#I’m stupidly proud of this please like it :)

[sexynetra]

Okay managed to download the version where you can see my sketch :) (WIP… obviously)

[leslie-lyman]

A WIP Update

Now that the main story of SAMG is done, and because it is Sleepover Saturday, I wanted to give you all a peek into my WIP folder. I’ve alluded to several of these fics in various asks and comments and conversations with folks, so here’s some more info about things I’ve got cooking. I also have been tagged by so many folks in that WIP ask game that goes around every so often in the past few months and I have resisted every time because I wanted to solely focus on SAMG, so consider this me making up for/participating in it now (and I know for that game you just post the titles, but once I started writing lil summary blurbs for these stories I couldn’t stop).

This is an open invitation for anyone to send me thoughts and questions about any of these you like, I’m absolutely fucking dying to talk about/share snippets from them.

The House I Will Live In (Pero x Tessa)

The SAMG sequel! This one will not be a large multi-chapter fic the way SAMG is, but there are some aspects of Pero and Tessa’s life together that I really want to tell y’all about, so this will be a few chapters that serve as a follow-up to the main story.

Sins of the Father (Max Lord x OFC) (White Collar AU)

Set post-WW84, Max avoids jail time by becoming a consultant for the FBI on corporate fraud cases. He’s accepted that his personal life for the foreseeable future will be dedicated to being a better father to Alastair, for who would ever give a disgraced conman with an ankle monitor a second glance? Enter Rose Parker, a young lawyer working for a legal aid organization in DC, who’s no stranger to second chances and may be willing to give Max the one he so desperately wants. That is, if they can keep the sins of their respective pasts from tearing them apart…

Despite the Abundance (Javier Peña x OFC)

Bogota, 1989: Eleanor “Ellie” Hess is a forensic accountant and the new third wheel neither Javi nor Steve asked for in their hunt for Escobar. While Javi and Steve track sicarios through the streets of Medellin, Ellie races to unravel the financial secrets of the cartel to help them bring Escobar down. Ellie and Javi can’t deny their attraction to one another, but Ellie doesn’t do office hookups, and lord knows Javier Peña doesn’t do relationships. It’s an untenable status quo, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them gives in.

The Sun Amidst Small Stars (Din Djarin x Jedi!OFC)

Set post-the events of The Tragedy, but where Din and Grogu (and the Razor Crest) escape the Darktroopers. Grogu’s time on the Seeing Stone connects him not with Luke Sywalker, but Miriamora “Miriam” Corros, a woman trained as a Jedi but disillusioned with the ways of the old Jedi Order. With Miriam on board the Crest as Grogu’s live-in teacher, Din fulfills his task of reuniting the child with his own kind without having to give him up. But there’s still the threat of Moff Gideon to deal with, to say nothing of the much more immediate crisis of having a beautiful, powerful woman from a race of enemy sorcerers as an unexpected roommate.

Untitled Frankie Morales x F!reader one-shot (or maybe a two-shot?)

Frankie accidentally injures you, and the guilt-ridden pilot helps take care of you as you recover. Friends-to-lovers.

Untitled Marcus Pike x OFC series #1 (aka CNC!Marcus)

Both my Marcus fics are heavily inspired by my love of The West Wing. As-yet-unnamed OFC works on Capitol Hill. Dating in DC is a nightmare, but Marcus Pike could be convinced to try his hand at love again with the right girl. And this time, he’s determined to take his time and do things right. But when she’s unexpectedly pulled into his latest investigation of a dangerous crime ring, fate may throw them together more quickly than Marcus intends.

Untitled Marcus Pike x f!reader/OFC series #2 (aka Congressman Marcus Pike!!!)

Marcus Pike: young, progressive, unbelievably handsome, and newly elected representative for Texas’s 27th district. He came to Congress to make change and help people, but he never expected that in between meetings and votes and fundraisers that he would also fall for someone again…

Rights and Wrongs Part 2 (Whiskey x f!reader)

The R&W follow-up in which reader recovers from her abortion and finally confesses her feelings to Jack.

Untitled Whiskey x f!reader one-shot #1

Established relationship. You and Whiskey live together, and you’re sure he’s The One, but when you accidentally become pregnant, you have no idea how he’ll react. [This is the only fic on this list that I know for sure won’t be explicit.]

Untitled Whiskey x f!reader one-shot #2

You admit to Whiskey the secret that’s harming your love life and your mental health: you can’t orgasm in front of another person. Jack takes it upon himself to prove to you a man can accept and love you just the way you are. Heavy themes of anxiety and insecurity. Friends-to-lovers.

Untitled Zach Wellison x F!reader fic (a one-shot? A series? Who knows!)

You’re an artist and friend of Justin’s when you meet the homeless ex-Marine sleeping on his couch. As Zach tries to get his life together, you start to hope that there might be a place for you in it.

The Ezra Romancing the Stone AU

This is literally just an idea. I have nothing written for this. But Romancing the Stone is one of my favorite films and I’ve wanted to write an AU using it for a long time, I just have never settled on which character I want to write it for. But consider the Ezra similarities: a dangerous loner of questionable moral character rescues a woman and goes on a trek through a perilous jungle full of enemies in search of a jewel worth a fortune that many are willing to kill for??? Hmm…

And finally, the one non-Pedro fic in the mix. Before I got hit by the freight train that is my Pedro hyperfixation, my brain was previously ruled by my Tom Hiddleston/Loki hyperfixation. This Loki fic is the one that got me back into writing fanfiction for the first time since high school. I’ve got almost 35,000 words written of this story, and I’m hoping that one day my motivation for it will come back, because I still love it dearly.

i’ve come to burn (your kingdom down) (Loki x soulmate!OFC)

In which throneless, refugee princes still have so much further to fall. And Loki, for once, can hardly be blamed. For in the end, gods’ hearts are just as foolish as mortals’. But the threat of Thanos hangs heavy over the galaxy, and what bonds dare grow in the shadow of the Mad Titan’s revenge?

Featuring: Asgardians making it safely to Earth post-Ragnarok; Loki’s human soulmate being an ex-Master of the Mystic Arts who now makes her living as a bookbinder; excessive discussions of and strong opinions about tea; enemies-to-lovers; a restored Victorian house; vibes strongly inspired by Gilmore Girls and that season 2 arc of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel where they spend the summer in the Catskills

Shamelessly pspspspsing some mutuals who may be interested and/or have already had to deal with hearing me talk about some of these and/or who have tagged me in the WIP ask game in the past: @ezrasbirdie @whataperfectwasteoftime @jazzelsaur @radiowallet @the-ginger-hedge-witch @iamskyereads @green-socks @lowlights @oonajaeadira @magpie-to-the-morning @starlightmornings

[butterfly-apocalypse]

tw: vent, PTSD, flashback 😩

(I’m fine just irritated and upset)

[rae-writes]

angelic alteration

om brothers x reader

wc : 1.k

warnings: nsfw, corruption kink based

synopsis : when Solomon and Diavolo can't fix the problem, it's up to Mc

a/n : thought the angel event (og) could use some more spice so I poured my entire spice rack on it

“Mc…I’m afraid we have bad news.”

You sighed into the receiver, “Yeah? You guys can’t reverse the magic, can you?”

“Nope!” Solomon chirped cheerfully, “Diavolo and Michael’s magic mixed together too strongly for us to reverse ourselves. You’ll just have to wait for them to go back to normal, or…”

“Or…what?”

“Well, this is just a theory, but what if you just corrupted the angelic magic and forced their demonic sides back out?”

“Corrupted, huh..? I like the sound of that.”

†

“I can feel the magic trying to stop me…how. stupidly. annoying.” Lucifer accentuated each word of his complaint with a sharp thrust, face pinched in concentration as sweat beaded at his temple. 

He’d be damned if something as trivial as a hexed bracelet from the celestial realm kept him from indulging in you, the one temptation he would never dare ignore. 

Your nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, thighs squeezing at his hips tightly as you moaned and panted beneath him. “Lu-ci-fer! S-slow d-own!” 

He growled and sped up in response, snapping his hips into you harshly, “How dare they try to turn me back? I am the Avatar. Of. Pride!” Once again, each word was accentuated with a thrust, making his cock hit deeper and deeper each time. 

And he was so fucking proud each time he had you a moaning mess underneath him, crying out his name, begging him not to stop— you made his sin flood his entire body every time. 

An electric charge cracked through the air for a brief second before the bangle broke in half, magic forcibly shattering under Lucifer’s sheer prowess. 

He grinned sharply, capturing your legs against your chest in a mating press as he went even harder. His wings shedded to black, spanning out proudly behind him as the halo melted down into his horns. 

“I’m going to ruin you, do you hear me? You’re not leaving this bed- not tonight, or in the morning, or maybe even until tomorrow afternoon…I’m keeping you until I’ve had my fill.”

†

The sight of Mammon’s blue eyes peering up while his mouth was busy pleasuring you had always been a pretty sight— the shimmering halo was only a little bonus this time. 

But you wanted his horns to hold onto. “Just like that, Mams…doing so well, pretty boy.” Your hips rocked over his mouth, grinning down at him with gold flickering in your eyes. 

He was all about giving now that the bangle had taken hold, which even before, Mammon always keened when you sat on his face and just used him. 

The second born was moaning and whining and whimpering against your skin as his tongue lapped up everything he could, “Mmph- like this? ‘M I doing good, Mc?” 

“Y-yeah, baby, fuck— so good…” you carded your fingers through Mammon’s hair, feeling him get more and more excited before you lifted up off his face. 

And he was absolutely distraught with the lack of your taste, desperate cry leaving him as he tried to chase after you. “No, no, no! Mc, please, come back— wasn’t done, wanna taste you still, wanna make you feel good, please!” 

The laugh you let out made him whine even louder, fingers gripping frantically at your thighs. It was like a switch flipped, magic being overtaken by his greed. 

His eyes flickered gold like yours, a whiny growl escaping him. He forced you on your back within a second, mouth working at you even more desperately now as he held you down and took what he wanted— and he wanted to make you cum. 

“Jus’ let me, please let me make you cum— you taste so good, Mc, I don’t wanna stop. Want you to scream my name and yank my hair, grip my horns, just give me more- more, more, more!” 

†

A small shriek left Levi when you rammed against his prostate, hiccuped cries of your name following. His back arched, wings flaring out behind him, making you hit even deeper spots inside of him. 

With his new attitude, he’d been letting everyone else spend time with you and he was finally feeling the built up envy creep along his spine, right beside the spikes of pleasure. 

“Aww…look at you. So sweet for me, huh? Why so shy, Levi? Wasn’t this what you meant about strengthening connections?” 

Garbled sounds left him, courtesy of your fingers stuffed in his mouth. His eyes rolled back, hands gripping at your hips desperately, though it wasn’t clear if he was pushing you away or pulling you closer.

“How am I gonna know I’m doing good if you don’t tell me, ‘vi? C’mon, sweet thing, tell me. Or do you not want me?” 

It was like you asked the unthinkable. A loud whine left him and his tail returned, knocking the halo right off his head before it coiled around your abdomen. 

“No! I want you, I want you so badly, please keep fucking me— don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” Diamond shaped scales scattered across his body as the magic wore out. 

You cooed, thrusting into him sharply, making his body lurch, “Good boy, Leviathan..” 

†

“Fuck!” Satan cries out, fingers digging into his white wings to try and keep them from fluttering. His back arched almost painfully, loudly begging you to keep going. 

“Oh, look at you…” the coos that left you made him flush red, giving you a great sense of satisfaction. This was the most he’d been riled up since putting that ridiculous bangle on.

Your thighs were burning at the unforgiving pace you were riding him at, beads of sweat splashing onto his skin, so you decided to change the game a little. 

“Come on, Tannie, if you want it, work for it.” You settled your weight on top of him, ceasing your movements as you cockwarmed him instead. 

A displeased growl comes from the back of his throat, eyes snapping open with a glowing green. “Mc, move! Please!” 

Slowly, the halo above his head began to flicker and dim before it shattered, dissipating in the air. Another growl escaped him as his wings followed suit, tail lashing out like a whip. 

“That’s it— c’mon-!” You gasped when he yanked you forwards, chest pressing against his as his tail locked you in place. The only sounds that could leave you now were broken moans as he fucked you almost viciously. 

“You know how I feel about you fucking. teasing. me. Feels good doesn’t it? Yeah? Cause I’m not stopping. ‘M not stopping until I physically can’t fuck you anymore— fuck, I needed you.” 

†

Unabashed moans echo off the walls of Asmo’s bathroom as the fifth born writhes under your touch. The sound of water sloshing makes his cheeks burn fiery red and the sound of you moaning back at him makes it even worse. 

“W-wait! You d-don’t have to— oh!” 

“Shh, Azzy…’m just taking care of you. You were so hard and aching…could see it even though you tried to hide under the water.” 

The white feathers ruffled with pleasure (slowly shedded away and turning back), hips jerking frantically to chase the pleasure. The bangle’s magic was completely buried under how hot you made him feel and the feeling of you licking along the edges of his leathery wings increased it ten fold. 

“Yes, Mc, like that— don’t stop, just like that, just like that!” Amso curled over on you, horns knocking against your shoulder as he cried out even louder. 

You fisted his cock harder and swiped your thumb over the tip relentlessly, “Yeah? Made you feel so good, you corrupted yourself, huh? Pretty little Azzy…come on, cum.” 

The squeal he let out cracked halfway through, broken cries of your name following like a mantra. His hand encased yours, making sure you didn’t stop jerking him off. 

“K-keep going, don’t stop! Wanna cum for you again ‘n again, gotta make up for when I was giving you away to the others, please, please, let me cum again for you!”

†

“H-haaah…ah! M-Mc…what’re you..o-oh..doing?” 

“You said it made you happier seeing others get to eat, so…” you hummed, licking your lips before digging your tongue back into the slit of his cock, “I’m just..enjoying my meal…” 

Beel had always lost his cool when you went down on him, finding your mouth to be too good at pleasuring him. The growl he let out was something only a demon could make. 

The glowing of the bangle did nothing to deter you— in fact, you only laughed and peered up at him with the red sin of gluttony swirling through your irises. With another hum, you enveloped his cock in your mouth and forced your head as far down as you could, swallowing around him. 

He tried so hard to not buck into your mouth or grip at your head as the magic worked to keep his ravenous nature at bay, but…that’s just not who he was anymore. 

“C’mon, Beelie…want you to cum in my mouth, I wanna taste you..pretty please? Let me have it…” 

A low groan fell past his lips, hips finally jerking up and accidentally making you choke. A rushed apology was given as his fingers tangled in your hair and gently guided your head at a faster pace. 

The beating of his insectual wings was rapid as he got closer, magic completely dissipating when he let out a sound akin to a small roar, grabbing at his own horns when he came. 

Watching you pull away with visibly stuffed cheeks, slowly working on swallowing it all (though drops still ran down your chin) made a sharp pang shoot through him. 

“Thank you…you always make me feel so good, Mc…but..now ‘m hungry. Let me return the favor..wanna taste you too.” 

†

“A-are you sure…this is o-okay?” Belphie chokes out quietly, hands pressing down on your hips to keep you pinned to the bed with your knees bent to your sides. 

Your fingers curl in the sheets, body lurching forward at each thrust, “yeah, ‘s okay— feels good, doesn’t it? You’re doing so good, Bel…” 

The clipped whines and gasps that Belphie was making made his cheeks flair with an embarrassed flush; but you were right. It felt so. fucking. good. And he didn’t think he ever wanted to stop. 

Through the pleasure, it was easy to ignore the glowing bangle on his wrist and the voice in the back of his head telling him that he should have more reservations- that he shouldn’t be doing this— that voice wasn’t even his. Belphie wanted this, he did! 

As your hands stretched back to claw at his lower stomach, you moaned out his name and wiggled your hips, begging him to go faster. 

“Please, Bel…know you can go f-faster than this, want you to fuck me— please, please, please! Don’t wan’ you to be an angel, want you to be my demon again-!” 

Magic cracked in the air, sending the hair on the back of your neck rising before a familiar tail curled around your stomach and yanked your lower half higher up, forcing your chest further into the mattress. 

The attic bed creaked with the force he slammed into you at, whines mixing with growls now; his horns pressed against your skin as he rested his forehead against your back, making it arch even more.  “Yeah? You want me to fuck you senseless again? Couldn’t even go a couple days without having me play with you, fuck, you’re such a slut for me.”

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

[b1mbodoll]

getting bred so deep it comes out the other side has my head SPINNING. that one nicho piece changed my life forever. drooling cum from the inside out… straight outta some hentai shit and i soo wish it was real…

do you have thoughts about who (out of everyone u write for) would also find that unbelievably hot? please share!

pairings: na jaemin, kim jungsu, kim taerae, winter, and yang jungwon x f! reader

warnings: inflation + creampies + breath play + oral + womb fucking + pet names (baby, puppy, princess) + daddy kink + mommy kink + g!p + size kink + fingering + dacryphilia + virginity ment + noncon

💌: ur sooo real for this baby 🫂 idk why the idea is so attractive but i love it sm like agh!!!!! i promise im a normal girl but these thoughts plague my brain daily so i hope u enjoy! p.s. nicho is also a fan of this but i alr wrote for him so i didnt wna do it again :T

˚ʚ na jaemin ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ jaemin’s infatuation with breeding you is almost concerning. there’s nothing he wants more than to knock you up and he could spend hours with his thick cock buried deep inside your tight hole, the tip slipping past your cervix with every thrust and fucking his cum directly into your womb.

he pumps you full over and over, til even the littlest bit of pressure on your tummy makes you shriek as your cunt gushes an unreal amount of cum. you’re so fucking full and it makes your eyes roll into the back of your skull, throwing your head back in pleasure.

“nana, daddy, ‘m so f-full! i can feel you so deep inside ‘m gonna cum!” you exclaim, gagging as jaemin’s cock pushes his cream so far inside it works its way out of your mouth.

“fuck,” he groans, thrusting deep one last time as he cums again. “oh god,” his cum leaks from your mouth as he speaks and it makes your walls spasm around his length, more of his seed drip from your cunt. “you look so pretty like this baby, wish you could see yourself.” another deep groan. “my dumb drooly puppy, such a good cocksleeve for daddy, look at you droolin’ cum.”

your whine comes out gargled because of his load escaping your mouth, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks as you choke and struggle.

˚ʚ kim jungsu ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ jungsu has such a thick cock, like im a proud supporter of the coke can dick jungsu agenda. no matter how many times he bullies his cock inside your tight walls it’s always a struggle. he’ll press his lips to yours when he begins to push inside, licking into your mouth with his tongue to muffle your cries of discomfort.

he takes his sweet time prepping you before he even thinks about fucking you, but even after tonguefucking your hole and spreading you open on his fingers you’re still impossibly tight, his dick is simply too big for you to take without sobbing like a dumb crybaby.

jungsu’s already made you cum on his fingers three times and despite how wet and messy your cunt is, it makes you wail when he starts to thrust into you, the thickness of his cock causing your walls to spasm. “how’re you still so tight, princess?” he questions, gritting his teeth and struggling to pull out, your greedy pussy sucking him in. “can’t even pull out, ‘s like ‘m fuckin a virgin.”

his words and the way his dick batters your cunt make you squeal and grab stupidly at his shoulders, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cream around him and make a mess of his cock.

˚ʚ kim taerae ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ thick dick taerae believers i see you, i love you and i’m one of you. his cum is creamy and sticky and he cums in thick loads, cockhead nestled deep in your tummy as he grinds his cock into you rather than thrusting inside. every load completely floods your insides, and it shouldn’t even be a surprise that he’s stuffed you to the brim causing his sticky seed to creep up your throat, making you sputter around it and whine from the feeling.

“don’t fuckin’ let it out, puppy, swear you’re gonna be in so much trouble if it leaks even a little bit.” taerae warns, voice taking an assertive tone as he drapes himself over your, chest flush against your back. you can’t stop yourself from keening, high pitched cries ripped from your chest as more cum fills your mouth.

he uses a hand to cover your mouth, sobs muffled while you struggle to swallow back his load. a pitiful long whine has his semen dribbling from your mouth and making a mess on his palm, panicked breaths causing some to even leak from your nose from how full you are.

“fucking swallow it or ‘m not letting you cum for a week.” spits taerae, tightening his bruising grip around your pretty little face. all you can do is shudder and try to swallow, gulps audible and making your cheeks heat up in shame when he laughs wickedly at your pathetic fucked out state.

˚ʚ kim minjeong ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ pretty girls have the biggest cocks n heaviest balls 🥺 jeongie love love loves splitting your tight lil mouth open with her fat dick <3 she’s hung like a horse and when you suck her off she has to pry your cheeks open while you choke on a mouthful of cum, tears gathering at your lashline while globs of cum and drool bubble out of your mouth, wet and sloppy sounds of you gagging round her length filling the room.

you know your girlfriend is a gross perv and it makes you so wet when you go down on her, hollowing your cheeks and suckling the tip of her cock before the pleasure causes minjeong to push your head down all the way making you unable to pull away and do anything else but feel how deep her cock is as she violates your tight little throat.

her eyes are squeezed shut in pleasure, bucking her hips upwards and groaning when her tip hits the back of your throat. “that’s it, princess, keep suckin’ mommy’s cock.” her words make you moan, the vibrations round her dick making minjeong clench her jaw as ropes of cum spurt from the slit of her cock, thick load completely filling your mouth, your hands grabbing at her hips before scrambing to push her away.

she doesn’t stop though. instead she works her hand through your hair and grabs a fistful, your face meeting her pelvis as she continues cumming, some of her seed even spilling out of your nose. minjeong’s cock twitches at the sight and your depraved mommy releases her grip on your hair, choosing to pinch your nose with her fingers while you’re still impaled on her dick.

her orgasm passes and you can’t breathe, struggling to catch your breath, your throat tightens up around her even more, causing more semen to dribble from her leaky dick.

˚ʚ yang jungwon ɞ˚

❤︎₊ ⊹ jungwon’s cock is definitely on the thicker side, and when he cums he fills you up completely, white ropes of semen clinging to your walls and painting them white, even flooding your womb with just one load. i don’t know why but i have a feeling that jungwon is a fucking sadistic bastard, he gets off on your humiliation and tears, hiding his face in your neck and grinning like a maniac when you sob from the pain and shame.

you expect jungwon to try new things when he fucks you, it’s not a secret that he lives for the thrill of finding different disgusting kinks to try out but his favorite is fucking you full of piss when he’s finished dumping load after load inside of you,

he waits until you’re completely ditzy, a dopey smile on your face as he shallowly thrusts in and out of you before suddenly forcing himself deep, keeping a tight grip on your jaw to watch the fucked out look on your face turn into one of alarm while you thrash around beneath him, “jungwon! stop please,” you whine, voice cracking while you fight back tears, “it’s embarrassing! i hate it.”

despite your fussing he continues to use you like a urinal, and it makes you feel impossibly full, gagging and retching as his piss floods your insides and causes his cum to dribble out of your open mouth.

jungwon is sick and depraved, it’s no surprise your pathetic state makes his hips jerk, groaning deeply as your messy cunt squeezes him tighter.

[mamas-ethereal-gun]

♡ 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ♡

Boxer!Eren Yeager x Onyankopon lil sis!black fem reader

Your big brother, Onyankopon, was a well-renowned fighter in the boxing industry, winning belt after belt due to his exceptional skill. You were proud of him, especially considering the hardships you both endured for him to reach this point.

There's a twelve-year age difference between you, with him being 34 and you being 22. Since the moment you were born, Ony has been the one taking care of you because your emotionally unavailable parents felt they didn’t need to. He stole for you, bought you food, and ensured your education by enrolling you in tutoring programs under your parents' name to secure your graduation, admission to a good university, and a high-paying job. Fighting was how he made his money.

When it came to you, Ony didn’t play, so you could only imagine his face when he sees a video of his main opponent basically flirting with you at a coffee shop.

Today was a very slow day for you. Your lectures were stupidly long and boring, your friends were all busy, AND on top of all that you dropped a cookie you were eating in a puddle when you were walking to class. Now you find yourself working on a assignment for your chemistry class in a coffee shop.

As you were working, you heard a large commotion coming from the entrance of the store. Turning to see what it was, you were blinded by flashing lights emanating from the front windows of the store. Deciding not wanting to have these lights in your eyes, you turned back and continued working.

After about 30 minutes you grew hungry. Cursing yourself out for not getting any food before hand, you made your way to the register. On the way there, you got a notification on your phone causing you to look at it.

Sash 🫡 :

YALL WANNA HANGOUT LATER????

Y/n 💞 :

oh so when I ask if y’all want to hang y’all don’t wanna respond 🙄🙄 (oh and sure>.<)

Con 🤓 :

thats because you be asking us at the most god forsaken hours😒

As you were typing out your response, you bumped into someone. (cliché i know but y’all bare with me 🙏) “Oh I’m sorry..” you say before you see a cake pop fall to the ground. Now you were really sorry. The man in front of you groaned in frustration. “Watch where you’re goin-“ he paused when he turned around. Staring at you as if he was lost for words.

“I’m so sorry. Please let me buy you another one.” You offer. An unexpected low “Damn” fell from the man’s lips leaving both you and him confused. “No it’s fine” he says when he snaps back to reality. “Oh come on! It’s my fault so I’ll buy you a new one! I’m going there right now anyways!” You insisted eager to fix your mistake. The man turns looks at his friends and then looks back at you. “Ok um sure.” A small smile forming on his lips.

"Here," you said, extending the cake pop to him with a sheepish grin. "Sorry again." "You really didn't have to do that," he replied, his gaze shifting to the dessert now in his hand. "No, no! I had to!" you insisted, your smile widening with sincerity. He returned your smile, gratitude in his eyes. "So... do you have a name?" he asked. "Oh, umm it’s (y/n)! What’s yours?" you responded. "Eren. Oh, um, Eren Yeager," he replied shyly.

As you processed his name, a wave of recognition washed over you. You'd definitely heard that name before. That's when it clicked. The paparazzi, the wounds on his face. everything fell into place, and you suddenly realized who he was.

"You're that boxer, right?" you said, unable to contain your excitement as you grinned at him. "Oh, umm, yeah," he replied, rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Do you like boxing?" he asked, trying to shift the focus away from himself. "I mean, my big brother's a boxer," you replied casually, feeling a of pride as you mentioned your brothers job.

"Really? Who is he?" Eren asked, his curiosity piqued. "Onyankopon!" you replied proudly, the name rolling off your tongue effortlessly.The feeling Recognition formed on Eren's face. That's where he'd seen you before—linked to the famous Onyankopon.

Eren and Ony were headlining for this highly anticipated boxing event, were they are facing each other in the ring. Throughout the years of both of their boxing Journeys, there have been very mild beef between the both of them. But nothing to Extreme.

"Hope you don’t mind me beating up your brother," Eren teased, flashing a mischievous grin at you. "Umm, I don’t think you will," you replied, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you bantered back. With a subtle nod, you motioned for him to follow you back to the table where your belongings stood.

Eren obliged, his smile widening as he fell into step beside you. "So, what do you do?" "I'm in university right now. I want to become a dermatologist," you replied. "Oh, really? That's cool," Eren responded.

"Hey, so um," Eren interrupted you, halting your steps. You turned to face him, curious about what he had to say. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself returning it. "I was wondering if you'd want to talk more," he continued. “I would love to but my class is starting in a few minutes and..” you look at the paparazzi still flashing there cameras at him. “You also look busy.” You return your gaze back to him. He looks behind him and sulks. Their still here?

"Then can I get your number?" Eren asked, eager to continue talk to you more. Your smile widened at his request, flattered by his interest. With a playful glint in your eye, you reached out for his phone, causing a flicker of confusion to pass over his face. "For my number," you clarified with a smirk, enjoying teasing him just a little. "Oh, um, yeah," Eren stammered slightly, fumbling in his pockets until he located his phone. Once he retrieved it, he handed it over to you.

"Here ya go, honey," you said teasingly, handing Eren his phone back with a playful smile dancing on your lips. His cheeks flushed slightly at the nickname, caught off guard by the endearment. "Thank you, pretty," he replied, mustering up the courage to flirt back, his attempt at charm accompanied by a sheepish grin. As you prepared to leave, Eren's gaze lingered on you, reluctant to see you go. "Text me when you get home," he requested softly, his sincerity evident in his tone as he watched you pick your stuff up and leave.

A/n 𐙚🧸ྀི: ITS MARCH BREAK YALL IM FREEE !! I might make a part 2 of this😙

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Miraculous Ladybug

Open My Eyes by buggachat

Adrien smiles as he eats breakfast with Nathalie, smiles as he walks through the halls of his new lycée, smiles as people stop him on the street and tell him time and time again what a "hero" his father was.

(Adrien wishes he could've been a hero, too. He should've been. Maybe then his father would still be alive.)

(But he's surviving. Everyone may be treating him as though he were made of glass, but he can still go through the motions, he can prove them wrong, he can still smile.)

“And you’re… happy,” Marinette spoke carefully, a nervous tilt to her voice, “... right?”

(Adrien has some things to find out.)

DC

the good, the bad, and the power hungry by konan_konan

dim trake ☑ @timdrakeceo・8hr if one more person tweets about #superlex unironically im gonna end it all 391K Views | 200 Retweets | 13 Quote Tweets | 22.1K Likes

j-son of a bitch ☑ @jsntdd・8hr ↳ replying to @timdrakeceo hurr durr these are the consequences of ur actions bitch 201K Views | 109 Retweets | 4 Quote Tweets | 18.4K Likes

or: lex luthor makes bad choices. and then, so does everyone else.

call me cute and feed me sugar by suzukiblu

Tim Drake had absolutely no intentions of ever becoming anyone's sugar daddy when he met Superboy.

This would have worked out better for him if Superboy had ever had an actual legal identity or an actual legal guardian or just . . . literally anything whatsoever in life. Ever. At all.

Just a bank account, even.

how big, how blue, how beautiful by merils

Kon-El is not good with medical settings. One could even say he's quite bad with them. How bad, exactly?

Well, let's put it this way: Very few things in the world can make him scream for Superman to save him.

(Superman will save him. That's what family's for, right?)

Clone Wars

The Kenobi Chronicles by WobblyCat

General Kenobi isn't actually dead. Someone should really tell that to his troopers, though.

Or: The clones under General Kenobi's command have a groupchat dedicated to him. Cody wishes his subordinates weren't so fucking stupid.

SVSSS

Shen Yuan's Forced Shen Qingqiu Redemption Arc by SpicyReyes

The System's OOC function won't unlock all at once - instead, character traits have to be added individually, through quests. This leads to Shen Qingqiu having to jump through endless hoops just to complete enough side quests to unlock the ability to be a decent person - all while avoiding the effects it has on those around him. If only the cheapskate System wouldn't keep changing the cost of point values - he needs to know what the hell Yue Qingyuan told the others about him that makes them all look so sad when he does manage to be nice! He's breaking his back here, can't we just appreciate his work?!

second-hand alibis by nex_et_nox

"All right. I’m in Proud Immortal Demon Way," he says, once he's had a chance to compose himself again. He sits back up, tossing his stupidly long hair back over his shoulders where it belongs; he is totally calm and ready to grill the System for more information.  "Who am I supposed to be?" Please please please don't let it be someone who Bingge violently murders. Though given the fact that he's a man in PIDW, his chances are already skewed, and not in his favor. Ugh. [Bound Role: Shen Yuan, Rogue Cultivator. Weapon: the sword Heng Li. Starting B-points: 100.]

or: Shen Yuan transmigrates as a rogue cultivator, one completely unconnected to any canon characters or events. Right, System? Right?

[agarthanguide]

Critical Role sent me the new Exandrian cookbook, and I used the opportunity to take a pretty photo on my antique table. Everyone look at my table I bought it at Brimfield and my sister and I had to haul it half a mile to the car but it’s worth it because it looks so good wearing sprigs of rosemary omg I love it so much.

(This is Muffins of the Shadow Baker with blackberry and orange compound butter but I swear I’m not promoting on tumblr, I’m just stupidly proud of the photos. Like look at my blog. I don’t share photos because I do not take good ones. This is a huge anomaly for me everyone be proud of me please. Please.)

[peachy-dove]

Hey peach darling I loveeee your work that you did with Garp 🥵❤️ please I need more!!!😭😭😭❤️

can I request a smut with Garp again with a younger female reader where she calls him daddy in bed for the first time ❤️❤️😭

Monkey. D. Garp X Fem! Reader

Who’s Your Daddy?

CW: MDNI!! 18+, Large age gap (reader is 25), Fem reader, daddy kink, nicknames like: little girl, sweet girl, etc., overstimulation, cursing, oral (fem and male receiving), dirty talk, cum on face, hair pulling

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I’m actually really excited for this, I'm glad so many people are Garp simps just like me lol, but let’s get to the good stuff!! (I finished opla and my Garp appetite is strong!) (I took forever on this cuz of college and stuff :(()

 The restaurant was beautiful. The atmosphere was great and the service was spectacular! Your lovely Gilf boyfriend Garp took you on a lovely date to celebrate your promotion to rear admiral within the navy this weekend.he reaches across the table and places his hand on yours.

“I’m so proud of you sweetheart!” He grins widely at you, the sheer amount of admiration shining off his bright eyes.

 You look up at him and smile fondly at him, “Thank You Garp, I’m just happy all the extra training has been paying off!” You lift up your glass of wine and take a sip, reminiscing on the long training sessions and hours spent to become the young marine that you are today.Your lovely boyfriend supporting you the entire way with lots of special rewards and treatment.

Dinner was lovely and you allowed him to come back to your room for a “celebration” of sorts. Garp picks you up in his large hands enveloping you and touching everywhere his hands can reach.

He lays you on the bed and strips you out of your lavish dress (that he bought you by the way). His tongue frantically moved across yours while his hands worked the rest of your clothes off leaving you bare and wet only for his eyes to see. He steps back and strips off his own suit leaving his boxers on.

“I’m quite thirsty (y/n) why don’t you give me a little taste, hm?” Garp gets on the bed and his big hands pull you quickly closer to him. You let out a soft whine at the feeling of his rough hands manhandling you made your cunt drip with ecstacy. Your big strong man was gonna make it all better~ “Garp pleasee~” you cry out for his tongue on your aching sex. As your breaths drew quicker in a flash Garp had his mouth on you in an instant, loving the way you begged for him made his dick twitch and throb.

His tongue made quick work of your pussy. Dipping and diving through your folds leaving not an inch uncovered. “Garp please!” you shout out to him grinding your hips onto his face. Slick covering his beard and mouth. Garp hums at the taste of your delicious lips on his. “That’s right scream for me sweet girl~” He pulls your thighs over his broad shoulders and wraps his arms around them to keep your legs from closing. Not letting you have even a spare centimeter between him and HIS pussy. He ate at you like he was starving, the restaurant not giving him enough he wanted his dessert now.

Garp settles his tongue on your clit flicking away at the nub trying to bring you closer to your orgasm. “FUCK DADDY PLEASE!” you scream almost regrettably. It flew out of your mouth so fast you didn’t even have time to correct yourself as your hips started bucking and your juices squirted all over Garp’s smug face. He heard you and boy did he hear you loud and clear.

As you calmed down from your high you felt Garp rubbing your hip with his thumb to try and soothe you but man did you want to wipe that smirk off his stupidly sexyface! “What did you call me, little girl? You might have to repeat it for me, my hearing isn’t what it used to be~” He teased as he chuckled to himself wanting to hear it from you again.

“I didn’t say anything! I-I don’t know what you’re talking about babe’ you say as you try to pull yourself away from him but Garp’s grip on you was firm. Curse his stupid muscles! Your thoughts are soon interrupted by him licking a stripe up your sensitive pussy again. “I Know what you said honey, now I want to hear it from you again, tell Daddy what you want~” He sucks harshly on your clit again as you shiver and moan loudly “Ngh~ I-” you start to say but the pleasure is too much. You can feel the pressure in your tummy coming up again as he assaults your clit with his tongue over and over again, the overstimulation too much to bear. “Come on sweetheart you can say it~” He says as he pulls away to reposition you so that he is on his knees on the bed, and pulls your body up towards him so that you are practically upside down.

He holds your waist in making sure you don’t fall. With his other hand he rubs at your clit with his middle and index fingers feeling your hard clit throb under his ministrations. “Fucking say it pretty girl!!” He says a hint of firmness but frustration is his voice.

“FUCK YES DADDY PLEASE FUCK ME DADDY!!” you cry out again as you cum again making a mess with Garp finally letting you down and whispering in your ear praises of “Good girl” and “I knew my good girl could handle it” and finally “Daddy’s got you babygirl~”

When you finally calm down Garp pulls your body towards his as he lays down next to you helping you come down from your high. “How ya’ feeling sweetheart?” he asks brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your neck softly to ease your mind and body.

“Feel so good daddy~” you giggle as you say it outloud and in your right mind. “Good because daddy still needs you” You finally feel his thick hard dick prodding your side and you breathe in and reach down to run your palm over his tip, he hisses from the touch. His cock had been aching for you to touch him.

“Don’t worry sweetheart I know that cunt is is still sensitive” He slaps your wet cunt with his huge hand and you whimper from the sting and how sensitive your cunny is.

He lets out a hearty laugh at your plight as you sit up and lay in front of his stiff cock as he lays on his back. “That’s it babydoll make daddy feel good.” He says as he relaxes back as you start to stroke his dick in your tiny hands try to make him feel as good as possible. He licks his lips as he starts to hum in satisfaction as the relief of your touch is in his reach.

You run your tongue from his base to tip and across his heavy full balls waiting to make a mess on your pretty face. You kitten lick at his tip trying to prep yourself for the massive dick that was about to wreck your throat and jow. After plenty of times taking him in it always seemed so daunting. “Stop playing around girl,” Garp’s impatience showed on his face.

You take one last breath in and take him in your mouth. He was heavy on your tongue, his skin tasting so good like a treat you could never get enough of. You both hum in content for your own pleasures as you bobbed your head as he put his hand on the back of your head not pushing you too much but more so to keep you close. “Such a Good girl for me, go on and suck that dick real good babygirl” Garp moaned as he tossed his head back from the pleasure.

The praises didn’t stop and neither did you. You took his dick further in your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat, heavily breathing through your nose. Deepthroating him was such a challenge but you loved how he could fill your throat with just his size alone.You pick up your pace and take him in deeper, your tongue working his underside to push him further to his own edge. “FUCkK” He yells as you reach down and play with his balls. “Fuck you know how to suck cock don’t you slut?” Garp’s growls and small whimpers turn you on as he bucks his hips as you continue to work along his dick.

“I’m gonna fucking cum! Gonna cum on that pretty face little girl, FUCKING TAKE IT” he yells as he grabs you harshly by your hair ripping you off of his cock and shooting his load on your face.

 Garmp lets out a harsh growl and he comes down from his high. Finally sitting up he brings you closer to his face making you crawl up to him. “So pretty for daddy sweetheart~” Garp feeling proud at marking you as his and his only. 

Garp kisses you deeply, licking some of the cum from the corner of your lips. You whimper from the gesture as he lets you go. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear, you did so well for me babydoll~”

Garp gets you both cleaned up and as he spoons you from the back he whispers to you before you drift off,

“Get some rest sweetheart because you’re gonna need it for round 2 when your Daddy is ready~”

[littledemondani]

misery

warnings: angst, fem!reader, post-breakup, mentions of alcohol use, implied depression, sort of a happy ending if you squint really hard, reader is a cheerleader, secret relationship

word count: 1.1k

request: "anonymous asked: maybe you could write an angst fic/blurb for eddie… with a major argument because the relationship is private but eventually the fic ends on a good note somehow. really make it whatever you want lol i’m just a sucker for any type of angst!!"

a/n: it didn't quite end up the way anon asked for, but i'm pretty happy with the overall result. i hope y'all like it <3

they say time heals all wounds.

whoever came up with that can seriously go to fucking hell.

ever since your breakup with eddie munson, you had been absolutely miserable.

it’s not like you hadn’t seen it coming - quite the opposite, actually. and for the days, even weeks leading up to it, you tried to be oblivious. tried to tell yourself that it was all in your head and everything was fine.

eddie had slowly pulled away from you. all of the late night phone calls, sneaking him into your room after your parents went to sleep, meeting him in the woods behind hawkins high, the pet names he had specifically for you, all lessened in their frequency.

you figured that’s what happens when you keep something a secret for so long, but you had hoped that your relationship would withstand all the obstacles thrown it’s way until you both graduated high school.

that particular day, he had asked you to meet him at your spot, and stupidly, you thought that maybe things were coming around and it was just some shit he was going through at home that he didn't want you to know about.

you couldn't be more wrong.

he stood there, completely barren of any emotion as he told you he was done. that there was no way he could continue lying to himself, and to you, that he actually cared about you. you were nothing more than another notch on his belt, a conquest for him.

it felt like your world was crashing in on you, making it hard for you to breathe. you shook your head, repeating a slew of ‘no’ and ‘eddie, please’ as you grappled to process what the hell was going on.

since day one, he had made it clear this is what he wanted. that you were what he wanted most. he didn’t care about the stereotypes that seemed to dictate everything everyone did or didn’t do. he was above all of that, and looked beyond the bullshit labels at the person behind them. you were "a beacon of light in the darkness” as he once put it.

yet he stood there, unbothered, watching you fall apart in front of him without doing anything. even as you cried and begged him not to go, he still did absolutely nothing. 

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, looking everywhere else but at you. “i don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

there was so much more he could say. like the truth. that he was a two-time senior living in a trailer park, and you were the pretty cheerleader, top of the class and on your way to college to become everything you’d always wanted to be in life. he had nothing to offer you, that much was clear to him, and it killed him to do this to you, but he felt like he had no other choice.

the days that followed were a living nightmare. having to go to school like your heart hadn't been pulverized into a million pieces had become the bane of your existence. even though you put on a fake smile, it was completely obvious to everyone who knew you that there was something off.

whereas eddie seemed completely fine.

fucking asshole.

now here you are, almost two months later, alone in your room, sobbing into your pillow as the songs in the mixtape eddie made for you flow through your stereo.

flashbacks of the day he gave it to you come to mind, and you find some kind of solace in them, despite the ever present ache in your chest.

eddie knocked at your window once before opening it and hopping in. he was all smiles, completely proud of himself for the hard work he had done to make it perfect. 

“for you, madam,” he says in a goofy tone, making you giggle as you take it from him.

“what’s this?”

“only the coolest mixtape i’ve ever made for anyone,” he says, plopping down onto your bed as he kicks off his shoes. “well, the only one i’ve ever made for someone, but that's besides the point.” 

you place the cassette tape into your stereo, curious to hear what’s on it. the trooper by iron maiden comes blasting through, and you turn around to find him playing air guitar and mimicking the sounds.

“whose that?” you ask, climbing on the bed next to him.

he stops air strumming and glances at you, a feigned look of shock and offense on his face before he pretends to be shot and falls off your bed. 

“only the greatest band to ever fucking exist, iron maiden,” he says as he holds his hand to his heart. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’m gonna teach you everything you need to know, okay? i know those preppy weirdos have you brainwashed into thinking wham! is the greatest ever.”

“they are, though,” you tease, chuckling as you sit on the floor next to him. “george michael is amazing.” 

he pretends to groan like he’s in pain, shaking his head. “no! no! i don’t wanna hear it!”

you’re pulled back to reality when the phone on your bedside table rings. you glance at the clock, 11:45pm, and wonder who the fuck would be calling this late. wiping your tears, you answer the phone, only to be met with silence on the other end.

“you know it’s real fucking weird to just call people and not say anything,” you huff in annoyance, waiting just a little bit longer to see if maybe they’d say something.

nothing.

you roll your eyes, muttering a soft ‘whatever’ before rolling over to hang up.

“y/n…”

the voice on the other end makes your blood run cold, your heart racing so fast you swear it’s going to burst at the seams. you sit up on your bed, bringing your knees up to your chest and furrowing your brows slightly.

“eddie? w-what the hell?”

“i miss you,” he says, a slight slur to his words that makes you think he’s probably drunk. “i miss you so much…”

all rationale goes out the door the minute you hear those words. you should hang up on him, curse him for putting you through hell the last couple of months, for wasting your fucking time by making you think he actually gave a shit about you. but the pain in his voice, despite being under the influence, is what you cling to the most.

“i miss you, too…” you whisper, sniffling a bit as the tears begin to fall down your face uncontrollably.

[narukoibito]

Please: The first time A is drunk (before they begin to date B) They absent-mindedly confess

Apologies for the late response! I ended up writing over 1.5k for this prompt. Hope that makes up for the delay. 💛

When the Morning Comes

AO3 | FF.net

Summary: Harry has a little too much to drink.

---

The cheers from the crowd were deafening as Ginny climbed up the stairs toward the center stage. All the lights were blinding, but she could imagine her family in the crowd, her mum wiping her eyes and her brothers cheering. Her heart clamored in her chest as she approached Gwenog Jones and her razor-sharp grin.

Ginny’s eyes slid to the Rookie of the Year award in Gwenog’s outstretched hands, pride pulsing through her veins. She was just about to touch the gleaming trophy when the cheers melted into shouts as Ron leapt onto the stage, a crazed look in his eyes. He slapped the award out of Gwenog’s hands as he shouted incoherently.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

Instead of answering, Ron lurked toward her. The crazed look in his eyes made her jerk backwards only to realize she was falling. 

Ginny jolted with a gasp.The shouting continued to ring in her ears as she stared up into the darkness. It took a moment to realize she had not only been dreaming, but also that the sounds were, in fact, real. 

What in Merlin’s beard was Ron doing?

Pickles, Demelza’s cat, mewed mournfully as Ginny rose from the bed. She should have known that her first opportunity to escape from the Burrow to cat sit for Demelza, Ron would find a way to ruin it. Months living at home–all she had wanted was one weekend. One. Pulling on her robe, swearing in a way that would undoubtedly make the twins proud, she tramped down the stairs. 

“Ginny!” Ron bellowed.

Her Saturday was not off to the best start. 

The incessant banging stopped when she swung the door open. Choice curse words on the tip of her tongue, she stilled, taking in the scene. Her eyes slid to her brother. "What did you do?"

"Me? What did I do?" Ron spluttered, indignant as he sagged under Harry's weight, his best mate's arm hanging over his shoulder. 

From where he had his face pressed into Ron’s side, Harry erupted into giggles. The way his wire glasses were awkwardly pushed against his face couldn't possibly be comfortable, but you wouldn't know based on his wide grin.

Ginny gave Ron a pointed look. “Why did you show up here?”

Ron grimaced. 

“Hermione warned you not to try them, didn’t she?” Ginny asked in a flat voice. 

Harry seemed to perk up, looking around as if trying to locate where her voice came from. When his eyes landed on her, he lit up. “Gin!”

In no way did her stomach flutter at his childish excitement. That would be ridiculous because she was long over Harry Potter—had been since fourth year. So the fact that he was stupidly happy to see her did not add to his charm.

“Ron, it’s Ginny!” Harry moved toward her and promptly tripped. 

She lurched forward, but Ron yelped and caught Harry before he fell on his face. 

Ron grunted. “Help?"

If it weren’t for Harry potentially hurting himself, she would likely have left Ron to clean up his mess. Instead, she took Harry’s other arm, the two of them stumbling as Harry dragged his feet.

His proximity was completely fine. Not a problem in the least. She was only feeling flushed because of carrying half his weight. It had nothing to do with the arm looped over her shoulder, his side pressed right up against hers, or how Harry's face was close enough to her face that she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Obviously, the sparks in her stomach were from irritation.

Or so she told herself.

"Why is Harry in such a state when you're fine?" she muttered as they trudged through the family room.

"George had these new magical cocktails he wanted us to try. I’m fine, but Harry seems a bit worse for wear. Giggly and affectionate."

“Ginnyyyy.” Harry seemed amused by her name and giggled, his voice tickling her ear. She shuddered, goosebumps erupting where the ghost of his breath had brushed against her skin.

This was fine.

He tilted toward ever so forward, close enough that if he moved closer his lips just might brush against her neck. 

 Absolutely fine.

“I love you.”

Ginny’s heart stopped. 

“Don’t worry,” Ron said, not sounding the least perturbed by his best mate’s sudden declaration, and blissfully unaware of how hard Ginny was willing her heartbeat to beat again. “He seems quite keen on telling everyone that, don’t you, Harry?”

“Ron! Ron!" Harry turned toward him with urgency. "You're my best mate, Ron. You and Hermione—everything you’ve done for me—I love you…I lovvvve...”

“Yes, yes, mate.” Ron patted Harry’s back. "Don't forget about the gallon you owe me."

"Fleecing him in this state?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Is Hermione here? I love Hermione too...not like that though, Ronnnnnn, Ron Ron, Ron-Won, Won-Won!" Harry dissolved into singing.

"He's going to be in a world of pain tomorrow." Ron shook his head. 

“Might deserve it,” Ginny muttered. For nearly giving her a heart attack. 

“He’s been a bit brooding lately. More so than usual,” Ron said. He seemed struck by a sudden thought. “Maybe I can help.”

He unhooked Harry's arm and deposited said arm on Ginny's other shoulder. She tottered backwards as Harry naturally leaned further onto her.

"Wait—what are you—"

"I’mma make him a sobering potion!”

“Ron—you git!" She buckled under the additional weight. "Don’t—”

But Ron was already bounding off to the kitchen. “I’m his best friend! He’s suffered enough, don’t you reckon?”

Merlin, that cocktail must have some sort of delayed reaction.

“This isn’t my kitchen!” she tried to remind him. The only response was a disconcertingly loud clang.

Fuck, Demenza would kill her if Ron made a mess. Say goodbye to any chance of a repeat weekend escape. Ginny started toward his direction, but Harry didn’t seem interested in letting her go. With Ron no longer holding him up, he had taken to draping himself over her.

"Ginnnnny," Harry said again in a way that made her chest tighten. He now had her head awkwardly tucked under his chin. "You're short.”

She glared daggers at his chest. "You're lucky you're drunk."

She felt him hum in agreement or pleasure or both. “It’s nice.”

"Maybe for you. Come on, you big loaf." Ginny dragged him forward, staggering left and right under his weight. Their lumbering journey was punctured by his giggles.

She meant to ease him onto the couch, but his leg caught hers and they both tumbled onto the couch in a mess of limbs. “Oof!”

Her head spun for a moment before she realized they were tangled together. The blood rushed to her face.

Ginny was not thinking of his weight over her, pinning her against the bed–couch, against the couch.

It helped that his elbow was digging into her side. 

“Harry,” she complained.

He peered down at her through his crooked glasses. His cheeks were flushed a rosy hue, stretched by a stupid smile. There was always something about him that made her insides go soft, and the way he was looking at her did nothing to help.

Seeing him so disarmed was dangerous.

"I, I suppose I should go help Ron before he poisons you." She shifted, but Harry held onto her. 

"Nooooo!"

Merlin, for someone so inebriated, he sure had a tight grip.

"Don't go," he pleaded in such a petulant way that she couldn't help but laugh.

"Fine, fine," she acquiesced, settling back. 

Damn that residual weakness for him. She had gotten over him ages ago. They’d become friends, close friends during the latter Hogwarts years, and even were now, several months since she finished her schooling. All the recent get-togethers were fine. Friendly. She’d be lying if she hadn’t missed him.

He let out a long, seemingly satisfied sigh before pressing his nose against the crook of her neck. Her heart drummed against her chest, but thankfully he was too gone to notice.

Was he—was he sniffing her?

"Harry?" Her voice hitched slightly.

"You smell like Ginny flowers.”

“What are Ginny flowers?”

He frowned. “That’s what I want to know. They smell good, like summer. Like sunshine, and Quidditch, and…Ginny.”

"I’ll take that as a compliment.”.

"I love them," Harry murmured into her skin. “I love…I love you.”

She closed her eyes. God, was he trying to kill her?

"Yes, yes." Ginny sighed, patting his messy mop of hair in defeat.

It was really nice that he included her in his list of "loved" ones. It was great that he thought so highly of her, that they were now such good friends. She knew she should be happy, and she was, truly. She was perfectly happy with their friendship.

Except. Except this was Harry.

Unable to help herself, she leaned into his embrace, a nostalgic longing swelling inside her. At least there was no way he would remember this.

He had gone quiet long enough that she had wondered if he had drifted off when he murmured something against her.

"What was that?"

"I love you," he whispered again. It was pitiful how much her heart responded to the words.

"Harry." She started pulling away in self-preservation. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

"I mean it," Harry breathed. Eyes heavy-lidded, he looked at her with such seeming yearning she forgot how to breathe. "I fancy you, Ginny. I love you love you."

Her heart was wildly tumbling out of her chest.

Harry fancied her? He was actually in love with her?

"You what? Since when?"

“Since stupid Dean,” he said, glowering at the name.

“Dean? Since then? All this time? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He groaned, dropping his head back against her shoulder. "Well, there was the whole Voldemort thing, an’ now you’re too 'mazing..."

Ginny couldn’t even begin to process this.

"Can't work up the nerve to tell you. Thought maybe I'd get a drink and do it tonight..."

He didn't seem to realize he was actually confessing because he curled up against her in apparent contentment.

"That's why you got sloshed?"

"Mmmmm."

"How'd that go for you?" 

"Eh, still scary," he said, his face scrunching up. "What if you say no?"

She was over Harry. 

Wasn’t she?

"What if I don't?" Her fingers gently threaded through his hair. 

"It'd be too good to be true,” he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder. A shiver ran through her.

"Harry?”

“Mmm?” He grew softer with sleep.

“Promise me you'll try?"

"Ok, but only because it's you..." He yawned and burrowed in closer. "Maybe… t'morrow..."

Ginny smiled into his hair.

Well, maybe tomorrow won’t be so bad after all.

[pa1nkill3r]

Day 2,557 [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x GN!Reader

[Summary:] A boy comes into the joke shop with his mother; It felt all too weird for the one-eared owner to feel so at ease, something he never felt for the past 7 years.

[Warnings:] angst, sad, major character death (not Fred obv), reincarnation, grief, mourning, swearing

[a/n:] Scrolling through facebook and getting videos of children talking about their past lives really intrigued me. This is my first fic and it might be bad so please don’t bully me, I’m sensitive <3 (jkjk but I am open for constructive criticism!)

[a/n; March 2024] I wrote this draft back in 2021 or 2022 I believe, waiting desperately for the opportunity to finish and post this. That time never came. Now, 2 or 3 years later, I gravely admire my vocabulary, creativity, and passion for writing back then. Honestly speaking, moving schools killed my spark and I am desperate to get it back. For now, I am working on reviving that spark within me by going back to where I started. Even though the HP fandom isn't as active as it used to be, I would still like to share this piece I made because I am so, so proud of my younger self.

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There was something about Y/N wearing white that George loved so much. He always got so giddy and cute which in turn made their eyes roll and mouth grin.

The way Y/N looked sitting at the Great Hall with their white sleeves rolled to their elbows, one hand under their chin and the other twirling a spoon while their eyes dragged along their charms textbook, cramming in as much information as they could for the upcoming test that afternoon. 

Or that time at the Yule Ball when they thought it’d be funny to wear an all white ensemble because: “What?...I wanted to feel like a bride at their wedding.” whilst having the best night with George, their “groom”.

Even small moments like when they would steal a shirt from George’s drawer and wear it to sleep. He loved every single bit of it, even if it cost him many shirts.

He truly never got enough of them wearing white. So seeing them in a casket wearing that same color 7 years ago, looking so peaceful and so… dead. That killed him. That’s the last time he will see them in white; That’s the last time he’s going to see them at all. 

That was the last time he could actually feel their hand rather than just dried oil on linen canvas, framed in oak and hung atop his bed. How he wished their eyes could roll one more time at how stupidly in love their boyfriend is with them, especially in white.

Voldemort’s reign of terror had ended, as well as the lives of many others, and maybe even George. They were a horcrux he never made, his life force created by deep love and affection rather than the hunger for immortality.

It never got easier even after 7 years, he simply just got used to it. 

He got used to the feeling of an empty bed. He got used to gripping onto a cold body pillow instead of a warm figure and a heartbeat with Y/H/C hair disturbing his lips. He got used to counting the days since their death which gravely disturbed Fred, his twin. He got used to waking up everyday and checked off a box from the calendar with an absurd amount of numbers on it. 

Admittedly he is doing better than he did 7 years ago. No more jumping from every small sound and drawing out his wand in the middle of the night. No more vivid dreams of several dead bodies laid across the Great Hall. No more crying himself to sleep. No more missed dinners. No more grieving. 

He’s longed for them longer than he has actually been with them. But his love never faltered. Not once. 

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Day 2,557

It's now exactly 7 years since the Battle of Hogwarts. And in a month it would be the 7th anniversary of his obituary for Y/N on the Daily Prophet, a suggestion made by Percy to try and help his grieving brother. It helped, but not really. 

The small May 2nd, 2005 box wrote “Baby Vic’s Birthday!” in bold red ink. George moved the yellow paper star that stuck gently onto the calendar with paper tape as Fred walked into his room. Envelope in his hands, bread between his teeth, and a beautiful haughty looking owl on his shoulder.

“Fun to finally see you up, Georgie!” Fred greeted sarcastically as George hummed in response. “Bill just sent an owl that little Vicky’s turning 5!"

"That is usually how birthdays work, Freddie." George joked, grabbing his wand and with a flick, his bed is magically fixed. "I'm not a dumbass, you know?" Fred chuckled lightly as he handed George the letter from Bill and Fleur, "They're hosting a party for her at the Burrow at 5."

He took the piece of parchment and flattened it by his desk before pulling it closer to his face, his back mindlessly pinning itself to the wall. 

Dear Fred and George, 

Bill here, As you should know, it's baby Victoire's 5th birthday today and we would really like love to have you two come by the Burrow at 5 pm. 

Vic really misses you both. Uncle George this, Uncle Fred that. She’s going to be like you two one day, I’m tellin’ ya. She loves listening to stories you tell her, especially the ones about Y/N and Tonks. She thinks that they’re the coolest people ever and that she wished she could meet them. I simply told her that one day she would, but it’ll be far far away from now. 

Hope to see you later! Please owl back immediately, Vic’s got Ginny’s temper.

xx Bill

“I’ve already owled them my ‘happy birthday’ letter before Chouette came.” Chouette, the owl cooed at the mention of her name. Slightly shuffling her feathers therefore lightly tickling Fred's neck, making him shiver. The haughty owl flew from Fred's shoulder to George's making the younger twin chuckle. 

"Seems like Chouette is telling you to take a bath, mate." George laughed as the back of Fred's hand flew to his forehead. "I got us crepes and bread for breakfast! And you go on and call me stinky?" Fred exclaimed dramatically. 

"How 'bout you be a dear and write to Bill and Fleur that we are going to Vic's party, alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll do that." George agreed, taking out a roll of parchment from his desk drawer as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. "While I eat my breakfast and write this, will you be a dear and take a bath!" Fred cackled at his younger brother's statement. Though in a bit the sound of water dropping down the shower head echoed through the small flat above the shop.

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School owls poured in as numerous Hogwarts students wanted to take advantage of the annual “54% off ‘End of War’ sale” at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes held in memory of the fallen 50. Because in Fred and George’s philosophy, “...We might not be able to save them, but they can save our customers over 50% off of all our products!”

It seemed insensitive but it’s the thought that counts. They wanted to make sure that their passing didn’t go to waste, even if it is counted as a discount to the famous Diagon Alley shop. 

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were rather busy picking up and shipping out their joke products, sending it to the owls who were perched up in a little area at the back of the store, nibbling on insects Verity; a part of their staff had handed them before sending them back to the school her bosses previously dropped out of. 

It was nearing lunch time when everyone wearing magenta robes stocked up the shelves again, having been sending out owls since 8 in the morning when they heard a clanging from the front doors, signaling that a customer had finally came; A middle aged woman looked starstruck whilst holding onto a young boy that’s slowly getting out of her grip, having the same eagerness as his mother.

It wasn’t unusual for customers to react this way coming into the Weasley’s joke shop. The boy’s eyes sparkled while the mother looked in admiration. The mother crouched down to hold onto her son, keeping him from running while his mouth spilled with words. 

“Mum, we have to get something for Mia!” the boy cried out eagerly, eyes darting towards every single corner of the store. George’s mouth upturned into a sloppy grin whilst listening to the boy. 

“Marty, that’s sweet of you, but we already got the quill she wanted.” The mother said quietly, running her hands over the boy’s shoulders, easing it. “And it’s your birthday...” George didn’t know what came after that as he took the chance and walked towards the small family with a big smile on his face, quickly followed by Fred. 

“Heard it’s a little man’s birthday.” inclined George, hands in his pockets and head down turned. The mother looked up and stood from her spot, giggling slightly as she kept a hold of her son’s shoulders. “What’s your name?” he asked, now being the one to crouch down in front of the boy.

The boy tilted his head to the side, eyes slightly strained. He looked both confused and hyper focused at the same moment. Though weird, George thought nothing of it. After all, he was a kid, the man he’s looking at has one ear, and the hyperfixation was quickly ended by the slight shake of his shoulders. The mother looked down at her son, silently telling him to introduce himself. And so he did. 

"I'm Martin! I turn 6 today!" the boy said enthusiastically,bringing a smile on George's face. Being around Martin felt odd, it felt so unapologetically peaceful and rather… familiar. 

"SIX?!" Fred loudly piped in. "Well now that's big, little man!" 

The mother was slightly startled by the appearance of the ginger's twin, though the same cannot be said about Martin who simply smiled absentmindedly. 

"I knew you before." said Martin, eyes targeting the younger twin. George smiled and kept close to the boy, keeping the conversation going. "Really?" he asked with vivid curiosity, he did not recognise the boy or his mother but fueling a child's imagination wouldn't hurt anyone. 

"How?" piped in Fred, now also crouching beside his twin, "And why just him?" he asked comedically, pointing to his brother. 

"Since we were 11." Answered Martin with no signs of struggle on his face. The red haired owners looked at each other, though more in disbelief than in confusion. 

"Thought you said you were 6, Martin?" George asked with a kind look on his face. The boy’s mother shook her son’s shoulder harder than she did the past few times, mumbling “Marty, what did I tell you?” in tired disbelief.

“M’sorry mum.” Martin said with a pinch of sincerity before turning back to face the bigger man in front of him. “I was 20 before I became 6.” “Marty.”

Chilling, the owners thought. As they were 20 at the time of the battle of Hogwarts. 

“I’m so sorry Mr.--”

“Weasley.” Fred replied as the confusion simmered throughout his twin brother. “S’really nothing to worry about Mrs.--?”

“Edevane. But I truly am sorry, he’s just a very imaginative little kid. Always has stories of his quote-unquote ‘past life’.“ she explained, making the kid become a bit mad. “But mum, it’s true!-”

“Marty, how about we look around the store, alright? Mr. and Mr. Weasley could show us around perhaps?” Mrs. Edevane hinted to the twin owners, relief gracing their legs as they were now able to stand on their feet. 

“Yes, we can certainly do that! Come along Marty, tell us more about this ‘past life’ of yours.” Fred’s arm wrapped around the small boy’s shoulders, showing him around the color filled shop. “Sorry about that Mrs. Edevane.” he added mischievously, “Here at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, we like to encourage creativity and imagination.”

“--As it is the reason we got here.” George finished, giving Mrs. Edevane a kind smile as they start roaming around the shop. “Uhh. Mr. Weasley.” Her fingers tapped onto George’s shoulder. His head whipped around and mouth about to open when suddenly the 6 year old spoke; “Mum, Mr. Weasley’s name is George. This one’s Fred.”

The utter shock that went through the twin wizards was clear as day. No where in the shop did it say the owner’s names. Even their name tags; The little badge pinned on their suits merely wrote ‘Mr. Weasley’. Fred, being the initiator that he is, leaned forward. “Now how can you be so sure, Marty?” he teased, “What if I tell you that you’re wrong?”

Martin simply smiled, angling his head a bit to the side again. “Mr. George has a longer face, down turned eyes and eyebrows, he’s a bit taller than you, Mr. Fred. You have a squarer face and shorter features than him.” he explained smoothly and innocently. As if it’s something he’s observed over the course of his whole life.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid your son’s a genius.” George joked, even if he’s visibly disturbed, though nonetheless intrigued. Nobody has ever differentiated them this way, even their own mother. Though one person did. The one he cherished most. The mother smiled, holding onto her son once again. 

“I’m no genius.” Martin spoke, a shy smile gracing his small little lips, so identical to the person’s portrait above George’s bed. He even said their typical response to their mind being praised. 

“-- I just quietly observe.”

Martin spoke but George merely whispered. A shiver ran through his spine, heart pumping, cold sweat dripping from his forehead. It could’ve all been a coincidence. One big coincidence served on a silver platter, garnished with confusion and terrifying accuracy. 

“Mr. Weasley?”

He snapped back, giving the woman a sign to continue. “Uh, I just wanted to ask... err. Why that big of a discount? Why is it 54% off of everything? That doesn’t really sound like a good marketing strategy, doesn’t it?” She asked curiously. 

“Well Mrs. Edevane.” George started, seeing as Fred and little Martin were still going around the shop. “Remember the last wizarding war?” Mrs. Edevane shook her head. His smile faltered a bit but still kept his composure. “We’re, what you call it? Muggle--born?” Her eyebrows furrowed while her teeth sinked into her bottom lip. “Well, my daughter... err. Just started her first year and that McGonagall woman said that she’s a ‘muggleborn’.” 

They truly didn’t know who they are.

“-- What I’m trying to say, Mr. Weasley, is that we, or at least I, am not magical. Nor is my husband.” He nodded, breathed in a bit as his mind tried to ease itself. The boy couldn’t have known who he is as they wouldn’t have known anything about the prophet, or could they?

“Well, Mrs. Edevane. 7 years ago at this date. The second wizarding war has ended. My brother-in-law defeated... him.” It was still hard to say his name, even years later. “V-Voldemort.”

She looked curious but silently let him continue. “Uh, remember when. Uh-uhm that bridge collapsed in muggle london? 7-8 years ago? A big hurricane happened? When a lot died like-” It was hard to explain. Truly. It was hard to live through it again.

“Like that Emmeline Vance lady?”

“Yes, exactly!” He exclaimed. “It was all caused by him. By wizards! Dark wizards!” Her previously bright face now looked horror struck. It was all making sense. “Seven years ago, this day. Everything ended at Hogwarts. As well as the lives of 54 on our side.” He wanted to mention one very special loss, but figured that she doesn’t need to know about it. She was just a muggle mother who brought her son birthday shopping. “We wanted to commemorate them.”

A sincere look graced upon her face, out of pity. “Is there any chance that you’ve seen anything from the ‘Daily Prophet’, Mrs. Edevane? Or your son?” He asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She shook her head, now gracing a look with pure confusion. “A-Anything. Like a paper? A newspaper with moving photographs? Or maybe a-a Quibbler?”

She shook her head. “Why’re you asking Mr. Weasley?” His mouth opened, about to burst out his concerns and held in grief to a complete stranger when; “George!”

It was Fred, hand resting on his twin’s shoulder as the six year old boy beside him just stood. “-- Can I talk to you? I need to talk to you.” He said, fright gracing his features and panic in his voice. 

George nodded, bidding a quick goodbye to the mother and son who came in a few moments ago and calling for one of their faculty to give them the tour they wanted.

Fred pulled his twin to an empty corner of the shop. Sound muffled by the stacks of products ranging from fireworks to extendable ears. “That boy George.” Fred panted. Voice shaking. “He knows too much. Is there a chance that you put anything about how Y/N saved me?”

“Briefly. Why?” His heart was about to pop out of his chest at any moment. Any moment now his heart would be a new WWW product. 

“He explained everything! Everything George! Knew things that he shouldn’t have!” Fred said, terrified. “What did he say?” asked George. Croaking out whatever’s left in his heaving lungs. 

“He said that he saved me. Me and Percy! From the explosion! I didn’t think much of it at first, George! I knew that you wrote that in their obituary. But he just kept going.” Frightened. They were both frightened. “Everything they did. He knew.”

“How accurate was he?”

“Very. George. Disturbingly accurate.” Back straightened and composed, Fred stood back, eyes darting back and forth from his brother to the entrance of the shop. “He knew that they transfigured the rubble to sand. He knew that they cast that ring of fire shit they did. The diabolica thing to ward off the death eaters? Yeah. He named the spell. HE NAMED THE SPELL, GEORGE!”

“I heard you the first time!” George yelled back. Disturbed, yet he felt at peace. He could have the last goodbye he’s always wanted. “We need to talk to the boy, Fred.”

His twin nodded fervently, about to walk away from the corner when he felt an arm tug on his elbow. “Oi, how can we do it without worrying the mother?”

“Give whatever he wants for free. It’s his birthday after all. Now come on!”

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[lunarheslwt]

Post Grammys fluff where Harry goes home to Louis: a drabble

“There he is!”

A pleased, teasing voice called out as soon as Harry had shut the front food behind him. Without pause, he burst into a grin, heart once again rabbiting in his chest. He turned around, coming face to face with a proud looking Louis, who was leaning against the doorway to the living room, gazing at him with so much warmth he felt dizzy.

“Hi Lou,” he said quietly, beaming around the words as he stepped right up to him.

“Hello, my Album of the year Grammy award-winning baby.”

“Stoppp,” Harry half-heartedly whined, slapping Louis’ chest playfully, fierce blush flooding his cheeks. Louis trapped the hand in his own, squeezed.

“No.” Louis pulled his face down, kissing him with a head spinning level of enthusiasm, and Harry sighed, loosely circling his waist.

“I’m so proud of you, y’know that?” Louis said when he pulled away, eyes running over him in awe. “So” a chaste peck to his lips, “fucking” another peck “proud of you” and a last sweet kiss. 

“I can’t even believe it, babe, I’m just so… I did not think it would be me,” Harry replied, still dazed from the night, from the moment his name was announced for the album of the year award. 

“Oh, but I can,” Louis said easily, locking his hands behind Harry’s neck. He looked up at him like Harry was something of a wonder, and the part of Harry that still felt like a 16-year old with a massive crush was giddy at it.

“Didn’t I tell you, when I first met you all those years ago, that I knew you’d be a star?”

“You did,” Harry mumbled shyly, the day still clear in his memory, and the warmth pooling in his belly the same as all those years ago. “You’re entirely too much.”

“I am entirely too right,” Louis crowed in glee, looking stupidly gleeful and smug. And unfairly attractive for it.

“Maybe. Are we celebrating you being right, then?”

“We’re celebrating you and your wins tonight,” Louis amended, pulling his hips flush against himself. The look in his eye told Harry exactly where the night was headed.

“Yeah? Is it gonna be wine? Or that really expensive champagne that you made fun of me for?”

Louis' voice dipped an octave when he spoke. “Those are merely appetizers, baby, I’m in charge of your celebrations tonight.”

It was going to be a fine end to an incredible night.

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 1 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 4.5k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying,

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

Chapter Summary: Summer round-up, smoke sesh, and the first day of senior year

A/n: Hey besties! Welcome back! It's been a bit! I'm so excited to continue this story! I've got an actual plot mapped out this time around so that'll be fun :))

“Okay now, just snap your foot up. There you go! You got it!” You felt the shock in your bones as the board hit solid ground again. Peter cheered as you made your victory lap around him before hopping off and catching the trucks in your palms. You threw your hands up and Peter was quick to rush you, lifting you slightly off the ground as he did. 

“Congratulations on your first kickflip! You are now officially a pro skater.” He held up a fake microphone, now putting on a silly announcer voice, “(Y/n), please, tell the people, what will you do now?” 

You giggled leaning into his balled fist, playing along. “I’m going to Disney World!” You both began laughing uncontrollably, Peter’s head thrown back as you fell forward, your hand on his shoulder. 

Peter has been giving you skating lessons for a few months now. You could monster walk, do tic tacs, a manual, pivot, an ollie, a push shove, and now a kickflip. It was all thanks to him. Many falls and scrapes had happened to get where you are but you were proud of yourself. 

Peter Parker was your best friend. Being with Peter was so amazingly fun. You couldn’t remember a time without him. He was the sun and all the stars, a guiding light in the monotony of the world. You weren’t sure you would ever admit that to him though. 

Your dynamic with Peter had shifted. You were still close but not as intimate. Hugs were shorter, kisses sparse. You thought it was strange. You stupidly blamed yourself, thinking you had been too forward. As his hand came up to meet your shoulder, stabilizing himself as he tried to rein in his laughter, you couldn’t help but relish in the touch. 

His fingers felt so sure and you couldn’t help but think that’s where they belonged. They belong on your shoulder, on your face, in your hair, or carded between your fingers. You missed him, as ridiculous as that sounds. He was right here, right in front of you, but for the past few months, he felt so far away. You refused to dwell on it much longer, choosing to instead focus on his blinding smile, adorned with dimples and small freckles. 

He slung his arm around your shoulder, “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry and I think Uncle Ben mentioned something about burgers for dinner. What do ya say we head back?” 

You wrapped your arm around his waist, “I think that sounds great!”

You made your way to where you had parked your car and threw your boards in the back. You had saved up enough money to get yourself a beat-up ‘99 Honda Civic. The front bumper was black and the passenger door was navy blue, the rest of the car was emerald green. Peter affectionately called it the “shit box” but he did your oil changes so you didn’t complain. 

You didn’t know much about cars but you were very excited that it had a cd player and the speakers were pretty decent. For Christmas Peter made you a mixtape of sorts. He had compiled a bunch of songs from his collection of music and put it on one CD for you, titled: Better Tunes for a Better Day. It never left your console, unless Peter brought something else into the car. 

Peter was the first person you saw after you got it. Your dad helped you sign all of the paperwork at the shady dealership and waved you off. He teased you saying, “I’m sure you’ll be busy for the rest of the day, driving Ole Pete around.” 

You were so excited when you pulled up to his house, a noticeable bounce in your step as you made your way to the porch. You knocked on the door and May answered, pulling you into a tight hug. She had become a mother, of sorts, to you. Always checking up on you, asking about school and work. She was such a kind woman and you appreciated her generosity. 

She called Peter down and once everyone was there you broke the news, barely able to keep it in. Everyone followed you to check it out, Aunt May standing by your side congratulating you on the purchase, while the boys went to survey the vehicle. Uncle Ben commended you on picking such a reliable car while Peter began muttering to himself, trying to find ways to make it faster, more efficient, etc. 

Driving around with Peter was fun if not a little distracting. He would point out random things he saw, before asking if you also saw them. He would fiddle with things in your car, one time he began reading the entire manual to you because “this is important information and I’ll have to quiz you later.” Mostly it was distracting because he was distracting. You found yourself, more often than not, more interested in what he was doing than the road. 

You trailed behind Peter as he made brief small talk with his guardians before going upstairs to his room. After eight months of hanging out together, you had a bit of a routine. You would shut the door as Peter opened the closet, and then you would grab the lighter off his desk before opening the window and sitting on the roof. 

Smoking with Peter had become a weekly ritual that you looked forward to because once a week whatever walls Peter had built after that Halloween party would crumble, ever so slightly. You drank in those moments knowing you would have to wait a whole seven days before getting another sip. 

The two of you passed a joint lazily between each other. You would feel small sparks every time your fingers brushed. Your brain felt pleasantly cloudy after a few hits. It was July in New York. it felt like summer was fighting against the reigning winter as the temperature would fluctuate. Today was a pleasant 66 degrees with a little cloud coverage. You watched as they passed overhead, trying to find shapes in the stringy cirrostratus. 

Peter chuckled at you when you moved your hand toward him, “The blunt’s done, my guy.” 

You pouted as he put the roach in a glass jar with other paraphernalic debris, which you referred to as the ‘Ghost of Weed Past’. You went back to gazing at the clouds, feeling just as weightless as them. Peter stretched, his hands pulling far above his head, and you tried not to stare at the bit of stomach that poked out underneath his tee. He let out a content sigh before laying down, his head on your lap. 

Peter flashed you a lazy grin and your breath caught in your throat. He was so beautiful like this. Completely at peace, no worries of his guardian’s financial woes, no school, no bullies, just him and you, safe on the rooftop. You brought your hand to his forehead slowly pushing back the curls that resided there, bathing in the light of his smile. He closed his eyes at the contact, letting out another relaxed sigh as your fingers massaged his scalp. 

You let yourself be swept away in the moment. You allowed the fairies in your brain to spin you a tale of gold. They told you that Peter loved you, that he was your boyfriend, that he didn't need to be high to show you affection, that nothing had changed and you guys were fine.

The fairies danced and jived, effectively shutting down any reasonable thought. Anything that would tell you that it wasn’t healthy to let yourself live in that delusion, anything that told you you were breaking your own heart, because here he was smiling at you, and that couldn’t be wrong. 

“You should learn how to play the fiddle.” Peter opened one eye, peering at you between the gap in his fingers that he brought up to block out the sun. 

“Why?” You scoffed at him. How is it that he couldn’t follow this completely rational train of thought? 

“Because you’re Jewish.” Peter turned, his chest now facing you, his head held above your lap.

“I should learn to play the fiddle…because I’m Jewish.” Peter was a very expressive person and in these months (not actually) together you had been able to read almost each one. 

Right now he was giving you the, ‘You seem to think you’re right but in this moment I believe myself to be much smarter than you and I can’t comprehend how you could ever think you’re right.’ It was an almost blank expression, the only sign of emotion coming from a slight twitch on the left side of his mouth.  

“Yeah! We’re on your roof a lot, you’re Jewish, you should learn the fiddle.” Peter continued his stare. 

“I don’t see the connection.” You huffed removing your hand from his hair to lean back on your palms.

“It’s like 'Fiddler on the Roof'! You could be the fiddler on the roof!” Peter started laughing and you joined in, not sure you got the joke but laughing all the same. His hands flew to his gut as his legs curled into his body, wheezing. You started to fall forward, unintentionally cradling his head in your body. 

“That was so racist!” You couldn’t stop laughing. 

“No, it’s not! I just think it would be funny!” Whatever restraint he had to stop laughing was broken and he started laughing again, twice as hard. 

“Racist movie, racist reference, ergo, racist you.” You were laughing too hard to respond, as was Peter. After what felt like ages your chuckles died down. 

“Is ‘Jewish’ a race or religion?” Peter looked to the sky, deep in thought. 

“I guess it’s kinda both. Cause like, in World War II, Hitler was like ‘You can tell a Jew by their big nose’ right? But then, like, actually he just meant ‘you can tell an Israeli from their big nose.’ But since then people are like ‘Jewish means Isreal’ which isn’t wrong per se, but also not right. It’s like rectangles and squares. Every Israeli is Jewish but not every Jew is Israeli.” You let out a puff of air. 

“Woah, that’s kinda trippy to think about.” Peter nodded letting out a quiet, “yeah.” 

“So which are you?” Peter chuckled before answering.

“I’m not sure, I’m kinda Jewish by default. I’m not sure if May’s family is from Isreal or if somewhere along the line someone converted. Either way, we love a good Mannorah.” laughter overtook the conversation once again, fairies happily flitting about both of your heads. 

You both stayed in the quiet. You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you were starting to come back down, so realistically about an hour. The world slowly began to get heavier as did reality. Peter’s head suddenly had weight in your lap, you fought back and forth between moving him and letting him stay. 

“We’re gonna be seniors soon.” Peter’s voice startled you slightly, as did his sudden revelation. 

“Yeah,” was the best you could muster up for a response, taken aback by his sombre tone.

“Soon we’re gonna have to plan out the rest of our lives, with no idea of what that might look like.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. You decide to bring a hand back to his hair, hoping the light scratches might comfort him. 

You heard a knock on the door and Peter made no effort to get up. You opened the window, the smell of weed long gone, and beckoned them in. You were greeted by Ben’s smiling face on the other side of the door. 

“Hey kiddos, the burgers are almost done. (Y/n) is your dad joining us tonight?” Your smile grew as Ben continued. He loved your dad, said he was wise beyond his years, which always made him chuckle. Ben was such a kind man, he cared so much about his family and had joked about adopting you into it. You were honoured to be someone he cared about. 

“No, not tonight. Maybe next week though, I’ll be sure to ask.” Ben brought a hand up, dismissively waving it around. 

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m sure he’s a busy man. You just be sure to let him know that he’s always welcome.” You told him you would and he stepped back out, you didn’t miss the fact that he left the door cracked, ever so slightly. You patted Peter’s shoulder, telling him you needed to head downstairs for dinner. He left your embrace begrudgingly, hopping up and putting the jar back in his closet. 

Monday morning you were at Peter’s house ready to go by 6:45. It was the first day of school and you refused to be late. You didn’t know what the traffic was going to be like and you also knew who Peter Parker was. He was someone who was chronically late or, maybe, exactly on time. You told him yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, that you wanted to leave at seven. He agreed each day and every time you brought it up, but his seven is seven-fifteen at best. 

Ben answered the door and ushered you in. He complimented your outfit and wrangled you into the kitchen where Aunt May was fixing breakfast. She stepped away from the hot stove to give you a hug before directing you to the chair Ben had pulled out for you. You loved seeing the Parkers excited about something. They run around, joyous chaos guiding their movements. 

A glass of orange juice was sat in front of you and you put your backpack on the floor next to you as you got settled. 

“(Y/n), are you excited, sweety? It’s senior year!” You chuckled at May’s enthusiasm, your eyes darting to the staircase periodically. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.” May gave you a sweet smile, one that told you she understood what you meant. 

Ben clapped your shoulder before going to the stairs, “I’ll go see if Pete’s up yet.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “I told him I wanted to leave at seven.”

A few minutes later Ben assured you he would be down soon and kissed his wife on the cheek on his way out the door, he made sure to wish you luck before leaving. May had already plated breakfast, a healthy portion of eggs and toast sitting in front of you. 

You heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and looked to see Peter Parker clomping down the steps. His backpack was open and his hoodie was only half on. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” May said with heavy sass. 

Peter said nothing as he kissed her on the cheek taking his plate. He sat next to you, kissing your temple before digging in. Your stomach fluttered to life at the seemingly casual display of affection in such a domestic setting. Peter, half asleep, didn’t seem to think anything of it. You were grateful Ben wasn’t here to comment on the obvious tension. 

You were lost in thought, only snapped back to reality when Peter nudged your shoulder. Your head snapped up and he snickered at you. “I asked if you were finished, space cadet.”

You stuttered out a “yeah, sure” and Peter took your plates to the sink. You grabbed your things and May wrapped you in another hug. You were on your way out the door when May gasped grabbing both of your attention. “Peter! Go grab your camera we need to take a picture.” 

You checked your phone for the time and bit back a sigh realising you were already ten minutes behind schedule, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell May no. Peter returned and handed his aunt the camera. She directed you closer to Peter, getting a few shots of you both together before taking some solo pictures. She waved you out the door promising you that your father would get the photos. 

You started your car and began driving towards the school. Your CD automatically started playing and Peter turned it off before searching through his bag. You whined at him and he waved a plastic square triumphantly in front of your face. 

“These songs represent all that is good and fun: the summertime. And while I enjoyed our summer together it’s time to move forward” You chuckled at his obviously planned speech and he continued. “Here I hold the soundtrack to our new adventure: The Last Fall of our Youth.”

You wrinkled your nose, not taking your eyes off the road. “Sounds kinda morbid.” 

Peter let out an offended snort, “It is not! It’s a fact. This is the last fall we have before we are legal adults. It’s also like we’re ‘falling’ out of our youth. It’s a double entendre!”

You laughed as he replaced the CD, “That’s not what that means.”

Peter simply turned up the volume, drowning you out. ‘No Way Down’ by the Shins fills your speakers as you make your way to school. You arrived twenty minutes early much to Peter’s dismay but you told him you would jam out for another ten minutes and that seemed to satiate him. ‘Fell In Love With a Girl’ by The White Stripes started playing and you giggled as Peter began strumming an air guitar and whipping his head around. 

Your new mantra was “Don’t let it get to you.” You started this mantra about four months ago. Peter had seemingly disappeared from your life for five weeks after Halloween. It broke your heart. You thought that maybe there was something there but his sudden absence left you confused and angry. Why would he string you along and then just leave? You couldn’t even say he just used you for sex because you guys didn’t even have sex. 

He would walk you to class but he seemed farther away, your fingers felt cold out of his hands. He started calling you “bro” and “dude” more often. He was awkward around you now. Well, more awkward. But he didn’t leave again. After a few months of beating yourself up and driving yourself crazy trying to read into everything Peter did, you decided it wasn’t worth it. 

So you refused to think about how cute he was, how his boyish charm melted your heart and warmed your soul. You refused to think about the song that was playing. You refused to think about whether or not Peter was serenading you as he stared into your eyes singing every word. You wouldn’t let it get to you. 

Peter and you received your schedules in the mail a few weeks ago and you immediately compared them. You had tried to sync them up as much as possible and were anxious to see if it had worked or not. Out of six classes, Peter and you shared four. You both high-fived, excited to see you both had the same lunch schedule too. This year didn’t seem so scary knowing you would have your best friend there by your side. 

You made your way to your Homeroom, not yet having lockers and took a seat next to each other. While the teacher began droning on you listened intently while Peter rested his chin on his arms crossed over his desk. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He kept having weird dreams that he couldn’t remember when he woke up. He could piece together little snippets, something about his parents, flying in the city, finding out he has brothers. All very annoying. 

You and Peter now took turns packing lunch. Peter had slipped to May that you had fed her nephew for a year and she insisted on splitting the task. Today May had packed some deli-like subs with a homemade dipping sauce. Both you and Peter had theorized about its ingredients but May refused to cough up a recipe. 

Peter finally joined Yearbook. It took a lot of convincing and minimal bribery but he eventually relented. Mr Carter was excited to have a new addition, even if it was just for one year. On the first day of school, Mr Carter always went over the major events planned for the year, the equipment renting policies, and brainstormed for the yearbook's theme. 

You wanted to pay attention but you had much bigger fish to fry. Peter’s birthday was in three days, this Saturday. You had originally gotten him two tickets to see Mumford and Sons at the Forrest Hill Stadium but the other day you started talking about them and Peter said he wasn’t a fan. 

You knew realistically if you handed him the tickets he would be overjoyed because you had given him tickets to a concert. You wanted to get him something he would absolutely love though, but also you didn’t want to spend too much on him because for Hanukah you got him a “real” gift for every day and he said it was too much. 

You only turn seventeen once and you wanted your gift to be special because he was special. You took out your notebook and began writing down everything you knew about your best friend to see if anything came to mind: smart, funny, skates, likes science books, zip up hoodies, nice smile, kind. 

You hadn’t noticed Peter looking over your shoulder. He read this list of odd features with a puzzled look. He wasn’t sure who you were describing until he saw ‘Named after a religious figure not in his religion’ and faked a cough to cover up his laugh. He tried not to let his ego inflate as he realised you could only be listing his qualities. However, his comical disposition quickly turned into confusion. Why were you describing him? Were these good or bad things you were listing? He hoped they were good as you were quickly filling up the page. 

Your task ran away from you, soon you had all but forgotten this list was meant to help you find a gift. You got lost in thinking about Peter, the curly-haired dork you had somehow become so attached to. You kept going, your goal shifting into filling the whole page. You were scribbling away frantically when your concentration was broken. 

“(Y/n), you’re awful quiet today. Do you have any thoughts on next week’s prep rally?” You flushed looking up and seeing Peter’s gaze on your paper. You looked at the board, slyly moving your hand across the page, blocking Peter’s view. You weren’t sure how much he had seen but he didn’t need to see anymore. You cleared your throat. 

“What if we made the spirit week themes a contest, the prize being your picture in the yearbook? Anyone who wants to participate can come here during fifth period and we can weed out the bad ones and vote on the best.” 

Mr Carter eyed you suspiciously before writing down ‘Contest’ on the board. He knew you weren’t paying attention but your idea was good so he couldn’t be mad. Peter shot you a smile and you heard Trevor somewhere in the room tell you it was a “great idea”. You thanked him before returning your notebook to your backpack. Obviously, you were not nearly as discrete as you believed yourself to be. 

After school, you drove Peter and You over to your spot. Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what you were writing. You had filled three-quarters of the page with something about him. Taking a quick scan he was able to see a few words: cute, board, science, music, high, nose, funny, curls. Most of the words he saw were objective but there were enough positive adjectives that made him think that maybe, just maybe, you still liked him. 

After all this time he hadn’t really pushed you away. After seven months of trying to distance himself, you hadn’t left but you also hadn’t pushed him. The feeling brought butterflies to his stomach, but these butterflies had switchblades tied to their wings. Bringing both a ‘warm and fuzzy’ feeling but also a ‘panic-inducing sense of peril’.

You both enjoyed skating in the late afternoon sun. Peter always gave you space to practice your tricks, only giving critique when asked. Eventually, you would sit down and watch as Peter did jumps and flips over different things in this warehouse-esk building. Once you watched as he stacked pallets and some metal sheeting creating a mini ramp. You also watched as it fell apart with him on it and he tumbled to the ground. 

You didn’t get to stay long as you had work. You dropped Peter off at home and changed into your uniform shirt in his bathroom. He bid you a good day at work and you punched his shoulder in acknowledgement. 

Not much had changed around the Ole Queens Centre Theatre. You got a new co-worker over the summer. He introduced himself as ‘Mags’, you think he was joking but he never gave you anything else to call him. Mags was a year younger than you with shaggy brown hair, standing at five-eight. He was pretty chill, he kept to himself and did his work, so you couldn’t complain. You knew he liked video games and had a dog, his mom dropped him off at work and he would tease you every now and then for going to a “smart people school”. 

Nine o’clock came sooner than you expected, your shift flying by. You sent a text to your dad to let him know you were on your way home before starting your car. You opted to drive in silence, the newness of Peter's mixtape was still distracting and it made you think of him. You knew, either way, you would think of Peter. It seemed it didn’t matter how hard you tried to untangle him from your subconscious, his words and actions would grow new vines and barbs to trap you with. 

You threw your backpack on your floor before collapsing onto your bed. All in all, senior year didn’t seem like it was going to be so bad. Most of your classes were easy and for the ones that weren’t, you had Peter to help you through. 

You got dressed for bed and heard a knock on the door. It was your father, he held a plate of assorted fruit and a sandwich. He sat with you on your bed insisting that you eat while you tell him all about your day. You told him about your classes and how excited you were. You told him about all the books you needed for class and how you couldn’t wait to read them, while your dad just smiled. 

He didn’t comment on how much you mentioned Peter, he didn’t comment on how you didn’t seem as ecstatic as you usually were when talking about him. He did notice. He noticed how these past few months you seemed a little defeated. He noticed how you smiled less and you seemed to be a little more reserved than before. But he didn’t know how to approach it, scared he might make it worse. So he just listened, to anything you would tell him, to the things you wouldn’t. He was there and he hoped, for now, that was enough. 

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