#I don’t even think anyone will read this but

[sparrow-and-seed-scrawls]

The father had turned on the night light. The flickering orange glow lit the hallway like a torch, so the darkness wasn’t what troubled the child.

He’d tucked each beloved stuffed animal into the child’s bed, careful not to lose any of them beneath the comforter lest they become fearful of the dark. The boy had seen it himself, so that wasn’t the cause of his woe.

Had the father checked the closet and beneath the bed for monsters and thieves?

He combed through the night’s events, then nodded. Yes, he had. He’d even checked the toy box for signs of the great green eyes or dagger-like claws the boy was afraid of.

“What is it?” the father asked finally, cradling the sobbing child close. “Did I forget something?”

The boy choked on words. His pajamas were wet with tears, and his pale blue eyes didn’t meet the father’s gaze.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be mad,” the father said. Had the child been hurt? Had he done something he was ashamed of?

The father flipped through every possible scenario he could think of and came up empty-handed. What was troubling the child so?

The man had never had a child before. He’d read every book he could get his hands on, attended first aid and childcare classes, gone so far as to watch Internet videos about raising a child—which, of course, he’d never admit to anyone. But, with all his knowledge, why couldn’t he find an answer to the distress?

Was it due to the child’s parentage? His thin curls and pale, pale eyes had been the sign of something different even before the round of his ears had gone.

He’d found exactly one confidante who knew what the child was. Who knew what to teach the child about, what things the father needed to know, what he could do to protect the child until his true parents returned for him.

But, after nine years, the child’s parents had not yet returned. The father could see on the elven teacher’s face that even she didn’t know if the parents would ever come back for him.

“It’s not common,” she said once, “for my people to abandon their young in the mortal world. I can only presume something happened to them. Until the boy is of age to return to our lands—until he is able to make that journey—”

The father knew what she was going to say. “—I am responsible for his safety,” he finished.

And so that was that. He was the father of a fantastical child until that child came of age.

Yet, even after nine years, the father rarely knew the right thing to say and do. He wiped the child’s tears and pushed his hair from his forehead now, and the child still cried.

After a long, endless moment, the child looked up, and his face crumpled. “I don’t want you to die.”

Ah.

The breath caught in the father’s throat.

The teacher must have gone over that with him.

The fact that the human race was nowhere near as long-lived as the elves was not new information to the father. He’d turned it over in his head again and again.

Even if he did live as long as the child would, it wouldn’t make a difference. The child had his own life and people to return to once the time came, and the father would return to prior things.

It was no one’s fault. Both things—lifespan and other lands—were mere truths of the small family’s existence.

Mere truths that, even so, felt insurmountable at the moment.

“I will die long after you return to your land,” the father said gently. “You will hardly think of me.”

The boy cried harder at that. “I will think of you! Every day!”

“But it will not be thoughts of my death. You will think of the stories before bedtime, burnt pots of macaroni, and staying up to watch the stars. You will think of drives to the park and learning to read.”

The boy sniffled, though his tears had slowed. “But when you die, I won’t know.”

“And there is no reason to know. I would much rather you think about the things like…” the father thought for a moment. “Like when you got scared of the teddy bear’s shadow in the nightlight!”

The boy laughed.

“Or when we didn’t bake the cake long enough and it fell apart on our forks. Chocolate slime!”

Another laugh, this one louder. “Or when you pretended to be Santa but your beard fell off?”

“Yes!” The father let boy from his arms. “Exactly.”

The boy offered a grin, albeit a tired and watery one. He slid off the bed and stood still for a moment.

“So it will be alright?”

“Of course it will be. I won’t let you forget those things,” the father answered. “Now, go to bed. You have lessons tomorrow.”

The boy obeyed, stopping at the door for only a moment to do the special wave he and the father had made up.

The father returned it in kind, and then the door shut. He listened for the soft patter of footsteps back to the boy’s room, and, once they disappeared, he gave a sigh of his own.

Without the orange glow of the nightlight, darkness seemed to engulf him entirely.

Things would be alright. The child was only a temporary part of his life, and soon enough the father would be back to things as they had been nine years ago.

Things would be alright.

He would have to convince himself of that. He’d allowed himself to care too much for the child, hadn’t he? And now he was breaking at the thought that none of it was truly real.

Things would be alright.

He’d always known that it was temporary, so how had he gotten here, so far into the role of father? How could he simply forget this, let it fade into the mundane day-to-day?

It was what it was. That’s how it was always going to play out.

For now, he could continue as things were. Nothing was changing.

Things were going to be alright.

They would have to be.

You're a single human parent of a Elf child, today has you ready yourself for bed you hear them burst open the door with tears in their eye as they jump into bed with you and hold onto you tight, has you comfort them you hear them say through their whimpering and sobs "i don't want you to die".

[d-z20]

Her Game, Your Rules (NSFW)

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: To stop your family's reputation burning to the ground you are forced to marry Rio Vidal, an old money type of rich CEO who seems to be on a mission to make your life hell

-OR-

You end up snapping and fuck Rio to get your frustrations out.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Top Reader, Bratty Rio, biting, marking, fingering (Rio recv), fisting, dom brat-tamer reader, seriously it's just rough smut, maybe some plot if you squint

Words: 3.6k

A/N: At the time of writing this, I am under the influence of christmas spirits (read vodka and mulled wine) and so this is a little self induldgent and I apologise for any typos oops

AO3 | Masterlist

Your family’s fall from grace is like a slow-motion train wreck—every headline, every whispered scandal, is another crack in your once-unshakeable reputation. The solution comes as a cruel irony: an arranged marriage. Not to just anyone, but to Rio Vidal.

She’s untouchable, the CEO of a sprawling conglomerate with roots so deep in old money they’re practically fossilised. Her power is absolute, her public image flawless, and her demeanor? Smug. To her, this marriage is nothing but a game, another business deal where she holds all the cards.

The first time she calls you pet, it’s during the engagement photoshoot. The photographer adjusts your pose—her arm around your waist, her hand resting at the curve of your hip—and she leans in, her voice low and taunting. “Smile, pet. You wouldn’t want them to think you’re unhappy with me, would you?”

Her hand squeezes the flesh of your hip and you almost snap.

It only gets worse after the wedding. Rio is everywhere—her presence suffocating yet calculated, as though she knows exactly how to push your buttons without ever truly crossing a line. At home, in the shared penthouse you can’t even call yours, she lounges with infuriating ease. She’s always perfectly put-together: designer suits, expensive perfumes, and that perpetual smirk.

“You’re tense again,” she says one evening from the couch, sipping her wine like a queen on her throne. “Is it me, or are you trying not to stare?”

You grit your teeth. If she notices how often your fists clench, she doesn’t let it show.

Tonight is no different. A high-profile business dinner sees you both playing the part of the perfect power couple. Rio dazzles the room effortlessly, sliding her hand into yours with calculated affection as though it’s second nature. Her teasing words are quiet, meant only for you.

“Careful with that scowl, pet,” she murmurs while brushing non-existent lint from your jacket. “You’ll ruin the illusion.”

By the time you return to the penthouse, you’re simmering. The space feels colder than usual, and Rio only adds to it as she strides inside like she owns not just the apartment but the entire city. She shrugs off her coat and tosses it onto a chair without looking back at you.

“You were quiet tonight,” she says, her voice laced with that familiar condescension. She turns just enough to meet your gaze, and there it is—that smug little smile. “I’d almost think you were enjoying my company.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you snap, but it’s exactly what she wants.

Rio’s smile widens as she steps closer, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor. She stops right in front of you, impossibly composed as always, and tilts her head like she’s sizing you up. Her eyes glint with something sharp, something knowing.

“Oh? Is that irritation I hear, pet?” She purrs, voice low and teasing. “It’s adorable how hard you try to keep it together. But I see you, you know. You hate how much I get under your skin.”

The change happens like lightning striking—quick, hot, and inevitable. Before you realise it, you’ve grabbed her wrist and spun around, slamming her back against the closed door. The sound echoes through the penthouse, sharp in the silence.

Rio gasps softly, her breath catching as her back hits the door. For the first time, her perfect composure falters. Her wide eyes meet yours, lips parting as though she’s trying to find something to say, but for once, she’s quiet.

“All that teasing, Rio,” you murmur, stepping closer until there’s barely an inch between you. Your voice drops low, deliberate. “Did you think I wouldn’t do something about it?”

Her silence is electric, crackling between you.

You reach out, tilting her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look at you. Her breath hitches, and you catch it—the tiniest flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, a fracture in her armor. But then, like a reflex, her lips curl into a small, bratty pout.

“What’s the matter?” You taunt softly, a smirk tugging at your mouth. “Cat got your tongue?”

Rio’s breath is uneven now, her lashes fluttering as she blinks at you. She tries to mask it with that familiar bite of defiance. “Finally showing some backbone, pet?” she whispers, her voice breathier.

The words make you grin. “You like pushing me,” you say, your hands sliding to her hips, pinning her against the door. She tenses just slightly beneath your grip, her body betraying her cool demeanor. “But you’re not as untouchable as you think you are.”

Rio’s chin lifts defiantly, her sharp gaze meeting yours like a challenge. “And what are you going to do about it?” She breathes, but there’s something crumbling in her voice now—something you can feel.

Your smirk widens as you lean in, your mouth brushing against the shell of her ear. “Exactly what you’ve been asking for, Vidal.”

And then you kiss her.

It’s not gentle. It’s months of frustration, tension, and unspoken words igniting all at once. Rio lets out a small, startled noise against your mouth, one that only fuels you further. Her hands shoot up to grip your shoulders, but whether she’s trying to push you away or pull you closer, you can’t tell, and you don’t care.

You press her harder against the door, tilting her head back as you deepen the kiss. For once, she isn’t teasing. Her breaths are quick, her lips parting under yours with a kind of quiet surrender that makes you feel drunk on power. Her smugness is gone, replaced by something raw, something real.

When you finally pull back, Rio looks at you with half-lidded eyes, her cheeks flushed and her breaths coming fast. Her composure is shattered, her usual teasing grin nowhere to be found.

“Well?” you murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw as you tilt her face to yours. “Still feeling smug?”

She scowls, breathless, and flustered in a way you’ve never seen before. “Don’t get cocky,” she mutters, her voice soft but bratty, her gaze darting away as if she can’t bear how vulnerable she looks.

You grin, leaning in again until your lips hover over hers. “I’m just getting started, pet.”

Your smirk lingers as you grab Rio’s wrist, guiding her away from the door and deeper into the penthouse. She doesn’t resist—her breathing still unsteady, her steps hurried to keep up with you. The silence stretches, punctuated only by the soft click of your shoes against the hardwood floor and the faint rustle of her movements behind you.

The door to your bedroom swings open, and you tug her inside, not giving her a chance to reclaim even a shred of that smug composure. You push her back against the edge of the bed, and Rio stumbles slightly, catching herself with her palms as she glares up at you. That flash of defiance is still dancing in her eyes, but it’s tempered now—undercut by the pink flush dusting her cheeks, the way her chest rises and falls too quickly.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you taunt, stepping closer, standing over her. “Nothing to say, Vidal?”

Rio swallows, the sharp comeback you know she wants to make catching in her throat as her gaze flicks up to meet yours. Instead, she juts her chin out stubbornly, a spark of her usual bratty fire returning. “What, do you need a gold star for dragging me in here?”

You huff out a low laugh, reaching out to hook a finger into the front of her perfectly tailored blazer and tug her back to her feet. Rio gasps softly at the sudden movement, but you’re already turning her around. She lets out a small, startled noise when her back presses against your chest. You take your time sliding the blazer off her shoulders, letting the fabric pool at her feet, followed by the silky blouse underneath. Every inch of newly exposed skin is a victory, a crack in her armour.

When she tries to turn back around, you stop her, sliding one hand over her hip to hold her in place. “Stay still,” you murmur, your voice low and commanding against her ear. Her body stiffens at your tone, but she doesn’t fight you. Your hand drifts upward, running along her bare arm, then grazing the strap of her bra before letting it fall. Her breath hitches audibly.

You step back just slightly to admire her—the perfect Rio Vidal, now flushed and breathless, standing before you in nothing but her skirt. You don’t bother hiding your smirk as you lean in again, your fingers dragging down the zipper. The skirt slips down her legs, leaving her in only the barest scrap of black lace.

“Look at you,” you whisper, grazing your knuckles over her hip. She shivers under your touch, her sharp facade slipping further. “All that teasing. All that attitude. And yet here you are.”

Rio turns her head just enough to glare at you over her shoulder, but the effect is ruined by the redness in her cheeks and the way her lips part slightly as if she can’t catch her breath. “Don’t let this go to your head,” she mutters, though her voice waves.

You chuckle softly, reaching out to grip her chin and turn her face toward you. “You’re still talking back?” you murmur. You tilt her head, leaning close enough for your lips to brush against hers—but you don’t kiss her. You let her feel the heat of you; let her squirm under your touch.

When she finally lets out a small, frustrated whimper, you know you’ve won.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her mouth before finally capturing it in a kiss—deep, heated, and utterly consuming.

Rio melts against you, her defiance unravelling as your hands trail down her body, leaving no part of her untouched. You don’t bother taking off your own clothes so her nails dig into the fabric of your shirt, gripping it desperately as if she can’t get close enough. Her bratty protests are gone now, replaced by quiet, breathy sounds you’d never thought you’d hear from her. Each one is like fuel to the fire burning between you.

When you finally guide her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath you with her wrists above her head, Rio looks up at you—flushed, vulnerable, and breathless.

“Still feeling smug?” you ask, smirking as you lean over her.

She doesn’t answer this time. She just arches her back, tilts her head slightly, and gives you a look that’s both challenging and pleading all at once.

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, leaning down to nip at her neck. “That’s what I thought.”

As you hover over Rio, the flicker of defiance in her eyes does little to hide the vulnerability beneath. Your lips curl into a satisfied smirk as you trail your fingers lightly along the curve of her hip, the teasing touch making her squirm. Your other hand rests firmly at the base of her neck, your thumb brushing against her pulse—steady but quickened, betraying the control she’s desperately trying to hold onto.

“Look at you,” you say again, your voice dripping with condescension. “Everyone thinks you’re in charge of everything you do, but we both know that’s a lie.”

Rio’s eyes narrow at the jab, her lips parting as though she’s about to retort, but the words catch in her throat when your thumb presses just a little more firmly against her neck. Her body shivering beneath you, her breath hitching as your hand on her hip continues its slow, deliberate strokes—up, down, and back again, each motion calculated to unravel her composure further.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I can feel the way you’re trembling. I can see the way your body reacts. Face it—you love this,” you whisper, delighting in the way the name makes her shiver.

Her cheeks flush deeper, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she tries to keep her resolve. Your hand on her hip shifts slightly, your fingertips brushing lower, closer to the edge of that last scrap of lace. Her breath stutters, and despite her best efforts, a soft whine escapes her lips.

“You talk a big game,” you say, your thumb stroking gently along the side of her neck, holding her in place as your free hand drifts lower. Without ceremony, you hook your fingers into the delicate band of her underwear and slide it down her legs in one smooth motion, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. “But right now? You’re mine. And the best part?” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “You don’t even want to fight it.”

Rio lets out a shaky exhale, her bravado crumbling further as your grip tightens ever so slightly, just enough to remind her who’s in charge. When she finally speaks, her voice is a barely whisper, lacking its usual sharpness. “Don’t get used to this,” she mutters, but the effect is ruined by the faint, pleading undertone in her words.

You laugh softly, low and mocking, as you lean down to press a slow, claiming kiss against her throat. “Oh, I’m already used to it, pet,” you whisper against her skin, feeling the way her pulse races beneath your lips. Your hand trails downward, slipping between her thighs as you drag a single finger through her slick folds, teasing and deliberate. The sharp intake of her breath is music to your ears, her body trembling under your touch. “And judging by the way you’re falling apart, I’d say you are too.” As the final words leave your mouth, you roughly shove two fingers inside of her.

Rio’s body arches into yours, her resistance melting away completely as her hands grip at your shoulders, holding onto you like you’re the only solid thing in her world. Whatever composure she had left is gone now, replaced by soft, whiney noises that fuel the fire between you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look down at her—flushed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy. “See?” you taunt, brushing your thumb along her jaw. “This is where you belong, Rio. Beneath me.”

You smirk darkly, pulling your fingers out of her with no warning, ignoring the desperate whine that spills from her lips as you do. Her body jerks at the sudden emptiness, and before she can so much as recover, you grab her by the waist and flip her over like she weighs nothing.

Rio lets out a surprised gasp, her cheek pressing against the mattress as you shove her down, one hand fisting into her hair to keep her in place. “Stay,” you growl, your voice rough and commanding, punctuated by the sharp tug of her hair that forces her head to tilt back just enough to expose her neck. “You don’t get to be in control here, pet.”

Your other hand grips her hip, pulling her back so she’s on her knees, her spine arching beautifully under the pressure of your grip. Her face remains pressed against the mattress, muffling all the noises spilling from her lips. You drag your nails along the curve of her back, just hard enough to leave red trails in their wake, marking her as yours.

“If people could see you now,” you sneer, tugging her hair again, eliciting a broken moan from her. “The big, bad CEO, reduced to this—a whimpering little thing begging for my touch. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.” The hand on her hip slides upward, fingertips digging into her skin hard enough to leave bruises in their wake, so she won’t forget tonight anytime soon.

Rio tries to lift her head, her defiance flaring for a fraction of a second, but you slam her hips back down in a single, rough motion, pressing her further into the mattress. “Don’t even think about it,” you snap, tightening your grip on her hair. “You don’t move unless I say so.”

Her body trembles under your hands, her breathing ragged and uneven as she struggles to maintain even the smallest semblance of composure. But it’s useless—every rough tug, every sharp dig of your nails into her skin, every mocking word you whisper breaks her down further.

You lean over her, your teeth scraping against the curve of her shoulder before you bite down—enough to leave a mark, a visible reminder of exactly who she belongs to. Rio gasps, her body arching instinctively against you, and you let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “That’s better,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the fresh mark. “Now, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

You don’t give her time to recover as your hand slides back between her thighs, forcing them apart as far as they’ll go. Without hesitation, you thrust two fingers back inside her, rough and unrelenting. The wet, obscene sound of it fills the room, mixing with Rio’s muffled cries against the mattress. She’s already trembling, her walls clenching around you as you add a third finger without pause. Her body shudders violently, her knees wobbling under the sheer intensity of your pace.

You curl your fingers just enough to draw a choked moan from her lips. “Falling apart already? You like being ruined, don’t you, pet?” Your words are cruel and mocking, as you drive her higher, your fingers moving faster and deeper, until the tight heat of her body is nearly overwhelming.

When her breath catches again, when her thighs quiver, you push further, withdrawing your fingers briefly before pressing back in with four, stretching her open. Rio lets out a strangled sound, her head turning just enough for you to catch the tears clinging to her lashes, the way her lips part in breathless surrender. She’s shaking now, reduced to nothing but broken moans and whimpers.

“Not enough?” you rasp, gripping her hip harder with your free hand to hold her steady. “Then take all of it.” Slowly, deliberately, you press your fist inside her, feeling her tense, and then give way around you. Her body arches sharply, a guttural cry escaping her as her head drops forward, her hands clutching desperately at the sheets. The sheer intensity of it has her completely undone, her body jerking with each movement as you start to move, each thrust coaxing more incoherent noises from her lips.

“You’re a mess,” you growl, your tone dripping with smug satisfaction as you watch her fall apart. “The mighty Rio Vidal, completely wrecked and begging for more. Tell me, pet—who do you belong to?”

Rio is a wreck beneath you, her body quivering and her breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps. Her hands claw at the sheets, her nails curling into the fabric as though it’s the only thing grounding her. “Please,” she finally whimpers, her voice trembling and cracked, a stark contrast to her usual composed arrogance. “Please, I—I’m so close.”

You lean over her, your hand still working relentlessly, your fist driving into her over and over again. The slick heat of her body clenching around you sends a thrill of power coursing through your veins. “What’s that, pet?” you mock, leaning closer to nip at the shell of her ear. “Did I hear you begging? The untouchable Rio Vidal, pleading for permission? Say it again. Say exactly what you want.”

Her response is immediate, raw, and desperate. “Please! Let me—let me cum,” she sobs, her voice muffled against the mattress. “I need it, I can’t—please, just—please!” Every word is laced with want, with a pleading edge that makes your smirk widen.

You slow your movements just enough to make her whine, her body writhing in frustration as you keep her teetering on the edge. “You’re mine,” you growl, your voice low and firm, as your free hand slides up her spine before tangling in her hair again, pulling her head back enough to make her gasp. “Say it, Rio. Tell me who you belong to.”

Her reply takes less than a second, her walls clenching around your hand as the words spill from her lips like a confession. “Yours! I’m yours, please, just let me—”

You cut her off by picking up the pace again, your movements rough and unrelenting. Her body seizes as she tumbles over the edge, her cry muffled by the sheets as her climax tears through her. Her thighs tremble violently, and she’s left gasping, completely undone beneath you. You ride her through every wave of it, drawing out her pleasure until she collapses, spent and shaking, her cheek pressed against the mattress as her breathing slowly steadies.

For a long moment, the room is filled only with the sound of her ragged breathing. Then, a low, dark chuckle escapes her lips, raspy and laced with exhaustion. “Well,” she murmurs, her voice still shaky but dripping with wry amusement. “I guess that counts as finally consummating our marriage.” She tilts her head just enough to glance back at you, her usual smirk making a weak but defiant return, though her flushed cheeks and trembling thighs betray her.

You huff a laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. “Careful, Vidal,” you say against her skin. “We both know who’s really in charge here.” You trail your fingers down her spine, watching the way she shivers under your touch.

Rio chuckles again, softer this time, as she shifts slightly, her body still too spent to fully move. “To the world, I’m still the untouchable CEO,” she says, her voice quiet but firm, the sharp edge of her confidence returning. “But between us?” She glances at you, her eyes glinting with that familiar mix of defiance and surrender. “We both know where I belong.”

Your smirk widens as you push her hair back, brushing your lips against her temple. “That’s right, pet,” you say softly. “And don’t you forget it.”

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Happy Holidays sluts (complimentary) if you are celebrating anything, if not Happy Dec 24th :D

this was going to be the arranged marriage au for aaa week before my laptop decided to be homophobic and break >:(

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taglist: @danveration (comment to be added to a taglist)

[beloveds-embrace]

When Konig returns, How do you think he will react when he realizes that reader is limping and has a prosthetic??

Would he blame himself? would blame and fight with others??

-🍒anon

It’d be a mix of both, but he largely (and understandably) blames them the most. There is disliking your spouse, and then there is the cruelty that has been inflicted on you.

König didn’t even notice it at first- not until you stood at last.

The faint click against the marble floors froze him. His eyes dropped, breath hitching at the gleam of metal where your foot should have been. Cold and foreign, it should have never been on you. He’s only seen it on soldiers.

Your grip on the cane now in your hand- how did he not notice it?- tightened. “Don’t.”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.

But König couldn’t stop staring. His eyes traced the straps digging into your thigh, the unevenness of your gait. He imagined the pain you must have endured, the surgeries, the adjustments, the raw skin and bruising. He imagined you lying in some cold room, scared and alone, with no one there to hold your hand.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low and guttural, barely human.

“They all did,” you said quietly. “You. Them. All of you.”

The words hit harder than any blade could.

König staggered back a step, the breath knocked from him. Shame clawed up his throat, but it couldn’t overpower the guilt. You’re right, he wanted to say. You’re right, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness.

Instead, he knelt again.

Slowly, deliberately, he sank to one knee before you, lowering himself as if in supplication. “Mylady,” he rasped, voice raw. “I have failed you.”

You flinched, your fingers tightening on the cane again, but you didn’t pull away.

“I failed you when I left,” he continued, head bowed. “And I failed you by leaving you in their care. I will never forgive myself for it.”

“You think kneeling will fix this?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I won’t leave you again. Not unless you send me away.”

You faltered. For not the first time, König saw something- grief, fire, exhaustion—flicker in your eyes. But then you turned.

And when you stumbled, he was there.

He steadied you without a word, and though you flinched, you didn’t pull away.

The days after König’s return were heavy with tension.

He didn’t leave your side- not when you struggled with the prosthetic, not when your cane trembled, not when your breaths came shallow and pained.

And you let him.

You let him carry the books you’d occasionally read, adjust the chairs, and brace you when the steps proved too much. It wasn’t spoken. There were no apologies. Just König- silent, patient, and steady.

And the others saw it.

“She lets you help her.” Kyle said once, disbelieving. But König ignored him and continued on his path to your room, carrying a tray of tea he made himself.

I do not force it, König thought, focused on adjusting the padding of your prosthetic. The straps had rubbed you raw again. He fixed them without asking.

Price bristled at him another day, and König focused especially hard to ignore him. “You weren’t here. You left her.”

I did not let her rot, if anyone were to listen to König’s thoughts, they would immediately sense his utter disdain and disgust. You did.

Johnny tried to step in once while König waited for the tea to boil. “We tried—”

“When it was too late.” König spoke at last, lip curling under his mask. “You watched her shatter and did nothing. And now you ask why she won’t let you put her back together?”

Johnny had no answer.

None of them had an answer.

And König didn’t wait for one.

He returned to you, and looped a tiny little flower he picked on the way into your hair. “Better, mylady?”

You nodded, hesitant. “… better.”

It was not as if you forgave him- you didn’t.

But König didn’t ask. He didn’t demand or beg, or force himself into your space. He didn’t push you for it, didn’t demand it like a starving man clawing for scraps.

He stayed.

He noticed every wince, every tremor, and fixed what he could- polished the cane, adjusted the straps, moved the chairs- without asking for permission or praise.

And when you wept in the conservatory late at night, when the pain in your leg and the ache in your heart became too much, he didn’t try to hush you. He didn’t tell you to be strong or remind you of how far you’d come.

He simply sat there, guarding the door, letting you cry until the exhaustion dragged you under.

And then, when you woke the next morning, the cane would already be waiting by your bedside, polished and steady.

Just like him.

[maxdibert]

One thing is to interpret certain behaviors of the characters, and another is to invent their personalities. If the James you like is a completely different person from the canon, then you don't like James Potter. You like a character you've invented and named James, period. Because that is not James Potter. The James Potter in the books has a series of characteristics that are clear and well-marked. Even Rowling herself said he was a bully, and Harry himself is aware that he was a bully, which is why he feels deeply disappointed in his father. It doesn't matter if you want to interpret him differently, reality is reality. I’m totally in favor of creating OCs within different fictional universes and building new lore within those same worlds. It’s something many of you could do if you clearly don’t like or feel uncomfortable with the personalities of the canon characters, instead of completely inventing new ones that fit your moral value scale and at the same time allow you to project yourselves as the main characters, which is ultimately what you like about them, nothing more.

On the other hand, I’m really sorry, but you’re the one who made a post making humor about violence and abuse. I don’t care if it's a joke; it’s the same as joking about racism or rape—it's equally problematic and condemnable. Just because you think that humor is justified because it’s aimed at an image of something you utterly dislike and dehumanize it completely, it doesn’t make it any less terrible. As I told you, any random sexist could have made the same post making a joke about rape and then say, 'It’s just humor,' and then claim, 'Well, it’s my fanon interpretation of things,' and I don’t think anyone would find that ethical. Sometimes, in order to understand the seriousness or problematic nature of something, it’s necessary to swap a couple of concepts. Because yes, your post sounds like that, it reads like that, and that kind of humor is just as stale as that of a hentai-obsessed guy making 'irreverent humor.' There are comments saying 'bullying is bad, but there are exceptions,' and you laugh at them. Substitute bullying for racism, homophobia, or abuse against women, and you’ll see how messed up it sounds. Some of you have the level of double standards off the charts

snape stans will be like “but james bullied snape!”

like… yeah someone had to

[burnforyou]

TUTOR - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! this COULD be a part 2 to creep but it can also be read as a stand alone. nerdy Luigi is tutoring reader and he gets head for the first time!!! he's subby (ish) and innocent <3 enjoy!

“do you think you understand it now?” he asks, putting his pen down. you hesitate.

“can i ask you something?” you look up from the chemistry papers scattered on your desk to his face. how is he so pretty? he looks so ravishing in his perfect maroon sweater with a button up underneath. the color makes his skin glow.

from the moment he walked into your house, you'd been trying to come up with a plan to get him into your bed. and when you saw how hard he was under the table, you knew he was feeling the same way. had you purposefully worn small pajama shorts to try and tease him? yeah, maybe, but your plan was pretty successful, so you weren't ashamed.

little did you know, he's been hard since before he even entered your house. did the sight of your practically bare legs make it worse? yeah, definitely, but he'd been trying to calm himself down all day but nothing has seemed to do the trick. just the thought of walking into your home has had him worked up all week. when he saw you requesting tutoring he almost cried.

“sure, what’s up?” you place your manicured hand on his thigh and he stiffens. his eyebrows furrow and his dark eyes flicker between your hand and face.

“are you a virgin?” he freezes. is it that obvious? he sits there in silence for a few seconds, frozen. his mind goes completely blank, what do I even say? fuck, I have the most beautiful, smart, woman sitting in front of me and she wants to know if I'm a virgin?

“you don’t have to answer that, it’s just that-“

“i am.” he spoke up, looking away shamefully.

“no, no, no, i’m not judging you. i just noticed that, you uh, are kinda in a sticky situation down there and, i haven’t even touched you.” he looks down and tries to adjust the tent his hard cock has made in his jeans.

“don’t be ashamed," you slide your hand further up his thigh and move closer to him, "I just want to repay you for helping me so much, with chemistry and calc, if that's okay with you."

"yeah," he squeaks out, embarrassed at how high pitch his voice comes out. you suggest going up to your bedroom and he complies, following behind you silently. he struggles to tear his eyes away from your ass, watching it move up the stairs.

he plops down on the edge of the bed and you push him back until he's sat against your headboard. you crawl up the bed to him and sit on his lap. his hips buck and his mouth opens at the sudden friction on his already hard cock. he felt so overwhelmed: your scent surrounding him, being in your bed, you on top of him, for fucks sake.

you lean in and capture his lips with yours, his lips naturally molding against yours. you press your hands lightly on the sides of his neck. his hands stay awkwardly at his sides, gripping onto your sheets every time you grind on him through your thin pajama shorts. you break the kiss and smile down at him, holding his head carefully. he looks up at you with his doe eyes and a million thoughts swirl through his mind.

"you can touch me, you know that right?" you whisper.

he nods silently and hesitantly places his hands on your hips.

“has anyone ever touched you before?”

he shakes his head. you lean down and kiss him again. this time, he breaks the kiss with a question.

"are you sure you want to do this? you don't have to repay me for anything."

"oh I'm sure, I've been plotting on you for a while now."

"r-really?" he struggles to get out, shock evident in his voice.

"don't act all innocent now, I know that you think about me. I see you in class, looking at me the whole time. its just surprising that you're a virgin, especially for a handsome guy like you." his face flushes at your compliment, his lips threatening a smile. "now, let's get this sweater off, hm?"

he allows you to tear his maroon sweater off his body and discard it on your floor. you admire his abs by running your hands up and down his chest, content with yourself. he sits there and wonders how much you truly know about him, if you know he's truly a creep, deep down.

"do you want to know a secret?" you say, looking down at him. he nods eagerly and you laugh.

"you're so eager," you giggle. you lean down, putting your lips right on his ear teasingly. "I know that you watch me through my window."

his whole body stiffens and all the color drains from his face.

"I touched myself too that night." you say, smiling down at him. he's not sure what to do, whether he should be happy or ashamed. before he can come up with something to say, you're dragging your hands down his body, kissing all over him. you smirk as you kiss directly down his happy trail, finally reaching his waist band. you fiddle with the button and pull the zipper down smoothly.

he quickly picks his hips up, pulling down his jeans and boxers at the same time. you lick your lips at the sight of his heavy cock, so hard it sprang against his stomach.

you leaned up, connecting your lips with his once again and simultaneously reached down to grasp his cock. he broke the kiss with a gasp and he screwed his eyes shut tight at the feeling of your soft hand gripping him.

"you're so big," you say, looking down to admire his pulsing cock in your hand. his tip shone with pre-cum, red and needy. he whimpered at your compliment, his face almost as pink as his dick.

you bent down, pressed a kiss on his tip and licked down his length. he let out a noise similar to a whine.

"please," he whimpered. you finally wrapped your lips around his tip, looking up at him to watch his reaction. he squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp. he instantly bucked his hips into you and groaned, your mouth welcoming him further.

"fuck," his hands flew to your head, gripping onto your hair. you wrapped your hand around his hairy base and moved your lips up and down his girth, settling into a gentle but fast pace.

"baby, oh," he whimpers, letting out a low, guttural sound when his tip hits the back of your throat. his chest rises and falls faster than he thought was humanly possible.

you keep taking him so deep it has tears streaking down your face and saliva down onto his balls. it felt like something straight out of his fantasies.

"y/n, just like that," his moans fill the room, making you weak. you come up for air, your lips letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop. he removes his hand from your hair and caresses your wet face.

"you're so perfect." he says, smiling. “it feels so much better than i’ve ever imagined.”

you go back down on his cock, completely taking him once again, never breaking eye contact. his tip hits the back of your throat and this time it has him shooting hot cum down your throat. he lets out a shocked groan and his head falls back, his Adams apple bobbing. you swallow all of it and lick down his cock, cleaning him off completely.

"fuck, I'm so sorry y/n, I didn't mean to cum so quick." he looks away, ashamed. you reach for him and force him to look at you.

"you're alright," you say, giggling again.

"it just felt so good, nothing like I've ever imagined." he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck. he suddenly realizes how vulnerable he is, sitting on your bed completely naked and fucked out of his mind while you're completely dressed and satisfied. he likes the power you hold over him.

months of yearning for you have all built up to this moment. he reaches for you and swings your leg over his lap, planting you on his already re-hardening cock. he leans into you and kisses you, finally full of confidence and a need to have all of you.

have you ever tried this one?

I AM UNSTOPPABLE!!!!!!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS FREAKS!!!!!

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood

[wolvietxt]

I just read some of your Logan fics 🫠🤭🤤 absolutely in LOVE! i had to follow and request 😭 could you maybe do the age gap prompt with Logan “you’re more than enough for me.” ? You don’t have to but oh my god I am in love with ur work ❤️

YOU weren’t usually one to let comments get under your skin, but tonight was different. it started as a passing remark during the group’s card game, someone laughingly pointing out the age gap between you and logan.

“didn’t know logan liked ‘em fresh outta college,” they teased, nudging him with an elbow.

logan shot them a glare sharp enough to silence a room, but the damage was done. you forced a laugh, brushing it off like it was nothing, even though your stomach churned with unease.

as the night went on, the comment replayed in your mind, growing louder with each repetition. sure, you were younger, but it wasn’t like you didn’t know what you wanted. still, the words planted seeds of doubt - maybe they were right. maybe logan deserved someone more experienced, someone who matched his gruff confidence in a way you sometimes felt you couldn’t.

logan seemed to notice your shift, his sharp eyes narrowing when you grew quieter, your laughter a little more forced. eventually, he leaned close, his voice low. “hey. you good?”

“yeah, just tired,” you said quickly, plastering on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

he didn’t buy it. you could tell by the way his jaw tightened and the way he didn’t take his eyes off you for the rest of the night. finally, when there was a lull in conversation, he stood and nodded toward the hallway. “c’mon. need a word.”

you followed him, your heart racing as he led you to the quiet of the hallway. he stopped and turned to face you, his hands on his hips, his gaze piercing.

“what’s goin’ on?” he asked, his tone softer now, his brows drawing together in concern.

“nothing,” you lied, crossing your arms defensively. “i told you, i’m just tired.”

logan let out a soft huff, stepping closer until he was in your space. “don’t pull that with me,” he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face gently. “you’ve been off ever since that crack about your age. talk to me.”

his touch was grounding, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. you sighed, your shoulders slumping. “it’s stupid,” you muttered. “it just… it made me feel like maybe you could do better. like maybe they’re right and i’m too young, or - or not enough for you.”

logan’s expression darkened - not in anger, but in something deeper, more protective. his thumbs stilled against your skin, his grip firm but tender as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “don’t you ever think that,” he said, his tone heavy with conviction. “you’re more than enough for me, darlin’. never doubt that.”

your breath hitched at the intensity in his gaze, his words wrapping around the insecurities gnawing at you and crushing them under their weight. “logan…” you started, but he cut you off, his forehead resting against yours.

“listen to me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. “i don’t give a damn what anyone says. you’re all i want, and i’d go through hell and back to make sure you know that.”

a lump formed in your throat, your heart swelling as his words sunk in. you reached up, your hands covering his where they cradled your face. “thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

logan’s lips quirked into a faint smile, his fingers tilting your chin up as he kissed you. it was slow and deliberate, a kiss that spoke of reassurance and devotion, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

when he pulled back, he kept you close, his hands still framing your face. “next time someone runs their mouth, let me deal with ‘em,” he said, his voice lightening with a touch of his usual gruff humor. “they’ll think twice after that.”

you laughed softly, the knot of doubt inside you unraveling completely. “i’ll hold you to that.”

“damn right, you will,” he said, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before tugging you into his arms.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss, @mehjustalasshere, @spktrlvr

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[1d1195]

The Lottery III

Read The Lottery here | ~4k words

From me: takes place during her second year in town. It's Christmas time 🎄

Warnings: fluffy

Summary: It's truly embarrassing how smitten Harry is with her.

“Please, please, please!”

“No,” his voice was solid, flat, devoid of emotion. Impervious to her pleading it seemed.

She frowned and looked at him with a look that Harry assumed was supposed to be menacing. But it looked about as menacing as a baby bunny could be. “Harry Styles, people will think you’re The Grinch.”

“They already think that, Peach,” he rolled his eyes and moved to the next table check that the ketchup wasn’t completely depleted.

“Then I’ll think you’re The Grinch.”

That seemed to do something to his brain because he paused running around the diner. He looked at her with the same irritation that he always directed at her. The kind that made him annoyed because she wanted two different pancakes. Or that she didn’t wear the proper coat in the snow. Or that her tires needed to be replaced on her car, but she didn’t mind (refused to replace them) because she wasn’t driving very far these days and really, it wasn’t that big of a deal because it probably wasn’t going to snow in the remainder of that March.

Harry shook his head, remembering he was supposed to answer her. “Peach,” he sighed and rubbed his face. “I’ll look ridiculous.” There was no one else in the diner. It was nearly five in the morning. Much too early to have this conversation and even earlier to be having an argument.

But Harry thought she looked so cute. Cold but bright-eyed. “Well, that’s why I came now to ask. No one will know it’s you. We’ll park your car at my house, and you’ll tell everyone you have an appointment in the city. You’ll look unrecognizable.”

He stared at her for another moment before he turned to the coffee pot that he was brewing to make it cold for her. She was hours too early so it wouldn’t be cold. Her last pitcher was used up yesterday. Which only made him grumpier that he didn’t have what she liked. On top of being asked to do her ridiculous task. The silence was deafening. She smiled sweetly at him. “I’ll order regular pancakes for a week,” she offered.

He rolled his eyes. Maybe because he knew that he would still make her stupid pancakes and two omelets if she asked. “If anyone finds out s’me, I’ll tell them y’drugged me, Peach.”

“That’s very reasonable. While I’m asking for things, is it possible, I could borrow your oven for cookies and your coffee burners for hot chocolate?” She batted those pretty eyelashes at him, and he wondered just how obvious it was to her that he would do anything she asked of him.

“Y’know... I don’t do the whole town celebration thing,” he reminded her turning back to the coffee pot because if he looked at her any longer, he was going to tell her everything and this was not the time nor the place. She also wasn’t someone he wanted to know all his dark secrets. She was the one person that didn’t look at him with pity and he wanted that to remain true for as long as he could manage.

She frowned. “Well, I do,” which made next to no sense because at the time of asking she had only lived through one town Christmas—kind of. She wasn’t part of the traditions at all but somehow inserted herself into helping as much as she could. “No one will know it’s you,” she reminded him. “And I know you want to help,” she shrugged casually. “Can our pancake deal start tomorrow I’m desperate for peaches and white chocolate chips,” she dropped into her seat.

He didn’t answer, but he assumed she knew he was putty in her hands. “Coffee’s not cold yet,” he grumbled pouring her a hot cup.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to make me cold coffee anyway,” she shrugged and reached over the counter for the sugar and cream only for Harry to smack it away as was their own little tradition. “Oh!” She squealed and hopped out of her seat rushing out the front door as if she saw a ghost.

Harry blinked and hurried after her in case there was some kind of issue or if she saw something troublesome that would get her killed or kidnapped. Not that anything of the sort ever happened in their little town. But leave it to her to find something dangerous. “What—”

Her head was tilted nearly at a sharp forty-five-degree angle looking at the moon, dipping lower in the sky. Some of the stars were still out, and the sky was just starting to turn the slightest light blue. “Isn’t she pretty?” She sighed dreamily. Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest. The same kind that did any time she had him look at the moon. The awe, the fascination, the unadulterated innocence on her face made his heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, Peach, s’lovely,” he agreed and waited twenty seconds to let her stare. “S’cold out,” he reminded her because she of course didn’t put her coat back on for this expedition. Gently, he placed his hand on her lower back. “C’mon,” he encouraged. “I gotta make y’some pancakes.”

Harry swore she continued looking over her shoulder as he ushered her inside which just made him fall a little harder for her.

*

The day of the town’s Christmas festival Harry did what she said. He talked about his appointment in the city (that he didn’t have) all morning. When nearly everyone he ever knew was in town, he drove his car to her house where no one would notice it was there. He dressed in a red suit, and she drove him over in her own car dressed in an elf ensemble. Had Harry known she had a part to play he may have agreed a little faster. She was adorable, the shoes curled into a swirl at the toes, she was decked in red and green from head to toe and sure Santa was a symbol of Christmas but she was the near embodiment of it as well.

The second she stepped out of the car after all the little ones shouted excitedly for Santa, she pulled up the rear carrying a bag of candy canes over her shoulder.

“Miss Peach! You’re an elf too!?” Someone called when they realized the bookstore owner was in tow with Santa himself.

“You know Santa?!”

She giggled as Harry threw his voice and laughed at the little ones in awe over the pretty girl. They were right to be in awe. She was lovely. Making this happen. Picking someone certifiably Grinch-like. Yet he did it anyway.

“Santa’s sleigh is being fixed a couple towns over, so I picked him up and he was so grateful he agreed to come say hi to everyone! One of the elves gave me a costume to borrow for the day,” she explained. “Santa is going to see if he can get everything you all want, if you’ve been good.”

So, Harry took his seat on a chair that was much too poofy and frilly. It was set among a huge sack of mini presents, a mailbox for letters, and she dumped her bag of candy canes into a bucket. There were cookies and hot chocolate at the table beside the setup, run by her employees, curtesy of Harry’s oven and coffee maker. She stood beside Harry the whole afternoon as so many little ones came to tell Santa what they wanted.

What was worse was it was fun. Harry actually enjoyed being Santa. The little ones were so funny, and she was adorable dressed in her little get up. “Miss Peach,” one little boy whispered toward the end of their little event. He waved her over several yards away from Santa’s chair.

Naturally, she hurried over, leaving Harry with a pair of nine-year-old girls who wanted a lot of makeup and dolls. She greeted his parents who smiled knowingly at the cute bookstore owner with a little baby in a stroller beside the boy who waved her over.

“Is that the real Santa?” He asked gulping.

She smiled. “I got him off the sleigh and everything.”

He looked down nervously. She knew him from her story hours and going to the bookstore to do crafts related to the book of the week. “I’m kind of scared of Santa, Miss Peach,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she pouted. “There’s nothing to be scared of,” she whispered. “He’s very nice and just wants to know what you want for Christmas.”

“Will you go with me?” He asked.

She nodded and held his hand. “Hey Santa, Caden here is a little nervous,” she told Harry. Behind the hat, wig, glasses, a white beard and a firm pillow tucked into his shirt, it was next to impossible to know it was Harry.

How anyone couldn’t tell those pretty green eyes belonged to someone other than Harry was ridiculous to her, but whatever. She was eternally grateful he was doing this for her. Honestly, she couldn’t fathom why he would do it for her, but she wasn’t going to question it long enough for him to back out.

There was a kind smile beneath the white beard and mustache. One that she had only seen a handful of times. When it appeared on his face in the diner it was nearly always hidden from view—but every once in a while, she would see his pink lips turn up in a genuine smile. Happy over a joke someone made. Or how a little one told Miss Peach they had a crush on her.

She wondered if Caden knew how lucky they were to witness such a soft, beautiful sight. “S’that so?” He chuckled.

Caden tucked himself behind her leg and she bent to scoop the six-year-old into her arms. “Santa is a good friend of mine, he just wants to make sure you get what you want,” she assured him. “Do you want me to tell him?” She asked stepping closer toward Harry. He hid his face against her shoulder. Gently, she stroked the back of his head. “I used to be scared of Santa too,” she whispered. “But we’re friends now, right Santa?” She asked glancing over. Harry nodded, waiting patiently. Letting her do her thing. “Here,” she walked to Harry, wedged herself between Harry’s legs and perched on his thigh, stretching her own legs out so she wasn’t putting her full weight on his body. She sat Caden on her lap facing her and Harry.

Poor Caden looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

Harry knew what Caden was feeling almost at the exact same time. Other than a touch on her back or smacking her hand away, Harry hardly ever touched her. Now, her whole pretty butt was on his thigh. Had he known this would have happened, he wouldn’t have argued with her at all. She was so casual about it, as if she sat herself in his lap all the time. How was this not a moment in time that caused for absolute shock for her? Was he breathing? It felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” she smiled sweetly, encouragingly. “I’m right here, tell us about what you want Santa to bring,” she ran a hand across his cheek. “Do you want... a Lego set?” She asked. He glanced up shyly at Santa and nodded. Harry smiled behind his beard reassuringly. “And a skateboard?” She continued guessing what a little boy his age would want. He nodded again. “And... a unicorn stuffie?” She smirked.

He frowned and shook his head. Which made the two of them laugh. “My sister likes unicorns, not me,” he told them. Harry nodded.

“So, a skateboard for you and a unicorn for—” Without missing a beat, Harry watched her mouth the name of the younger sibling. “Lily.”

“You know Lily?” He asked, pure wonder in his eyes. Staring up at Harry like he was the most amazing person in the world. Harry did think he was the Grinch because his heart truly melted and it was all thanks to the pretty, peachie girl.

“Santa knows everything,” she whispered. “Can you say thank you?”

“Thank you... Santa?” Caden asked, hopping down from her lap and turning bravely toward him. She stepped away from his legs which made him feel cold and grumpy again. But he remembered to stay focused on Caden.

“Yes, lad?” Caden ushered him closer waving his hand toward him. Harry leaned down further so Caden could whisper in his ear.

“Can you help me get a present for Miss Peach?”

Harry looked at her as she gathered a candy cane, a cookie, a present, and a cup of hot chocolate for Caden to take. “Absolutely.”

*

When Santa left, Harry magically returned with his car and headed to the diner to check on things. “You missed all the fun Harry,” she sighed stepping behind the counter and heading for the coffee pots filled with hot water for her hot chocolate stand. “I brought Santa in and everything.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and stuck his arm out to stop her. “Did he tell you he was bring y’coal?” he rolled his eyes and turned her physically by her shoulders before she reached the coffee pots. “Get out,” he said.

“Miss Peach getting coal?” Edith laughed. “Harry, don’t be ridiculous.”

She smiled, a knowing smirk on her lips. “Can I please have more hot water for hot chocolate?” She asked.

He sighed, like it was a big to do. But he did it anyway. She was getting really good at reading his eyes. She could see the slight amusement. Or what she hoped was amusement. Maybe it was just more annoyance, but the light shining a little differently in his irises. “I’ll keep it coming,” he shrugged and handed her two of the coffee pots.

“You are like Santa himself,” she grinned and carefully walked out with the hot liquid. Someone held the door for her and Harry headed to the kitchen, smirking once he was behind the cover of the wall away from the rest of the diner.

*

Christmas morning in a small town was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was literally a Hallmark movie. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground. Against the lights it was the stuff of dreams. She walked through the quiet town, her second one in town but the first one she had ever spent away from her family.

“Peach?” Harry called. He was taking a bag out behind the diner to the trash. The door to the back was open to what she imagined was his apartment. She heard it was attached to the diner, but she had never seen beyond it.

She gave a wave and walked toward him. “Merry Christmas, Harry!” She chirped and dove in for a hug. Harry awkwardly wrapped his arms around her and despite his awkwardness, it felt like the best Christmas present he had ever received.

“Merry Christmas,” he hummed. “I thought y’were heading t’your family’s place for the holiday?”

“I did last year, but I thought I would try and start my own traditions. They’re going to be down this weekend actually.”

“Make sure y’bring them by,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “How about you? Any traditions?”

Traditions hadn’t been part of Harry’s vocabulary in ages. But Gemma was coming and that made him immensely happy. Well, as happy as someone as grumpy as he could be. “M’sister is coming around lunch time. I do a Christmas brunch, and a lot of people stop by.”

“Oh, that’s really lovely,” she grinned. “I’m sure you’re busy then and I don’t want to keep you. Have a happy—”

“You’re invited,” he practically blurted. She blinked, surprise coloring her pretty face.

But she recovered quickly and the smile on her mouth returned and made Harry think that even if he never touched her again, he could settle for a smile directed at her. “Really?” She asked. “I don’t want to mess with tradition.”

But that was far from the truth because she had already inserted herself into so many town projects and made the town so much better just by existing. Not to mention she got him to dress as Santa. Tradition flew out the window the moment she stepped foot in the diner.

“S’a whole town thing.”

“Well then, I really have to run because I cannot show up empty handed. Muffins or cupcakes?”

“Y’don’t have to—”

“I’ll make both unless you tell me.”

Harry rolled his eyes and her stubbornness. “Muffins, Peach. Thank you.”

“Christmas looks good on you, Santa,” she nodded. “You’ve got the best smile, Harry,” she waved and headed back the way she came.

*

Her mom always hosted parties and if she didn’t then it was a neighbor, Grandma, or aunt. She became a makeshift hostess and always tried to make herself useful. The second she walked into the diner she was greeted with cheers and Merry Christmases. Honestly, other than it being a holiday and the garland draped around the place, it was no different than walking into the diner any other day. She scurried to the counter where all the food was lining it, the warmers keeping the food hot, just waiting to be devoured. She could hear noise from the kitchen. Without thinking much longer, she stepped behind the counter, set her muffins toward the end of the line of food, and began gathering the plates and silverware to put at the beginning of the line.

The moment he heard clinking, he stepped from the kitchen. “What the he—”

“Oh hi,” she chirped over her shoulder. “Just making myself useful.”

“You’re not supposed to be behind the counter.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Christmas and I’m helping.”

“I like her,” a woman stepped from behind the kitchen wall as well and smiled with a wave. “I’m Gemma,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Harry’s sister?”

“The one and only,” she had the same pretty smile that Harry did. She wondered who they inherited from. But the smile seemed much more natural on Gemma’s face than Harry’s.

“Peach,” he rubbed a hand over his face. “If y’get hurt, m’insurance doesn’t cover annoying pains in the butt.”

“What a nice thing to say on Christmas,” Gemma rolled her eyes. “How many times did you come back here when Mum told us not to?” Harry turned to the kitchen before he could answer.

She frowned. “I just wanted to help.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry is just a grump,” she shrugged. “Thank you for the help,” she grinned sweetly. “I’m going to bring Mr. Sour out again but please make yourself at home,” she assured.

People chatted with Gemma for most of the time they ate. She helped Harry carry food out from the kitchen even though he grunted at her in annoyance each time she picked something up. She ignored him making a plate for both herself, and Harry. “Harry come eat,” she held the plates of food in her hands. “Everyone is good for the moment, and you deserve it,” she told him.

He sighed as he always did. Like talking to her was getting a splinter taken out of his hand. He grabbed the plates from her and walked toward the side of the diner where there were two seats open. “Miss Peach, these muffins are delicious!”

She grinned. “Thank you, an old family recipe,” she said sweetly and plucked a piece of bacon from her plate. Harry headed back to the kitchen and she pouted but he returned quickly holding a cup of coffee for her, cooled and iced as always. “Thank you.” Harry sat across from her eating silently, but it was comfortable. Peaceful even. The chatter around them was comforting. “You do this every year?” She asked. He nodded. “It’s nice, Harry, thank you for inviting me,” she grinned. He didn’t look up from his food, but he nodded again, and she was certain the corners of his mouth twitched in an upwards direction.

Harry was dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a dark green button down. It brought out the gold specks in his eyes and enhanced how green they were in general. It was her favorite look on him. Given he only seemed to have about six or so shirts in total. His hair was styled just so, so it wouldn’t fall in his face. “Let me get a picture of you and Gemma.”

“No,” he shook his head sipping his orange juice.

“Oh, come on, Harry. She’s your sister.”

He shook his head. “I don’t do pictures.”

She rolled her eyes. “Gemma, would you like a picture with Harry?” She called across the room.

“God, would I!” She hurried over and wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. She kissed the side of his face and he rolled his eyes but the smile was a little harder to hide that time around. She pulled her phone from her pocket and held it out to get a picture of the siblings.

“Say Merry Christmas!”

Harry smiled, genuinely. Which made her utterly happy. Gemma kissed his cheek again. “I love you, little brother.”

He shook his head as she hurried back to her conversation across the room. Harry cleared his throat and reached into his pocket pulling out a small box, wrapped perfectly, and slid it across the table toward her.

Of course, her gifts for everyone in town that had made her feel so welcomed were at her house. She planned on giving them out at the diner the following morning. Let the day be about family. So she was unprepared and felt terrible that she had nothing for Harry.

But she was also so shocked she simply gaped. “Harry,” she managed. “I don’t—”

“S’not a big deal,” he shrugged. “Caden... he wanted t’make sure y’got a gift. I asked him t’help me pick it out. Told him Santa left a note here since he knows y’here a lot,” he explained. “S’really from Caden.” But it wasn’t. Not really. It was from Harry. The grumpy diner owner who made her pancakes, gave her a hard time because she was a nuisance. “Go on,” he encouraged. She pulled the paper off, revealing a small brown box.

“Your gift is at home,” she told him.

“Y’didn’t need t’get me anything,” he rolled his eyes.

“Of course I did, Harry—”

“Will y’jus’ open it, Peach? Y’making it a huge deal and honestly, s’hardly anything.”

She opened the lid and inside was a square piece of cardboard. A delicate chain draped along the middle of it, holding the small crescent moon charm at the center of a pair of matching earrings. “Harry,” she brushed her finger on the charm. “This is too much,” she frowned knowing that he probably spent way too much on someone who was a pain in his ass.

“Y’do a lot for this town,” he shrugged. “S’the least Caden could do.”

She tilted her head at him. “Thank you,” she plucked the necklace off the cardboard and quickly secured it around her neck. Her ears already had Christmas presents jingling and dangling from the lobes, but the necklace looked delicate and pretty against the top of her shirt. “I’ll bring your gift tomorrow.”

“Whatever helps y’sleep at night, Peach. Y’want more food?” He asked standing and grabbing her plate at the same time.

She played with the charm at the base of her throat and nodded. “Please," she wondered if Harry was aware of how much she truly liked him. How sweet he really was despite the front he put up in front of everyone else. But she supposed for today, since it was Christmas, she would let him play his grumpy self and enjoy the thoughtful gift he bought for her and the yummy food he made.

She hoped this tradition would stick around every year.

--

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[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part three

a/n i've been following the halloween event pretty closely for the jp servers, and omg, i have fallen deeper in love with leona! he's just so gentlemanly and honestly, the type of guy you would totally bring home to meet ur parents! plus he looks so damn good! also scully such a cutie patootie! love his little mannerisms and design! i was a little sad that ace and deuce wasn't in, but that just means that they'll both be there for the next halloween event!

edit: so this was meant to be posted like a long time ago hence my og author note, but better late the. never ig. but my point still stands that skully is a little cutie patootie <3

included ignihyde, diasomnia + rollo

tw nothing

want more? here's part one + two

ignihyde <3

⋆ He can’t help it! But the first thing that escape Idia's mouth is ‘Is this poison?’ He can't help it! He’s just a little awkward and has low self-esteem! Idia can’t phantom the idea that anyone, especially you, would take time out of their day to make and bring little, ugly him, food. (his words not mine) It’s literally a ten minute conversation where you have to explain to him that you wanted to this because you care about his skinny ass. And after he gets that through his thick ass head and into his big ass brain, does he explode into hot, hot red. Despite being a literal genius, Idia’s social department (self-esteem? self-love?) is severely understaffed. I don’t think Idia’s all that picky when it comes to food, he’s just not used to eating food out of his comfort zone. But batting your pretty eyes and asking ‘pretty please?’ is enough to get him to bend over.

⋆ If he could eat, Ortho would adore your food! (real talk, i can’t remember if Ortho could canonically eat through like idk a food cavity space thing or if i had just read that from a fic) Would ask for all types of things. But since he can’t, Ortho enjoys your food through Idia. He’s really happy that someone would take the time out of their day just for his big brother. By his data, doesn’t that mean you like his big bro? In all sorts of media, romantic partners make each other food to show their love! If Idia wasn’t such a danger magnetic in the kitchen, Ortho would force Idia to make you food too! So you’ll just have to settle with Ortho as your little helper instead. (he’s so excited to spend one on one time with his future in-law! teehee)

Diasomnia <3

⋆ My, make him food? How courageous you are, little human. Malleus gobbles your food down like it's his last supper. Food created by his child of man? How could he possibly let it go to waste! Compliments you to the moon and back. Though because it is Malleus, he does slip a few critiques. (he can’t help it! He’s a prince afterall) Malleus has never had an edible homemade dish full of love given to him, like ever. (sorry lilia, your food is full of love, just not edible) A warm feeling blossoms all across his body like blooming roses. If his tail was out, it would be swaying to the beat of his racing heart. Malleus didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but here you go, always surprising him. Perhaps, you’ll find a meal on your desk one day by the initials M.D.

⋆ Ohohoho? So you want to challenge a culinary master! Lilia will not be beaten by such a cute little human! You better start running tehehehehe- On another less scary note, Lilia enjoys your food immensely! Of course he could think of a few ways to make it much more protein packed and nutritious but that’s just his inner master chef coming out teehee. Beware, he insists that you must try his cooking, it’s only fair of him to treat you to a meal. Or even worse, insist that you too must cook together. Pray to the seven (or hope that Silver will be conscious enough to drag his father outta there) because you’re going to need it.

⋆ Wonderful… is the only word Silver is able to get out before he falls asleep. When he wakes, Silver is awfully embarrassed. Silver is blown away at your kindness. His face a perment baby pink the rest of the day. You thought of him and no one else. Surely this must mean something right? Still, Silver must do something for you too. It’s only fair. (what a sweet gentleman) he considers making you a treat as well, but considers otherwise. It might be unwise to be in the kitchen with his condition. But of course, it’s not like Silver won’t have any help! All the woodland creatures are more than happy to help Silver win over his crush’s heart! The next day you’ll have his treat flown to you by a couple of blue birds, chipmunks and rabbits gathering at your door with berries of all sorts. Silver thankful for such generous companions. If he had to face you, he might just fall into a coma.

⋆ He can’t help it when he says, “Are you trying to poison me?!’ and ‘Don’t you dare poison my Waka-Sama! I will fight you, human!” Sebek’s like a dog, barking and barking, until he smells the delicious scent of your food and suddenly, he’s stubbornly eating it at the table. Cursing himself for being so weak to delicious food (and your pretty smile) Oh how could he properly serve his Waka-sama if he’s weakened by such things?! THE CRUELTY! He does really enjoy your food. Typically he’s often left unsatisfied, his stomach growling with lingering hunger after his meals. But for some odd reason, every time he’s chowing down on your food, he’s satisfied. His stomach is silent but his chest is warm and fuzzy like dandelions. Are you sure you don’t have any magic? Sebek decides to keep his curiosity to himself. Just like the rest of diasomnia, you’ll find yourself faced with a box filled to the brim with food courtesy of the blushing, stuttering fae in front of you.

Extra <3

⋆ Very rarely does Rollo find time to sit down and eat. Between his studies, his duties as student president and world domination (kidding), he is much too busy to have anything more than a piece of bread and glass of water. You’ll have to drag him to sit his ass down to eat and even then he’ll be scolding you for messing up his schedule. But when the warm and homey scent of your food reaches his nose, his voice falls and mind clears. And all of a sudden, he’s very much aware of the ache in his bones, the growling of his stomach and the tight ringing of his head. Rollo listens to you tell him you made this just for him, heaviness hits his chest at the concern lacing your voice. Any other time he’d scoff and leave, but this is you. His friend. He doesn’t hesitate. The moment your food touches his tongue he’s done for. Perhaps the hassle of life is worth it.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hello, my niece made this account for me and said I should submit my question to your blog. I’m terribly sorry if this doesn’t belong here. I turned 65 this year and have recently come to accept that I am gay. I have never been on a date with anyone in my life and have never had a social circle. I was only ever close to my brother and sister-in-law and their kids. I only came out to my niece because she’s 30 and bisexual and has been a safe person to talk to, but she has been trying to encourage me to go to a group that she has gone to before. It’s a group that meets at a coffee shop in our city and is for the local lgbtq community. Allies can attend so I don’t have to come out, but I’m scared I will want to. I feel too far past my time to join the community or have a “first boyfriend.” Am I too old for all of this?

this absolutely belongs here, i'm glad your niece helped you create an account here to get some advice, i'm actually really touched!! this warmed my heart a lot

you are DEFINITELY not too old for this!! no one is ever too old for community! elder queers are some of the most important members of our community- if anything, if you go, younger queer people will be over the moon to see someone your age, still identifying as queer, still living, still wanting to be yourself and to accept who you are. it's nerve wracking at first to think about. i joined my college's pride group when i was around 19 or so, and i was scared to death. i also felt like i didn't belong. i think a lot of queer people go through that, you are not alone! it's unfamiliar to you. you're taking a big step in life, change can be downright frightening even if it's what we want

i have met lots of people your age who did not realize they were gay, lesbian, trans, bi, or any other type of queer until much later in life! i've known trans men who didn't figure themselves out and start T until they were in their 70s! i met a trans woman last night who didn't realize she was trans until she turned 60! i think that coffee shop would be absolutely delighted to have you! you don't have to out yourself at all, but if you find yourself feeling comfortable enough to share, please feel free to. your story deserves to be heard. you deserve to be able to express yourself in a welcoming environment!

i hope you're able to go, i think that sounds like it would be very healing for you! i'm really proud of you for realizing who you are and accepting it, and i'm glad your niece is able to be there for you! i genuinely teared up reading this. you are a blessing on our community, not a burden. you will never be too old to be yourself, and surround yourself with people who get you. take care of yourself, okay? please feel free to stop by at any point! i am so happy for you and would love to hear how things go if you do decide to hang out at that coffee shop!

some wonderful additions:

[backupaccountt22]

calling reality propaganda bc you want to deny reality and deny the evil act men commit daily. Just few hours ago, a random woman is set on fire by a MAN she doesn’t know. https://youtu.be/1S4SyMsBNSc?si=xeitKjSKoLmYNumf

you ask what do men benefit from oppressing and harming women ? Does evil need reason ? You men enjoy harming women, causing women endless pain and suffering. Hating you men is justified!

you men hate to see women happy, and living life. Seeing women alive causes you men to be raging demons. Notice whenever you ask men why they don’t rape, they say they don’t want to risk going to jail. Not bc they believe it is morally wrong but they fear they might face consequences of their evil acts. Without control and law these men would have no issue raping women and girls. We see online men proudly admit that. Thus wishing death on men, is self preservation.

“Again, you have to say "women didn't do that" because you recognize it does in fact make sense and as I said, it has as much evidence for it as your system does. Nothing I described was wrong or atleast it can't be disproven”

it doesn’t have much evidence at all, you just wrote nonsense! You did mental gymnastics to blame women for the actions of men, and said see women are to blame for misogyny and all the harm men have caused women. Pointing fingers at women is men’s favorite activity !

“I know all of this is lost on you because you are unable to conceive of an existence different from the one youve been told.”

this is comical coming from a male that is using all type of false reasoning and straight up lies to blame women for everything while denying all the evil shit men have committed.

“I know all of this is lost on you because you are unable to conceive of an existence different from the one youve been told.”

all you men are goat fuckers, just recently 4 men ganged raped lizard and then ate it.

“Like read what you've written and ask yourself, would this convince me if I wasn't already convinced? What are you appealing to? What even is the point of this. I think you know it won't convince me. So what's the goal?”

you should be asking yourself that! Read what you wrote, you think you are trying to convince anyone? The only thing you are doing is making sure more women hate men. You know your bitching would not convince me, so what is your goal! the only thing I have gotten from your post is my hate for men increased more. The length and reasoning men will use to blame women for being oppressed , abused, raped and killed is boundless. wishing harm and death to men is only way bc men don’t react to kindness or compassion! They are demonic creatures and should be treated as one. Like I said, my life goal is to make sure the men around me suffer and self off. That is the least I can do for the evilness your kind has caused.

why do women always have to be the bigger person? why don’t men just stop “joking” abt raping us?

[natokkiz]

OUR PATHS | 18. i think i just blacked out (wc: 1k)

YOU tried to pass by jaemin’s desk quickly, hoping to avoid talking to him as you made your way into the office. but before you could slip past, he lightly caught you by the arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“y/n,” he said softly, his tone unusually serious, “can we talk?”

you weren’t sure why you felt the urge to run away again, knowing deep down that this conversation was inevitable. his recent behavior had made that much clear. hesitant, you nodded, reluctantly giving in. “sure.”

the tension between you was palpable, though likely invisible to anyone else. jaemin led you to a quieter corner of the office, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

he took a deep breath, leaning slightly against the wall. his usual playful demeanor was gone, replaced with something raw and vulnerable. “did i… do something wrong?”

you blinked, caught off guard. “what? no. why would you think that?”

he gave you a look—one filled with hesitation and a hint of fear. “because the past few days felt good. really good. like we were finally making progress. and now…” he paused, running a hand through his hair. “now it feels like you’re pulling away again. you ignored me all day yesterday. did i misread things? did i make you uncomfortable?”

you shook your head quickly, guilt settling heavily in your chest. “no, jaemin, it’s not that. i agree… it was great. you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“then what is it?” he asked, his voice softer but no less determined. “it feels like something’s changed, and i don’t want to keep guessing. if something’s bothering you, just tell me. please.”

“it’s not you, i promise,” you muttered, your voice almost too quiet for him to hear. you hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “i guess… i’m just scared.”

jaemin’s expression softened into a slight frown. “scared of what?”

before you could respond, his phone buzzed loudly. he glanced at the screen, his expression torn. “i’m sorry, i have to take this,” he said reluctantly, his gaze lingering on you. “but we’re not done talking about this, okay?”

you nodded, though disappointment flickered in your chest. as he walked away, you took the opportunity to gather your thoughts.

you clutched the strap of your bag nervously as you waited for jaemin to unlock his door. when the door finally swung open, a wave of nostalgia hit you—it was eerie being in his apartment again after all this time. the familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, grounding you even as your mind raced.

from the hallway, luna padded out, her soft meow breaking the silence. she rubbed her head affectionately against your leg, still recognizing you.

“i think she missed you,” jaemin said softly, his quiet laugh easing some of the tension in your chest.

your thoughts were all over the place, unsure whether the night would end in resolution or further heartbreak. the two of you settled on opposite ends of the couch, the space between you feeling both vast and intimate. jaemin sat patiently, giving you the time to speak first.

“i’m sorry,” you began, your voice trembling. “for leaving you on read. for pulling away. i didn’t mean to—”

“it’s okay,” he interrupted gently, his gaze steady. “i just want to know why.”

you hesitated, searching for the courage to finally be honest. “i’m scared,” you admitted, your voice quiet and shaky. “i’ve been waiting for something to go wrong. waiting to wake up and realize this is too good to be true, that any round two of us would just be… a mistake.”

jaemin’s brows furrowed, his expression pained. “why would you think that?”

“because it happened before,” you said, your voice breaking. “you left before. and i know you’ve changed. i want to believe it. i think i already do. but it’s hard, jaemin. it’s hard not to wonder if it could happen again.”

jaemin shifted closer, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “y/n,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the emotion behind it, “i know i hurt you. and i’ll regret that for the rest of my life. but i’m not going anywhere this time. i’m here, and i’m not just saying that. i’m showing you, every day, that i’m here to stay.”

your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him, his sincerity breaking down the walls you’d built so carefully. “what if i’m not enough for you?” you whispered. “or what if i’m too much?”

“you’re more than enough,” he replied without hesitation. “i’m the one who wasn’t ready back then. but it was never about you or how much i love you. i was still healing from my past, confused… and i hurt you because of it. that’s on me. but i’ve spent every day since realizing what i lost. and i’ll spend every day now proving that i won’t make the same mistake again.”

the room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over you. slowly, he reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek. “i don’t want to rush you, y/n. we can take this as slow as you need. but i need you to be honest with me. that’s all i ask. i don’t care how long it takes—i’ll wait. but i can’t keep chasing you if you won’t let me in.”

you nodded, a shaky smile breaking through your tears. “okay,” you said softly.

“okay,” he echoed, his own smile gentle and full of hope.

the distance between you shrank as jaemin rubbed gentle patterns on your hands.

“but… what if i don’t want you to wait anymore?”

jaemin froze at your words, trying to figure you out. you took a shaky breath before leaning closer, closing the gap between you. tilting your face up, you kissed him—a soft, lingering kiss that felt like both an apology and a promise.

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NOTES | early merry christmas HEHEH. this is my gift to you all. TAGLIST (open!) | @polarisjisung @tommina @luvv4bby @222low @luluvhs @spideykeyring @dudekiss3r @sunghoonsgfreal @jeonghansshitester @injunnie-lemon @eternallyhyucks @njmluvr @n0hyuck @junviadinho @hyunnies-world @hahaechans @p4tyaraujo @baeseungcheolie @untilthesunrises @lotties-readings @mango-bear @angelicaleex @jungaji @luvvhaechan @lionzyon @y4wnjunz @luvandletter @applejaem @pikibell @keeryverse @botchedbrat @mystverse @t-102 @skzfairies @andyprkmyluv @gomdoleemyson @slayhaechan @channnaa @lovekm @sungsgirl @yewshi @hyuksworld @nanawrlds @blondiedae @cottonjaems @dearlyminhyung @kukkurookkoo @awktwurtle @cigsaftersuh @sehunniepot

[klarolinexluv]

Something has really stuck with me that some Anti Regulus Black person said and I want to share my thoughts on it.

Basically, they said that we, or people that like Regulus have been giving Regulus Lilys characteristics and traits and relationships instead of giving them to Lily and are using this to replace Lily.

From my pov, I can understand how that comes across. Moonwater, in canonical type universes, usually come together over their love for literature, something, that as far as I understand was how Lily and Remus used to become friends in fics.

When I think of this situation, I don’t see it as Lily being replaced, I see it as Remus having more friends then just the Marauders and Lily. I see it as Remus making friends.

In all the fics I’ve read, majority of them, Lily and Remus are always already friends! 9 times out of 10, if Remus has a POV and he is interacted with Lily or thinking about Lily, he refers to her has his best friend.

Idk who needs to hear this but Remus can have more friends than just Lily and the Marauders! In fact, EVERY. SINGLE. CHARACTER. Can have more friends then just the friend groups that they have been assigned to from the fandom.

I personally love the idea that Regulus and Remus get close because of their shared interest in books and knowledge. In fact, I love it so much when this happens. I also love when Remus is the one to introduce (formally) Lily and Regulus. Because they have shared interests! They all have shared interests and that’s what they bond over.

If we just forget about ships for a moment - Jily/Jegulus - Regulus and Lily would and could actually be really close friends. At their cores they are very similar and have similar morals and codes.

Like my girl Lily defeated Voldemort the first time. You cannot tell me that she did not have some deep interest and understanding of Dark Magic that is really not talked about enough. I mean, she was friends with Snape for a LONG time! Even against all her Gryffindor friends and dorm mates advice and opinions. She was friends with Snape for a long time and they definitely studied dark magic together. The only reason they stopped being friends was because Snape called her a slur and began siding with people that would have gladly seen Lily and people like Lily 6 feet under.

And then Regulus! He may not have made the best choices but when it mattered the most, he chose to do the right thing and go against Voldemort. He is the first to have done so! My guy was smart. He definitely knew so much magic that he has likely forgotten more than anyone would ever even know.

Regulus and Lily are both so smart and they would have bonded over their shared intelligence, their love for knowledge and books. Remus was probably terrified the day he realised he was the reason these two evil geniuses even started talking.

Maybe instead of saying that Regulus is being given Lily’s characteristics and traits, maybe think about how this would affect the two characters when put in the same room.

I personally think that they would argue for a long time and then Lily would probably say something that gives Regulus pause and then Lily would gently press on that and then Regulus would go have a long hard think and then come back and hesitantly ask Lily questions that Lily would happily answer and then they would be tentative friends!

Regulily have so much in common but they also have a lot of differences and I don’t think enough people see that because they are too focused on ships rather than the characters themselves and their motives and actions.

I’m not shy in admitting that I fuck with romantic regulily. They are my guilty pleasure ship and I am not shy about saying that.

Regulily, platonically, romantically, it doesn’t matter. They have the biggest grounds for friendship and growth.

Regulus and Lily can teach each other so much and I honestly think it’s the biggest missed opportunity when they are pinned against each other rather than working together.

I fear I’ve gone WAY off topic.

In the context of relationships, the jily vs jegulus idea. I feel like I need to hold people hands when I say this because the two ships are very different.

WARNING! OPINIONS!

To me, Jily is a rivals to lovers relationship. I don’t think they are grumpy/sunshine purely because I don’t see Lily as the grumpy trope. I very much think that Jily are academic rivals. Where James just naturally understands everything and gets good marks whether he studied or not and Lily has to study heavily before she understands a topic enough to pass, like Lily to me has to study throughly before everything sticks and she understands the topic so much more than is really required for her coarse work.

I also don’t think Jily was James falls in love at first sight and Lily hates him for years until she gives in and goes on a date with him. Sure it’s a bit cute but i definitely prefer James developing a crush and not telling anyone other than his friends. I very much fuck with James being uncharacteristically shy about his crushes on people. I fuck with James losing his ability to talk or function around the person he fancies and it comes off as arrogance and a bit of a joke when he is actually being genuine.

I love the idea that Lily falls for him slowly, like initially, she thinks she hates him, she loathes the fact that he doesn’t need to study and he can just goof off and do whatever and still get perfect grades, I think Lily gets jealous of James and thinks she despises him because she thinks he is trying to make fun of her when all he is trying to do is talk to her and get her attention.

I love the idea that Remus is constantly trying to talk James up to Lily, “he’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” And “He’s harmless, Lils.” And things like that but Lily has NONE of it!

I think Lily starts to fall for James when they are paired together for a project that is a big mark on their finals. I think Lily goes into this thinking that she is going to hate it when actuality, James is kind and thoughtful and helps her when she struggles. He doesn’t make fun of her, he sits down quietly and gives her tips and tricks that he discovered when he studies privately, (this would be when she finds out that maybe it doesn’t all come as naturally to James as she thought) and then they end up getting the best grade in their year on the assignment but they don’t stop hanging out, they don’t stop studying together. Lily slowly falls for James because of his mind and they form a friendship and then James would ask her out one day and Lily would find herself stunned because if he had asked her a few months ago, she would have harshly declined but in the moment, she finds herself blushing and agreeing without a hint of hesitation.

And that’s how I imagine Jily.

Now, Jegulus.

Jegulus is enemies to lovers, they are grumpy/sunshine. I very much think that they did hate eachother. They did not like eachother for many reasons and they would argue and fight in the halls.

I’m very much into jegulus but I don’t think I’ve seen a fic that has written them as actually enemies to lovers in a canonical setting.

Jegulus to me is very push and pull. One step forward, two steps backwards.

I honestly think that sure, when they met at 11 and 12 when Sirius had his little brother trailing after him and introduced them to each other, they both had the moment of instant connection that they both immediately denied and dismissed and buried under hatred.

James and Regulus see each other as competition. Regulus sees James as the one that stole his brother. James sees Regulus as the brother that doesn’t deserve Sirius.

Because Sirius told James all about his little brother all through first year and James was exited to meet him for a long time until they met and instantly realised that Regulus is a two faced snake and doesn’t deserve Sirius.

Because Sirius told Regulus all about his best friend in every letter, in every stolen moment during the holidays. Regulus was exited to meet James for a long time until they met and instantly realised that James isn’t the golden ray of sunshine that Sirius claims him to be but a brother stealing asshole.

I honestly think that Jegulus is THE enemies to lovers.

I don’t think Jegulus even had a civil conversation until after Sirius ran away. And even this conversation started as an argument. I think that they only reason the argument stopped and they started genuinely talking to eachother is because Regulus’ mask broke and James saw the hidden emotions underneath that Regulus was trying to hide.

I think that James held onto prejudice for a long time. He saw all Slytherins as evil and then didn’t think about that for years until he sees Regulus crack and then James has to rethink everything he has ever thought.

That’s how I think Jegulus starts and I don’t think they ever really talk about what they are or what they are doing for a very long time, to the point (if we are talking in a canonical sense) that they break and fall apart. To the point where they end up on different sides of a war.

ANYWAY! (this is really long and if you've read this far, just know that you are my favourite person in the entire world and I adore you to the ends of the universe).

Regulus and Lily, though they share many characteristics and traits and fundamentally different people. Even in the context of the people they are shipped with, even in the context of their friendships.

I love them both so much and I think saying that Lily is being replaced by Regulus is incredibly wrong and also perhaps a little misogynistic.

They are both incredible characters, who should not be defined by their relationships.

Like I said before. In the context of war, both Lily and Regulus were the first. Regulus may have failed to complete his mission and Lily may have succeeded in killing Voldemort… but at the end of the day both of them did not do anything in the long run. Voldemort was still able to return, the horcruxes still need to be destroyed and Harry still had to finish what the people before him started, Harry still had to fight a war he had no part in starting.

[cheshireliam]

"Wrapped in Wicked Romance" Story Event: Chapter 1

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Kate: Why did you… kill them…?

Ring: “Why”...? Is it not natural? 

Ring: I’ll kill anyone as long as Dari orders me to.

His face, splattered with blood, showed not even the slightest bit of doubt about the murder he just committed.

It was at that moment when I finally realised it.

He, too— was utterly evil. 

…

One night, I stumbled upon a secret I never should've known, which led to me becoming Fairytale Keeper for a month.

A week after, Vogel, an organisation consisting of Cursed Ones similar to Crown, appeared and seemed to be hiding something. 

…

A few days after my encounter with them, I was called upon by Vogel’s chief�� Darius. 

Darius: I’ve heard about it. To deepen your understanding of Crown’s members, you became their lover for a day.

Darius: We want you to do the same thing with us. The kind Miss Fairytale Keeper will surely agree to it, right? 

Unable to make the decision on my own, I quickly went to discuss it with Victor. 

…

Victor: Lovers for a day with Vogel? 

Kate: Yes. They also mentioned that they want me to show them around the city at the same time. 

Victor: I see… I don't have a problem with that arrangement. I happen to also have been thinking about giving them a tour of the city. 

Victor: What are your thoughts, Kate?

Kate: I… I can't stop thinking about what Harrison said to me that day. 

Victor: That Vogel is lying, is it?

Victor: I understand your concern, but we still can’t say for certain whether their lies are harmful to Crown. 

Victor: I doubt that they would be so reckless as to harm you in this situation. Therefore… 

Victor: The most important factor we should consider is what you want to do.

…

(What I want to do…?) 

(Victor did say he'd turn them down if I don't feel comfortable, but…)

(Since I’m going to have interactions with Vogel as a Fairytale Keeper, I’m personally curious about what kind of people the three of them are.) 

(So in order to find out… I’ll accept this request.)

(But before that…)

Kate: Excuse me, who is that tailing me? 

Ever since I left Victor’s office, I’ve had the gut feeling that someone was following behind me. 

When I voiced it out, a man emerged from the shadows.

Kate: Ring…? 

I called his name, although I still wasn't used to doing that because he only said very recently that I could address him as such without the use of salutations. 

Ring: Y-you misunderstood. I didn't mean to tail you today.

Ring: There’s something I want to ask you about… I just couldn't figure out when to approach you.

Kate: … Something you want to ask?

Ring: I wanted to ask who you’re choosing to be your lover for a day. 

Kate: Umm… and what do you intend to do with that information? 

Ring: Depending on whether you choose Nica or Dari, I’ll need to change my route and method for being their escort for security purposes. 

Ring: With the close, intimate distance of being “lovers”... who knows what tricks you’ll pull on the two of them. 

It appeared that Ring was wary of me and planned to protect them regardless of who I chose.

(Hm? But in that case…) 

Kate: What happens to the whole escort planning thing if I choose you to be my “lover”?

Ring: ME!? 

Ring: I- I don’t understand… Normally, either Nica or Dari would be chosen for this sort of thing. You don't need to consider such a possibility. 

Kate: But Darius said to choose “one member from Vogel”. 

Kate: So choosing you isn't a problem, right?

Ring: I-it’s a HUGE problem…! M-me as your l-lo-lov-lover…!? 

… Initially, I asked the question because I was genuinely curious how he intended to go about the escorting. 

But seeing Ring turning bright red and panicking sparked a mischievous impulse in me.

Kate: I’ve decided! I’m choosing you as my lover for a day.

Ring: WHAT!? You absolutely CANNOT do that! 

Darius: Really? I think that's a wonderful idea, though. 

The voice cutting into our exchange was Darius, who happened to be passing by.

Ring: D-Dari… why?

Darius: Somehow, it sounds like it’d be interesting. 

Ring: But what if she “cajoles¹” me into doing her bidding…!? 

¹ The word for “cajole” is 篭絡 (ろうらくrōraku). Here, when Ring’s says it, it was written in hiragana as “ろーらく” to express that his pronunciation of the word wasn't very accurate; possibly because his first language is german and not english. 

Darius: You know such a complex phrase as “cajole”? Good job, good job. 

Darius: But don’t worry. Miss Fairytale Keeper could never be a threat to us.

Darius: Have I ever been wrong about such things? 

Ring: … Never.

Darius: Then there's no problem at all. 

Darius: Go on, Ring. Pass auf dich auf (have a great day²). 

² For the record, I don't understand German at all. I’m only translating based on the Japanese translation provided by the game in the form of furigana.

As soon as Darius said something to him in their native language, Ring became obedient like a well-trained guard dog. 

Ring: … Alles klar (understood). 

…

The next day, I became Ring’s lover for a day and was tasked to give him a tour of the city.

Kate: I look forward to spending the day with you. 

Ring: … Oh, uh, yeah. Dari ordered me to “pretend to be Miss Fairytale Keeper’s lover for a day”. 

Ring: Going on a… d… da… date… with you… I- I’ll do it just fine. Just you watch…! 

(Ring looks extremely nervous…)

I was a little nervous myself, but seeing how tense he was actually made me feel better. 

Ring: S-so… the first destination is The Scala, right?

Kate: Yes. Since it’s a date, I decided to take you to some of my favourite places today. 

Kate: We could take a carriage there, but the weather is pleasant today. Shall we walk instead?

Ring: … Got it. Also, um… 

Ring looked like there was something he wanted to say as he stretched his right arm out in my direction. 

Kate: …?

Ring: Ah! No… nothing. T-this is just me warming up! 

He pulled his arm back and started rolling his shoulders in circles.

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 9 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii

part ix (snowed in)

When Tomura gets back to his desk, there’s a present waiting for him. Tomura’s Secret Santa doesn’t need REMEDIAL GIFT-WRAPPING, which means he can rule out anyone who was there as a suspect. Tomura peels open the wrapping paper and finds a pair of gloves – and a note. With the gifts, there’s always a note, and the notes have been getting longer. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they have more to say to him than they used to. Tomura’s weird enough that he likes the notes almost as much as he likes the gifts.

Dear Tomura, this one reads. I know I’m off-list again, but I saw these and they reminded me of you. A lot of the things I see remind me of you, but I think you’d be freaked out if I bought you most of them. I kind of want to ask Toga to ask you what you think of what you’ve gotten. If I’ve missed something obvious. Or if you’ve thought of other things you’d like since you made your list.

Tomura’s thought of other things, yeah. The problem is, he’s usually only thought of them after he’s opened a gift from his Secret Santa that has one of those things in it. Whoever his Secret Santa is, they’re good at this. Better than him, even if he knows how to wrap presents now. He keeps reading the note. I’d like to say I got the gloves in advance, but if I’m being honest, they’re extra. I saw the storm in the forecast and I thought about how cold it already gets down in the basement. I can think of better ways to keep your hands warm, but this is probably the most practical. Merry almost Christmas! Yours, your Secret Santa.

The gloves are lightweight when Tomura puts them on, but warm and soft on the inside – and they’re touchscreen gloves, so Tomura won’t have to take them off to use his tablet or his phone. They’re exactly right, just like all the other gifts Tomura’s Secret Santa has gotten him, but even as he folds the note and tucks it away in the same place he’s kept the others, he keeps getting stuck on the idea of other ways to warm his hands.

It’s fucking freezing in the basement, and it’s empty, even though it’s technically still work hours. Did everybody else just bail after the gift-wrapping thing?  If nobody else is here, Tomura’s not sticking around, either. He packs up his stuff and heads upstairs. Maybe he can get home before this storm or whatever it is kicks up in earnest. But when Tomura gets to the lobby, he finds out that he’s missed his window. The sky’s already darkened, and the parking lot is already covered in a layer of snow.

Tomura waited too long. If he hadn’t stuck around to wrap gifts with you – but even as he has the thought, he realizes that he doesn’t regret it even a little bit. It’s worth it, even if it means that he has to trudge through snow to the train station. You take the train home from work, too, don’t you? Tomura knows you had more work to do after the two of you finished the gifts. You told him so. What if you’re still here?

Your part of the office doesn’t have windows. Maybe you haven’t seen what the weather’s like. Tomura turns away from the front doors and heads back into the building to give you a heads-up.

You look surprised to see him, when he gets to your desk – but you aren’t unhappy. “Hey. Did you find, um – what are those?”

“The gloves? Secret Santa gift.” Tomura looks around your desk, trying to see if the gift he left you is anywhere. “Did you open yours?”

“Do you like them?”

“I’m wearing them.” If Tomura didn’t like them, he’d have put them in his desk and forgotten about them. He spots the stapled-shut paper bag he left for you this morning sticking out of your backpack. “Do you not like opening yours in front of people?”

“I was saving it so I’d have something to open tomorrow,” you say. “I heard somebody say that the office might be closed because of the storm.”

The snow. Right. There was a reason Tomura came up here, and it wasn’t just so he could see you again. “It’s already snowing. We should go now if we don’t want the trains to stop running on us.”

You look surprised. “You came to get me?”

“You take the train, too,” Tomura says. He doesn’t get why you’re looking at him like that. “We can walk together.”

“Okay,” you say. You smile at him, and Tomura’s face flushes badly enough that he actually considers covering it with his hands. “I’ll get my stuff.”

The weather looked bad when Tomura was just watching it through the doors, but once the two of you actually get out in it, Tomura realizes that it’s even worse than he thought. It’s the stupid wind. It keeps changing direction, blasting snow and ice crystals into his face no matter which way he looks, and the hood of his coat won’t stay up. His ears are freezing, even though his hair is covering them. It’s not a long walk to the train station, but Tomura knows he’ll have a splitting headache by the time he gets there.

“Here.” You’re wearing a hat and a scarf, and you take off the hat and offer it to Tomura. Tomura tries to say no, but you put it on him anyway, tugging it down over his ears. “I’m not the one who hates the cold.”

You’re right, but something about it strikes Tomura as weird. “How’d you know I hate the cold?”

“Everybody knows that.”

Tomura’s pretty sure everybody doesn’t. If they did, he’d get a lot more ironic let-it-snow shit from his friends around Christmas. There’s only one place you could have heard that, which means that you either know who his Secret Santa is – or it’s you. “Where did you hear that?”

“Sorry?” You’re rewrapping your scarf, pulling it up over your face. “Couldn’t hear you. The wind is really loud.”

The wind is loud and it’s getting worse. Tomura can ask you again once you’re at the train station and out of the weather. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

You and Tomura started out walking side by side. By the time you approach the train station, you’re walking pressed close together, your hand grasping Tomura’s arm, Tomura leaning into you as much as he can without falling over. Part of him feels stupid about it. You’re not fighting your way through a blizzard or something. The rest of him is too happy with it to care. His ears are warm and he’s wearing warm gloves that he got from his Secret Santa who might be you, and you decided you wanted to hold his arm without him doing anything. In spite of the weather, Tomura can’t count this as anything but a win.

The station platform is empty when you get there, and Tomura feels a hit of foreboding even before he sees that every arrival screen is flashing the same message. “Out of service?”

You fumble your phone out of your pocket, almost dropping it. “They just shut down. We missed it by five minutes.”

Fuck. “We can’t stay out here,” Tomura says, and you nod. You don’t have gloves. Your hands are shaking. “We should go back to the office.”

“They have to keep the heat on so the pipes don’t freeze,” you say. “And we can probably get the lights back on even if Maintenance turned them off.”

Tomura’s pretty sure Maintenance left before the two of you did. You were the last ones still in the building. Everybody else left because of the storm, and if Tomura had just left instead of going back to tell you, he’d have been on the last train home – and you’d have been stuck at the office in bad weather, by yourself. Tomura doesn’t like thinking about it. He doesn’t like thinking about it so much that even if he’d known for a fact that going back to get you would have meant he’d be snowed in with you, he’s sure he’d have gone anyway.

He waits for you to put your phone away, then grabs your hands in his gloved ones. “Do you want your hat back?”

“It looks better on you,” you say. There’s nothing on the planet that would look better on Tomura than on you, and Tomura almost says so, except the way you’re looking at him is enough of a distraction that he can’t get the words out in the right order. “Come on. Let’s get back before it gets worse.”

It’s already worse on the way back. There’s more snow on the ground and more ice crystals whipping around in the air, and Tomura’s shivering on every step. You aren’t walking with your hand on his arm anymore. This time you’ve got your arm wrapped around him, even though you’re shorter than he is, holding on tight as the two of you shuffle along. Tomura wants to get inside and out of the wind more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life. And at the same time, he’s dreading the second when you’ll let him go.

<- part viii part x ->

[brownsugaboba]

title: “The Tension Between Us: 19+ version.”

december 22nd, 2024.

————————————————————————————

nanami kento x reader.

- black reader. (anyone can read, but emphasis on black.)

- 19+. (NO MINORS, only 19+)

————————————————————————————

“nanami, are you teasing me?” you ask him with a smile as he continue to catch your breath.

he opens his eyes and they linger down your face, to your neck, and finally your chest as it rises. he couldn’t help himself, it was getting harder and harder for him to stand here and do nothing to the most stunning piece of art that landed into his fingerprints.

“absolutely.”

you can’t help but crack a small smirk at his blunt and honest response.

“at least be easy with me..” you tease back with your head tilted slightly, and eyes still not looking away from his brown ones; standing your ground still.

his eyes finally look past your chest and up into your own. “aren’t i always?” he gently traces small circles along your ass cheeks.

you smile widely, your small dimple on your right cheek finally breaking through. “you remember what happened last time..”

“you sure you can handle this, honey.” you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your own response, considering nanami’s face changed almost immediately after.

he remembered the night unfortunately, and though he only lasted a few seconds, he remembered the intoxicating moment like no other. the tightness around your skin, and how only half of him could fit inside. regardless, the outcome was the same.

“it-“ he pauses. “it wasn’t entirely my fault.” he eyes grow destined for the moment to happen again after remembering it in full. the bulge in his pants already making it difficult for him to breathe.

“honey~“ you chuckle and he quickly interrupts you.

“no~” he mocks you, which makes you smile even more. “don’t honey me.”

“you couldn’t even fit all of me inside, sweetheart.” his voice was soft and whisper like, and it distracted you from him backing you up to the back of the front door.

“nanami i was-“

he interrupts you once again, his eyes completely full of lust and love now. “it made it a bit difficult to last, even then.. look at you. how long do i truly need my love?”

you gaze into his eyes and listen to his response closely, however, all you can think about was that day. that night..

“are you blaming it on me?” you ask him with a smirk.

“absolutely not.” he says with no hesitation, and continues to push you against the door. once you make it there fully he moves his hands from your back and bring them to your hips; tracing the curves of your body on each side.

“i came a bit earlier than we both would’ve liked..” he starts. “so let me show you that i wont. let me show you that i can last (y/n).”

you knew that he only called you by your name when he truly wanted something, needed it so dearly. and he knew that you wouldn’t say no. and though he had that one thing that could control you so easily, you loved it. just the sound of your name leaving his lips. though to everyone else it sounded exactly the same, it sounded completely different to you.

before you can respond however, he moves his head lower down to your level; and since you were already slightly tall, it made things easier. he places his head in the crook of your neck and gently whispers into your ear, his lips purposefully touching your skin as he did so.

“i want this.” his hands find their way to your backside again, and he gives your cheeks a gentle squeeze. you can’t help but arch your back and let out a small hitch of breath in reaction to his sudden action.

“nana~mi.” the last syllable of his name had a slight moan added onto it as he gently glided his tongue along the side of your neck. you weren’t sure where this boldness came from, but you loved every second of it.

he slowly places a few kisses up along the now wet trail along your neck. his hands move from your backside and instead go up to hold your now arched back and pulls you in more.

he then pulls his head away and connects his eyes with yours again. however, he doesn’t go too far, he lets the tip of his nose run along your face. feeling the bumps and grooves he knew all too well.

“let me show you that i can make you moan-” he pauses in his speaking and movement, moving his lips over to yours. he gently bites your lower one before continuing.

“louder than they can make you laugh.”

he lean into his bite, arching your back fully now, wanting him to now taste you fully. he had you. right where he needed you, and you knew it. you couldn’t do anything less but to give in.

“let’s go do it then.” you finally let out, your heartbeat beginning to beat a bit faster than the few seconds before.

he lets out a small scoff and moves his lips away from yours now, which made you a bit saddened but nonetheless curious.

“why walk upstairs in those heels, and hurt your pretty feet, when i can have you here?” he asked, but it came out more like a statement. he pulls his head away from yours a bit more and slowly turns your body around, so that you faced the front door now.

you eyes were now aligned with the small round opening on the front door. you could see the dark sky, and other surrounding neighbors homes.. but you could only hear and feel your husband behind you.

he looks down and eyes your backside as he turns you, the arousing feeling in his heart and trousers only grew. he brings his hands down to your ass once again, holding both cheeks in either hand. he gently strokes the silk fabric covering your skin, before giving both a tight squeeze.

“i can’t believe i let you leave out like this, what an awful husband i am.” he says truly saddened.

you tense just slightly at the squeeze, not fully expecting it from him again. you can’t help but to arch your back just slightly and push out your size a bit more.. though you quickly stopped once seeing your neighbors leave out of their home.

“nanami, we can do this upstairs? the pullmans just-“

you were interrupted by his quick action of pulling you in close, and pushing your body forward; closer to the front door. with your head, now to the side, he moves his own to go beside it.

“i’ll talk you through it to keep you quiet, don’t worry sweetheart.” he whispers, trying to reassure you, but it did nothing.

all you could feel was the coolness from the door and his warm hands making their way underneath your dress. you felt as the silk fabric slowly rose above your thigh then your stomach. he moves his head from your own and looks down at the sight of your lace panties in his favorite color. the color only his favorite because of how it fell perfectly on your skin.

“it’s like you knew..” he whispered and you couldn’t help but smile, but your smile soon turned into a small gasp once he gently ran two fingers down your crack; along the lace fabric.

the small touch made your whole body feel hot, something only he could do. “nanami please..” you let out softly, hoping your neighbors didn’t hear. you’ve never gotten any noise complaints before, but that’s because you weren’t right behind the door.

“my sweet baby is begging already?” he whispered to you with a smile, going to place a peck on your cheek.

he moves his fingers back up your covered crack, then back down again a harder than before. he moves his fingers fuller down, running over your other covered holes as well.

you let out a soft moan, trying to catch your breath once again. you bring you hand up to cover your mouth, but nanami quickly grabs it with his other. instead, he moves it to your front side, and slowly inserts it inside your panties. he moves two of your fingers lower down and gently glides them across the surface of your now wet pussy, before moving his hand away.

you breaths speed up even more throughout his actions, knowing exactly what he was doing before he does it. “nanami, they’re right outside..”

once you finally feel your fingers gliding around the wet surface you made, you let out yet another moan.. and watch your neighbors glance over at the door.

nanami moved his head from beside yours and gently removed your panties, watching them slide down your legs. he brought his other hand fingers up to his mouth, and gently licked the two before bring them back down and running them along your crack once again.

the cool sensation sent a small shiver down your body, which only made him smirk in response. he then, without hesitation, inserted one of his fingers inside of your asshole; gently beginning to move it back and forth.

you let out a rather large gasp before groaning and slowly closeting your eyes. however the sight of your neighbors pointing at the door and whispering to one another made you grow quiet. instead, your legs tightened together, your hand still in between your thighs.

“honey.. we-“ you stop yourself as you feel another groan come up, and another one of your husbands fingers entering inside your whole. you close your eyes and try to get used to the new sensation, but you were too tight and body already trembling.

“sweetheart breathe for me..” nanami breathes out, he uses his other hand to unzip and unbuckle his trousers, finally releasing a bit of fabric so that his boner could breathe a bit. he takes his member out with a groan.

he slowly takes his fingers out of you and bring them up to his mouth to lick the taste of you away. he then wraps his arms fully around your waist, and pull you in entirely so that his boner was aligned with your crack. now with it against it, he gently moves his hips upward a bit, letting his length rub against you.

with both of your moans now intertwined, you can’t help but forget about the neighbors outside; and nanami could care less.

he moves his head beside yours yet again, his breaths almost as heavy as your own. “you’re too tight sweetheart, you need to breathe and relax.”

you try to take deep breaths but the only thing you can think about is how good nanami feels against you. “i don’t think i can.” you finally get out, your eyes closing even more as he continues to rub against you.

“insert one baby..” he whispered and placed a small kiss along your shoulder. “insert two.”

with no hesitation, you obey. you insert two of your fingers inside your vagina. your back almost immediately arching because of it. you couldn’t help it. your body felt so good that every touch felt too much.

nanami keeps ahold of your body, close and against his own, even when you almost lose your balance. though, you almost do, you thrust your fingers in and out of yourself. only causing more moans to be released from your lips. as you speed up the motion, and finally find your g spot, you don’t stop.

nanami notices this, and realizes how focused you are on hitting your climax. he uses this to his advantage, and pulls himself away from your body a bit to find your asshole once again. once he does he holds his member in his hand and gently inserts the tip of it.

you stop your fingers for a second, once you feel the new sensation. your body involuntarily pushes back against it; wanting more of the feeling inside.

nanami watched this with a smirk as he lets out a rather loud moan, inserting more of him in you. he feels you body slightly lose its balance again but he of course holds you back up in place; ready to take more in.

he pushes more into you, then more, then finally the last bit of what’s left. when it comes to the last of him, you let out a loud whine, and throw your head back, away from the door. your fingers slowly slide out of your heat right before you can release..

“n…n..nanami please..” you cry out. “i’m so close..”

he doesn’t mean to ignore you, however he does by mistake. with you two fully connected now, he wraps his stable body around yours like before and pulls you close once again. his arms wrapped around your body entirely as you fall back onto him.

“(y/n)..” he breaths out, his head beside your own as he holds on to you for dear life. “i need you to gain a bit of control, can you do that for me sweetheart?”

“please..” he whispers and you nod your head.

you open your eyes slowly, allow for the build up tears of pleasure to finally fall. nanami slowly lets go of your body, and slowly find your balance once again. he backs away from the front door while still connected to you, and gently leads your hand to the foyer table to hold on to.

“hold this and breathe sweetheart, i’ll have us both finished in a few seconds.”

you shiver from his confidence, your body continuing to tremble from the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation from behind.

before you could even get another breath in, your body jumped slightly at the rather large thrust nanami pushed against you. you lose your breath completely and try to find it again once you feel his member leave your hole. but nanami thrust back in again.. then lets it out.. then trust. then again, and again.

you grip onto the table and slowly start to bend over, enjoying the amounts of pain that came with the pleasure of nanami fitting inside of you.

he grips your cheeks as he thrusts over and over, his groans filling the house like a loud broadcasting channel. you thrust back against him, not nearly as hard as him, but hard enough to help him.

“(y/n..), (y/n…)” he lets out in heavy breaths as he continued to thrust.

“honey you feel so good.. i want to feel more.”

“i’m so close sweetheart, im-“ he pauses his speaking and actions, allowing for his member to tremble and twitch inside of you before finally releasing. he lets out a loud moan, along with you, and watches the sight down below.

you let out even more moans, and bring your thighs together to squeeze them, feeling your climax coming back.

he lets go of your cheeks and gently take out his member, allowing for the cum to run out of your hole, onto the floor. and for the rest, that’s on his tip, to wipe along your ass.

you shake your cheeks just slightly after feeling the warm substance on it, and turn your head to see his reaction.

nanami licks his lips at the sight, his eyes still hungry however when he finally locks eyes with you again.

he almost immediately drops his member and goes to cup your cheeks. (on your face.) “i haven’t seen those beautiful brown eyes in so long.” he whispers, his breath still shaky, along with his body.

you smile at his comment, your body turning around to face him, still trembling under his touch as well. “i could say the same about yours..” you breathe out.

“is it my turn?”

the question from you makes his heart flutters entirely, wanting to give you every last bit of him and more.

he gently picks you up and places you gently on the table that you were just gripping on for support. you keep your eyes connected with his own throughout his every move, not caring what he did with your body. you trusted him throughout it all.

he spread your legs and lifted them, placing them on his shoulders so that he could see you fully. his eyes slowly leave your own and trail down your body. he moves a bit of your dress out of the way so that he could see your breasts. he lets his hand now trail the middle of chest, down to your heat. he runs two fingers beside your lips before and brings his hand up to taste the substance you created.

your heat beat grows fast as you watch his every move.. once he put his fingers in his mouth, you couldn’t help but let out a small moan.. simply thinking about his tongue against you now.

he moves his hand down his body and grabs his still hard member, he runs his hand along the length before gently placing it inside.

you thought he was going to place only the tip like he usually did, however he inserted all of it. you kept your eyes connected with his own, though they closed a bit throughout feeling his full length inside of you.

you let out a gasp once all of him was inside, and you let out an even louder gasp once he started to move himself in and out of you.

his hands gently run along your naked legs, as he turns his head to the side and presses a soft kiss along your leg. he lets out a few groan against the skin there, and leans into it. fully enjoying how perfect his size fit inside of your vagina.

after a few more soft movements he slowly starts to speed up, his thrusting growing more rough this time around since he was a bit more stable; and you were less tight.

you legs involuntarily opened wider, and you let out more moans, closer your eyes as he sped up. you bring you hand to lay on your belly, feeling the imprint of him inside of you, then out.. then inside yet again.

“nanami honey.. n..nanami oh..” you mumble out and feel your thighs beginning to close and twitch.

he sees this as well and brings his hands down to hold them fully apart. he grips your thighs and quickens his thrusts inside of you, widening you by the second.

you throw your head back once again, letting out louder moans now. you were close, too close..

“i gonna cum.. b..baby i’m gonna c..cum.” nanami breathed out through his thrusts, your breasts moving in the same fast speed as him.

“me too baby.. tell me when… tell me when.” he breathed, waiting for his call.

he thrusts his quickest and holds it, pulling you in close to his embrace before finally releasing once he felt you did.

you let out a loud moan of his name and released as well, holding him tightly as you trembled still, now more than ever.

you slowly pull away from him and look down at the substances mix. nanami couldn’t help but smile at your quickness to see the sight. he gently takes his member out of you, and cum a bit more of your surface; slapping down his tip a few times just to get a small reaction out of you. like you did earlier with him.

you let out a small moan and watch as the cum slides off the table and onto the floor.

“should we go again, sweetheart?” he asks with a small smirk, pushing his tip along your heat.

fin.

————————————————————————————

note: i also didn’t read this over before posting.. it’s just been sitting in my drafts and i wanted to get rid of it. so if there are mistakes, close your eyes and shake your head a few times and they’ll disappear..

also, please let me know if you guys want me to include twitter links so that you can VISUALLY see what i’m writing about! i was going to include them but i wasn’t sure.

let me know some feedback!

thank you.

[procelibacyactivism]

incredibly informative post and I'm kind of mad that I didn't find it earlier.

The OkCupid Data has been debunked and there's been a lot of thoughtful opinions on it and why it exists and it's not because women have sky high standards It's because of the hottest women on the site get harassed by a large subset of men. way more men than women send messages to the top 1/3 of okc users based on their preferences. 2/3rds of male messages go to the top 1/3 of women in OKCupid. The graph peaks at one or below because that's what a skip reads as. women skip or give low ratings because they don't want harassing messages.

a man created fake profiles and found that the hottest 2 women received 581% more messages than the other three combined. when incels complain about Chad getting all the women they're quite literally projecting and if that was the case it would make sense because why the fuck would you go for a low quality moid if you had to choose? anthropologists wine that this is what happened in polygynous Africa historically but I don't think they're right. I think if women chose to pass the genes of the hottest men significant numbers and weren't being exploited and pressured by a patriarchal society of the process the picture would look a lot different.

u/EasyBriesyCheesiful wrote this, which clarifies the matter nicely imho:

You need to understand how OkC gathers their data for things like this. For their attractiveness scale, they use what they get from the “quick match” section of the site. What users see is a picture of the guy and a small portion of his profile. They have the option to rate him 1-5 stars or to “skip.” If you rate 4-5, it tells the other person that you “liked” them. If you “skip” the person, it rates them as a 0 of 5 – but nowhere does it say that this is a thing. This is why the scale for guys’ attractiveness has a weird bump below 1 – from women skipping.Women are likely to rate lower or skip entirely if they don’t want a guy to message them. And on OkC culture, women typically get messaged a ton. They don’t want anyone messaging them unless they want to be messaged. This holds true even if they would consider a guy physically attractive – something turned them off or they just don’t want them messaging for some other reason.

Guys are more likely to rate high on anyone they consider attractive because they don’t typically have problems with too many messages. There’s also no change in positioning on the page, so a lot of people will just sit on one rating (or skip) until they come to someone they like enough for OkC to tell them. Messaging statistics are combined with these ratings (to attach an “attractiveness” score) and drawn from who messages and replies to who. So this whole thing can really only give insight into OkC dating culture, not much in the physical world.

Why "male loneliness epidemic" is a male supremacy psyop

I said in a former post that the "male loneliness epidemic" is not real and is a male supremacy psyop, and I want to explain more broadly why it is.

Manosphere

If you don't know about it yet, there is a thing called "Manosphere", a name that stands for a group of communities created by men and oriented towards men. Manosphere is composed by incels, redpill, blackpill, MGTOW and MRA ideologies.

Incels are "involuntarily celibates", men who want to date but can't do it. The term was created by a woman called Alana (invcel) and mostly refered to people who felt isolated and incapable of forming romantic relationships or trapped on a dying relationship.

Redpill stems from the Matrix scene where Neo has to choose between the redpill and the bluepill, being the redpill the one who will awaken him. The whole ideology started to take its form in pick up artistry forums such as SoSuave, and states that in order to mate and get laid a lot you have to become a "high value male", while also understand "female nature". The original big three exponents of these ideology were Rollo Tomassi, Chateau Heartiste and Roosh V, but nowadays only Rollo remains moderately relevant.

Blackpill is the most pessimistic and nihilistic version of the redpill, it is tied to incels but is not exclusive of them. It focuses on biological determinism, and states that the most important thing on mating is looks.

MGTOW started as an independent community, with a first manifesto written in 2001 in a male forum. In the manifesto they advocated in favor of a society with enforced gender roles and a smaller state. But nowadays they are connected to redpill and blackpill. It is mostly overlooked, but in spanish communities there are also two other manifests, MGTOW 2.0 and MGTOW 3.0. I don't know if there is a fourth one, but both help to understand the transition MGTOW has made over the years and how manosphere ideologies have been adopted by this group.

MRA stands for Men's rights activism, also called Men's rights Movement (MRM). The father of the movement is Ernst Belfort, who wrote against women's rights and the "legal subjection" of men, in response to feminists and John Stuart Mill. Nowadays is also tied with redpill, given that prominent figures of the movement promote or believe in redpill ideology, such as Paul Elam or Karen Straughan.

In 2014, Cassie Jaye who was allegedly a feminist by that time, did a documentary on MRA called "The Redpill". It's not clear why she called it that way, but it is suspected that it was with the purpose of dragging more people on the redpill. It is also said that she received money from Theredpill subreddit. The documentary was international, since it reached both english and spanish audiences (I don't know much about other languages/countries). It exposes a lot of problems men face, such as dying in war, losing custodies and domestic violence, but never explains what MRAs do to help those men.

That term

Once you become familiar with all these communities, you start to see how they are all the same. They share the same stats, the same studies, the same terms, the same narratives. The only thing that changes is the label, if the members can or not to have sex with women, if the members want or not to have sex with women, and if the members "care" or not about society.

One of the core terms that is transversal to almost all communities is "Hypergamy". (The central one on MRA is Gynocentrism). And is a tricky one.

Men on these communities are used to gaslight and belittle external people, but also they bully each other constantly. In spanish, for example, MGTOW ones used to dedicate each other long livestreams and called each other cucks, betas, manginas, etc. One point of discussion and "artistry" on the manosphere is hypergamy. It has inspired long videos, livestreams, books, blogspots and debate among its members. Entire communities have been divided over this concept, and others have been created.

In their videos and "private" spaces they call any woman hypergamous. MacKenzie Scott divorced Jeff Bezos, and she was called hypergamous by these people, arguing that she planned it all and ignoring that she divorced because Jeff cheated on her. Women who date men who are more attractive than them are hypergamous, women who date men who are less atractive than them but have money are hypergamous, women who date men with less education than them are hypergamous. Women who rate men "below average" (another male bullshit story) are hypergamous.

Women's nature is hypergamous and male nature is not, even if men also leave their geriatric wives for 20 year old women, even if men also cheat with a more attractive mistress, even if men marry more educated women, even if men marry women with more money. They are not hypergamous, they are polygamous, but also don't mind to settle with a woman given that "women choose" and men barely have any chance with women.

Are you getting it, right? Anything a woman do is hypergamy. Except when you call them out and tell them it's all fake. Then, they come with studies on hypergamy. "How can you say that women are not hypergamous if this study say that they 'marry up'?". Suddenly the term only applies to marriage.

Here's the deal. Hypergamy is a term used by social scientists that is related to marriage and the act of marrying up in social class, annual income or status. Since superior education in the west is a high sign of status (repeated two times in a list of status signals among men and women across 14 countries), studies on the subject account for income and degrees.

The research found that women are married to men who earn more than them, but don't have more education than them, so men are "marrying up" in status. Such trend has no substantially changed among decades. Nevertheless, it is recognized that it doesn't translate on men being the breadwinners, given that most marriages are dual income.

But it's enough to them, even when the second they provide those studies they make it clear they are being dishonest. The seeds have been planted; women are choosing only the rich ones to marry, leaving poorer men single. The one who is debating them and the ones watching the exchange, only have to start to believe that female hypergamy is rising, being amplified by technology and being extended to other aspects of relationships.

The Lie

The manosphere term is not the one that social scientists use. It is whimsical and doesn't have sense...on the surface. The magic is on repeating that women are hypergamous, that they will choose all the time only a few men and let the rest sexless, single or childless, that sexual revolution and women's freedom of choice is a disaster and contrary to civilization. If the lie is repeated enough times, people will start to believe it.

And well, it worked. It worked so well that feminists, instead of checking the data, see the male strategy and debunk the nonsense, decided to repeat the same lie. Women are choosing better, women are making men single and sexless! Pussy Power! There is literally a book on this.

White supremacists also adopted the term, and the manosphere also adopted white supremacists perspective; they quote the work of Roger Devlin, Sexual Utopia in Power from time to time.

Normal people also believe in it. They say that there is a male sexlessness crisis, singleness crisis, marriage crisis, birthrate crisis. And women are the problem, they should lower their crazy standards, they should stop being delusional.

Women are rating 80% of men below average! They are delusional! Their simps make them believe they are 10/10!

It's extremely easy to fall in the rabbit hole. They start hearing about a disbalance on the distribution of sex, or dating, or in dating apps matches. They start hearing about a singleness crisis among men, and they have already accepted that such disbalance, such crisis is a modern thing, because no one seemed to talk about it in the past. (right?)

They hear about male loneliness and mental health issues, and they understand that the disbalance is a bad thing. So they are one step away from start believing that mating is a process that should be regulated and controlled by the state, religion or cultural norms. Like, one click away from watching Jordan Peterson saying exactly that.

The manosphere have been repeating this idea for more than 10 years. At least one decade feminists had to stop this shitshow and they didn't, which is surprising given that the whole thing is perfectly summarized in the white supremacist essay I linked above.

The ones who spread and believe in this idea don't care about the data, they want the narrative, and it can be used to promote diverse agendas. So, instead of debunking and calling out, they prefered to use the narrative for the feminist cause and they are now losing. Women are losing. Women lost.

The truth

While the General Social Survey graph from 2018 is made viral again and again on social media, the same survey on more recent years is completely ignored.

The most repeated bunk of the last couple years.

Reality is that in both 2021 and 2022, the sexless in those years where below the 20%, which is consistent with former years. Most men and women were having sex. In 2021, women even reported being slightly more sexless than men.

The survey also included a variable to measure people who were sexless for the last 5 years. Less than 10% of men and women reported being sexless.

It is also repeated constantly that there are more single men than women, and it is suggested that it is because women are part of soft harems with High Value Males. This idea has been repeated so many times that even researchers have adopted it.

But the truth is that this disparity has been a thing for decades, even a century.

Before the sexual revolution, when everyone was married (right?) there was also a disparity between single men and single women. The key here is that the disparity exists between young people, and the most near explanation is age gap relationships. But also, nowadays people report less interest in having a relationship.

I't curious how the "women and men are different" crowd swear that single women are looking for casual dates with "high value males" when it has been proven over and over than men have a higher sexual drive.

Dating apps don't seem to aggravate any human mating tendency, hook up culture has remained the same since the 80's. Here's a deep dive on dating apps and dating.

Academic naiveté(?

Manosphere gives a final push for the hypergamy narrative by quoting the experts on the matter. And somehow, researchers don't have a problem with it.

It has been said that there is or will be a mating crisis among educated women, because there will be a shortage of high income husbands. They say "women don't marry because there are not enough economically attractive men". And with "don't marry" they understand "remain single and childless".

Such crisis doesn't exist. Marriages between college educated people are the longest ones, even there are less widows and divorces. Educated women are more likely to be married than the opposite.

Their focus is on marriage, and I don't know why. They willfully ignore that between 40% and 60% of children are born outside of marriage in most European countries and how american women see children as a need and marriage as a luxury.

In the US, the poor are cohabitating and having children together, but they can't afford to marry or are afraid to marry and divorce just a couple of years later. Women are mating and having children with men that barely can pay bills, but they keep pushing for the "women are too picky" narrative.

The real crisis is happening among classes, the poor are poorer and the rich are richer. They are sharing their assests with each other and forming strong families while the poor live paycheck to paycheck.

Ironically, equality and women's choice have achieved what these men are apparently longing for. The secretary marrying her boss or the nurse marrying the surgeon is becoming a thing of the past. The doctor is marrying other doctor, the boss is marrying a woman with a Phd. Notice how rich men are not dating down, even when rich they marry rich women, not the cashier 20 years younger than them.

To counteract this they quote Leonardo Dicaprio and his creepy behavior, without noticing that the man is not marrying or having children with those women. While even richer men are married and with kids with women at their level.

The future

It's clear to me that the agenda is settled, and they will do anything that can reinforce it. They won't be able to use sexlessness or singleness gap as a thing, so they have created a new term: "dysphoric singlehood". And they will start measuring it soon.

The stats, the terms, the memes will change. But the core will remain the same; "women will destroy civilization" at worst and "women's nature cause pain to men -and only men- and it should be controlled or put in check" at best. And there are and there will be groups who will propose tight control over women as a solution.

Conclusion

It is important to understand that evolution doesn't allow everyone to reproduce. It's nothing new that some men and women didn't pass their genes, this was a thing in the past and will always be.

The influence of women on reproduction is discussed, but given that even in cultures with arranged marriages the future wife has a word on it and mothers, who are also women, have also a said in who the husband should be, I highly doubt that there was a long period of time in human history where women had no choice at all. But even if that scenario is true, the whole genetic side of mating still plays a role on it; female bodies reject embryos who are not fit or genetically compatible with them.

Mating, having sex and therefore, reproducing is not a right. The whole point of evolution is that only fit subjects can make it, and the few remaining ones are left behind. This process is not being blow up by technology or women having more freedom.

The most important lesson about data on human relationships, is to be careful with the word "single", because most of the time it is about unmarried people. There is a default focus on married people and anyone who is not married is put in the "single" cage and overlooked. The second lesson here is to not believe a great narrative that relies on only one source or one result obtained in only one given year.

Finally, I think this whole deal exposes feminism as a fraud. They are not rooting for women. Women have been terrorized and killed by men who genuinely believe that there is a crisis caused by women. Instead of thinking on this, they chose to integrate the same narrative for ideological purposes and give women a false sense of power and victory over men.