#doesn’t seem like a lot but it is to me

[euthymiya]

[ ASKING PRICE — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: kinich isn’t so happy that you spend time with ajaw. you’re more than willing to pay the price to make up for it

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; slightly jealous kinich (of ajaw getting more attention) ; ajaw cameo! ; lots of kisses ;) (kinich not ajaw)

You laugh, and Kinich’s vein all but pops.

Normally, he’s agitated by Ajaw on most hours of most days. That much is a well known fact. But not today, though—because today, he’s absolutely infuriated. (And no, this is not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis. This anger is very much here to stay and not go anywhere.)

You’re here to complete a commission with him, not spend your time giggling with a certain saurian. And your kindness is very much wasted going towards someone as pompous as Ajaw—still, there’s a part of him that admires it. Only you could manage to be kind to someone as difficult to get along with.

What he doesn’t admire, however, is that you happen to be the one person Ajaw also doesn’t mind being kind to. (Well, as kind as someone like Ajaw can get, that is.)

“—and when the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw summons the howling winds, and sets the whole world ablaze, you can be the only survivor!”

It’s a grating voice, Kinich thinks distantly, rolling his eyes at the way you chuckle and give a grateful nod, entertaining the pure nonsense of a fool. Ajaw has approximately the same brain power as a dead saurian. That’s to say: none. How you manage to laugh at jokes made by such a simpleton is beyond the comprehension of someone like Kinich—but he supposes you’ve always been kind to a fault. A pity laugh certainly isn’t something you’re above, he supposes.

“Will I have the luxury of ruling by your side as your trusty sidekick?” You play along. It seems to please the dragon, earning a haughty laugh.

“I suppose you can have a small corner to call yours,” he agrees, “just make sure you push that slimy, slithering, miserly worm off a cliff and I’ll allow it.”

You glance over at Kinich as soon as the words are uttered by the obnoxious loud mouth beside you, and he can feel the last of his veins snap—that is, until you smile, giving him a playful wink.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you giggle.

“See?” Ajaw turns to look at him, making Kinich’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “You should be more like this one! The Almighty Dragonlord—h-huh? Hey!”

“Kinich!” You scold, watching as Ajaw cuts himself off with a scream, flying off into the distance from one irritated flick of Kinich’s fingers.

“What?” He huffs, crossing his arms as you throw your head back and laugh.

“You’re cute, you know. When you get like that.”

“Like what?” It comes out as a grumble. A rather petulant one, at that—he almost cringes hearing it in his own tone.

He knows what you mean, too. You know he does, so you reach over to ruffle his hair as his lips curl into a deeper frown. It’s not lost on you, however, that he almost seems to lean into your touch, almost seems to savor the feeling of your palm against his head.

“It’s cute when you’re jealous,” you tease. “Adorable, you know? Seeing you sulk is a bit rare.”

“I was not sulking,” he protests. That, of course, pulls a laugh out of you that makes him sulk even harder. “And I’m not jealous. Being jealous of Ajaw is absurd.”

“Oh but I think you were,” you nudge his shoulder, lips stretching into a knowing grin as he grunts. “Don’t worry, I’d never push you off a cliff.”

“That’s because you’d never manage to,” he shrugs. You give him a playful scowl as you huff, you don’t know that, under your breath. He fights back an amused smile, trying to keep his seriousness in tact. “Have you had enough fooling around? We have a commission to complete. You’re going to make me lose out on mora.”

“Is that so?” You say thoughtfully.

By now, Kinich knows that face. It’s not a very welcomed face, either—it means trouble for him. Some form of scheming on your end that almost always ends with you getting what you want, and almost always ends with him walking away as a loser of sorts. It’s his own fault, of course. Being powerless against your charms is a weakness he’s not entirely managed to overcome yet.

But he’s trying—and he’ll get it one day. He’s sure of it.

“I don’t like that face,” he says dryly, eyeing you cautiously.

“What face?” You gasp, mock innocence feigned even as the mischief creeps into your eyes. He can see it. Sense it. Feel it. Almost like he can tell a foe is coming even before they strike—it’s a practiced precision of sorts.

“That face you make when you’re up to something. I can tell you have something up your—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making him go silent almost instantly. A small part of him can feel his cheeks burn, but the bigger part of him melts before he can even comprehend it.

“What if I paid you a better price,” you murmur, “and commissioned some of your time?”

A hand trails up his chest, rubbing slowly against the expanse of it over his shirt, stopping just over his heart. Evil, he wants to tell you, how evil you are to rest your palm right over his erratic heart.

Like you sense the pounding beat, you grin sweetly.

“You’ll need a better price than that,” he mumbles quietly when he finally finds his voice, clearing his throat subtly.

“Haggling over prices with me?” You pout. “Not even I can get a discount.”

“Of course not,” he says stubbornly. A strong arm wraps around you, pulling you against his sturdy chest as you bite back a grin. “I only accept offers with appropriate prices.”

“Fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes in defeat, leaning in to press a firm peck to his lips. “Will that cover it?”

“Not quite,” his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer. So close, you think his lips could knock into yours from a gentle breeze alone.

But he’s still. Patient. Painfully observant as his eyes stare into you and wait for what he wants—and, well, Kinich always gets his asking price. One way or another, he never walks away short of a single mora.

Or kiss.

So you lean in, pressing your mouth to his as your hands cup his face, tracing the skin above his cheekbone delicately as he sighs softly. His eyes flutter closed, and briefly, he thinks how nice it is when it’s just you. And him. And no Ajaw.

He should keep it like that more often.

He needs it, you think. Needs to feel you up close and personal, needs to know you’re here and staying, needs to know you’re his and only his.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when you finally break away, earning a quiet chuckle from you before you plant a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“How was that?” You whisper, kissing along his jawline, earning a small shiver of approval from him. “Was that payment enough?”

“I suppose for now,” he mumbles.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” you tease, grinning against his skin.

But you know as well as he does, you’re than happy to afford his prices. And then some, too. You’re as generous about spending as he is enthusiastic with taking.

“Or maybe you’re just being stingy,” he shoots back. With a fond shake of your head, your lips are back on his, cradling his face as he leans into you until he can’t tell where you start and where he ends.

It’s hard not to give into your charms, but he’s not so sure it’s a losing battle. It feels suspiciously close to a win, in fact—that is, if Ajaw stays far, far away. (And again, it would be nice if it was not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis.)

He’s sooooo cute and his backstory literally haunts me I want to kiss him so bad you guys don’t get it. I was supposed to skip him but 173 wishes later I now have a c4 diluc and a c0r1 kinich 🥹

[robo-writing]

How different Logan’s would eat you out <3

X1, X2, and X3

✦A mix between ravenous and romantic. He wants you to know just how much you’re loved, and he expresses that by how long he can eat your pussy without stopping. savoring each and every movement from you, he actually enjoys when you lose control and tighten your legs around his head, moaning something along the lines of you’ll be the death of me as he laps at your cunt.

Your thighs quake around his head, hands in his hair as you look down at him. He’s having the time of his life, licking at your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll do in this life, pulling you down and forcing you to sit right on his face.

“Don’t need air, stay,” he mumbles, eyes looking up at you. “Just stay here for me sweetheart.”

You want to protest but goddamn does he make it hard for you, especially when his hands grip the fat of your ass and grind you onto his lips. Higher and higher, you feel your orgasm taking hold with each movement.

“Logan, gonna come,” you whine, and he pushes you as far down as you can go.

“Come on my face doll,” he groans, tonguing at your shaking entrance. “Get my face nice and wet, yeah?”

Origins Wolverine

✦Lovey dovey sickeningly sweet romantic sex; down for anything as long as you’re involved. Sit on his face? Gladly. Pull your legs over his shoulders? Just say when. The kind of lover whose heart skips a beat every time he sees you naked like it's the first time, despite the fact that you're married with a house. Speaks to your pussy as if it’s separate from you.

“How’s my girl doing? Doing alright?”

Your answer is a moan, your pussy clenching around nothing. Logan smiles at your response, thumb stroking up to press against your sensitive clit.

“Yeah, doing just fine ain’t you?” He breathes, kissing the hardened nub before returning to suck on it, your legs shaking in response. “And my other girl’s nice and ready ain’t she?”

“Baby,” you whine, desperate to cum. He’s edged you for as long as possible and you’re almost certain if you wait any longer you’ll actually die. Thankfully Logan grants you mercy, tightening his hold on your thighs as he focuses all his effort into making your pussy leak on his face.

“Come for me sweetheart,” he groans, and you do. Fingers digging into the sheets, you feel your orgasm take hold as Logan wrings every ounce of pleasure he can, kissing at your thighs when your overstimulated pussy can’t take any more.

You barely catch your breath before he speaks to your cunt, admiring how your come trails down your thighs.

“There she is,” he chuckles, index finger slowly collecting the remains of your juices, admiring how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. “Nice and satisfied, ain’t she?”

DOFP Logan

✦Second biggest munch. Running from danger constantly doesn’t make a lot of time for sex so whenever he finds the rare opportunity to do so best believe he’s jumping at it. Likes to joke that he’s started to go grey because he can’t fuck you as often as he likes. Truly eats you out like he needs your pussy more than he needs air.

“Need to be quiet baby,” he growls, pinning your thrashing hips against the wall. “You’re going to get us caught.”

It’s one of the rare days when you’ve found a safe house, even rarer that it’s just you and Logan alone for once. One look at his face and you already knew what was running through that adamantium skull of his, dragging you away to the nearest closet where you’ve been for god knows how long—the concept of time always seems to leave you wherever Logan’s talented mouth is involved.

You’re biting at your hand to muffle your moans but it’s still not enough, free hand tangled in his graying strands as an anchor. You can see his eyes roll back at the feeling, sloppily kissing up your pussy.

“God I wanna hear you,” he moans. “I’d give anything to fuckin’ hear you baby, but you’ve gotta behave for me. Don’t want anyone else seein’ this.”

The scene is something straight out of a porno—your legs hooked over his shoulders as he eats your cunt feverishly, the filthy sounds he makes with each movement, your hips desperately chasing his mouth—you wish this could never end.

70s Logan

✦By far the most selfish, he eats you out for his pleasure alone. He doesn’t give a damn if you’re crawling away, he will pull you back and lock his lips around your clit until you’re damn near thrashing in his arms, grinding against the mattress because that's just how hard he is. He won’t apologize for making you pass out, nor will he stay the night, but if he likes you enough you might find a card on your nightstand with his number hastily scribbled onto it.

When you decided to bring tall, dark, and grumpy home you didn’t expect it to end with tears running down your face, practically begging for a reprieve that won’t come. His hands lock together, forcing you still as he eats you out, not giving a damn about how pathetic you sound.

“Quit fuckin’ squirming,” he grunts, nosing at your pussy. “Lemme enjoy this.”

The man is talented, that’s a fact. Knows just how to push your buttons in all the right ways, but the problem is that he’s pushed your buttons nearly three times already and you’re almost certain his beard is going to give you the worst rash you’ve ever had.

But damn it if he isn’t responsible for some of the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

“Logan, fuck—lemme take a break,” you’re begging at this point, slapping at his shoulders when he doesn’t let up. Your breath catches in your chest when he smacks your thigh roughly in response, smiling against your pussy when he feels you clench in response.

“Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying yourself,” he mocks, showing just how true his words ring when his fingers rub circles against your clit.

You swear you can feel any coherent thoughts leak out of your ears, focused solely on coming. It’s embarrassing how well he plays your body like a fine tuned instrument, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you’re squirting a mess onto your mattress.

“There we go, ain’t that a sight?” He laughs, pulling you closer towards his face. “Now, be a good little slut and behave while I enjoy my meal, okay?”

Old Man Logan

✦#1 munch and it’s not even close. When his job leaves him tired and his body is sore he finds comfort between your legs, it’s the only time he can turn his brain off and drown himself in you. He’s so fucking starved that he’ll genuinely get lost in his own headspace and ignore your thrashing and whining just to wring another orgasm from your tired body. Kisses your labia and mutters how she's such a pretty pussy as you're trying to catch your breath.

Logan didn't even bother to shed his clothes, making a beeline directly to you the moment he stepped inside your shared home. Dirt still settled on his skin, his head nestled into the crook of your neck as your bodies sway within the closed off kitchen. "Missed me, huh?" you ask, his sigh answer plenty. "Always miss you princess," he whispers, pulling you closer. He lifts you up with warning, sitting you down on the countertop, kneeling between your dangling legs. His beard tickles your bare skin, pulling you close enough to place a kiss onto your pussy, right over the fabric of your panties. "Fuck," you sigh. "You really missed me." His smile is infectious, nuzzling against your fabric-covered core. He kisses you through it for a while before peeling off the moistened garment, thumbs reaching to stroke your pussy. The sight makes your skin hot, hands tangled in his hair. "Been waiting all fuckin' day for this," he moans, spreading you apart and indulging in your juices. "Can tell you were waiting for me too." You feel your body melt with every touch, Logan's hands an anchor as he makes out with your heat, nose bumping against your clit with each movement.

Worst Logan

✦Still trying to wrap his head around you wanting to be with him, but goddamn if he isn’t grateful. Reverent, like a sinner at an alter. Your word is law, likes it when you pull him by the hair and show him where you need it, loves it when you tell him how good he’s doing, presses himself further into your pussy when you’re ready to come. It's all about you and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You lovingly stroke his hair, back arching when he kisses your clit oh so gently.

“Lemme take a look at you,” you ask, and the sight of him is enough to make you come.

Face red, blushing so hard it reaches his chest, eyes so glazed over with lust his pupils leave nothing but small rings of green in his eyes. You cradle his face and the weight of his head falls into them immediately, chasing your touch.

“Gonna make me feel good, aren’t you?” You ask, and he nods his head, kissing your palm.

“Lemme taste you baby,” he whispers. “Swear to god I’ll make you feel good.”

“Never doubted you for a second Logan,” you whisper back, tugging his head back to your soaked cunt. He breathes in your scent, fucking groans at the sight of your pussy before he descends on it, noisily showing you just how much he meant his words.

“Fuckin’ delicious baby, so fuckin’ wet,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”

He only gets louder when you pull him forward by the hair, rough hands leaving a mark where his fingers grip your skin.

[writeriguess]

Hii! Could you do one where katsuki gets jealous bc reader it’s really close with izuku? Thank uu i love your stories! 🩷

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t known for his patience. He wasn’t known for being soft, either. His reputation was built on explosive outbursts, determination, and his constant need to be the best. And normally, he didn’t care about anyone getting close to you. You were his. End of story.

Or so he thought.

Lately, though, you’d been spending an awful lot of time with Izuku Midoriya. At first, Bakugo dismissed it. You and Midoriya were friends. He could tolerate that. But then, it started happening more often—study sessions that lasted way too long, little inside jokes he didn’t understand, the way you’d laugh with Midoriya, so effortlessly, like the two of you had no care in the world.

And that, that, got under his skin.

It was late afternoon, and Bakugo was already on edge. He had been training alone in the gym, venting his frustration with every punch thrown at the punching bag. Sweat dripped down his temples, and his muscles were tense, but nothing he did could shake the feeling that was clawing at his chest.

He stormed out of the gym, towel slung over his shoulder, looking for you. He found you exactly where he didn’t want to see you: sitting outside, across from Midoriya, laughing. Again.

Bakugo clenched his fists. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Midoriya had his eyes on you too, even if the damn nerd tried to hide it. Bakugo could see it—the way Midoriya's eyes lingered on you a little too long, how he always stood just a little too close to you, like he was waiting for something. And you… you didn’t seem to notice.

You looked up from your conversation with Midoriya and spotted Bakugo, waving him over with that smile of yours—the one that usually made his heart race. But right now? It only made the jealousy burn hotter.

“Hey, Katsuki!” you called out, your voice bright.

Midoriya turned and smiled awkwardly at him. “Hey, Kacchan.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched. He walked over, but instead of stopping next to you, he towered over Midoriya, glaring down at him.

“Move.”

Midoriya blinked, clearly confused. “W-what?”

“I said, move,” Bakugo growled, voice low and dangerous. “You’ve been hoggin’ her all day, nerd. Time’s up.”

Midoriya’s eyes widened, but he hesitated, clearly unsure of what was going on. “Kacchan, we were just—”

“I don’t care what you were doin’,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. His patience, thin as it was, had finally snapped. “She’s mine.”

You gasped softly, caught off guard by Bakugo’s possessiveness. You stood up, stepping between them before things escalated. “Katsuki, calm down. We were just studying.”

“Yeah? Looked like more than studying to me,” Bakugo muttered, his gaze never leaving Midoriya. “You’ve been spendin’ too much time with him.”

You frowned, clearly confused by his tone. “Katsuki, we’re friends. There’s nothing—”

“Friends?” Bakugo interrupted, scoffing. “You really think I can’t tell when someone’s tryna take what’s mine?”

Midoriya stood up quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “Kacchan, it’s not like that. I would never—”

“Shut up, Deku!” Bakugo growled. “This ain’t about you. This is about her.”

He finally tore his eyes away from Midoriya to look at you, his expression softer but still filled with that smoldering jealousy. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost vulnerable, like admitting it pained him.

You blinked, taken aback. This side of Bakugo—possessive, yes, but also insecure, maybe even a little scared—wasn’t something you saw often. Slowly, you stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

“Katsuki… you know you don’t have to be jealous, right?” you said gently. “There’s nothing going on between me and Izuku.”

Bakugo scoffed, but there was no real bite to it this time. “Tch. It doesn’t matter. I don’t like seein’ you with anyone else like that.”

You smiled softly, understanding the deeper feelings beneath his rough exterior. “I’m with you, Katsuki. Only you.”

For a moment, Bakugo was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. “Damn right, you are.”

Midoriya, still standing awkwardly to the side, cleared his throat. “I-I’ll just, uh… leave you two alone.”

As he scurried off, Bakugo smirked. “Yeah, you better run, Deku.”

Once Midoriya was gone, Bakugo pulled you close, wrapping an arm possessively around your waist. “Next time, you’re studyin’ with me. Got it?”

You chuckled softly, leaning into him. “Got it.”

And with that, Bakugo pressed a fierce but tender kiss to your lips, as if to remind you—and himself—that you were his, and no one else’s.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[innuendostudios]

New Alt-Right Playbook! This one's on spurious claims and how they don't even need to be ARTICULATED to follow you around.

If you wanna keep this series coming out (and maybe help it come out a little faster) do please consider backing me on Patreon or subscribing to me on Nebula.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you are the kind of progressive leftist with a platform who gets a share of harassment - seasonal or perennial - from reactionaries. In this situation, you will, inevitably, hear one who positions themself as a reasonable moderate ask, “Why Don’t You Respond To Criticism?”

There’s a lot going on in that question, more than is obvious, and it’s worth understanding.

First is that the question is not only directed at you. It exists as a marker, showing up in your Q&A’s, comment sections, or Twitter threads, to imply to anyone paying attention to you that there is some wealth of legitimate criticism you have long ignored. There may well be a specific point this person is referring to, but it’s often left unspecified or generalized, so that the content - and the quantity - of the criticism is left to audience imagination. It is meant to publicly undermine your legitimacy.

Second, it’s meant to make you question whether there is some legitimate criticism out there in the din of people screaming at you. You’re not perfect, and a knock-on effect of being harassed is you get numbed out, unable to discern good faith from bad, often removing yourself from the streams through which your peers used to correct you because of the endless flow of garbage coming through those channels now. But the only way to verify the ambiguous claim that there is criticism worth responding to is to once again strap on waders and climb in, which is often what your critic really wants.

Third, the question isn’t really “why don’t you respond to criticism?” Odds are, you do respond to some criticism. People in your position are often addressing or pre-empting criticism all the time, arguably too much. No, what this nonspecific question is really asking is, “Why don’t you respond to my criticism?” They’ll let it sound like you’ve been ignoring everyone, but they mean “why are you ignoring me?” They are going to insist you owe them a response, that their critique, regardless of your opinion of it, is valid, and demands immediate attention. Odds are there are dozens of people saying the same, all at once.

Fourth, odds are good that you have, in fact, addressed their specific complaint, but not in a manner they will accept. This one person’s criticism is likely not unique, you may have covered it somewhere in your output purely because you know what kind of arguments are getting thrown at you and you want to cover your bases. There’s a decent chance your critic doesn’t actually consume enough of your work to have seen it. But it’s maybe even more likely that they are aware of your counter-argument - possibly one of your fans directed them to it - but don’t consider a response legitimate unless it is directed at the critic. Covering it in a different context or on a different platform doesn’t count. They are owed a statement they can respond to directly, because they want the argument to continue. Really, the question is, “Why don’t you respond to my criticism on my terms?”

Finally, even if you did respond to them by name, it’s likely your response would still be disqualified. If you were to summarize their argument in any way, they would claim you are building a straw man. If you isolated any specific critique, or pointed to the cruelty that accompanied it, they would claim you’re cherry-picking. You must, it seems, first present the criticism, full and unabridged, before you may respond to it. Which is to say: the only “correct” way to respond to criticism is to platform the critic.

And there are dozens who expect this of you. Who will tear into you for not addressing, in meticulous detail, every single critique they’ve ever tossed your way, and, in the same breath, make fun of you for talking too much. Because they don’t want to move on from “Why Don’t You Respond to Criticism?” As a rhetorical tactic, it’s pretty ace. To announce, before the argument is even stated, that it is thus far undefeated? ::chef’s kiss:: Because any response you make will keep the focus on you and not their argument. “It’s not worth responding to.” “Well why should The Accused get to decide what is and isn’t worth responding to?” “I have responded, repeatedly.” “Well why didn’t you respond in this particular way?” None of this looks at whether the argument had any credibility to begin with, only at whether your rebuttal is following procedure.

Take, for example, the hypothetical criticism that you should not listen to me because I am just four eels in a trenchcoat. How would I respond to that? What can I say that isn’t exactly what four eels in a trenchcoat would say? “I’m not even wearing a trenchcoat”? Well, the first thing four eels would do when people start to catch on is wear hoodies. Show my birth certificate, saying I was born a single entity to a human mother at a weight four newborn eels wouldn’t add up to? Well, did that work for Obama? Or did the guy saying the birth certificate was fake get elected President? And, of course, anything I have to say about how fascism has evolved on the social internet is suspect if I can’t even prove I’m human. What do fish know?? We stayed at war with Iraq for seven years after the government announced the Weapons of Mass Destruction we were looking for never existed, and some people, to this day, still think we found them. What hope would I - a warm-blooded mammal who would make very mediocre sushi - stand in the face of that? [bell chime]

So, if you ever see this claim out in the wild, “why haven’t you responded to _____,” ask: do you know what _____ is, do you yourself agree it’s a valid question, and are you sure it hasn’t already been answered? And don’t repeat the question unless you’ve got three yesses.

[littlelamy]

reader wins an award at the country club maybe something with tennis but rafe gets so busy and ends up missing it

a/n: thank you sending a request 🤍 i hope you like it! 🐑

the day should have been perfect—a culmination of your hard work and dedication. you’d spent weeks preparing for the tennis tournament at the country club, and you’d been so excited to have rafe there, watching from the stands, cheering you on. he had promised he wouldn’t miss it.

but, of course, rafe was nowhere to be found.

you stood there on the podium, accepting the first-place trophy with a hollow smile plastered on your face, scanning the crowd one last time. nothing. no familiar face, no smirk, no quick thumbs-up from him. the excitement of your victory felt overshadowed by the emptiness gnawing in your chest.

back in the locker room, you stared at your phone, willing it to buzz with an explanation, a half-assed apology—anything. but nothing came through until you were already back at the after-party, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment every time someone asked where rafe was.

finally, your phone buzzed.

rafey💗: sorry. got tied up. i’ll make it up to you. let’s talk when you’re home.

you read the text, feeling the familiar frustration boil up inside you. he was always “tied up,” always “busy.” he’d promised he would be there today—he had sworn he’d make it.

you: you promised you’d be here. you missed it.

the reply came through quickly.

rafey💗: i said i’ll make it up to you. just come home.

you scoffed, locking your phone and deciding you’d finish your drink before leaving. maybe this time you wouldn’t let him off so easy.

when you got home, the house was dimly lit, and the smell of food hit you immediately. candles flickered around the room, and soft music played in the background. he was trying, you could see that. but as sweet as the setup was, it wasn’t enough to completely erase the frustration bubbling under your skin.

rafe appeared in the doorway, watching you with that familiar cocky glint in his eye. "you made it," he said, his voice low as he approached.

you crossed your arms, leaning back against the door. "yeah. i made it. too bad you couldn’t say the same for the tournament."

rafe sighed, his hands slipping into his pockets. "i told you—i got caught up. work shit. you know how it is."

"yeah, i know how it is. you’re always ‘caught up.’ it’s always the same excuse, rafe," you shot back, your voice sharper than usual. you couldn’t help it. you’d been holding it in all day.

he frowned, his expression shifting from apologetic to defensive. "jesus, are you really going to make this a big thing? i already said i was sorry. what more do you want?"

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "i wanted you to be there, rafe. just once, to actually keep your word. is that too much to ask?"

his jaw clenched, his hands falling to his sides as he took a step closer, towering over you. "i do a lot for you, you know that? don’t act like i don’t try. i’m here now, aren’t i?"

you glared up at him, refusing to back down. "yeah, now that it’s convenient for you."

rafe’s eyes flashed with irritation as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "watch it."

the tension hung in the air between you for a moment, both of you silently daring the other to say more. then, just as quickly as his anger had flared up, it seemed to cool. he stepped back, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "look, i messed up. i know. but i’m here now, and i’m trying to fix it. do you wanna keep arguing, or do you want me to make it up to you?"

his words were sharp, but you could see the frustration in his eyes—the way he was trying to pull himself back from snapping completely. he always did this, always danced on that line between anger and remorse.

you exhaled heavily, shaking your head. "fine. but this doesn’t just go away, rafe. you can’t keep missing things like this."

rafe’s lips twitched into a half-smirk, the edge of arrogance still lingering as he closed the distance between you again. his fingers grazed your waist, pulling you closer. "you’ll forgive me," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with that confidence that always made your stomach flip. "you always do."

you hated how right he was.

he pressed his lips to your neck, trailing kisses slowly upward until his breath was hot against your ear. "let me make it up to you tonight," he whispered, his hands tightening around your waist, grounding you in that familiar pull he always had over you.

you sighed, the frustration still simmering, but already slipping away as you leaned into his touch. "you’ve got a lot of making up to do," you muttered, not wanting to give in too easily.

rafe chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "i plan on it."

he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom as the tension between you shifted from frustration to something far more intoxicating. and even though you were still mad at him, even though you knew this didn’t fix everything, it was hard to resist him when he looked at you like that.

he set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a grin that was half apology, half arrogance. "let me make you forget all about that stupid tournament, baby," he murmured, his lips hovering over yours.

for now, you let him. you’d deal with everything else later.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

yow what abt twice mtls? confess first, fall in love, get jealous, fall out of love. great jeongyeon hc btw

Twice most to least likely: Get jealous

A/N: I feel some of these ended up sounding more yandere than jealous🙂‍↕️ but hopefully that’s just me😭hope you guys like it

Sana

She’s a huge flirt, she likes the way she can get people to be infatuated with her plus she likes to play hard to get.

Because of this she’s not used to people seeing her as a second choice so when she sees her partner having a good time with someone else when she’s available or even when she isn’t, it makes her feel strange.

It’s uncharted territory for her and she feels possessive immediately. After all what does the other person possess that Sana doesn’t. Why isn’t her partner yearning for her every moment instead of having a good time without her…

Nayeon

You’ll find Nayeon staring daggers at you with or without a polite smile. It’s really not a fun sight to witness because you just know you are in so much trouble later.

Nayeon feels very possessive of you. She’s someone who needs a lot of reassurance so you being clingy with anyone other than her doesn’t bode well with her.

Though she ends up feeling a bit silly after some time thinking for being so possessive she can’t help it, she wants you for herself and only herself.

Mina

Mina is a big introvert and she likes to stay indoors alot and keep to herself. But she knows she can’t really force you to do the same.

Nevertheless, she secretly wishes you would be that way. She’d prefer if she could have you all to herself. If it’s only you and her, all day everyday,

She feels sometimes she’s not good enough and that might make you drawn to others and hence gets her guard up immediately when she sees you being close with someone she doesn’t know.

Momo

You were happily chatting with your friend while waiting for Momo. You had known her for a long time, you didn’t take much notice of it when while laughing at a joke, she put her hand on your arm.

Soon enough, her instincts began to scream for danger and upon looking around, she spotted Momo a few meters away, glaring at both of you. “Is that your girlfriend?”…..

The journey back home was quiet. You realized how that might have looked out of context and were fearing Momo saw it differently. She was quiet though. “Everything ok baby?”, you ask her.

“Yes. But you need to sleep early and rest well”, she replies. “Huh? Why do I need extra rest?”, you question. “Well the couch isn’t very comfortable to sleep on is it”, she answers, unbothered, as she looks into the rearview mirror and applies her lipstick.

Chaeyoung

Chaeyoung and you were surprised to run into your ex at the mall. It was a bit awkward for the three of you but luckily there was no violence.

She hated how you and your ex became awkward because for her that meant you both saw each other and intentionally or unintentionally reflected back on the time you both were together.

She hated when while leaving, you both shared an inside joke which she didn’t know. Chaeyoung knew it’s just how these things go but that didn’t make her blood boil any less.

Tzuyu

Tzuyu is observant, she doesn’t always speak out, never mind her speaking her mind.

So when she was looking at your Instagram and spotted old posts of you and your ex, it just made her quite upset.

But she also knew it was the past yet she also thought you could have deleted it. After all wasn’t the ex was no longer part of your life.

Dahyun

Dahyun was watching you talk with the party’s host. It was normal. The two of you seemed to be getting along well.

She was standing a few feet away, getting something to drink when she suddenly heard the host make a suggestive flirty comment towards you. You didn’t realize it and just laughed along,

Dahyun though, gritted her teeth, it’s annoying that you always are so oblivious to these things. She’s gonna scold you for that later, as for the host…well, it’s a good thing her nails felt sharp right now.

Jihyo

Jihyo knows her worth and she knows you know it too. So she’s never really worried about someone else stealing you away.

But after watching some dramas, she got a bit influenced by them and began to worry that she didn’t like you as much as she thought or wanted because why wouldn’t she ever feel jealous. It was normal for couples to feel jealous at some point right?

And when she asked you to try and flirt with a cashier because she wanted to test something, you definitely felt it was a test. It took a lot of convincing from her and a promise that you wouldn’t get in trouble. Reluctantly you did it but when the cashier actually ended up giving you her number. Jihyo took your hand and dragged you out of the store without even buying anything. You were in big trouble.

Jeongyeon

Jeongyeon never has any real reason to doubt you. She knows you both love each other very much.

Of course, it’s inevitable that at some point either of you would get approached by someone else. It won’t be your or her fault if that happens.

But that’s easier to think when it hasn’t happened. When a fellow idol told Jeongyeon that she was lucky to have you and she should be careful you could get stolen. Though Jeongyeon was polite, her glare she ended up shooting at them later would have scared them silly.

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto's obsession p.3

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy this part and if you've missed part 2 here it is :)

You stood frozen for a moment as George stormed off, the weight of his words sinking in. Your heart ached, torn between the love for your brother and the complex feelings you had for Toto. The sting of George’s accusations—his belief that you were being manipulated—made you question everything, even if just for a brief moment. But you couldn’t believe that about Toto. You knew he cared about you. Didn’t he?

Wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of your eyes, you took a deep breath and turned back to Toto’s office. As you walked, your mind was swirling with confusion and worry. You were worried for George, for the way he’d reacted, and for how this would affect everything—his career, their relationship. And, despite George’s anger, you were also worried about Toto. He’d been hit, and the tension between him and your brother felt like it could boil over at any moment.

When you stepped back into the office, Toto was still sitting at his desk, the same calm, composed demeanor on his face, though his eyes softened when they landed on you. He stood up slowly, his hand reaching out for you as you approached him, his expression unreadable but controlled.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice steady as he pulled you into his arms. You leaned into him, grateful for the comfort, though your heart still felt heavy with everything that had just happened. His hands rubbed gentle circles on your back, calming you in a way only he seemed capable of. “Come here, love.”

“I tried to talk to him,” you whispered, your voice small against his chest. “But he’s so angry, Toto. He thinks… he thinks you’re manipulating me. That you’re using me.” Your words trembled, the doubt creeping in despite yourself.

Toto’s grip tightened around you, and he sighed softly, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “I knew this would happen,” he said, his voice calm and controlled. “George is protective of you. He doesn’t understand yet. He’s young, impulsive. This is a lot for him to take in.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your brows furrowed with worry. “Do you think he’ll ever forgive me? He sounded so… hurt.”

Toto cupped your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. “He’ll come around, sweetheart. Give him time,” he said softly, his gaze tender as he looked down at you. “He’s your brother. He loves you, even if he doesn’t understand this right now.”

You nodded, trying to believe his words, but there was still a part of you that couldn’t shake the tension between them. “But what about you?” you asked, your voice laced with concern. “He hit you, and I’m scared he’ll never accept us.”

Toto smiled softly, his hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, pulling you closer again. “I can handle George. This was bound to happen eventually. But for now…” He paused, his gaze darkening with that familiar possessiveness that always made your heart skip a beat. “For now, you’re here. With me. Let’s not worry about him.”

You swallowed, nodding again, but there was still a knot of worry in your chest. You cared about both of them, and the thought of them at odds because of you felt unbearable.

Toto tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about me or George right now,” he murmured. “Stay with me, Y/N. Let me take care of you.”

His words were soothing, wrapping you in the security that only he could provide. You trusted him—despite everything, despite George’s accusations. Toto had been there for you in ways no one else had. He made you feel safe, cherished. And now, more than ever, you wanted to believe that what you had with him was real.

From Toto’s perspective, however, the moment played out with a sense of satisfaction. He had anticipated George’s reaction the moment he decided to pursue you, but this confrontation—it was necessary. George’s fury, his punch, his outburst—all of it had only confirmed what Toto already knew: George would react emotionally, without thinking strategically.

And now, with George out of the way, even if only temporarily, Toto had you exactly where he wanted. His grip tightened subtly around your waist as he held you close. He looked down at you, your innocent eyes filled with concern, your worry for both him and your brother touching—but misplaced. You didn’t see the full picture. You couldn’t. And that was exactly how Toto wanted it.

He had known from the moment he met you that he couldn’t let you slip through his fingers. The sweetness in your smile, the soft way you spoke, the innocence you carried—he had seen it all and recognized the rare treasure that you were. And now, George’s anger had only solidified his resolve.

This was his chance to keep you to himself, away from prying eyes, from your brother’s influence. George didn’t understand yet, but he would. Or, at least, he would learn to stay out of the way. Toto’s lips curled into a faint smile as he kissed the top of your head, his hold on you both protective and possessive.

“Stay with me,” he repeated softly, his voice carrying a subtle command. “You don’t need to go anywhere else.”

You looked up at him, trusting, innocent to the depth of his obsession. “Okay,” you whispered, leaning into his embrace, allowing him to envelop you fully.

In this moment, you felt safe with Toto, comforted by his presence, while completely unaware of the lengths he was willing to go to keep you by his side.

Toto smiled again, a quiet victory settling in his chest. George might have had his outburst, but the outcome was inevitable. You were his now, and nothing—no one—would come between you. Not even your brother.

[arkadijxpancakes]

Yes. The Weasleys had too many kids. An analysis. (Part 1 of 2)

Everyone who read Harry Potter read about the prejudices regarding the Weasleys: They all have red hair, are poor and have more kids than they can afford. Insert a sneering Malfoy here.

The books were adamant that that was not the case. The Weasleys are depicted as the best family in the books. (Just look at the others. The Dursleys were narrow-minded, bigoted and abusive. The Malfoys were bigoted terrorists. The Lovegoods were weird. Let’s not even start about Merope and Riddle.)

However, if you look closer, the prejudices have some truth to them: They had more kids than they could afford. However, money isn’t the issue here, not really.

Yes, the Weasleys are clearly depicted as members of the working class. They don’t have much money and fall back on second-hand stuff a lot of the time. Ron in particular is shown to be using hand-me-downs in book one.

However, they don’t live in abject poverty. The family owns their own home on their own land. They have a garden to grow their own vegetables and they have chickens. This means that food scarcity shouldn’t be a big issue for them, because they can produce a lot of it on their own. (Magic should make this even easier, because they can use it for the gardening stuff. And if we assume that you can duplicate food, this should keep everyone well-fed.)

The main issue when it comes to money isn’t that they don’t have anything. They have clearly enough money to stay comfortably over water. They just don’t have enough money to buy all the fancy shit the wizarding world uses as status symbols. (Like racing brooms and dress robes.)

Could things be better, money-wise? Sure. But one can have a loving, comfortable childhood, even with second-hand clothes and working class food. So no. It’s not about the money.

It’s about time. 

And it's also about how the parents divide that time (and the work that comes along with it.)

The Weasleys follow a family structure one would expect from a muggle family of their time (the second half of the 20th century): Arthur is the one who goes out to work and earns money, while his wife Molly is a stay-at-home-mother who takes care of their home and kids. It’s also just their nuclear family that lives in the burrow. There are no other relatives (no grandparents and no aunts or uncles, either) living there.

I find this a little bit weird, tbh. The nuclear family (parents and kids) living alone, without any other relatives and with the father as the sole breadwinner, is a pretty new development. The practice only really established itself after the Statute of Secrecy went into effect. It developed first in the upper classes (who used this to flaunt their wealth) and in urban centers (where there was no space to live together with your extended family.) Before this, living with one's extended family was very common, especially in rural areas, where it was beneficial to stick together. The Weasley’s don’t really have a reason to live as a nuclear family. There is no need for wizards to follow the Muggle trend, and things were different before the statute. Living with other, adult family members would also be beneficial, especially for Molly. And the books do suggest that the extended family is quite large, so “They don’t live with other relatives, because they don’t have any” doesn’t fit their situation either.

This is a common theme for Rowling, by the way. She tends to ignore the extended families of her characters, whenever it is possible. The numbers of grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins that get mentioned in the book is incredibly low. (The only character who seems to have close connections to his extended family is Neville – and that’s because the other members of his nuclear family are completely absent because of health reasons.)

Anyway. When we look back at the Weasleys, this leaves Molly basically as a tradwife. (Minus the religious baggage.) But let's start at the beginning. 

(Note: I will focus on the books in this. I don’t consider the games canon and will not use them as a source.) Arthur and Molly were born around 1950. We know that he went to Hogwarts from 1961 to 1968. They were close enough in age to start a relationship while still at Hogwarts, and they married shortly after graduating. For this to work, she must have been in his year or maybe the year below or above.

Bill was born in 1970 and was followed by six siblings, the last who was born in 1981. So from the age of ca. 20 to the age of ca. 33 Molly was either pregnant or nursing at least one baby at any given time. (There might have been a short break in that pattern between Charlie and Percy, but it only got worse after that.)

As I said before, Molly and Arthur seem to have a very traditional division of labor between them: He works at the ministry and earns money, she takes care of their home and kids. This means that Molly has drawn the short end of the stick.

While Arthur is working one job 9-5, Molly has to work three jobs and at least one of them is 24/7. Let’s pick them apart:

Her first job is to take care of the home. Molly cleans the house and does the laundry. It is also very likely that she is not only responsible for cooking, but for food production in general. This means that she takes care of the garden and chickens. This would be pretty exhausting, if not for her magic. She can likely cut down on time and effort by using magic for most of those tasks.

On top of this, she is also producing at least some of the clothing her family wears. We don't see her sewing, but she knits a lot. She is using magic for that, too.

Her second job is to raise their kids. Molly is their primary caregiver and does most of the parenting. This is a difficult job to begin with, but there are seven of them. This is where her workload starts to stretch her thin. It can’t be easy to do the laundry, while Ginny needs to be fed, Bill and Charlie are arguing in the backyard, and the twins have just vanished. Magic is less helpful here, because a lot of the work requires her to interact with her kids. She can’t really flick her wand to speed that up.

On top of that - and this is where things get even worse - there doesn't seem to be any kind of elementary school in Wizarding Great Britain. At the very least, the books do not mention any form of primary education and Hogwarts seems to be Ron’s first school. But Hogwarts still requires its students to be able to read, write and do math. Having some education about the Wizarding World couldn’t hurt, either.

However, someone has to teach the kids. And this someone is probably Molly, because Arthur is at work, and they don’t have the money for a private tutor. They cant sent their kids to an elementary school, because there is none. (And they obviously did not send them to a muggle school.) 

So this is her third job. This is another job she can’t really speed up with magic, because she can’t hex the knowledge into her kids’ brains. (Or at least I hope she can’t, because everything else would be disturbing.)

This means Molly has to take care of their home, produce their food, take care of their kids and teach them elementary school-stuff. All while being pregnant and/or nursing for circa 13 years straight.

Her workload just isn’t doable for a single person. It might have started off okay, when she only had Bill and Charlie, and it probably got better once most kids had left the house to study at Hogwarts. But the years in between must have been hell. And she did not really have any help to do it.

Arthur was off to work most days and seems to spend quite a lot of time on his hobby. Additionally, he just doesn’t seem to be all that involved as a father and seems to take care mostly of the fun stuff. 

His parenting style is much more relaxed than Molly’s, too. He’s probably the parent the kids go to when they want to do something their mother would say no to. This, of course, makes parenting even harder for her, because she doesn’t just have to deal with the kids, but also with Arthur’s parenting decisions. There are no other adult family members around to help her, either. They also don’t have the money to hire help. (No wonder Molly dreamed of having her own slave house elf. It would have allowed her to drastically reduce her workload. It’s a really disgusting wish, but I understand where it comes from.)

This is where the family dynamics probably took their first severe hit: It’s very likely that Molly’s workload left her with more work than she was able to do consistently. Whether Arthur pulled his weight in that regard is questionable (and he was at work for most of the day anyway.) She also had no other adults to help her, so she probably offloaded her workload elsewhere: her kids.

Yes. I think it is very likely that the Weasleys parentified their kids, especially Bill, Charlie and Percy. We don’t see it with Bill and Charlie, probably because they had already left the house when Harry meets the family. Still, it’s a little weird that both of them went to live so far away from home. Yes, sure, exploring tombs in Egypt and taming dragons in Romania is fun and exciting in and off itself – but being so far away from home that mom can’t rope you into household chores and babysitting duty is probably a really nice bonus. It would also relax their familial relationships quite a bit, because moving away gives them control over when and how they want to engage. (And it’s probably easier to be the fun big brother to your younger siblings when you aren’t required to watch and control them every day.)

We do see it with Percy, however. He looks after and take responsibility for his younger siblings a lot, especially at Hogwarts. You can see it in the way he looks after Ginny and how he’s constantly at odds with Fred and George because they refuse to follow any rules.

Fuck, he still does this after the big row with his father. Yes, the letter he sends to Ron is pretty obnoxious, but he still wrote it. He did not need to. At that point he had cut all contact, after all. He clearly cared for his younger brother and wanted to look out for him, even if he did it in the most annoying way possible. It would be interesting to know whether he also wrote to Ginny or the twins or not.

Also, did I mention that the Weasleys have too many kids?

They have too many kids.

It’s a numbers game, really. The more kids you have, the more time you have to use for household chores (you need to clean more, wash more, cook more, etc.) You also have less time to spend time with each kid individually. This is especially true for quality time – so time that isn’t spent on chores or education. Time that is spent playing and talking with each other, just to enjoy each other's company.

Molly is already working three jobs. She doesn’t really have any opportunity to spend time with her kids equally. She’s too busy looking after the home and teaching the older ones, while watching the younger ones and making sure the twins don’t burn the house down. 

I just don’t see her spending quality time with her kids regularly, because of this. It’s just difficult to talk with Charlie about his favorite dragons or read something to Percy or to play with Ron, when there is always someone else who needs her more. Full diapers. Empty stomachs. Unyielding stains of unknown origin on Arthur's work robes. A sudden explosion on the second floor. And probably everything at the same time and all the time.

So yeah. Chances are that her attention and her affection can be pretty hard to come by at times. (To a certain degree, this also applies to Arthur, because he is away from home so much.)

Let’s look at the timeline.

It probably starts pretty harmless:

1970 - Bill is born, and he’s the only kid for two years. Yeah, it’s Molly’s first child, and she is a really young mother, but she is a stay-at-home-mum, and it’s just one kid. It’s mostly her and Bill who are at home, and her workload isn’t all that big, because she can use magic for most stuff. The war has started, but it probably hasn’t kicked into overdrive just yet, so this shouldn’t affect her too much either.

1972 – Charlie is born. Molly’s workload is expanding, but things should still be pretty manageable. Also, they don’t have another kid for almost four years. This allows Molly to adjust to caring for two kids. She can also relax from both pregnancies and births. If it wasn’t for the war, this might be her favorite years as a mother.

When Arthur is involved in parenting Bill and Charlie, it’s probably on the weekends. I can imagine him taking them out to do fun stuff, so their mother can get some rest. It’s probably a great time for him, because he can bond with his boys. I can’t see him do much more than that, though. Molly has a handle on things, and interfering could be seen as overstepping.

1976 – Percy is born. This is probably the moment, where the attention-distribution in the family gets a little bit wonky. Molly has three kids now, and it’s the middle of the war. Bill is almost six, which means that she has to start teaching him, while simultaneously nursing Percy and keeping Charlie entertained/away from trouble. This is probably still manageable. She can wait a little longer with teaching Bill, so she can teach him and Charlie together. She can also hand him (and maybe Charlie) over to Arthur, so he can teach him/them on weekends.

Additionally, Arthur is probably still taking Bill and Charlie out for some bonding-fun-time. However, the war is in full swing now, so leaving the house gets increasingly dangerous. Their trips will get shorter and stay closer to home. They will happen less frequently, too. He will also end up working more because of the war, doing overtime much more frequently. When he is home, he is going to be exhausted, as a result.

1978 – Fred and George are born. The attention-distribution in the family falls off a cliff.

This is when Molly's workload starts to become overwhelming. Charlie will be 6 at the end of the year, Bill will be 8. She has to start teaching them, if she hasn’t already. Otherwise, Bill will not be ready when he starts Hogwarts.

And on top of everything, Molly has to take care of the twins. She has to do everything that needs to be done for a newborn – times two.

So her workload explodes. Molly is raising five kids, now. She needs to educate Bill and Charlie, nurse Fred and George, and has to make sure Percy doesn’t fall to the wayside completely. She also has her household chores that aren’t related to her kids. The war is still raging on. Arthur is probably tied up at work most of the time, and when he is home, he’s exhausted. And Molly will be pregnant again in a year. (Really, why do they have so many kids during a war? One or two, I would understand, but this is getting irresponsible.)

This is probably the time when Bill has to take over at least some chores, not just to learn how to do them, but to take some pressure off of his mother. This might not be parentification yet, but it will get worse over time. I assume he has to look after his younger brothers a lot.

On top of all that, it is increasingly hard to shield the kids from the war. At least Bill and Charlie are old enough to understand that things are really, really wrong and scary. And there is not much Molly can do about it.

1980 - Ron is born. The twins are already old enough to open cupboards. Molly is not having a great time. She probably hands over Percy to Bill and Charlie (“Go, play with your little brother!”), so she can take care of baby Ron while keeping an eye on the twin shaped chaos that is growing by the day. She will be pregnant again in a couple of months.

Bill (who will be 10 at the end of the year) and Charlie (8) still require teaching. Percy (4) isn’t old enough just yet, but he will be, soon. (And, let’s face it: It’s Percy. Chances are that he wants to learn, even now.)

The war is still in full swing. Arthur is still overworked and underpaid. Everyone is tired and scared. This also affects the kids. There is probably a lot of pressure on Bill as the oldest brother to watch over his younger siblings, to make sure all of them stay safe. They don’t spend much time outside their home, because it’s just too dangerous to do so.

Around 1980/81 is also the time when Molly’s brothers Fabian and Gideon die. (Gideon can be seen in the photograph that was taken of the Order before James and Lily went into hiding, so he was still alive back then. But we know that he dies soon after the photograph was taken.) Molly never talks about her brothers in canon, but this must have been horrible for her.

1981 – Ginny is born. They are seven kids now. Fabian and Gideon will be dead by the end of the year (if they aren’t already.) Molly’s workload is at its peak, while her ability to pay equal amounts of attention to her kids is at an all-time low. She’s grieving, the rest of her family is in danger, and Arthur is stuck at the ministry. This means that she will likely lean on Bill’s support even more. As Charlie is 8 now (and will be 9 at the end of the year), Molly might consider him old enough to help, so he might see an increase in responsibility, too. At this point, we are in parentification-territory.

With each day, the twins grow more into the troublemakers we see in canon. This sucks away attention and affection from their siblings (simply because they need to be watched and disciplined).

I think the following years are very formative for the family dynamics between the kids. It’s probably less pronounced for Bill and Charlie (who are stuck with chores and babysitting-duty and will leave for Hogwarts soon-ish) and Ginny (who gets more attention because she is the youngest child and only girl). It’s worse for the others. Percy, Fred, George and Ron are basically in direct competition for their mother's attention. I think the dynamic develops as follows:

Fred and George are active and pretty extroverted. They explore a lot and start to play pranks on their family members. This is overall harmless, but Molly has to pay attention to them, to make sure that no one accidentally gets hurt. From this, the twins learn that they can get Molly’s attention by causing trouble, so they will lean into it even more.

This sucks away attention from Percy and Ron. It causes Percy to veer hard into the opposite direction: He tries to gain Molly’s attention by following all her rules and fulfilling her wishes. This earns him her affection and will turn him into her golden child in the long run. It will also put a strain on his relationship with the twins, because Molly compares them a lot, especially when angry. This will cause Percy to perform the “Good boy”-role even harder (because he doesn’t want to be treated like the twins), while they start to resent him on some level.

Ron on the other hand is still too young to affect the family dynamic on his own. He internalizes that his mother cares more about his siblings and that there is nothing he can do about it.

The only good news: At the end of the year, the war ends. This will bring a lot of relief. (It’s short term relief for now, things will need some time to go back to normal.)

However, the end of the war also means, that Percy gets a pet. Either late in 1981 or early in 1982 he (or another member of the family) finds a rat that is missing a finger on its front paw. Percy keeps him and calls him Scabbers.

We all know who Scabbers is, of course. I just want to highlight how fucked up this situation is. Percy is 5, when he adopts him. Because he was a little kid, he probably took him everywhere without a second thought – into the bathroom, into his bed, you know, everywhere. There is probably no part of Percy’s body Scabbers hasn’t seen. Percy probably told him everything, too, all his worries, all of his fears. It’s just creepy.

And keep in mind, Scabbers – Peter – is not just a random wizard. He is a Death Eater and mass murderer. We don’t know if he ever hurt Percy (there are fanfics that do explore that possibility). He probably didn’t, but the idea alone is nightmare fuel.

To get this back on track: This could have impacted the sibling-relationship, too. It depends on whether the other kids were allowed to keep pets.

With that, we are done with the war and with Molly’s time being pregnant. The family dynamic is already fucked up – and it will get worse, as the kids get older. However, this post is long enough, already. So we’ll take a break here. Next time, we will look at how the dynamics shift, once the kids start to go to Hogwarts. See ya!

[latenightdaydreams]

WereWolf!König x New!Girl Pt2

Part 1

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, forceful, transformation, oral

1.7k word count

🐺

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The very next morning, König wakes up feeling invigorated. There is a peep in his step as he jumps out of bed, your scent lingers on his body. He can’t control his thoughts about you. The simple fact that he can’t be there with you right now is driving him insane. All he wants to do is rub his hands over every single inch of you.

While he usually only goes to the market once a week, he has to go back. Going straight to your home would be too obvious; too weird. The day seems to drag on until it’s late in the afternoon. He showers and quickly gets dressed to rush to the store.

You’re physically at work, but mentally miles away. On the side of your neck is a thick layer of make-up, hiding the bite marks from last night. It’s been a slow day so it’s easy to get lost in thought. When you squat down to restock, you feel a stinging pain shoot through your vagina. You tore, badly. As your eyes stare off into the distance, you accidently place toilet paper in the wrong spot.

“Y/n, hey. What are you doing?” Your uncle comes up behind you, chuckling at your mistake.

“Oh, sorry.” You snap out of it and pull the product back onto the cart. “I’m just so out of it today.”

“Are you doing okay?”

Just as you’re about to answer, the sound of a door shutting outside the store catches your attention. You stand to look over, seeing König walking towards the front door. Frank leaves your side to go greet his friend. A disappointed huff leaves your lips; you really needed to speak to someone.

“König! Did you forget something?”

“Ja, I did.” König chuckles, his eyes instantly landing on you as you walk back to the cash register.

“Well, I’m always glad to have your money.” Frank jokes.

König laughs, his eyes still on you. You linger behind the cash register now, seemingly far away. Hopefully thinking about your night together. He hates the restrictions of human civilization, forcing him to simply smile and nod in your direction as he continues on into the store; stopping where he can watch you from a distance.

“Uncle Frank, can we keep talking?”

“Yup!” He walks back to you and leans against the counter.

“Can you please listen to me without judgment?” You whisper, but König can still hear you.

“Absolutely.”

“I know you said there are no wolves around here, but last night I think one bit me.”

“What? A wolf?” Frank says loudly.

“Shh!” You place your finger over your lips. “Please be quiet. Can you please stay with me? I don’t want to leave alone.”

“Sweety, there are no wolves around here. You only think it bit you? Maybe it was a German Shepherd? Farmer Paul has one that’s a real ass—”

“It wasn’t a dog. It was massive.”

Frank shifts his weight and grabs his keys from his front pocket before letting out a sigh. He knows that you’ve been through a lot lately, but he doesn’t know what to say to you right now. König walks forward and approaches the two of you.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but did you say that a dog attacked you?”

You can feel yourself blush, feeling as if he will think that you’re crazy too. “A wolf.”

“And there aren’t any around here.” Frank says.

“No, there aren’t.” König looks at you and the worry in your eyes. If only he could reassure you that you’re safe with him. “But there is no harm in being safe. I could stay here with you while you close up.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“It’s really not an issue. I have no plans.” König gives you a warm comforting smile.

“Thank you, König.” Frank pats his shoulder.

“Not a problem.”

The last twenty minutes of work pass by quickly for you. König turns out to be a very flirtatious man, his charming smile and hypnotizing blue eyes making the fear of last night’s incident slip far away in your mind. While he may be a bit older than you, you find yourself beginning to like him in an odd way.

“It’s getting dark.” König says, looking out of the window before looking back at you. His once bright blue eyes now darkened, turning a deep yellow. The change is coming, and you’re trapped in here with him.

“It is.” You say as your back is turned to him. “I just have to go grab my keys and I’m ready to…leave.” Your voice drifts off as you turn to see König taking deep breaths, his eyes now animalistic.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today, Maus.” König’s voice has turned raspy as his teeth grow.

“Y- y—” Words escape you as panic takes over your body.

“Don’t be afraid, please.” König slightly hunched over as you watch in horror. Skin falls from his body, replaced by the thick dark fur you remember from last night. His hands grow long claws that scratch the wall as he tries to balance himself.

A blood curdling scream bursts from your lips as König lets out loud groans of pain. Without a second thought you quickly turn on your feet and rush towards the break room door. Your feet carry you across the floor, just able to get to the door and slam it shut. Your fingers shake as you lock the door and rush to your locker to grab your keys.

From the other side of the solid wood door, you hear a loud howl. The sound makes your stomach flip. You stand still, not moving as you listen for any movement. For some reason you thought that he would give up and go hunt, but you’re proven wrong when you hear a loud banging against the door.

“Open.” König hits the door again, impatient and not wanting to play any games.

 “König! Please stop!” Your voice shakes.

“Mine. Open now.”

The next hit cracks the door, your eyes dart to the small window a few feet off the ground. While you might not fit, it's your only way out at this point. You rush to the collapsible table and drag underneath the window; watching your step you climb up and unlock the window. It opens so you turn yourself to the side and start to pull yourself out.

König continues to bang on the door, ready to break in to get to you. He knows once he can get his teeth on your neck you will calm down for him. Just then he hears a thud. His ears perk up before he turns and runs out of the shop quickly. In the dark night he looks around, spotting you running towards your car. Last time was too close, this time he has to be faster.

You get yourself off of the floor quickly, running to your car. As you reach in your pocket for your key, you realize the keys feel when you dropped from the window. “Fuck!” You should as you turn back to grab them. Just as you do, König appears around the corner and just stares at you, breathing heavily. He stands on two feet and holds a hand out for you to accept.

König looks into your eyes. As much as you want to deny him, he knows that you’re attracted to his human form and he knows you enjoyed begin fucked like a wild animal. Yet, that silly human brain wants to reject what it doesn’t understand. You turn and run. He watches you for a few seconds as you take off across the open field before taking off after you.

In no time he is right behind you, jumping to knock you off of your feet. You both crash to the ground, but he quickly recovers and mounts your much smaller body under his. He sticks his wet nose in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent again. He grabs a fist full of your hair and turns your face towards his.

“Mine.” He growls as he sits you up.

You gaze up at him as he stands. He gets closer to you, letting his erect, leaking cock linger in front of your face. A part of you is disgusted by the sight and smell, wanting to turn away and turn. There is another part of you that just wants to reach out and grab it. A small gasp leaves your lips when he grabs your hair again and tilts your head back.

König steps forward and pushes your face into his groin. The strong smell of his musk consumes your nostrils as his long cock rests along your face, his balls pressing against your mouth. You try to shake your head back and forth, to pull away; but you can’t. He holds you there longer for every moment you struggle.

“Lick.”

You part your mouth slightly, letting the tip of your tongue pass back and forth. His sweaty skin is salty, but you find yourself enjoying it. Slowly open your mouth more and let out more of your tongue to lick over his heavy balls.

König looks down at you with a pleased feeling. You’re finally giving into what you know you desire. He pulls back, dragging his cock across your face and down your tongue. A small growl leaves him as he watches your pretty lips carefully wrap around the head of his cock and sucking lightly. His hips push forward, shoving more of his cock into your mouth.

Your hands shoot to his thighs as you gag from him shoving his cock in too far. Tears begin to pool in your eyes as you try to maintain your composure. The girth of his cock causes your jaw to tire quickly, but you don’t dare try to pull away. Thick globs of spit fall from your mouth and fall on to your shirt.

When he pulls back, you cough and gasp for air. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you pant. He watches you try to gather yourself, feeling proud of you for how well you’ve calmed down. His arms wrap around your body, lifting you up, and walking you into the woods so he can fuck you in his den.

[enmi-land]

ʬʬʬ 𝓨OUTUBE.COM ▹ NOW PLAYiNG . . .

ⓘ THE M iN MiLA STANDS FOR MEME MATERiAL . . .

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) FANMADE. #2023. ꗃ PREViEW A compilation of Mila’s fairly recent funny moments.

CLIP 1, WEVERSE LIVE

“Hello everyone, welcome to my special Weverse live.” Mila stands in front of the camera, which is set up in the kitchen of what appears to be a hotel room, wearing a fuzzy hoodie with bear ears and matching shorts. “‘Mila you’re so cute’?” she reads out while squinting. She shakes her head and waves her finger. “No, no—I am not cute. Today, I am a chef.”

Mila takes a few steps back and holds her arms out. “That’s right, everyone. Today, I’m in the kitchen because I’m going to be learning to cook braised stew for my future husband.” She smiles and throws her hands up in a cheering motion. “Yay!”

As Mila prepares her ingredients and utensils while reading the recipe on her phone, she answers comments from viewers, which all seem fascinated with her sudden decision to cook stew.

“I’m training,” Mila answers, “So I can make my future hubby lots of yummy food and be a good daughter-in-law.”

But five minutes later, and she doesn’t seem to be doing so well.

“Everyone, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Mila says as she transfers the pot of (burning) food to the counter. “If my husband loves me, it won’t matter if I can’t cook, right guys?” She smiles as she holds two thumbs up. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Which, yeah, but also—good food would still be really nice to have too.

CLIP 2, YOUTUBE SHORT

Mila decides to prank Heeseung while he’s in the studio filming a Weverse live at the company building. She watches his live and approaches the room he’s in, before turning the lights off in the hallway. She then makes a loud banging noise on the door and, upon seeing Heeseung about to stand up through his live feed, immediately starts to sprint off, recording the whole thing on her phone.

She giggles quietly as she runs, her camera’s focus moving erratically. But halfway through her escape, Mila tropes and ends up falling to the floor with a loud “AeGH!”

Thankfully, it isn’t live since she would worry Engenes (or be mocked for it by her boyfriends), so Mila simply laughs and rolls over. But at that moment the lights turn on, and Heeseung appears, causing Mila to jump back screaming, “YOU SCARED ME!”

“What are you doing?” Heeseung asks, both confused and concerned.

To this, Mila immediately jumps off the floor and runs off, hiding her face as if Heeseung didn’t already recognise her.

“Milana,” he calls out down the hall as she flees, “where are you going?”

She doesn’t turn back and instead yells, “It’s not me!” in a voice that totally sounds very much not like her, at all. (It’s totally her.)

CLIP 3, WEVERSE LIVE

“I like ass-thetics too,” Mila says in response to the comment. But Kiara ends up choking on her drink as she registers her pronunciation of the word, turning to Mila with a surprised expression.

“Wait—say that again,” the older female says.

Mila blinks. “Ass-thetics?”

Kiara very visibly smothers a laugh as she turns to the camera, before turning back to Mila. “You mean ‘aes-thetics’?”

“That’s what I said,” Mila replies, looking confused. “Ass-thetics.” 

Kiara bursts out laughing, and has to lean her head on the table to hide her face from the camera. Mila, on the other hand, turns back to the camera and flips her hair over her shoulder with a judgemental expression. “Anyway, like I was saying…” 

Mila reads out another comment, this time, more confidently than before. “‘I like Mila’s ass-thetic’,” it reads, causing Mila to respond with, “Thank you. I have a very nice ass…thetic.”

The pause between the two syllables of the word, paired with her pronunciation, causes Kiara to almost fall off her chair with laughter. Her shoulders shake and she has to hold on to Mila’s arm to stop her from leaning back too far. All the while, Mila simply ignores the older female and nods sagely at the camera.

“It’s true,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone. “I have a nice ass—”

CLIP 4, BEHIND THE SCENES SKETCH

“How do we know where the center is?” Kiara asks the choreographer when they’re told to practice without a marker for their Sweet Venom choreo, which starts slightly off-centre.

To this Mila replies confidently, “the center is wherever I am.”

And then she has a sassy expression as she ticks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m the center.”

Period.

CLIP 5, WEVERSE LIVE

Mila is talking to the camera when she receives a text. As she picks her phone up, she gasps and announces to Engenes that Sunghoon and Jake are on their way. After a while of deliberation, she decided, “Hold on, I’ll lock the door.”

She giggles to herself as she leaves the frame for a bit and comes back to sit down, before putting a hand to her lips. “They won’t be able to get in.”

Just as Mila is about to continue with her live, there’s a loud sound coming from the door. Mila looks over and her jaw practically unhinges, before she’s covering her mouth with her hand.

“H-how did you get in?” Sunghoon and Jake approach her and she moves back, using the rolling wheels of the chair that she’s seated on. “I locked the door…”

“Why did you lock the door?” Sunghoon asks, and uses his foot to stop her from moving away any further. His expression isn’t visible since he’s not facing the camera, but his hands are in his pockets and his eyes are looking down at Mila.

Jake throws an arm around Mila’s chair and brings her back to the center of the camera frame as if nothing’s wrong, a smug smirk on his face as she addresses the Engenes watching their live. Sunghoon’s hand is seen resting on the back of her chair, but Engenes notices that he subtly reaches up or grip the back of her neck, before leaning down towards the camera.

Through it all, Mila is staring at the camera, expressing a wide range of emotions from “did that just happen?” to “I’m so screwed.” Engenes don’t know what happens after, but they do know her unadulterated look of complete bafflement will forever be funny to them.

The woman is just too stunned to speak.

CLIP 6, WEVERSE LIVE

“Mila, there’s something behind you,” someone says in the comments. Mila clicks her tongue and gives the camera her best look of disgusted judgement.

“Gurl!” she says, holding up a finger and doing a ‘no-no’ motion, “You’re not fooling anybody.”

She then goes back to reading comments, not noticing that there is in fact something behind her. It may not be a person, but something nonetheless.

Mila looks to the side for a second, but probably catches movement in her peripheral vision, because she’s whipping around on her chair to face the spider that’s been dangling from the roof for the past five minutes.

Mila immediately lets out the most unholy screech she’s ever managed, and flies backward in her chair, followed by a loud bang as she (presumably) falls to the floor.

“Gah, get it out!” The fans don’t see anything except the sight of Mila throwing random things into the air, even long after the spider is gone. She eventually resurfaces in front of the camera, eyes wide with panic. “Everyone, is it gone?”

Like, yes girl, it’s gone—gone to the afterlife.

CLIP 7, WEVERSE LIVE

“We met an Engene today!” Mila says excitedly to the screen, as she narrates the events of her day to viewers. “We were walking down the street together, and she came us to us like ‘Oh my gosh, I’m a huge fan,’ and I was like, ‘Awww thanks!’ And we took a picture together.”

“Right,” Riki says, nodding along.

“She was really pretty, too,” Mila adds.

At this point, no one knows if Riki even heard anything Mila just said, because he’s still staring at the camera, licking his lips as he nods—though it seems more like out of habit than for any real meaning. To the viewers at least.

Mila clearly doesn’t think the same because all of a sudden, her head turns to him at the speed of lightning. Riki looks at her and makes eye contact, before asking, “What?” 

Mila opens her mouth to say something, but then decides against it and just turns to the screen. This time, it’s clear she’s in a bad mood, because she doesn’t have a hint of a smile on her face. Instead, she puckers her lip and gives Riki a harsh side-eye, and then turning to take a sip of her drink… very loudly.

For the rest of the live, she continues to give telling side glances at Riki, as well as loudly sipping on her drink, which Engenes will never forget to edit using a “bombastic side-eye” audio in the background.

(Riki, please tell your girlfriend she’s pretty, too.) 

CLIP 8, EN-LOG

When Mila has to go through a haunted house with Kiara, she busies herself by dancing and signing random songs to hide just how scared she is.

“JUST WANT TEN MINUTES,” she sings loudly, before jumping when one of the actors jumps out before her. “OH LAWD—“ she hands her head down and scurries off, continuing to sing the lyrics of her song. “NAE GEOSO DONEUN SIGAN—!”

It gets to the point where she’s switching between songs and dancing free wrong choreography because all she wants to do is get out of this place. But of course, she ends up being scared so badly she screams and falls to the floor, before completely passing out.

Well, pretending to, anyway.

“Yah! Get up,” Kiara says, shaking her still body on the floor.

“Can’t I just stay here?” Mila asks. “I’m already dead anyway.”

Kiara almost says something like, “Think of your boyfriends!” But, fortunately for Mila, she doesn’t.

CLIP 9, PRESS VIDEO

Mila is working along the streets when a reporter approaches her, asking her to pose for some photos.

“Uh, I don’t know, I’m a bit busy,” Mila replies nonchalantly while wearing a pair of sunglasses. However, as soon as she says this, she’s striking a not-so-subtle model-like pose in the middle of the street. A second later, she’s walking again and confines talking: “I might not have time to take photos.”

Yet, she, immediately after saying this, spins and stands next to a bouquet of flowers on display in front of a florist shop on the side of the street, doing at least three different poses to show both it and the name of the florist off like the professional voluntary brand ambassador that she is.The photographer doesn’t say anything, though, and simply takes the photos with quick shutters of the camera.

“Like I said,” she says as she continues walking as if nothing happened, “these days are very busy.”

She nods to herself and struts off with an exaggerated catwalk, stopping every meter or so to strike a random and quite frankly ridiculous pose. But what can she say? It’s difficult multitasking.

CLIP 10, FANMEET

Mila is listening intently to a fan as she spills all the tea, before her expression turns into one of progressive disgust the longer the fan goes on about this particular subject. Mila promptly puts her hand on the fan’s face, before looking her deeply in the eyes.

“Unnie, listen to me,” she says, as the fan stutters on their words. “He’s just a man—a really trashy one, too. You can do better. Just leave him.”

CLIP 11, SEND-OFF EVENT

“Mila, can you sign my photocard?” Mila is happy to oblige the request, until she looks at the photocard in question. She is absolutely flabbergasted at the confession and stares at the Engene in front of her with absolute betrayal. The fan has the decency to feel bad, and starts to apologise. “I’m sorry! I just—hahahaha!”

Mila holds the photocard to the fan’s camera to show off the photo, which is of Mila when she was younger. A very unflattering photo of her, if you ask Mila, since her hair is a mess, her clothes are a mish-mash of colours that don’t go well together, and there’s drool on the corner of her mouth. 

“Seriously?” she asks the fan, her hand on her hip. “Of all the pictures—you know what, I’m just going to take this.”

The fan gasps. “NAURRRR!”

“Fine, fine, give it here,” and then Mila proceeds to pull a pen from her bra, an action which has the fan screaming her lungs out, causing Mila to once again look at her with the same look of disbelief from before. “Girl, are you okay?”

CLIP 12, WEVERSE LIVE

“‘Jay sounds like a father,’” Mila reads out the comment after Jay scolds some Engenes for staying up too late. “Right? He acts like one, too.” She turns to him and says. “Daddy.”

Mila doesn’t realise the weirdness of her statement until after she states it out loud, and burst out laughing when Jay turns his head at breakneck speed. Mila covers her mouth and leans against the desk to hide her expression, but her shoulders start to shake from her laughter.

When she looks up again, her face has both a look of embarrassment and amusement at the same time, as Jay continues to stare at her with a hard gaze. As soon as she locks eyes with him, though, her smile drops. She looks between the camera and him, and realising that he isn’t as amused, presses her lips into a thin line and awkwardly fiddles with her hands.

“Sorry,” she says. And when Jay finally looks away from her and changes the topic, her eyes look around the room awkwardly. “So, anyway—!”

CLIP 13, FANMEET

“Mila, why did you cut your hair?”

Mila gasps at the question, as if remembering something, and covers her mouth. “You won’t believe it!”

She leans closer to the Engene in front of her as she recounts her tale, which starts during a night out with her friends. “We were walking around somewhere, but I really don’t remember where because I was drunk—anyway! I got home and was knocked out as soon as I went to lie on my bed. But when I woke up in the morning and went to brush my hair, I noticed I couldn’t run my hand through my hair! A piece of gum got stuck there!”

The Engene gasps. “So what happened?”

“I tried to get it out myself by cutting it, but I didn’t realise how hard it would be to cut gum out of my hair, so I ended up just cutting all my hair off… I had to get it straightened out by a hairdresser and it ended up really short like it is now.” Mila nods solemnly, before cracking a smile. “My hairstylist cried, though—it was kind of funny.”

CLIP 14, EN-O’CLOCK

It’s during the episode when there playing billiards. Mila has to sit on the side of the pool table to get a clearer shot, and is aiming the cue stick when she suddenly flips her hair over her shoulder. She then leans down exaggeratedly, revealing the slope of her neck to the camera.

Jake does a low whistle of appreciation, and the others laugh.

“Ooh, sexy!” Kiara cheers, clapping her hands.

“What even?” Jungwon says with a smile. “Excuse me, this is a family-friendly show!”

“Oh, sorry sorry!” Mila sits straight again and takes her shot. But immediately after, she leans against the pool table and poses saucily for the camera again. “Paint me like one of your French girls.”

“What even?” Sunoo asks, covering his mouth as he watches Mila’s antics. “What is she doing?”

Nobody really knows anymore—not even Mila herself.

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST.

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7 @onlyuyu

[kurishiri]

alfons v.s. ring . . . ring schwartz epilogue 💍

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: suggestive undertones.

Kate: If it’s come to this... then let’s do it! I mean, pretending to do naughty things!

Ring: Y-yeah, I do know that’s our only choice here, but... there’s no way I could do it.

R: Um, those kinds of things... I’ve never actually done them before!

R: But... s-since you’re really cute... I’m sure you have plenty of experience and whatnot...!

Kate: W-what do you mean, ‘plenty,’ there’s no way I have that much experience! Anyway, forget about that, we need to do something about this...

K: Ring, you go shake and push on the bed to make it creak!

K: And I’ll listen in on the other room and make sounds to match!

Ring: ...That seems more doable.

Ring went atop the bed and started to jump on it.

The bed did start creaking, to be sure, but it also was making some jarring noises that made me think the bed was really about to break down.

Kate: Could you be a bit more gentle though, Ring? It’s too much...!

Ring: Oh, umm, then... how about this!?

He briskly stepped off the bed before he put both hands on the bed and started to push down.

By doing so, he could create a good creaking sound that didn’t go too far.

Woman’s voice: The bed from the room next door has started creaking.

Man’s voice: In that case, they’re probably just a pair of lovebirds. Guess we were worrying ourselves over nothing.

Woman’s voice: ...That said, don’t you think it’s strange that there’s not a peep from the other side?

(Oh, that’s right! I have to make noise too.)

Kate: Ah, ahh... ahhn...

Ring: H-hey, um. I can’t say I’ve heard others doing you-know-what before, so I may be wrong, but...

R: When women do, you know, the deed, do they really sound this monotone...?

Kate: I mean, we’re not actually doing it, so that makes it harder...

Woman’s voice: The panting from the room next door sounds a bit strange, wouldn’t you say?

Man’s voice: It sounds real flat...

(First Ring, and now the two in the next room over are doubting me too...! At times like these, then...!)

Kate: I-I’m really, really sorry! I’ve been told by a lot of partners that my panting sounds suuuper flat!

At this point, I decided to play into the role of ‘a woman whose pants sound flat’ as I raised my voice.

Ring: N-no matter how you are, I won’t mind at aaalll!

While continuing to push down on the bed, Ring returned a fitting line in response.

...Very monotonously, may I add, for the both of us.

Woman’s voice: ...Huh, I guess they really are just one odd couple.

Man’s voice: I mean, seeing as they’re using a room of a strange manor like this, that would be a given, probably.

Kate: Oh, thank goodness, it seems they’ve bought the act...! Let’s keep this up then!

Ring: Alright... but, sorry, I’m a bit hot, so I’ll take my jacket off.

Seeing as the bed is hard, having to push down hard enough to make sounds continuously must have taken a considerable amount of stamina.

With that, Ring casually took off his top layer and put it aside.

(...)

Maybe because of the way his clothes fit his body so well, his well-trained muscles were brought to the surface.

The sweat that came from shaking the bed moved traced the back of his neck, making him quite sexy.

Ring: ...Kate? Is there something wrong?

Kate: N-no, not at all! It’s nothing——

Taken aback at having become more conscious of Ring, my legs buckled suddenly,

and, preparing for the impact, I closed my eyes then and there.

Kate: ...!

(Hm? Wait, it doesn’t hurt...?)

Ring: Are you okay?

When I slowly opened my eyes, there Ring was, nearby, as he asked with a touch of worry in his voice.

(So Ring is the one who saved me and stopped the fall...)

Our bodies were touching, and I could feel his body was a bit warmer than mine, and he gave off a pleasant, earthy scent.

(Even though he’s holding me in his arms, he seems completely unperturbed... his appearance hardly betrays the fact he must be training regularly.)

(...Wait, what in the world are you looking at, Kate!?)

Kate: T-thank you for saving me. I’ll let go now.

Ring: ...Wait.

Kate: Huh...

When his earnest voice stopped me stiff, Ring’s hand gently slid to my cheek.

(W-what the...!?)

Ring: Your face is all red. Did you hit it somewhere?

(Oh... so he was worried for me.)

Kate: N-no, I didn’t. I’m fine.

Ring: But...

Kate: It’s just... we’re so close together that I’m a bit nervous... is all...

Ring showed no sign of pulling away himself, so I opted to give him an honest answer then. And when I did, Ring also turned red, as though it had moved over from me to him.

Ring: I-I see... then, umm, I’m glad if you’re okay.

R: Sorry for keeping you like that. ...And should we continue then? What we were doing before, I mean.

After that, we continued our act of panting and shaking the bed until we exited the room.

Ring looked exhausted as we exited the room, and there was Alfons, waiting out in the hallway.

Alfons: Thank you for your hard work. Now then, were you able to listen in for what we needed?

Kate: Yes, all of it and everything...

Alfons: My word, is that a hoarse voice I hear? And not only that...

A: I see Ring has stripped his outer layer off and is positively sweaty as well.

A: Would it be safe to assume... you two have gone aaall the way, by any chance?

Ring & Kate: “No!” “Absolutely not!”

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

END NOTES: this story was so silly and makes me smile whenever i read it, haha. ring seems to be the most popular of the vogel trio, seeing he has gotten a dark mafia design, and it’s not hard to see why. his charm is in his innocence, and it’s like a breath of fresh air in this game, and i hope i could capture it too.

i’m overall curious about all the vogel members and feel this story event is a strong debut for all three. thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed! i’d love to hear your thoughts as well ♡

full masterlist 🪞💍

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

Once we’re seated and buckled, Lex turns to me to begin her interrogation before I even have a chance to pull out of the parking garage. “Okay, so, first things first, did you sleep with him?”

I glance over at her, surprised by her question. I figured that was implied considering we left the club together last night and I didn’t come home until this afternoon, but good for her for not making assumptions, I guess. “Yeah, I did,” I say, fighting a losing battle with the smile spreading across my face. 

She smacks me in the arm and gasps, “Really? How was it?”

This really isn’t the part of the night that I need to talk through, but I allow myself a moment to think about it anyway. I prop my arm up on the door so I can rest my head against my hand. My hair feels clean and soft, and still smells faintly of his shampoo, sparking a memory of running my hands over his body in the shower. The image makes my stomach flutter, and my voice comes out a little dreamy when I speak, “It was amazing.”

“Amazing? Well, I’m going to have follow-up questions.”

“And I won’t be answering any of those questions.”

“Ugh, fine,” she rolls her eyes in mock annoyance, “So, then what happened? How did things go from ‘amazing’ to you sobbing into my shoulder and getting snot all over my jacket?”

“I don’t know. Like, the whole night was great. It was fun, and he was so sweet, and it really felt like… It wasn't just a hook up, it was more than that. Or at least I thought so. Maybe I was just projecting or seeing what I wanted to see because I… fuck, I’m so embarrassed… whatever, I kinda put myself out there today, really thinking he’d reciprocate, but—”

“He didn’t?”

“No.”

“What did he say?”

“Same thing he always says. He doesn’t want to date me because we work together. He just wants to be friends. I don’t know, maybe I’m the asshole. How many times does he have to tell me he just wants to be friends? And I’m over here like, ‘are you sure? how ‘bout now?’ What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to stop.”

“Babe, c’mon, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. I know you. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t really believe he felt the same way. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you, you’re not imagining it. Sounds to me like he’s saying one thing but acting another and he’s fucking with your head and that’s not okay. If he truly wants to be your friend, then he needs to act like a friend, and he’s not. If you ask me, he’s the asshole, and you deserve a hell of a lot better.”

“I hear you; I do. He’s not an asshole, though. He’s really not. I think maybe it’s more complicated than that. Like, he was so kind, and affectionate… I really felt like he cared. And then today, he just looked so sad when I was leaving. You know how he does sometimes. But I’ve never seen him more down than he looked today, and my heart just, I don’t know, I just want to take that sadness away. I feel like I could make him happy if he’d let me.”

“Careful, Ash. Don’t do that. Don’t fall into that trap of thinking you can rescue him or fix him or something. That’s some toxic co-dependent shit. Pretty sure you get enough of that with your sister.”

“Ow.” Leave it to Lex to stab you in the heart with her honesty. I respect it, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. 

“Did you or did you not drop everything to rush out to the Bay to help her the second she asked?”

“Yes, but—”

“Are your parents home?”

“Yes.”

“So, in theory, they could help her with her baby furniture or whatever today?”

I let her words sink in. I’ve gotten better at setting boundaries with Iris, but apparently, I still have some work to do. It didn’t even feel like an option to say no to her today, but now that seems ridiculous. Now, I wish I hadn’t rushed out on Atlas. Maybe we could’ve had a nice day together. Maybe I wouldn’t have made a fool of myself if I wasn’t so frazzled and trying to make everyone happy all at once. Damn. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’m doing that with Atlas though. Like, sure, I want to make him happy when he’s sad, and maybe I overestimate my ability to do so, but I’ve never felt a need to ‘save’ him or whatever. It’s not like that. I just… I like him so much, Lex. I really do. I love spending time with him. And I love the way he makes me feel when we’re together. I could’ve sworn he felt the same way. I mean, just the way he…” my voice trails off as I remember all the ways he looked at me and smiled at me and kissed me and touched me, and then his words “Ash, you’re perfect, you know that?”, and the tenderness in his voice and in his eyes when he said it. The sweet way he kissed my forehead in the bathroom. The way he held me as we slept.

“The way he what? Hello? Where did you go?”

“You know what? I’m not fucking crazy. I’m not. I know he feels it too. So, maybe he really is just super weird about dating people he works with. I mean, on paper it seems logical, right? To not mix your professional life with your romantic one?”

“I don’t know. I guess? What are you getting at?”

“Well, it’s an easy enough obstacle to remove, don’t you think?”

“You’re gonna quit your job over a guy you’ve only known a few months?”

“Why not? It’s better than giving up on a great guy over some job I've only had a few months. I’m not just gonna quit though, don’t worry. I’ll get something else lined up first. But I have a decent portfolio. I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”

“Okay. Well, what if it doesn’t work? What if he’s full of shit, making excuses? What if you leave for him and he still just wants to be friends.”

“Honestly, at this point, if there’s any chance of me being his friend, I think I’ll need some distance for a while to get over him. And also, if I call his bluff and tell him I’m going to quit, and he still doesn’t want to be with me, then hopefully he’ll at least have the decency to tell me the real reason why. Otherwise, maybe I shouldn’t even try being his friend. Maybe, in that case, I’d have to face that he’s not who I thought he was and move on. But I won’t be able to do that unless I know for sure. So yeah, the more I think about it, this seems like the obvious solution regardless of the outcome.”

She pouts at me, clearly not happy, but she doesn’t have an argument against it, so she concedes, “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know.” I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a little squeeze. “Sorry about your jacket.”

She smiles at that, “It’s okay. Do you feel better at least?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Worth it then.”

Prev // Next

AN: Thank you so so much @madebycoffee for creating the perfect poses for this scene!!! This was my very first car scene and I was so nervous about it, but I love how it turned out and I couldn't have done it without you!! 🥹🩵🧡

[rosemariiaa]

~In this Unsaid~

pairing: Paige x Azzi

a/n: yea.. we’re here again and not at part 6 of my other fic, i procrastinate too much but i will start writing the chapter tomorrow 💌 also a tag for my baby ke @thaatdigitaldiary because she’s a lot of help and loves listening to me yap 💌

Song: Welcome and Goodbye- Dream, Ivory

theme- angst

Enjoy!!!

The gym echoes with the laughter of teammates, but all Paige could hear was the pounding of her heart. She sat on the bleachers and glared, watching Azzi joke and laugh with the others. It was maddening how easily they seemed to connect while she felt the weight of many unsaid words pressing down.

After practice, as the group began to go their separate ways, Paige found Azzi leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a mask of indifference hiding the storm underneath. Taking a breath that felt heavy in her chest, Paige finally approached the brunette.

“Why do you keep pretending everything’s fine?” The words slipped out, sharper than she intended.

Azzi didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her gaze was fixed on the floor. “I’m not pretending. Just… tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what? Me? Us?” Paige stepped closer, frustration bubbling. “Because I can’t keep doing this back-and-forth. It’s exhausting Az.” Finally, Azzi met her gaze, anger flaring. “You think I want to feel like this? You think I enjoy watching you pull away?”

“Then why don’t you say something? Anything. I just want to know how you feel.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi’s voice trembled. “That I can’t stop thinking about you? That every time I see you, it hurts because I know it’s not enough?”

Paige’s heart dropped at the confession. “It’s not enough for me either. I keep wishing we could just… figure it out.”

“But we never do!” Azzi exclaimed, her voice cracking. “We keep circling around this, and it’s killing me. I’m scared of losing you completely.”

Paige felt tears prick her eyes. “You won’t lose me. I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep waiting for you to decide what you want.”

Azzi swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe I already know, but I don’t know how to say it.”

Oh.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths. Paige took a step closer, the distance between them feeling both tantalizingly close and impossibly far. She could feel the heat radiating off Azzi, tension crackling like static.

Before the moment could dissolve, the buzzer sounded, signaling the end of practice. The spell broke, leaving only the echoes of their conversation hanging in the air.

———-

Days blurred as Paige prepared to leave for a tournament. The night before her departure, she lays in bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts of Azzi flooding her mind like a tide pulling her under. They’d both been avoiding each other since that confrontation, and the silence felt like a chasm between them.

The next morning, at the airport, she felt her heart in her throat as she spotted Azzi across the terminal, standing like a beacon in the chaos. Paige’s breath hitched, a mix of longing and dread washing over her.

Azzi walked over, her expression a careful mask. “You came,” she said softly.

“I had to,” Paige replied, voice trembling. “I didn’t want to leave things like this.”

They stood there, surrounded by bustling travelers, but it was just them in that moment. The noise faded into the background as they locked eyes.

“This doesn’t feel real,” Paige said, struggling to hold back tears. “Like, I’m really leaving, and we’re just… here.”

Azzi’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “I hate this. I hate that it always ends like this.”

“I thought things would change. That we’d find a way to make it work,” Paige’s voice was thick with emotion.

“And what if we don’t? What if this is just… it? Another goodbye?” Azzi’s voice cracked, the vulnerability tearing at Paige’s heart.

“I don’t want it to be. I wish I could take you with me, but…” Paige’s words faltered, a sob threatening to escape.

“But you can’t. I can’t. It’s never been that easy for us,” Azzi replied, her tone heavy with resignation. Paige stepped closer, desperation in her gaze. “I’ll always care about you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but caring isn’t enough.” Azzi’s voice broke as tears slipped down her cheeks.

As Paige stepped back, silence enveloped them, thick with everything left unspoken. She turned to leave but paused, glancing back one last time. Their eyes met, filled with unvoiced feelings, aching and raw.

“Maybe next time we’ll finally say what we mean,” Paige whispered.

“And what if next time never comes?” Azzi’s voice was barely a breath, filled with dread.

With that, Paige turned and walked away, each step feeling like a piece of her heart was left behind. The weight of goodbye settled in, a haunting melody that would follow her long after she left.

The air felt colder without Azzi’s presence. As Paige walked towards her gate, the echo of their unfinished story lingered in her mind—a welcome and a goodbye, forever intertwined, lost in the spaces they could never seem to bridge.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors:) Corporate: You work in R & D at a major corporation. You’ve been here for the last 4 years, in the same position as when you started. So when Jeon Jungkook, your old mentee from graduate school, starts working with you it shouldn’t bother you. Except he’s two positions higher than you, it infuriates you, and he can’t seem to understand why. https://yslkook.tumblr.com/post/633181521429331968/corporate-masterlist

Almost: Jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/645171463303970816/almost-m-jjk Right Now: Coming to terms with your feelings after getting off to the idea of your close friend is a little harder than you thought, but how long can you take before Jungkook decides its time to move on? https://bratkook.tumblr.com/post/652117962178904065/not-yet-almost-right-now-pairing-jungkook-x

Be Your Fantasy: Jungkook doesn’t have a lot of time before he needs to enlist for the military, so what happens when his best friends decide to set him up with the girl he’s had a crush on for longer than he’d like to admit? And what happens when you feel the same way about him?  https://www.tumblr.com/bubbaboae/748073194291904512

Beer: Jungkook comforts you after a bad date and then... https://www.tumblr.com/mikrokosmoslove/760181660804415488/beer

Done With Me? “Done with me, huh ?” Jungkook gruffs against your lips. The flavor of mint and some berry-flavored candy mixed with the scent of his cologne was intoxicating. He rolled his hips against you, spreading your walls with inch after delicious inch that you would never admit you missed. https://www.tumblr.com/breezybangtanbebe/760437998780284928/done-with-me-huh-exboyfriendjungkook-gruffs

Ignored Warnings: You’re bored. Jungkook’s playing his game. You decide to play a game of your own. https://archiveofourown.org/works/13035276/chapters/29816328

Cold Nights & Blurred Lines: Jungkook and you have been keeping a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part, but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. Is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? It definitely is. Will you do something about it? Both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46241500/chapters/116415910

Get Off The Floor: You order Jeon Jungkook to get off the floor. He says, “Make me.” You make him. Eventually. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/762115428767186944/get-off-the-floor-m-jjk Get On The Floor: You order Jeon Jungkook to get on the floor. He says, “Make me.” You make him get on his knees. The exact place he wants to be and the perfect place for him. https://whatifyoulivelikethat.tumblr.com/post/762210059419877376/can-we-get-a-part-2-of-get-off-the-floor-it

[starhvney]

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when your lover can’t calm himself from a nightmare, you try to calm him through a connection only you can give

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst with comfort, shadow knight laurance, once again i present laurance angst, yet another fic where i write laurance obsessing over reader’s safety, do i have a thing for it? yeah, do something about it, also can you catch the canon line i slid in here? i couldn’t help myself

𝐂𝐖: nsfw/smut. unprepped sex, large size difference, does this count as monster fucking? not really? but he’s a big boy

𝐀/𝐍: thank you to @thebunnednun for giving me this prompt!! shadow knight laurance *convulses* anyways i hope this is coherent guys i wrote most of it last night while half asleep ahshah

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑰𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑵𝑰.

you had been just there.

right at his fingertips.

at the comfortable distance where he knew he could protect you if something went wrong.

but it’s never enough, is it?

one second you were next to him, the next you were separated by what could practically be considered a herd of shadow souls. he didn’t know where they came from. he hadn’t even sensed them. but now they were overwhelming him, and overwhelming you, too.

he had even transformed, using every ounce of power he could to tear through the shadows around him. his movements still somehow managed to be too slow—too sluggish. each one he cut down it seemed like two more were on him, and two more were on you.

your screams were haunting. over everything he could hear, your cries for his help echoed against his eardrums, shaking his head like a bell.

“laurance, please!”

he has to get to you. he has to. he thinks he can as he slices through several of them, before one of them leaps towards him, knocking him down onto the ground with a groaning screech.

“no! get off of me!” he groans, struggling to push it away enough to grab his sword.

immediately it digs its claws into his cheek, and despite trying to turn away the sensation doesn’t leave his skin.

“laurance!” the soul cries, the empty and dark void of its mouth mimicking your voice. your distress.

it was mocking your pain in his face.

his vision is tinted red.

“laurance!”

he’s going to kill it. he has to. he has to kill.

“laurance, get up!”

his vision goes dark, but he can move again, and he lunges forward, pinning down the soul closest to him and keeping it there. he’s going to kill it once his eyes focus again.

he got it. where’s his sword?

“laurance?!” the soul asks in a panic, its voice clearer and a lot more like yours than the warbled disjointed one from before.

it felt smaller, too.

his hands squeeze against the arms of the creature to keep it in place. he knows he has to kill it, but there’s a part of him screaming at him to stop, but it’s drowned by the echoes of your screams for his help. what’s happening? why is it so dark right now?

“it’s me!” you hiccup, eyes wide and breaths short.

this wasn’t him right now.

no, not when your body was telling you to run. that you were in danger. not when you look up to see unfocused and rageful dark red irises trying to focus on something, his chest heaving as a whirlwind of unstable emotions seemed to batter against his rib cage.

you knew something was wrong when you had woken up so suddenly and so late, your skin sticky with sweat and feeling strangely on edge as your mind wandered to the possibilities.

why do you feel like you’re in danger right now? was it a predator? something lurking in the shadows of your room?

when you’d turned to get a look at your lover, you had your answer. he hadn’t completely transformed in his sleep, his armor hadn’t formed against his body and he still wore the thin and loose linen sleepwear he’d gone to bed with last night.

but it wasn’t loose anymore—he was nearly bulging out of it his already tall legs now hanging over the edge of the frame. his skin wasn’t that beautiful olive shade, but rather a desaturated almost deathly pale color. and his eyes. they weren’t open, but the skin underneath them showed unnaturally red veins that webbed from his eyelids just under the skin.

what was he dreaming about that had him transforming into a shadow knight in his sleep?

after some hesitation, you had reached out to his cheek to wake him up, calling out his name as he seemed to almost growl in his sleep. you almost regret your decision when blood red eyes snap open in a frenzy, and a split second later you find yourself forcefully pinned against the sheets.

you can see it. the instability on his face. he wasn’t here with you in this moment, his judgment was clouded by whatever rage had overtaken him in his dream. but what could you do? he already had you, his hands holding down your arms rather painfully and heavy body pinning you in place. the only thing you could possibly be capable of was to soothe him with your words.

“laurance… it’s me. it’s me.” you whisper, cursing at how your voice was the least bit assuring as it shook. “you were dreaming. you’re here with me.”

his chest heaves with ragged breaths, expression twisted in a lost and distressed frenzy. the startling blood red of his eyes dart across your face, before locking onto your eyes.

there he is.

you see a piece of him return, as rage turns to horror and realization.

“you—it’s you.” he manages to get through disjointed breaths, whatever scene that was looping in his mind clearly still clouding his ability to calm down.

“it’s me.” you whisper.

he closes his eyes, pulling in a sharp breath as he lets go of your wrists and moves his hands to beside your head. he ducks his head, shoulders shaking and mouth curling in an expression that could only be described as pure self loathing.

“…it’s okay.” you breathe, your words quickly cut off by his own.

“it’s not.”

it’s harsher than he probably intended. his voice is hoarse and deep, an underlying growl there that he can’t seem to get rid of. you watch as a few sparks of ember float up into the air, fizzling out thankfully before it could hit your sheets or spark the wooden ceiling.

he was going to hurt you. you. you. you.

a second goes by and shakily you raise your hands, cupping his cheeks. “laurance. look at me.”

his jaw clenches and unclenches. once, twice, three, before he cracks open his eyes again, focusing on you.

“i’m okay. see?” you keep your voice hushed, thumbs running along the red veins beneath his eyes. “you need to calm down so you can transform back.”

“i ca—i can’t. you should’ve heard—no. no.” he shakes his head, lowering it again—but this time resting his face into the crook of your neck.

your heart sinks. he sounds so unstable. so panicked.

fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, massaging into the tense muscles there and drifting to the now impossibly broad expanse of his shoulders. they seemed to double your own, his form completely swallowing yours as he leaned over you. he breathes in, taking in your scent as his lips pressed against the juncture of your shoulder and neck. it makes your heart rate involuntarily spike, a shuddering breath leave your lips in a mix of fear and something else you don’t want to admit to.

a few more beats pass like this, you frozen under him like prey caught in the jaws of a predator, before his lips part and he bites down onto your skin.

his teeth were sharp, and a small whimper of discomfort involuntarily leaves your lips at the feeling.

it makes him flinch back and freeze in place, like once again he hadn’t even realized his own actions—the primal part of him taking over his rational thoughts.

“i can’t.” he mutters lowly, moving to get up, like he was going to leave. “

“no.” you quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him down to you but instead pulling yourself up to him.

“i’m going to hurt you. i don’t have… control over myself right now—“

you gulp, before slinking your legs around his waist and pulling your hips up to connect with his.

he inhales sharply. “what are you doing?”

“you’re here with me. let me show you.”

“no. no, i’ll hurt you.” he says, groaning as you pull yourself closer and roll yourself into him.

there’s a low warning of your name from his lips, forehead dropping to rest against your collarbone. “you don’t know what you’re doing—”

“i do.” you reassure, cutting him off. “i want you.”

he settles back down with a groan, lifting his head to look at you. “i’m dangerous to you right now. why can’t you understand?”

leaning up, you connect your lips with his and he groans against you. you can feel his self control beginning to crumble, and the much thicker bulge pressing between your legs through the material of his pants and your nightgown.

“i understand.” you say. “i understand that i love you more.”

“you’re going to be,” he groans, the deeper timbre of his voice sending a shock of electricity down your spine. “the undoing of me.”

he rolls his hips down into yours, and you gasp. regularly, what was under his belt was nothing to scoff at—his flirtatious remarks irritatingly wasn’t just all talk. but now? in this form where he towered not one but two heads taller than you? just from him pressing into you alone you could tell he was huge.

this is what he needed, though. you can already feel the tense trembling of his muscles beginning to calm, his ragged and uneven breathing turning to just a shuddering tempo.

his hands find themselves on your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “is this… what you want? tell me right now, because i’m losing my grip.”

you were almost ashamed of the damp spot that had already begun to form on your panties, and how just his touch was enough to send shockwaves through your nervous system.

“yes.”

it’s like a switch is flipped, whatever wall of self control his conscious had put up crumbling to the ground. his hips push down into yours, harsher this time, while his lips press into your skin. he begins to pull your skin between his teeth, suckling bruises against it while his hands no less than tear your nightgown from your body.

cool air hits your skin, a small gasp leaving your lips at his sudden eager need to have his skin on yours. his hands briefly leave your side, only to pull his own clothes and briefs from his form. you don’t dare to look down, the length that was pressing against your thigh enough to intimidate you.

“i—“ he stutters, the internal war being fought in his head stopping his movements. “i’ll hurt you. i don’t know if i can control myself.”

tilting your head up, you kiss him once again, fingers threading into his hair and massaging his scalp. “you won’t.”

he shudders against you, breathing in your scent and deepening the kiss. eagerly he shifts your hips, moving you closer with one hand and dragging the fat tip of his cock against your clit. you were already well lubricated with the slick that covered your folds, but you still weren’t sure if it would fit. regardless his lips continue to devour yours, pulling each breath from your lips and leaving you dizzy as he shifts his hips up, dragging the length against your folds and pulling back. the mere girth of it was startling, but you don’t get to think about it for long until you’re subjected to it, the tip bullying it’s way through your entrance.

he slowly keeps pushing in, making you feel like you were going to split in half by his size. the stretch was entirely new, an uncomfortable one you hadn’t felt before. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, either.

but you needed to breathe. managing to part from the messy lock of your lips with a gasp, you throw your head back with a shuddered moan. he keeps pulling out just so he can push back in deeper, each thrust somehow filling you out impossibly more. your body was protesting against the push, squeezing against his length like your insides were trying to shove him back out. each time you fluttered around his cock he’d groan lowly under his breath, the noise a gravelly sound that rattled against your ribs and send a lightheaded wave of pleasure up your spine.

your eyelashes flutter down, a shocked gasp leaving your lips when you see he’d barely pushed halfway through. he pulls his attention from the spot on your collarbone he’d been leaving bruising kisses on, eyes darting across your face as he keeps bullying his way inside. it was bordering on being painful, but the shocks of pleasure shooting through your nerves overpowered everything else.

the veins under his eyes had begun to recede, the red of his irises now dulling in color. his nose wrinkles for a moment as he looks at you, his hands cupping your face as a conflict of emotions crosses his face. you can tell what he was thinking, with the look of guilt that crosses over his eyes at the sight of your smaller body trembling underneath him.

he was meant to protect you. and everything in his nature now wanted him to do the opposite. even as he fought against it, it still wasn’t enough. your screams, real or not, still echo in his head.

he was always so gentle with you. always taking his time to make sure you—the most important thing to him—felt safe and comfortable. the thought that he was possibly hurting you right now was revolting to him, even though he needed you close right now. you have to reach up to his face to snap him out of his thoughts before he spirals once again.

“it’s okay. i’m okay.” you whisper.

he presses his face into your hair, before a shuddering sob leaves his lips.

“i couldn’t protect you.”

you reach for his face pulling him up to look at you. his eyebrows are pulled together, red glazed over in angry and distressed tears.

“laurance, my love. it wasn’t real. i’m safe with you.” you tilt your head. “you’ll always protect me.”

he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “but what about when i can’t? when i fully lose control? when i finally lose you? it would be my end. i couldn’t handle it. i can’t. i can’t.”

“you’re not going to lose me.”

“you don’t… you don’t understand…”

“yes, i do.”

your voice is firmer, and it snaps his attention back to you.

“i know you. i know what you’re capable of.” you gently brush your hands across his face, and his eyes slowly shut, taking in your words. “i know your strength, and your values. i know you’d rather throw yourself into the worst pain imaginable before letting something happen to me. even now, when you claim you’re so dangerous, i know i’m safe.”

his breath shudders as he hunches over you, seeming to feel a pang through his chest that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“i love you.” you whisper, before the breath is knocked out of you as he gives a harsh thrust of his hips, rocking you up against the pillow.

“i love you.” he groans back. “so much. you’re my everything.”

you can’t respond to that, can’t even think of the words as he fully pushes himself in, his pelvis meeting your ass. his hands grip onto your waist like you would disappear between his fingers if he let go, head dipping down to your chest as he begins to set a rhythm. pain has faded to pure pleasure at this point, the stretch of his girth and the veins that dragged along your walls with every thrust left your mouth gasping for air and back arching up into him.

his tempo was rough and sloppy, leaving you unable to catch your breath and stirring your head into a mindless haze, your fingers grasping onto the firm expanse of his shoulders for any sense of stability as you’re knocked into oblivion.

his mouth latches onto your neck once again, but unlike his brutal thrusts his lips are soft against your skin. that was your laurance. the one that laced his hand with yours as he took you in a slow and sensual pace. the one that whispered sweet nothings in your ear and treated you so gently—focusing on pleasuring you until you couldn’t think before even beginning to focus on himself.

despite how much you loved how he treated you regularly, you couldn’t even try to deny how good this felt.

he lifts his head up, fingers brushing along your breasts and up against your collarbones, taking you all in as he sped up the pace. you can tell he’s already close to his release from the way his chin tilts up in the air and his glazed-over eyes roll back, his lips parted as he pulls in ragged breaths. suddenly he’s pulling your thighs up, large hands squeezing into the plush skin and hitching them up against his shoulders.

“so beautiful. and mine.” he murmurs, voice a deep rasp. he turns his head down, leaning back over you and staring at you through hooded eyes—practically folding you in half. “don’t you dare ever run where i can’t protect you.”

you’re close, too, and the way he looked at you now was about to send you over the edge. the mix of the new angle his dick was brutally drilling into you and his possessive and borderline wild need to protect you has you squeezing against him, your cunt sucking him in deeper and not letting go.

he moans out lowly, his hips stuttering into yours and slamming to a sudden stop. it’s so much, in more ways than one, when his hips grind in a slow circle and the heat of his cum overflows into you. you swear you feel it in your guts, with how much of it keeps coming, and how he jerkily pushes it back into you. it snaps you over the edge, vision going white and limbs turning shaky and weak, the mix of both of your releases spilling from your stuffed cunt and creating a sticky mess where your skin connected.

when you regain your vision again you find yourself looking back into gray-blue eyes, his eyebrows turned up and under eyes wet with tears. his skin had returned to its normal tone, but he still looked so pale, still so filled with a fear he couldn’t swallow.

you bring a hand up to his cheek once again, wiping the stray beads of sweat away from his face and leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“there you are, my love.”

your voice is merely a hoarse whisper, but it’s enough to knock him down. he crumbles onto you, forehead landing on the pillow next to your head, breaths shaky and fanning across your skin as his arms circle around your waist and pull you tight. slowly, he pulls out, leaving the both of you softly groaning in discomfort at the absence of each other’s warmth. his cum continues to spill out from inside you, dripping onto the sheets in a messy mix.

“…did i hurt you?” he whispers, voice trembling in the fear of it being true. his hands feel so very gentle on your waist, like he was holding fragile porcelain in his hands.

“no.”

his breath hitches in something like relief, a choked sob leaving his lips. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know. and i love you.”

his shoulders relax, and he rolls to the clean side of the bed, pulling you right into his chest and hugging you close. strong arms wrap around your shoulders and waist, leaving you little wiggle room against him. with the fragile state he was in, though, you don’t dare to say a word about it.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what happened—” he starts, his voice an exhausted and hoarse whimper as he buries his face in your hair.

“laurance. i’m safe.” is all you say, silencing the self-deprecating thoughts he wished to express.

in the quiet dead of night, you both lay there, limbs tangled and pressed together as the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated your sweaty skin—shining from the afterglow. the fears that plagued your lover’s mind melted away for now, his breaths evening into a deep and steady cycle and mind lulling into a peaceful sleep.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch (if you are a minor or uncomfortable with being tagged in nsfw please let me know immediately and i will take you off of my taglist for nsfw works in the future)

[jermer10]

hiiii I love love love ur writing sm !! do u think u would mind like. doing the trope where reader and merc get stuck in like a reaaaally teeny locker/closet/box etc and like basically have to be cuddling the whole time?? any mercs u want but I'd esp love scout, Sniper, and soldier :3 <3<3

TF2 forced confinement

gn reader, suggestive | wait i love this ask

includes: scout, soldier, sniper

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - The second the door closes, trapping the two of you inside, Scout freaks out - “Oh man, oh man, we’re stuck in here! What’re we supposed to do?” - "We'll just have to wait for them to come and get us." You grimace - He can’t stop blushing the moment he realizes just how close you are, he’s trying to act cool, but his face is beet red, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes - He keeps shifting, trying to get comfortable without, you know, touching you too much, but it’s a tiny closet, so he’s got no choice but to be practically on top of you - Every time he accidentally bumps into you, he mutters, “Sorry, sorry,” like it’s the end of the world - To cover up how flustered he is, Scout starts talking. A lot. “This closet’s so freakin’ small, huh? Like, who even makes closets this tiny? I mean, what’re people even supposed to keep in here? Brooms? Ha! Weird, right?” - You ease up at the realization that he's just as awkward about this as you are - After a few minutes, he tries to act like he’s totally cool with the situation - He’ll awkwardly drape an arm around you, trying to make it seem casual, but his heartbeat is way too fast, and he can’t stop glancing at you to see if you’re uncomfortable. “We’re cool, right? Yeah, totally cool.” - He is obviously, not cool - Eventually, the awkwardness turns into something a little more comfortable - He’ll laugh at how ridiculous the situation is, maybe even teasing, “Bet ya didn’t expect to spend the day stuck in a closet with me, huh?”

Soldier: - When the door slams shut, Soldier isn’t fazed at first - He just stands there, arms crossed, as if being stuck in a tiny closet with you is totally normal - “This is nothing. I’ve been in tighter spaces during training!” he declares with full confidence - But once you’re both standing way too close for comfort, even Soldier starts to feel the awkwardness - You’re practically chest-to-chest, and he can’t ignore it anymore. “Ah… this is… strategically inconvenient,” he mutters, his bravado slipping a little - Soldier tries to stay as still as possible, his body rigid as he avoids making too much contact - He won’t admit it, but he’s extremely uncomfortable being in such close quarters with you—not because he doesn’t like it, but because he likes it too much - After a while, Soldier starts to relax (as much as he can). If the two of you are sitting or huddling together, he’ll instinctively wrap an arm around you in a protective way, as if guarding you from the cramped space itself - He won’t acknowledge it, though - just gives a gruff, “Stay still, it’s more efficient.” - Soldier keeps trying to frame the situation like a tactical operation. “We must conserve space. Stay close. No sudden movements,” he’ll say, his voice serious, but inside, he’s silently praying you don’t notice how his heart is pounding from being so close to you - As time passes, Soldier’s stiff demeanor softens, and he might even say something like, “You are… not a bad person to be stuck with in combat—or a closet.” It’s the closest thing to a compliment he’ll give, but it’s sincere

Sniper: - The moment the door closes, trapping you both inside, Sniper freezes - He’s not someone who’s used to physical closeness, and now you’re practically on top of him in this tiny closet - his first instinct is to go completely silent - Sniper tries to move around in the cramped space without invading your personal bubble, but it’s impossible - Every time your knees or shoulders brush against each other, he stiffens, his face heating up. “Uh, sorry ‘bout that…” he mumbles, barely able to look at you - He’s incredibly polite, despite being obviously flustered - “I’ll, uh, try not to get too close, if I can help it…” but then he realizes how ridiculous that sounds, given the size of the closet, and he just shuts his mouth, embarrassed - Sniper leans back against the wall, trying to stay calm, but his heart is racing, and he’s hyper-aware of every tiny movement you make - Sniper doesn’t say much, but if you get uncomfortable or need to shift around, he’s quick to make sure you’re okay. “Here, move this way—it’ll be more comfortable,” he’ll offer, gently guiding you into a better position, even though it means getting closer to you - After a while, the tension dies down a bit, and he might quietly admit, “I’m, uh, not used to this sorta thing. But… I don’t mind, bein’ close to ya.” His voice is soft, and he’s looking away, but you can tell he means it