” The irritating, singing tone of his taunt ruins the spell. “Phew, it’s all spilling! What would you do, if I weren’t around?”
“I have—” The phantom of the missing toy box cuts you short, the break between words, however short, makes his smirk grow wider. “—fingers, too”
“Too short.” Satoru just states the fact. Compared to his, of course all fingers would be short. When he’s holding your hand, the difference is almost as sharp as between an adult and a child.
And to underline his advantage even more, Satoru reaches between your legs: confident, determined, cheeky. With a thumb, as long as a middle finger on many, he brushes your wet slit: a touch simple yet sparking your nerves so hard you jerk up and wiggle, craving more and overstimulated at the same time. Of course, he went right for the most sensitive lines and edges, your body like an open book against the all-seeing power of his eyes.
“Hey, hey, where are you going?” The other hand clenches harder and pulls you down, back to the place he chose. “You want to cum or not? Make up your mind.”
“Then start your work already?" You hiss through clenched teeth, now determined to fight against the odds, even if it wouldn’t last longer than a couple of seconds. You know he’d turn you into jello in five seconds if only he wanted to, but you have your pride—and your pride calls for standing your ground at all costs.
Satoru’s face is hard to read now, frozen right on the thin line between no thought and intense focus, his brows slightly furrowed—but not enough to ruin the smooth perfection. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, a cheeky grin soon returns…and from one meeting of your eyes you know you’ve just stepped into a serious problem. “So chirpy and pecky today. Alright. Here we go.”
He touches you exactly the same way, except…not really. Your hips budge again and a needy purr presses to your lips, but there is something not right. You know Satoru, you know his hands and his ways. The last crumble of the sane mind desperately tries to pull your attention to it before it’s too late—but another lazy swipe of his thumb swallows it like a black hole swallows light.
Well aware of the death penalty, you walk into the delicious trap with a smile and enthusiasm.
“Let’s see.” Satoru hums and brushes your clit one last time. He starts sliding a single finger into you, until at the third of its length he’s sure you don’t need much of a warmup. A withdrawal, then attack continues with two fingers, slipping smoothly and fast. Breath stills in your throat, you sigh, then moan feeling him reaching the depths many can’t achieve with a dick. He stills at your reaction, a quick, blue glance swipes across your face in a way so easily to be taken as a concern, especially in the state you’re currently drowning in: of a sheer, blind trust and eagerness to take anything he gives you without a shadow of doubt. A few seconds pass, enough to stir you on, not enough to let your brain cool down, and he starts stretching you a little, testing your capabilities with a patience of saint: withdrawing as he feels a resistance, attacking almost immediately after anew, and back.
Right as he has you ready for the third finger, Satoru pulls out, leaving you heated up, right on the verge of entering the state of blank pleasure and need for more.
“You really hadn’t been playing with yourself before I came here?” He looks at the thick strings of your arousal gluing his fingers and sliding down his knuckles. “You’re like butter today.”
A protest—at his disbelief and the comparison—dies on your lips at the sight of Satoru’s tongue swiping fast between his digits. He licks himself clean, then stuffs fingers into his mouth and sucks, enjoying your taste throughout. It’s a shameless demonstration, a jab right into the memory of his oral skills and a silent question. You would like it, wouldn’t you? So bad you will need to ask for it—no guarantee he will listen, though…
“Snack break over!” He announces with a toothy grin, prolonging the vowels like an overexcited child. Licking lips one last time, he returns to his task, two fingers in, dangerously close to the point you know—
“Fuck!” You choke on breath, turning into a tense string of pleasure. From lazy simmering you’re yanked towards the high with nothing but a lazy brush of fingertips—and then back when he returns to prior depth and pace, interested in nothing but patient stretching.
“Mmm? Ohhh? What is it?” He coos, all-seeing blue gazing right between your legs with intensity capable of piercing you like his fingers. “Felt that good? With only two fingers? Ohh, someone is sooo needy—”
The need to bark back at him—or strangle him, if he’s already within reach of your thighs—perks its head again, the more, the slower his fingers become, almost smothering the little flame under your lust. But as you try to move your hips against him, the other hand grabs and pins, and his eyes flick up, wide open, equally beautiful and terrifying,
He’s in charge here. You lie down and wait.
“You want me to work and then do everything on your own,” he even scolds you, with the same tone he uses against his students when he actually bothers to pass as serious. “I won’t find anything, if you keep wiggling around.”
His fingers curl with surgical precision, circle around the spot but not really touch it. The heat starts bubbling again, and you bite on your lips, fighting against it and trying to stay still as much as possible, from your twitching hole to heaving chest.
“That’s it! That’s a good little thing!” Satoru’s face is simply beaming with a smile—but of course he doesn’t make your task easy. His fingers inch closer and closer, right on the edge, brushing and teasing, but never daring to cross the border. Tears start pricking in your eyes, the forced stillness and insatiable urge to act up and steal that last crumble you need for the spark of pleasure. You’re tortured with praise, humiliated with words sweet like honey—and despite everything craving to remain in this state. Everything for him to finally push that damned button.
“Satoru…” You whine, the last resolve perking up and crumbling into dust soon after. There goes your pride, at this point you’re ready to throw yourself at everything he offers. Truly a slave of sheer biology, of the itch that’s been with you since morning, through all those long hours of work, then desperate search of the only remedy you had before he’s appeared.
You haven’t stayed still, you haven’t listened, of course his fingers start to withdraw, the peak drifts out, behind the clouds, so close yet so far… Ready to mewl again, you bite your lips until you feel pain and the urge withdraws. The only sound you’ll allow is begging, until his fingers return and—
Satoru presses the button.
A push is sudden and brutal, you’re flying towards the peak, landing face-down right before it, tumbling towards the longed-for finish along the steep ridge. Just a little more, just one second longer, just harder, just—
“Hmm, I wonder if I will fit three…” Out of nowhere Satoru pulls out of you, the peak not only yanked from underneath your feet but also thrown beyond your sight. Groaning and swearing, eyes full of frustrated tears, you dig both heels into his back…or at least attempt to, a merciless barrier pushing you away the more the harder you try.
“You. Asshole.” You spit through gritted teeth. “I don’t need three, I need to cum!”
“Told ya you won’t cum if you’re gonna squirm.” Satoru pouts, much like a child scolded for innocence. “I really can’t take a good aim. Hm. Maybe we need to change angle a little—”
He throws your hips up as if they were nothing, folds your legs to his liking until you’re nice and bent, thighs supported against his shoulders. One bastard grin later Satoru indeed fits three fingers at once, the stretch prominent even for your arousal and experience with him. He could make it easy, but he decides to be an ass for no reason, maybe except for the strain and masochist pleasure all over your face. Lewd, squelching sounds follow your mewls and chirps, with the weird position he’s forced on you your juices trickle down your ass and back almost like a stream. Maybe he made you squirt, you’re not sure anymore what’s going on, thrown around and torn between burning edge and infuriating denial. Your world keeps narrowing to his fingers filling your hole suit, so deep he nears your limit and so precisely he’s teasing everything but that one spot.
“C’mon, you said you want to cum.” Satoru presses your legs down even more, the pressure inside you barely bearable. Piercing blue gaze is too strong for you to handle, you close your eyes so hard your face freezes in a ridiculous, scrunched expression. “Hey, no giving up on it. You can do it, Y/N!”
Shut up. Shut up. I beg you, shut up and just let me come—
“Satoru…” The last mewl nears crying, your breath stutters and melts into a dry sob. You’re half an inch away from breaking and bursting into tears. You can handle only as much, your legs tremble around his head, exhausted and strained, your helpless hole clenches on him with a silent pleading. Just that one push…
“Shh, I know. I’m sorry. I got you.” Cruel fingers slow down and withdraw. Satoru adjusts his position; lets go of your legs but lifts your hips even higher. Something hot and lighter than breeze brushes your wet, tortured folds, a rustle of a deep breath comes to your ears in a break between your sounds of pleasure and frustration.
Through tears nearly blocking your vision you risk a peak, right at the perfect moment to meet his eyes. Smiling—not cheeky but peaceful and admiring—Satoru looks down at you with warm love. The tip of his tongue swipes teasingly between his lips—before plunging itself deep in you, swirling and dancing until it finally finds the string you crave to be pulled.
Sharp orgasm throws your head back into the mattress and arches your body. Almost screaming, you spasm and shake, your heels finally finding leverage against his back and digging bruises as you ride your high against his lips. He slurps and sucks, his face pressed deep, nose grazing your clit until the second wave crashes against you, the second high even more steep and powerful.
Strong hands don’t let you fall. Groaning low in his own pleasure, Satoru drinks from you until you stop creaming and gushing, the moves of his tongue slowing down together with you, careful to not graze your oversensitive nerves too much. The next time you dare to look at him you immediately shut your eyes tight. The sight of his beautiful face, all wet with your juices and flushed with arousal, is simply too much for your ever-spent body and mind.
Your legs fall limp when Satoru lets go of them. There’s no power left in your limbs, he has to gently scoop and move you to the side before slotting himself by your side, head resting on hand, the other hand gently wiping sweat off your forehead. You take your time to come down and ease your breath, each drag of air almost painful with your rib muscles so strained. Your groin burns with satisfied fire, you’re still twitching over emptiness—it’ll take a good while for the double orgasm to finally ease.
When you finally gather the power to roll head to side and open your eyes, you meet the barrier of sunglasses. You have no idea when Satoru put them back on, but you’re grateful. If you gazed into that terrifying blue, you surely would roll back into the heat.
“The box is under the bathroom cabinet, by the way.” He throws out of nowhere and yawns.
“What? How—”
“I don’t know, maybe we kicked it when I was having you against it?” He rolls on back and stretches arms and back with a loud groan. “I think you were washing the toys when— Ough! What for?!”
You have enough power to slap him through the head three times, each too weak to hurt even a fly.
“I fucking hate you…” You sigh when he grabs it and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.
“You were saying something quite different when I had tongue down your— Whoa, whoa, alright! Sorry!”
He grabs your wrist and rests your hand on your chest before leaning in for a kiss. His lips are full of your taste—but still, a faint flavor of sugar breaks through. You can’t help chuckling. Just how much of it he had to stuff in himself before he came here…
“Sleep.” He guides you to rest your head on his chest. You nuzzle close, happy, and smiling at the light, barely visible hair covering it. “You're gonna need lots of energy for round two.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t you think we’re finished.” For a split second, right before fatigue wins and closes your eyes for good, the blue slips past sunglasses, cold and hungry, dangerous. “Silly doll…”
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x afab reader#gojo satoru x afab reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x afab reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk x afab reader#bas writes#f: jujutsu kaisen#c: gojo satoru#r: afab
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Hi! What are your favorite Wenclair fics?👀

I’m so glad you asked and I’m about to be so extra.
This fandom is beyond talented and I have many favourites. So I might as well make this an official Prefer-to-be-vilified Wenclair Fic Rec Masterlist… post (name could use some work but you get the idea).
I’m going to try to remember/link all my favourites but I’ll probably (definitely) forget some. And also I obviously haven’t read every Wenclair fic out there, my ‘to-read’ list is intimidatingly long and personal preferences are going to play a part in the fics I have included. But if I’ve missed some hidden gems please let me know!
Under the cut because this got long…
One-Shots/Short Chapter Fics:
the Witch & the Wyld by ohHOLYmoves - Long one-shot, Wednesday’s a witch who lives in the woods, Enid’s a werewolf stuck in her wolf form, need I say more?
Reset by Eggplant_Crusader - The OG. Probably the first fic read by a good portion of this fandom. Short, sweet, what the miscommunication trope is supposed to be.
her heart is a bird on a spit in her chest by lensbian_dykely - Long one-shot, Wednesday tells her parents that her and Enid are together without informing Enid.
What does he have that I don’t? by kofeew_milkk - Jealous Enid meets Werewolf instincts.
hello there, it’s me, the bull in the china shop by bogteats - Established Wenclair, 5+1 fic leading up to their first time.
I Think I Love You by tawen - Enid gets dosed with truth serum, Enid’s in love with Wednesday…
I Can Hear Your Heartbeat by LesbihonestGuys - Wednesday is a simp coming to terms with being in love and she’s real mad about it.
sandbox love by hanjisgirlfriend - Childhood friends falling in love.
gifts from a cat by Rennajade - Wednesday being a weirdo.
She’s my mate, Yoko! by lovely_shadow_minx - Enid realises Wednesday’s her mate and freaks out about it.
i tend to handle things usually by myself and i can’t ever seem to try and ask for help by Charlie_Balle - Wednesday’s actually allergic to colour.
The Art of Courting by Athems - Wednesday tries to court Enid but Enid thinks she’s threatening her.
Please (Just This Once) by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday trying to prevent a vision and the very emotional aftermath.
Wednesday Finds a Puppy by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday finds a random puppy in the woods and thinks it’s Enid… it’s not Enid.
Are You Going To Claim Your Prize? by wintersdume - The furs make a bet over who can get Wednesday’s number, Enid gets jealous.
It’s the Uniform, Isn’t it? by wintersdume - Enid plays baseballs, Wednesday gay panics.
Mobile Etiquette by Axinite25 - Wednesday not understanding the nuisances of teenage dating/friendship.
fuel the pyre of your enemies by heliamphoria - Wenclair meet cute while committing crimes.
Scrapped Scenes by MomochiZoey - Enid’s nosy and discovers that Wednesday’s self insert Viper now has a blonde love interest.
Premonition’s Embrace by whitebeltwriter - Wednesday has a vision that forces her to admit her feelings for Enid.
if she grabs for your hand (she might want a kiss) by ipretendtobesane - Short love confession, adorable.
Stormy Weather by SspiltDecision - Wednesday’s scared of thunder, Enid helps her.
don’t talk to me or my scary goth gf ever again by Kybee1497 - Protective (slightly feral) Enid and Xavier not taking a hint.
Complete Long Fics:
Terms of Endearment by Calchexxis - AU future fic/they didn’t meet at Nevermore, Enid goes to the Addams family for help after being kicked out of her pack for not being able to wolf-out but Wednesday’s the only one home, Wednesday has visions every time they touch about different versions of them/their ancestors throughout history, SIMPING, the worlds gayest mystery, I’ve read it several times and it always hits.
Forged in Blood by RiseAboveTheAshes_203 - Post season 1, I don’t know how to describe it other than angsty devotion, if for some insane reason you haven’t read this fic do it now.
The San Francisco Incident by Apeoflight - AU future fic/they don’t meet at Nevermore, Omegaverse, Werewolf mates, falling in love, real smutty, what’s not to love?
the nature of idiosyncrasies by bogteats - One of the fics I managed to catch early on and I was OBSESSED, AU, future fic, they weren’t friends at Nevermore but Enid had a crush, Omegaverse, their dynamic in this is to die for, angsty, smutty, a real and honest portrayal of not only Wenclair but people and love in general, read it, that was a threat, if you already have read it again.
raven in the den, wolf in the nest by Barbara_Lazuli - Canon divergence, fake dating to annoy Esther Sinclair, full honesty I read this awhile ago so I’m not 100% certain what happens but I remember enjoying it, might need to do a re-read.
black marked sun by chasinghours - AU college/university, Wednesday’s Yoko and Bianca’s roommate and Enid becomes infatuated, very cute, a little angsty but nothing crazy, shy Wednesday??? if I remember correctly, gay pining, we love to see it.
Purgatory Would Be Beautiful With You by EmilyWritesStuff - In universe, WEREWOLF MATES (aka the best Wenclair trope), fun and easy read, each chapter is like a slice of their life as mates.
Dance With Wolves by wolfwars - Fake dating BUT Wednesday doesn’t realise that it’s fake (because Enid was vague af), Enid’s pining, Wednesday’s confused, great idea and really well executed.
You Are my Moon by Bee-nut - Fake dating except Wednesday commits to the bit so hard she ends up facing off against Enid’s family aka a pack of werewolves in various dangerous challenges in order to win Enid’s hand, great idea, loved every minute of it.
Old Wounds by Sharpen_your_hatchet - Wenclair reunite years after graduation, less falling in love more realising they were always in love and coming to terms with that, sweet and easy read.
So This Is Love by LoriLoud - Unhinged Murderous Wenclair… no further explanation needed.
La Petite Mort by Apeoflight AND Wednesday’s Pet by Apeoflight - Smut, they’re both smut fics, I cannot remember which was which plot wise, but same author, they’re both really good and with a good helping of falling in love, yearning, denial of feelings, miscommunication, angst… all the good stuff.
Vortex by ALotOfConfusion - Need a refresher but childhood friends to lovers, little Wednesday wants to study werewolves and I remember enjoying it.
Puppy Love by Vaniloqu3nce - Enid’s wolf starts talking to her after recognising Wednesday as their mate, havoc follows, great read.
yours, eurydice by hanjisgirlfriend - AU, future fic, they never met at Nevermore, Wednesday’s a writer, Enid’s an actress, they live across the hall from each other, they write each other love letters and fall in love, cute af, a little angsty but not too heavy, definitely a must read.
It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you by SquishiestRose - Coffee shop AU, Wednesday works at the Weathervane and she has it BAD, the platonic Wyler this world needs, a little angsty but nothing crazy, cute, fun read.
Spell It Out by forgot_my_art - A spell gone wrong leads to both a misunderstanding and an accidental proposal… I mean it’s Wenclair, of course it did, fun read.
A raven’s dream of wolf by tokyocorgi - AU future fic/they never met at Nevermore, Wednesday’s sex dreams are also prophecy’s of her future, we love to see it.
All That’s Best of Dark and Bright by Porcie - Wednesday runs from her feelings post season 1, they reunite years later, Wednesday has a vision that forces her to stay in Enid’s life and by extension forces her to confront her feelings, they’re in love the entire time while pretending they aren’t, almost soulmate-ish, a bit angsty, but a fun read.
On-Going Long Fics:
[friendly reminder to read in-progress fic as a way to encourage and support our talented writers]
I’d Eat the Sun Just to Feel Your Warmth in my Bones by MsMio - AU college/university, I still need to catch up but ANGST, childhood friends, a very interesting take on the Addams family curse, Wednesday suffers from chronic pain, a good sad read but a hopeful one.
our immeasurable ties that bind by bogteats - Fantasy type AU, some very interesting world building, Enid wakes up pregnant with no idea who she is, where she is, or how she got there, super excited to see where this goes.
Blood and Shadows by DarkVisitors - Historical AU, western vibes, angst, horny gay yearning, a vague line in the summary that alludes to them being forced to marry at gun point but it hasn’t happened yet, I am beyond invested.
A Kidnapping By Any Other Name by RavenMoon33 - Wednesday “kidnaps” Enid to spend the break with her at the Addams Estate, I’m still catching up but Wenclair antics meets Addams Family antics, Wednesday’s having visions, there’s a mystery afoot and it’s linked to Wednesday’s ancestors. I might try to squeeze in another chapter later today actually 👀 (I didn’t read the OG so no spoilers!)
Whatever This Is… by CautiouslyPessimistic - A NEW FAKE DATING AU! In universe, takes place at Nevermore, only 2 chapters so far, but well written and I’m excited to see more.
Well… That’s Knew by Chaos_of_the_valkyries - Post season 1, Enid presents as a werewolf alpha and your honour they’re mates, protective Enid, Wednesday going soft, apparently I’ve missed the last two updates??? A crime, I will be rectifying that asap.
The Bite that Binds, the Gift that Gives by TieDyeKing - Historical Fantasy-ish AU, Wenclair arranged marriage, immediate connection but they’re being cautious/don’t trust each other, beautiful imagery/world building, an intriguing plot, Esther Sinclair being Esther Sinclair (aka causing problems), only a few chapters but one of my favourites since forever ago, in love with this fic and you should be too.
Symbiotic Relationship by SquishiestRose - AU future fic/they don’t meet at Nevermore, Enid gets kicked out of her pack and ends up desperate enough that she accepts a job working as the live in servant of a woman she’s pretty sure is going to kill her (hint: it’s just Wednesday being her normal off putting self), I’m a sucker for future fics with a very isolated and lonely Wednesday learning to fall in love and this is that.
#this just took me so fucking long to do holy shit#I had stuff to do today#worth it though#wednesday#wenclair#wednesday addams#enid sinclair#enid x wednesday#wednesday netflix#wednesday 2022#wenclair fic#wenclair fic rec#wenclair fanfic#wenclair fanfiction#asks#ptbv
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Bunny In Heat
(Cat In Heat sequel)



Read Cat In Heat and you’ll know what to expect 😊
Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader
Rating: Very Explicit!
Theme: Smut, 18+ NO MINORS.
Warnings: It's just pure filth, I have no shame, sorry! soft dom reader, sub minho, toys, butt plug, spanking, edging, overstimulation, pet names, unprotected sex (do not try at home!), (and as usual, I keep some elements of surprise!), not proofread
Word count: 3 k
“OMG!! What’s this?!” you scream.
“What’s what?” he turns his head towards your direction.
You show him the vid from the fan meeting where Chan, Hyunjin and Changbin are dancing with tails attached to their coats.
“Oh that! Yea it turned out to be such a popular clip among fans, you saw it just now?”
“If you ain’t on it I’m not watching, I’m that loyal!” you bat your lashes looking at him with a fake smile.
“You mean I won’t find any pics or clips of other members in your gallery?” He called your bluff.
“uhmm that’s irrelevant! Now tell me more about this clip!! Is there a longer version? Maybe one with you in it?”
“No, I’m not in it, but the idea was mine, thanks to you!” he says with a smirk.
“You didn’t… tell me you didn’t talk about our sex life with your members!”
“What if I did?”
You freeze, just stare at him with your jaw dropped on the floor. When his words sink in, you hide your face in your hands and shout: “MIN-FUCKING-HOE, WHY?”
He laughs at your reaction: “I can’t help it that you’re so mind-blowingly awesome that I wanna brag about you all the time.”
“It’s so embarrassing! How am I ever supposed to look them in the eyes again?” you shake your head as if you could shake the embarrassment off too.
“Oh calm down, it’s okay. They’ve known for a while; you’ve already looked them in the eyes plenty of times.”
“Oh fuck! You’re so shameless, I’m done with you.” you cry out, punching him in the chest.
He grabs your wrists with one hand and with the other puts the hair messily covering your face from all the attempt of shaking off the embarrassment, behind your ears.
“Awe cute! Look how red your ears got.” He’s not taking it seriously, it’s obviously not a big deal to him, but you’re still pretty mad and don’t even look him in the eyes.
“Come on princess, I promise you they don’t even care.”
“Well, with that clip I’m sure they at least have a very solid reminder.”
“How does it feel to be the reason of a key moment in skz history?” he jokes but you’re not having it.
“Oh, fuck off! Just know that you owe me one.”
“I owe you as much as you say, no arguing that.” He cups your face and seals his words with a kiss.
“Then wear a tail for me.” You demand.
He looks confused but plays along: “Okay? Do you want me to sneak one from the company?”
“No, I don’t want those crappy ones, and is there like a room full of furry accessories at the company or sth?!!”
“I don’t think there is; I shouldn’t’ve offered that!”
“I’ll take care of it then.” Poor thing doesn’t know what’s gonna hit him. You already forgot about the unveiling of your sex life, if anything, now it’s just an excuse to get what you want from him.
Two weeks later, when you finally gathered all the items you needed, you present him his little outfit. A bunny head piece and a matching tail, choker and cuffs, all adorned with frilly fabrics and little jewels. You didn’t wanna cover his beautiful body, so you kept the items to a minimum. He gulps as he eyes the shiny plug poking at the end of the tail.
“You asked me to wear a tail, not a plug” He complains.
“But the plug is attached to the tail, how else did you expect to wear the tail?”
“Attach it to my shorts or sth?”
“But that would look off and ugly” you reason. “Come on baby! I promise it’s not that bad, and you would look so delicious. Pretty please?” you pout and wait for his answer, as much as you wanna do unspeakable things to him, you wouldn’t lay as much as a finger on him if he wasn’t okay with it. Same goes with wearing the plug.
“Okay I’ll do it” he finally gives in. “but why is it so girly?” he points to the cute decorations.
“Says the guy who wears red bows and tiaras for a living!!” you raise and eyebrow giving him a “you’re full of shit” look.
“fair point” once again, he surrenders. “So is that it? I’m just gonna fuck you wearing these?”
“Why don’t you go change and wait for me on the bed, I’ll tell you how it’s gonna be” you give him a smack on the ass sending him towards your bedroom.
“Ouch!” the smack caught him off guard.
“Oooh baby, you gotta toughen up if you wanna survive tonight” he roles his eyes at you words and disappears into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
After a few minutes, you tiptoe and press your ear to the door, you can hear him still shuffling around, and when you hear him curse you realize he must be trying the plug. Arousal is pooling between your legs already. You wanna barge in and give him a hand but you think it’s better for the sake of his dignity if he gets through this part on his own, considering the rest of the events you’ve planned.
“I’m ready” he calls out.
Your heart is pounding in your chest with excitement. You open the door and peek in. He’s kneeling near the edge of the bed, back facing you so you can see the tail, neck craning to see the expression on your face. “You look so pretty baby boy” you say as you approach him in awe. You notice the blush creeping up to his cheeks at the compliment and he turns his around to hide it but you can still see his crimson ears.
Standing behind him, your fingers dance on his toned back and travel down to pet the fluffy tail. You don’t even touch the plug but playing with the extension of the tail alone earns you a few airy whimpers.
“Aweeee! Is my bunny’s tail sensitive?” you ask, twirling the tail around your hand. He doesn’t answer, probably too ashamed to admit.
“Baby if you don’t answer me, I can’t make you feel good” you coo at him lovingly “what if you don’t get to cum at all?” you give the tail an experimental tug and he winces. “So, tell me baby, does it feel good when I play with your cute tail?”
“Yea… it feels good…" he admits in a low tone.
“Now turn around baby, I wanna see that pretty face”
He complies and shifts around on the bed while you rid yourself of your clothes and reveal the lingerie you’d bought for this special occasion.
“God, you’re breathtaking!” he exclaims. You crawl on the bed and he watches you with blown pupils. You straddle him and his arms are quick to circle around you and pull you closer. He starts nibbling at your collarbone but you push him back. He looks at you confused, trying to figure out what he did wrong.
“Do you trust me baby?” you ask, giving him a quick peck on his lips.
“I do” he answers, nuzzling his nose to your neck.
“Then no touching or kissing without my permission, okay?”
“But..” you put a finger on his lips to shush him. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, I might have to tie them up” you bend down over the edge of the bed to take a box you put under the bed earlier, giving him a good view of your folds barely covered by the piece of lingerie in the process.
You show him your hidden inventory, with handcuffs and satin ribbons and a few other unfamiliar stuffs. You notice his semi-hard cock twitching. You grab an item from the box “do you remember our safe word?” you ask as you stroke his cock slowly.
“Ye… yes..”
“Good boy, now remember, you can end up cumming inside, or not cumming at all, so behave” you warn him one last time as you message his balls before putting them inside the loop of a pink cock ring and then roll the other loop to his base. He watches in disbelief; he did not see it coming. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, open an app and set the vibration to the lowest setting. He closes his eyes and throws his head back, enjoying the excruciatingly slow buildup of the pleasure. He leans back on his hands, slightly arching his back, his chest heaves up and down, bringing the pointy dusky nipples to your attention. As much as you enjoy the view, you still need to ravish him.
“Get on fours baby” your voice snaps him out of his trance. He complies and you position yourself behind him. If he could he would wag the tail at your face, showing you what a good boy he is for you.
You kiss his thighs, marking him here and there, then give his cheek a little squeeze, his ass goes higher in the air, needing more attention from you. You twist the plug around and his face goes further down to the mattress, muffling his moans.
“You know what we never tried? Milking your prostate” without a warning you yank the plug out and replace it with your fingers. He hisses at the sudden action.
“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel good” your fingers message his walls in search of the bundle of nerves and you know you found it when he suddenly goes: “Aaaaah…”
“What happened?” you decide to mess around a bit.
“There…”
“Where? Did I find it?” you miss it on purpose just to press harder the next time you “accidentally” brush over it. He fists the sheets and lets out another high-pitched moan.
“Right... there”
“Oh! Here?” you rub it again and he squirms. You pick a steady pace thrusting your fingers in and out, hitting his sweet spot with every thrust. His little “ah… ah… ah…” makes your own core throb. You land a spank on his ass that ripples through it beautifully, jolting his body forward a bit.
“Please…more…”
“More what bunny?”
“Sla …. Aaaah…” you give it to him before he can even say the word. You give him a few more till your hand print is burning bright red on his cheek.
“Cum…. Hurts…” he’s such a mess he can’t even form sentences anymore.
“But don’t you wanna fuck me?” you say as you brutally press harder on his prostate and set the vibration to a higher speed.
“I do…. Please…. Hurts” he cries out.
You stop your ministrations on his prostate and guide his hips to roll him on his back. He whines at the loss. He’s such a sight to see. Hair sticking out in all directions, tears spilling from his closed eyes, his aching shaft rock hard, the tip red and swollen, begging for release. Your mouth waters, you kiss his erection from base to tip, lick the head and wrap your lips around it. He jerks his hips as your tongue pokes under the slit.
“Pleeeeeease…” he arches his back off the bed, his toes curling at the climax that just won’t hit.
You release his cock with a pop:“Open your eyes bunny” you hover above him; he looks at you with glossy eyes.
“I’ve been ...good … please…”
“Okay sweet baby,” you kiss his teary eyes “but you should get it up again, okay?” he nods his head “yes”.
You kiss him and reach your hand down and fumble with the ring to pull it off. He lets out a guttural moan as he shoots up, his load getting everywhere. You pump him till the last drop is spilled and his cock starts to go limp in your hand. You tug at it a few more times just to tease and hear his tiny annoyed voice asking you to stop.
“We can’t stop now baby, not after you got me so turned on by your needy pleas and all” you grind down on his sticky member, mixing his seeds with the arousal leaking through the thin fabric covering your soppy pussy.
You reach for the box and feed him the last piece of the aphrodisiac chocolate: “Here’s a little treat for a good bunny”.
“Can I touch you now? Please” he asks, still being a good boy even though had had his release. You look at his hands, the lacy cuffs around his wrists make his dainty fingers a thousand times more delicious looking. You grab one hand and bring it to your lips, kissing its knuckles, then guide it to your pussy. “See what you made of me?” his fingers slip through the gap in the fabric and get sticky with your arousal. You bring the hand back up to lick the fingers clean.
“You can touch me love, and kiss too” hearing this, he sits up to properly hold you and kiss you, his hands rubbing the smooth skin on your sides, running up and down your back, squeezing your breasts, suddenly they’re everywhere. He’s kissing you like a man starved, pulling at your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue, you pick up the faint taste of chocolate still lingering in his mouth. You let him have his feast, kissing you and marking you everywhere, your fingers pulling at his damp hair encourage him to leave darker marks you know will last for at least a week.
He sucks at the exposed skin of your breasts while cupping and kneading the clothed part. You stop him and lift his chin up to look him in the eye. God, he looks like such a mess! Saliva smearing on his mouth, his eyes a bit red and still glossy, his cheeks flushed. You kiss the tip of his nose: “do you wanna suck on my tits?” you ask and he nods. “Then take this like the good boy you are” you instruct him to get on fours again. You circle his rim with a finger and he shivers with excitement, You insert a finger in, it’s still somewhat loose, then unbeknownst to him, you insert a small vibrator and turn it on. You see his dick twitch between his thighs, followed by a series of muffled moans.
“Aweeee! Look you’re getting hard again! What a slut!” you tease and then enter the plug so it’s pressing the vibrator harder against his prostate.
“Turn around bunny, I wanna ride you.” he does as ordered. Meanwhile you take your lingerie off, and straddle him as soon as he finds a somewhat comfortable position with the vibrator and the plug still invading his hole. You rub your core on his semi-hard dick: “what got you hard again my little slut? Was it the chocolate or the vibrator?” you ask as you brush his hair away from his eyes.
“You, you did it” he says before pulling you in for a kiss. You smile against his lips, he’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. You kiss some more till you feel his erection poking at you, so you line it with your entrance and slide down. He rests his head on your shoulder as you take him in, huffs of hot breath tickle your bare skin. As you start to move your hips, his lips travel down to take the reward you promised him. He sucks on your tits like his life depends on it. The wet noises he makes mixed with his moans and groans every time you drop on his cock a bit too hard, get your juices flowing even more. Your thighs are burning and from the way they shake, he notices you can’t go like this for much longer.
He stops your hips: “let me fuck you”.
“Please do” you let go, you don’t wanna be in control anymore, you just need a good fuck and he’ll make sure you’ll get it.
He flips you around and enters you from behind. Holding back all night practically made him feral. He pulls the vibrator out but keeps the plug in, that was the main point after all, fucking you while looking like a bunny! His hips snap into you, firm and strong. Your moans hiccup with every thrust of his hips.
“So good…. So tight…” he picks up his pace yet he never fails to hit the spot that makes you see stars.
“Minho-ya….” his name falls off your lips as you clench around his cock, one of the telltales of your nearing orgasm.
“Fuck baby…. cum for me” and you fall apart. He gives you a few slow thrusts to help you ride your climax before He goes back to grabbing your hips tighter and pounding into you despite your squirming. The over stimulation makes you whimper and whine.
“You’re doing great…. Just a bit more…. It’s okay….” He encourages you till he finally shoots his load up your pussy. “Fuck…. so good…” he collapses next to you panting. You roll on your side to face him, he’s still recovering his breath, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, sweat shining on his face. You kiss the hair stuck to his temple. He opens his eyes, giving you a crooked smile.
“You were such a good bunny” you pat his hair and take the headpiece off that somehow managed to stay there the entire night. Your hand travels down his back to gently take the plug out. You massage over the rim, trying to soothe any discomfort that might be there.
“I almost can’t believe all we did tonight” he says in a low tone, his voice is evidently sleep weary.
“Well, now you have another unbelievable story to tell your friends” you joke.
“I wonder what punishment that would earn me”.
“I’m afraid next time I won’t be so nice!”
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