#enjoy writing with who you wanna write with

[lightseoul]

a/n. once again, i have been inspired by a random instagram reel. i didn't even watch it, really—i just saw the keyword and was immediately spurred into writing this. enjoy <3 (0.9k)

you feel his gaze on you before you even think of meeting it.

“what,” you state more than ask when he doesn’t let up after a minute, not bothering to look up from the book you’re reading.

a scoff resounds from his direction. then: “too lazy to even move your shitty eyes?”

“don’t have to,” you retort as you finally close the paperback, shifting in your bed to regard him. “you’re boring holes into my face with all that staring.”

from where he’s seated at your dining table, bakugou grumbles, although he doesn’t deny the allegations. your face softens when you realize belatedly that he’s being awfully quiet—a jarring juxtaposition to his usual brashness.

something’s up.

but you know better than to pry it from him.

you mentally sigh. the roundabout way it is.

“what, am i extra pretty today?” you joke out of your ass, and that catches him off guard because he chokes on his own spit. that wasn’t part of the plan but you can’t help it—you laugh as he coughs his lungs out, somehow managing to throw in a curse or two in between rasps.

“shitty fucking—” he hacks some more, and when he finally recovers: “i don’t know why i fucking put up with you.”

you shrug, not at all hurt by the otherwise scathing statement. he’s said that to you too many times to count and yet, he’s still here. hanging out with you in your apartment on a friday night, no less.

you don’t point out any of that, though, confident that said knowledge is true enough for the both of you to leave it unspoken. so instead, you continue down the jesting route. “you wouldn’t know how to talk to girls without me, that’s why.”

“fuck off,” he tosses without missing a beat. “i can get the fuck by without your shitty ass guidance.”

that makes you grin, because no, he definitely can’t. how can he when he refuses to do the very first step? as in, choose a girl to talk to?

you know, someone who isn’t you.

his reluctant (best) friend.

and as if he read your mind, he shoots you a pointed look. “and i told you,” he hisses, “you use up all my fuckin’ tolerance. can’t have another girl around because you drive me crazy enough.”

“thanks, kats. i love you, too.”

“whatever,” he answers petulantly as he looks away, although you catch wind of the faint tinge of pink spreading across his cheeks like it always does when you shower him with affection—to his chagrin.

“so…” you start when neither of you says anything for a moment, “am i extra pretty today? or do you wanna share, i don’t know, something.”

“if i spit it out, will you fucking stop badgering me about how you look? you haven’t even showered today, for fuck’s sake.”

a pillow is flung across the room before you can think against it.

“wha—” he gets out instinctively before dodging it with ease. you roll your eyes as he flashes you a victorious smirk. of course. of all the jobs he could have in the world, he had to be a pro-hero and have the signature pro-hero reflexes.

his countenance then morphs as he stares at you expectantly, waiting for an answer, and you have to bite back the fuck you that’s dangling at the tip of your tongue. instead, you give him a curt nod, feigning nonchalance to further coax him into spilling whatever’s in his mind.

“go on,” you press when he doesn’t follow it up immediately after.

“i’m getting to it, alright? jesus.”

a pause.

then, another.

and when you’re finally convinced he’s just playing with you and won’t reveal whatever secret he’s got hidden behind the vault he calls his lips, he says it.

“i’m getting a vasectomy.”

you blink at him.

that was not what you were expecting.

“wh—what?”

you can only watch him in utter bewilderment as he flushes, covering up his fluster with a glare. “you heard me.”

“but, kats,” you begin, not knowing how to say the next bit, “…you’re a virgin. and you’ve never been with anyone romantically.”

the pink from earlier instantly deepens into a scarlet. “so what, hah? you’re the one to talk!”

“no, no,” you manage to respond, slowly shaking your head. you have no idea what’s happening. “that wasn’t meant to be a roast. like, at all. it’s just…why?”

bakugou doesn’t answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips into a thin line.

“you said it yourself, didn’t you?” he says after a while, voice uncharacteristically hushed, as if he doesn’t want you to hear him. you lean in ever so minutely, straining to listen from a few feet away.

“said wait?” you ask, matching the stillness of his tone.

“that birth control fucks you up.”

at that, you barely manage to school your shock into a neutral expression, although it’s definitely your heart that’s suddenly hammering wildly against your chest at his admission. you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. his gaze is dizzyingly penetrating as you struggle to get your words out, until you finally manage a warbled “y-yeah.”

he probably meant that birth control fucks you—women—up, and not you you.

yeah, that’s definitely it.

with this new strand of knowledge, you’re able to muster a genuine smile his way. “that’s very thoughtful of you, kats.”

and just because you like to be sure of things, you throw in the next thing for good measure.

“she’ll be very lucky to have you.”

silence.

“hah?!”

(the keyword was vasectomy lol) (petition for more birth control methods for men)

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra

[sashi-ya]

𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘄𝗮𝗿 +18 figarland shanks x f! reader x figarland shamrock

🩸 tw: one piece manga #1137 spoilers! if you don't know who shamrock is, careful! 🩸 tw 2: mdni. nsfw. threesome. dp. oral. rough. man handling. insults. 🩸 a/n: hi, how you doing ~ I said I wanted to write it, and I did. Did I totally ignore the fact I need to pack my suitcase? yes. And did my slutty needs win? also yes. Please enjoy. Don't expect much characterization about Shamrock or a very accurate relationship with Shanks as we barely know him. also, I now asume the "shanks" on the left is not shanks but Shamrock since he went to see the Gorosei and we all thought it was Shanks. 🩸wc: 1.5k

“Who could have said it was that easy to bring you back home, brother!?” “Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this”

In between two men that look so alike, and still so different, you find yourself. Restricted by soft, noble hands with ill intentions… you were maybe only a bait.

“It’s ok, Shanks. He didn’t hurt me!” you scream, trying to tame his instincts. You know that the red-haired pirate’s Haki can stop you from breathing -and destroy everything around as well-

“See? She is not lying. I have taken care of her, brother! You shouldn’t leave your little toys scattered around the ports of this world, or else someone else might stole them!” Shamrock Figarland mocks Shanks, yet he does in such refined way it ends up sounding like a truth you might already believe.

Shanks eyes fix on yours; perhaps he knows something you still don’t know. Perhaps, he understands his brother might be right. Leaving you on that port some months ago, crying, feeling used, was something he didn’t want, but ended up doing.

“I must admit you have a great taste, brother. She is such a sweet treat” Shamrock purrs, having your waist surrounded by one of his arms, while his free one caresses your cheek. “Aren’t you?” he continues.

The emperor can’t stop himself; even if Shanks is rarely bothered by immature and stupid actions that are meant to tease him, this time it did actually enraged him.

Gryphon’s edge ends on Shamrocks neck, with you in between two man exhorting dominance and testosterone. Shanks sun bathed skin, with salty traces from the sea… Shamrock’s one, pale, clean, soft, used to the finest things…

“Stop!” you whine, pressed in between their chests. “Stop, please! Stop fighting over me!”

Shamrock laughs; he doesn’t seem disturbed by the burning blade against his carotid, and in fact he keeps adding fuel to the fire.

“You are scaring the lady, brother… do you think she is gonna prefer your brutal attempt to save her instead of being treated like a queen?” he smirks, pulling you against him more and more.

Shanks puts down the sword, slowly. He needs his hand free now, to touch your face, to lure you back at him.

“Should I save you then? Or should I let you choose in between him and I?” he whispers, using his fingers to lift your chin up.

The difference is notorious even though both have the same purpose; possess you. Shank’s calloused hands, versus, soft, never used hands… how to pick just one? If both are irresistibly desirable?

“I don’t wanna choose; I love you, but you left me alone… I don’t love your brother, but he gave me what you took from me” you murmur, perhaps already regretting your decision.

“Ah… then you want us both, don’t you?” Shamrock says, moving your head to look at him instead of his brother.

“You want us both, (Name)?” Shanks asks, this time forcing you to turn your head to him.

Both have their hands on your mandible now; cris crossed, their thumbs close to the commissures of your lips, and their hips plastered against your body. Both hard, both erect. Both desperate to assert dominance, to devour you like beasts, like a hungry dragon.

Oh, sweet prey you must bleed to death in between their jaws. And you are totally fine with that… “I want you both; I want you Shanks. I want you Shamrock-sama”

The tips of his similar swords already cut your clothes, tearing them to pieces, leaving them like rags scattered around you.

Nudity, delicious and tempting, served on a silver platter to them. Shaking, you receive their fangs on each side of your neck, carving marks on your flesh.

Shamrock’s fingers tangle in between your hair, pulling your head back, making your breasts bounce.

The Figarland brothers’ lips abandon your collarbones to kiss your nipples; each attack one; sucking or biting. The difference on stimuli you loudly whine, with legs trembling and slowly failing you to keep standing up.

“Don’t fall, come here” Shamrock lifts you up from your waist, pretty much ripping you from Shanks’ mouth. You get seated on a rocky bed, somehow like a sacrifice altar. Elbaph castles all look the same.

Shanks grunts, watching his brother walk around the cold cot as you lay on your back. And, immediately after, he crawls in between your legs.

The pirate pleasantly finds out you are dripping wet, something he knows very well about you.

“Go first if you wish; as an act of kindness, I’ll let you have her first” the knight spits, acting as if he is the only one commanding. “I’m gonna have her warm mouth around me, anyway”

You gasp, as they both look with pure hatred into each other’s eyes. Yet, the moment breaks as you are given little pats and slaps to look to the side; as Shamrock just said, he wishes your mouth surrounding his sex first.

“Open, baby” he orders, softly. And you do, sticking your tongue out while you wait for his hardness to go deep into your throat.

His white pants don’t even need to go fully down; he is not even bothered to do it; his sex out will be enough. Drippy and delicious, it lands on your tongue. You receive it, pleased.

And as he begins to pump in and out your mouth, you begin moaning and choking.

“Such a slut…” Shanks whispers, looking at your oral spectacle, at the way the corner of your eyes fill with tears as you gag with his brother’s dick.

And, while he thought he cared about your body being used by someone so close but still so different from him, the idea of you being exactly used is what got him harder than ever.

“Now let’s see if your cunt can still handle me” the Yonkou grunts, dragging his palm up and down your sex, getting it coated with your juices. From your perineum to your clit, fast, enjoying the humid feeling of more and more wetness, forcing your legs open as they tend to close in response.

Shanks changes his palm for his two fingers, gladly anticipating the way your walls will clench around his dick when he finally buries deep inside you.

Shamrock laughs while using your face as a fuck hole; a tight grip on your hair to move your head, to make it bob, like you didn’t matter, like you were just made to please his “holly” dick.

“Keep your legs open, little slut” Shanks orders, going faster and harder, masturbating and getting your insides ready for his upcoming intrusion.

And just before you could burst, the redhaired stops the fingering. Maybe to punish you, or maybe just because he can’t wait no more. He needs to replace his fingers for his rock-hard shaft. It has started to hurt from the desire, from the desperation to fuck you.

That desperation, leads the pirate to slide his dick deep inside you without a warning, without any delicacy or love. Just pure madness, making your insides revolve and your body retort.

“Wow, easy brother…” Shamrocks grunts, forcing your mouth to keep surrounding his shaft. “You are gonna break her” he continues, laughing as if he wasn’t doing the same.

“Shut up” Shanks grunts back, going harder, using his arm around your waist to keep you from shaking, manhandling you for his own pleasure. “Keep fucking her, use her, it’s all she wants… slut”

In any other situation you would have feel yourself sad or insulted, but Shanks is right… all you want now is to be used, fucked by them…

“Then, let me fill her whole too” “Now you are asking for permission?” “Come on… you know me, I still have some codes”

Shanks scoffs; stopping his hips from punishing you with brutal rams, he lays flat on his back.

“Come here, ride me and get ready… slut” the pirate commands, allowing you to crawl and straddle your hips on his lap. You let your shaky body to fall on his sex, feeling all the length reaching deeper than ever. “Good girl…”

You start riding him, while Shamrock’s presence quickly surrounds you from behind. He kneels and pushes you from your back to fall a little on Shanks chest. “I’m sure your cunt can handle the Figarland pride just as well” Shamrock whispers on your ear, tickling your shoulder with his long hair, letting his tip slowly slide your already occupied entrance.

It takes barely seconds for both to be finally penetrating you, and also for them to start fucking you at unison. Your hips lost the war, and now it’s theirs that move.

“That’s good slut, that’s very good… you can take us both so well…” “Let us fill you up until you can’t keep it inside…”

You are just a toy, trembling, stretched, used, fucked by two of the strongest men in the world. And what a pleasure it is to know you took the right decision, why picking one if you can have both? ~

[poetinthelakes]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© POETINTHELAKES 2025

[the-family-business-83]

Unexpected Calling – Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3 | Masterlist

Fandom: Marvel

Prompt: A world class contract killer finds an envelope at his dead drop. Inside are $23.42 in short change and a letter handwritten by a 9-year old girl.

Type: Series

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader's daughter (platonic obviously), Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, action, slight angst, might get smutty but idk yet

Warnings: None for this chapter, it's really all fluff. Maybe a slight disclaimer about a lil kid interacting with a total stranger and some mom panic, but nothing bad happens!

Word count: 2.4k

Send me an ask to let me know if you wanna be added to/removed from the taglist!!

A/N: Trying to let myself just enjoy wirting and not overthink it all too much, so I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a little bit of filler but I thought it was cute and it was fun to write. And yes, I know, it took forever to get posted. I had a lot going on, and I still may not be posting super frequently but to those of you who love this series so far, rest assured: I will still post, even if it's slow.

Any and all mistakes are my own as this chapter is unbeta'd, I did all my own editing/proofreading for this.

Text dividers made by @firefly-graphics <3

Transportation had really come a long way from what he'd been so used to when he was younger. There were planes that's the air of the skies with their quiet rumblings, helicopters that you could hear coming long before they appeared, and cars. Cars were so different these days, he'd gotten used to them but it just wasn't the same. Some part of him still couldn't wrap his mind around the concept of phones being able to connect to the car. And that was just one of many new upgrades.

But Bucky didn't take his trip by air, customs were a bitch to get through on a normal day let alone when he needed to bring weapons with him. He didn't take a train either, because–well. He'd had an uneasy feeling with them ever since 1944 when he fell down the mountainside. So, instead he went by cross-country bus, and kept to himself in his seat once he got on and found one near the back where it was mostly empty. Being perfectly on time, if not a little early, there were a fewhandfuls people that he watched enter in the time that he waited for the bus to start moving. His watchful eye kept them in sight here and there but for the most part, he simply pulled his dark red baseball cap down a little lower and looked out the window to help hide his face. He could only hope that when one passenger entered with not one, not two; but three small children, that they wouldn't be very loud.

Oh how very wrong he had been. Not even 20 minutes into the trip and two of the rugrats were already whining and fighting with each other. Bucky could only stare at them in distaste as he blinked at the sight, wondering how in the world such tiny things could make so much noise. Granted, he'd never really had to deal with children, not like this anyway. And they couldn't have been any older than 3 or 5, each of them. The oldest of the three seemed to be perfectly fine and well-occupied, thank heavens but that didn't make it any more desirable

Sucking a deep breath in, Bucky suppressed the urge to ask the clearly struggling mother to turn off the screeching, and pulled out a book from his day-pack, beginning to flip through it to find his spot. Maybe if he just pretended they weren't there, they would disappear from his mind.

Not likely, but the effort was still made as he focused on the pages of the small paperback copy of The Hobbit he'd brought with him. Glancing up when it once again wasn't working well, he was caught by surprise when suddenly the older child was standing right there by his seat row, and admittedly he tensed in reaction as a sort of mini-flinch. She hadn't said a word, he hadn't even heard her walking over. But there she was, standing with her stuffed bunny in her arms, simply staring at him while he did the same. Both were quiet for a long moment before Bucky glanced up the way towards where her mother sat with her brothers, clearing his throat. "Can I…help you?" He asked a bit awkwardly as he brought his furrowed-brow gaze back to the little girl. Once more, she didn't really say anything, instead just looking him over quietly. Then, she climbed herself up into the seat next to his since it was open, and Bucky was starting to wish he'd put one of his bags there. "Hey, look, kid- your mom- ….what are you doing?"

She shrugged as he stumbled his words out, and glanced down at her bunny fiddling with it a little as she got settled in the seat. "Too loud." Her answer came simply, and while it didn't answer his question completely, he definitely understood the feeling.

Sighing slightly, he glanced towards her troubled mother once more, and then back to bunny-girl. "...Alright, what's your name kid?"

"Mandy." She replied quietly, glancing up at him a moment later with big green eyes. "What's yours mister?"

"Bucky. My name's Bucky." The man paused for a moment then, almost as if debating whether he should send her back to her family yet or not, but she was calm and quiet, and wasn't harming anything. And it wasn't like he was going to let anything happen to a little kid, so he dismissed the idea for now and instead went back to his book.

It was a minute or so later that he felt the little girl–Mandy, he reminded himself silently–leaning over the arm rest between them slightly to see what he was reading. Brows knitting once again, Bucky glanced from the pages to the young girl, whose curly pigtails somewhat bounced in the way of his view of the words. His mouth parted a fraction, ready to let something slip off his tongue to tell her to sit back and let him read. But nothing came. He didn't know how to tell the girl to get out of his space without, well… being a dick. This was a *child* it would have been different had it been an adult. So instead he simply blinked at her in silence as he debated how to handle it.

Mandy seemed to sense he was looking at her though, because then she met his gaze and inched back into place in her seat, curling around her stuffed, yellow bunny, the apology clear in her demeanor. "I just wanted to see your story." She muttered out, albeit the words likely came out a tad muffled because her bunny's head was pressed against her mouth slightly.

Kids. There was something about them that just- got to him. Admittedly, maybe some part of him had a soft spot. One that he'd probably always had, an instinct he'd never been able to shake. And maybe there was something about that moment that reminded him of the slightly younger girl that he'd been on his way to help, that made him realize he was already traveling across the states to investigate the disappearance of some kid's mother. A small gesture really couldn't hurt him. He may not have said anything, but he did nod, and as he brought his crisp blue hues back to the book in his hands, he started reading the words out to her, quietly but still loud enough to be heard against her brothers' tantrums.

Whatever she'd been expecting, Mandy seemed delightfully surprised when he began reading to her, and her eyes lit up as she looked from him to the book, leaning over once again but this time while staying back more in her seat meaning her head rested against his arm lightly, so that he could still see but she couldn't help wanting to peek. There was something about how trusting she was, about how trusting kids often seemed to be, that just genuinely baffled him. Maybe it was because he'd been so jaded for so long that it was just a mind boggling concept to see such innocence. Or maybe it simply was a brilliant anomaly that children lacked the cynicism of their parents and the adults around them, that they saw things grown-ups didn't and thought of things that were unique to them.

Bucky didn't know when the crying and whining had stopped, but eventually the sun went down around them and it was dark in the bus, nothing but the glow-in-the-dark caution stickers and the light of the full moon to let him read the words on the pages. And just as he'd glanced over towards the little girl next to him, seeing that she was well on her way to passing out completely, he heard her mother patter over looking both exhausted and annoyed. "Mandy- for God's sake, you cannot-" only then did the woman seem to register that her daughter was half asleep, not really hearing her mother much and so all that Mandy gave in response was a tired hum as she nuzzled against Bucky's arm a little more.

Well, shit. He may not be experienced with children but he knew enough to know that if he moved she might wake up. And frankly he didn't even know if she'd let him move. Glancing up towards the mother, he offered an apologetic smile. "Didn't mean to scare you…she just kind of walked on over and climbed up. Seemed like you had your hands full so I hope it's okay I kept her busy for you?" He whispered to her, stopping her before she could rage at him–if that was what she'd been about to do, that is. She looked tired, and scared, understandably so. And most of all she looked ashamed that she hadn't even noticed her daughter leave.

"O-oh…thank you, I- I mean, I'm sorry if she caused you any trouble, I just- yeah…those boys…sorry they were so loud, they're in that phase…" she apologized sheepishly in hushed tones of her own, rubbing her palms against the fronts of her jeans as her gaze flicked between her daughter and the quiet stranger of a man. "I passed out and then I…I woke up and she was gone, I'm so sorry sir."

"Not a problem, honestly. She's pretty decent company, let me read in peace with her." Reading that nervousness on the woman’s features, he paused for a moment before shrugging his free shoulder up. "Don't sweat it, I shoulda sent her back…I was going to, believe me but uh. Well, at least now you get a break, right?" He tried to ease her nerves, but then glanced down towards Mandy. "I can carry her back to your seat if you'd like."

He was just so damned kind, she thought. A complete stranger and yet her daughter was clearly safe and well, asleep even and yes, now everything was quiet and she had some time to relax. It didn't stop her mom-dar from going off, but at the very least she'd be a fool to not appreciate his kindness. "No, no it's… it's okay, I don't want to wake her, she's a bit of a light sleeper…just uh, if she wakes up let me know. I'm Erin, by the way…in case that helps." This time it was her turn to offer a kind smile.

"Bucky. Nice to meet you…I'll keep it in mind, hopefully she lets you have a break though." He chuffed an amused breath out his nose.

Doing the same, she shook her head. "Yeah, if only. Thanks, again…I'll let you uh. Read in peace." She teased lightly, taking a hand back through her hair as she went back to her seat before the driver could reprimand her for standing up so long.

Smiling in amusement at that, he watched Erin go back to her sons, and in turn went back to his book after a moment. It was the small things, that made life easier. The small things were what really made things worth it. Sure, saving the world and saving people was big, and it was good. And it was worth it. But sometimes it was moments where he managed to do something more mundane, and helped someone else, that made all the other shit worth it. Because it meant he was still capable of being human.

———

By the time the sun was back up, Bucky rose with it, his eyes slowly opening to the light streaming through the window and he groaned quietly at the crick in his neck from how he'd slept. Running his flesh hand over his face groggily, as he glanced around he noticed that the warmth that had been leaned up against his arm the night day before was no longer there. He would have been concerned, thinking he'd now somehow lost some stranger's child, but he saw the pigtail-bearing girl peeking up over her seat at him a moment later, watching her smile appear once more as she gave him a little wave. Crisis averted. Not like there was anywhere she could really go on a bus, but still.

Despite still being a bit plagued by morning sleepiness, he smiled back and gave the girl a small wave of his own before watching her sink back into her seat properly. Probably at the urging of her mother. His sleepiness didn't last long, though, because soon those boys were back to making noise, but at least it wasn't as much of a headache as yesterday because it was merely them playing and babbling about random things. That was tolerable. And so he relaxed a bit more, rolling out his neck some before he picked up his book again and went on reading.

Somewhere along the way, the lone mother with her trio of children had reached their stop and were gathering their things to leave. It was Mandy who escaped her mother's sight once again to go see the kind man at the back of the bus who had read to her, bunny still in her arms but this time with a warm smile in place. "Hi Mr. Bucky! Mommy said I shouldn't bother you again… but I just wanted to say I liked your story and you're very nice." She didn't give him time to process all of that before she climbed up in the same seat as before, and kissed his cheek for a moment before hearing her mother call her name.

"You're welcome, Mandy. I think your mom needs you though, better get going." He encouraged even as he seemed surprised by her display of affectionate gratitude. The little girl wiggled back down from the seat then, but not without turning to wave at him, walking backwards to do so. "Bye Mr. Bucky!" She rushed the words out before running along to catch up to her mother. Watching her run along, he smiled at her little goodbye, and waved back at her as she went on her way. He wished that woman luck with her undoubtedly trouble-filled journey, honestly. Because he had his own coming up and somehow he felt like she was going to have it harder.

The rest of his ride went on rather uneventful, and when he arrived at his stop it was almost nighttime. But he was all the more closer to getting this job done, so saddling himself up with all his bags, he made his way into town and started heading for the address he'd gotten on the envelope.

Tags: @baw1066 @fluffydanger @vicmc624 @sjsmith56 @capswife @dispatchvampire @sofi1sstuff @sarbear94 @impeterporker @hhiggs @safiraish @kayden666 @saltedcoffeescotch @mcubuckyandsteve @thebuckybarnesvault @himikotoga

[gracie-eilish]

Take me out, and take me home…

an: this is kinda long!! but here is my official fic based on Lover by Taylor Swift:) any blue text is Billie’s dialogue and any pink is readers. I hope you enjoy this one!! seven and Guilty as Sin are both coming soon. Peachy (pt. 2) is also going to be on the way! i wasn’t originally expecting you guys to want a part two so i’ll get writing!! 🥰✨🍑

warnings: intoxication mentioned, slight nudity but no smut, so much fucking fluff it’s like a unicorn threw up cotton candy in here.

alsoooo thank you also for over a hundred followers! that’s so many beautiful besties!! i’ve loved writing about billie and chatting with so many of you over the last few weeks and i can’t wait for more!! love ya💋

🩷🥂🫧💋✨

“Take me homeeeee” You slurred, stumbling out of the party you and Billie had just attended. Billie had an arm slung around your waist while you had an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re going home baby, I promise,” Billie replied with a giggle at your disheveled state. Even drunk as can be, she found you so beautiful. Your rosy cheeks even rosier, your big wide eyes now hooded and hazy and full of love, and the sleepy smile plastered on your face made her just wanna kiss it right off of you.

“Heyy babyyyyy? I have.. a very important question for… you.” You looked back up at her stoically, booping her nose as you said “you.” Billie planted a kiss to your temple to try to hide her giggle.

“What baby?” She quickly bent down to grab your waist again as you stumbled backward, making you burst into the most melodic sounding giggles.

“I’m your baby right?” This sent Billie into a laughing fit. The attempt at a serious look on your face combined with the cutest little question, she couldn’t help it.

She pressed kisses to your cheek and temple in between declarations, “My baby, *kiss* my princess, *kiss* my girl, *kiss* my angel, *kiss* my magical unicorn angel baby princess,” she added the last one with a giggle. That was your little nickname for anyone in your life who meant something to you. Your best friends, Billie of course, your little cat. And it never failed to make Billie laugh when she heard it.

“Why do you ask my love?” She questioned after your giggles calmed down again.

“Because I’m like… soooo many things right? But I don’t have a thing for you, you know? Like I need a thing for you. And I was thinking so hard in my brain tonight and I think I figured it out.” You stated matter of factly.

Billie just nodded for you to continue, holding you up a little tighter, and pushing some hair out of your face.

“You, Billie girl, are my-“ You got cut off by Billie’s phone dinging, signaling her driver was here. Without rudely interrupting you, Billie carefully walked you both over to the car, and carefully guided you into the back seat before scooching in herself.

“You warm and cozy mama?” Billie asked, fiddling with the heater in the back, kissing your forehead after you nodded in confirmation.

The ride back home was quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the club you two were just in, as well as to your own drunk ramblings. Some people liked to run when drunk, others call exes, and others just fall asleep. Not you. You were always a bundle of energy, ready to chit chat with anyone who would listen, and Billie found it adorable, never once silencing your tipsy rambles even as you both tried to fall asleep at 4am.

“Billie?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I feel like… I feel like I’ve known you for like.. twenty years. But also that’s like not possible. I’ve only known you for real, for like twenty seconds.”

Billie chuckled at your statement. Another little thing you did after drinking, was greatly exaggerate time. For example, if it was the middle of November and someone complained about you still having Halloween decorations up, you’d gasp in shock saying Halloween was “literally like 20 minutes ago.” You two had been dating for about three years now, so Billie just chuckled understanding twenty seconds was three years in your own little drunken time zone tonight.

“Twenty years is a long time baby,” she replied softly, pulling you in closer to her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“It’s like such a long time. *sigh* Can we still be this close in twenty years?”

This sent both of you into giggles. Billie couldn’t help herself anymore, smothering you in kisses, each one accompanied by a little “mwah!”

“Baby once I get a ring on that finger, we will be this close for a lot longer than twenty years hun.” She pushed some hair behind your ear, watching your cheeky flush under her gaze.

“For ever and ever, you’re my-“

Your conversation faltered again as you pulled up in front of your place. Billie thanked the driver and helped you out of the car before guiding you up to your apartment. Not without few stumbles and bumps along the way.

You were starting to feel a little sleepy but Billie knew you’d get a second wind once you got inside, but she still got butterflies when she felt you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your cheek on her shoulder as she unlocked the door.

Billie almost jumped out of her skin as you gasped dramatically at something, scaring the shit out of her.

“Baby!” You had your hands on your cheeks in shock, looking back at her as she locked the door behind her.

“We left the Christmas lights up!” You paused before turning back to face the lights. “Until January!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Billie was so confused but went along with it.

“Isn’t that like… against the rules? Christmas was like a million days ago!”

“This is our place, we make the rules.” Your eyes shined up at Billie like she just revealed the meaning to life.

“Oh. My. God. You’re so fucking right babe.”

Billie chuckled and kissed your temple before guiding you to the kitchen and sitting you down on a stool as she got you some water and a small snack.

“Drink up lovie, I don’t want your pretty little head hurting tomorrow.”

As you sipped your water and nibbled on some snacks Billie went into your shared bedroom to get you some pjs and start the shower.

Billie ran her hand under the water to check the temperature before stopping, hearing such a sound come from the kitchen. She dried off her hand before tip toeing back to the kitchen to find the source of the.. sound? song? cry?

“You’re my my my myyyyyyyyyy,” it was you. And your second wind Billie had predicted. You were spinning around on stool singing.. well singing something, only stopping when you caught sight of Billie.

“Babyyyyyy!!! You came back!” You cried out with a huge smile and your hands out, wiggling your fingers as if it would magically will her closer to you. And to your knowledge, it did magically will her closer as she wrapped her own arms around you, kissing the top of your head a few times, chuckling softly.

“I finished my snack and my water. I’m so good at that.” Billie chuckled and simply placed her forehead onto the top of your head.

“You’re killing me here babe.” She said, lifting her head back up and pushing the hair out of your face. You just shrugged nonchalantly before puckering your lips dramatically. Billie smiled adoringly before leaning in and giving you a soft almost angelic kiss, squishing your cheeks a bit too.

“Alright tipsy girl, you wanna go shower and get comfy?” She said holding your shoulders while you nodded. She could tell you were starting to get sleepy, but she knows you’d be grumpy in the morning if you hadn’t showered and you were hungover.

As she guided you into the bathroom, you were humming that little song again, Billie has never heard it before.

“That’s a pretty song your singing there lovie.” She said, helping you out of your clothes.

“Thank you. I’m writing it myself. Right now.”

“Oh really? You wanna sing some more of it for me?”

“Mmm maybe when I’m in the shower. I need to write more words first.” Billie nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Of course, of course. How could I rush such art?” She replied. “Do you want me to come in with you? Need help?”

You gasped and softly nudged her shoulder, “Billie! That’s dirty!” Billie kissed your cheek softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Baby it’s not dirty. We had sex in there this morning.” Your jaw dropped and face flushed at Billie’s statement. Your drunk brain not seeming to remember that right now.

“Oh my gosh Billie. You have to promise not to say things like that in front of other people.” You drunkenly pleaded, face totally flushed.

“I promise mama. I save my dirty jokes only for you.” She said with a wink, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank god.” Eventually you did in fact pull Billie in there with you. You claimed you didn’t need any help, but you couldn’t deny Billie’s fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp was heavenly. The rose smell of your shampoo mixed with Billie’s woodsy vanilla body wash she used on you wrapped around you almost as tight as Billie’s arms, making your eyes droopy as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, leaning back into her and she pressed tiny kisses to your own shoulder. Her hands slowly roaming around your body, over your stomach, up to your boobs, a squeeze to your hips, a couple more squeezes on your shoulders and back to your stomach where her arms wrapped tightly, and contentedly.

“You ready for bed angel?” She whispered into your ear, hands giving your hips another squeeze. You just nodded sleepily turning around in her arms to give her a proper hug.

“Thank you by the way,” Your words a bit more steady now as you slowly sobered up.

“For what baby?”

“For saving me a seat at the table tonight. Since I got stuck in traffic. I was nervous everyone else would wanna sit next to you,” You said it so small and sweetly that Billie felt her heart grow ten sizes, knowing that at every table, she’d save you a seat for the rest of her life.

“Oh babygirl,” she cooed, cradling your head closer into her as she hugged you tighter.

She gave you one last kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the water. She stepped out and grabbed your towels out of the little towel warmer and wrapped herself in one quickly, before heading back to you. She shut the shower door again to keep the warm air in as she carefully dried you off a bit before wrapping you in the fluffy towel, with a kiss to your nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of you got ready for bed. Well really, Billie got ready for bed and then helped you do the same thing. You giggled at her focused face as she carefully dabbed moisturizer to your skin, only silencing your giggles with a kiss making both of you smile.

She had her own giggles watching your droopy eyes fight to stay open as Billie dried your hair with a towel. You absolutely melted into a puddle anytime Billie had her fingers in your hair, so her fingers mixed with a warm fluffy towel was sending you to dreamland.

When she finished, Billie helped you off the counter and gave your butt a little pat as she guided you back to your connected bedroom, shutting off the bathroom light. The two of you changed into some pjs, Billie giggled while helping you with the buttons after you whined not being able to do it right now.

“I can’t see sometimes.” You grumbled as she buttoned them with ease.

“You can’t see sometimes??” Billie asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a smile.

“Ugh you know what I mean.” You groaned, playfully smacking her hand away once she finished.

After making sure you could get on the bed, Billie quickly went around the apartment, shutting off the lights, making sure your pets were okay, and locking the doors before returning and shutting the bedroom door behind you.

She slipped under the covers, pulling you closer to her, letting you snuggle yourself into her side like a little kitten. Once she was sure you were practically purring like one as well, Billie settled into her own pillow, letting her arm rest on your back.

“Did you write more of your song while you were in the shower?” She asked, squeezing your side quickly.

“Oh my gosh, baby I did and I forgot to tell you.” But it came out more slurred, your eyes were closed and Billie knew it would be minutes before you were fast asleep.

“That’s okay baby. You can tell me now. Sing us to sleep mama,” She whispered, kissing your cheek before settling back in your hold.

“Wait I forgot how it goes.” You were still a little drunk after all. Billie giggled trying to remember your ramblings from earlier in the night.

“I think I remember.. You kept saying “You’re my -“ and then you didn’t finish that bit. And then you were singing it in the kitchen,” Billie opened her eyes to look down at you, you seemed to be asleep at this point, but the slight furrow in your brows told her you were thinking about your little song, so she continued, whispering,

“You’re my, my, my, my….”

“Oh!! You’re my, my, my, my…” you trailed off again.

“Darling, you’re my, my, my, my…”

“Lover.”

[frownyalfred]

Nearly all my AO3 bookmarks are unhinged (positive) comments for my organization system, and I need you to know that, unironically, a non zero numbers of my bookmarks of your stuff is stuff like, “No Alfred chopping wood, 6.5/10”, “Hal jumpscare. Have learned something about myself today. 8.43/10”, or “Is a WIP. Mean :( 4/10”

The number-crunching process is…intricate, lol.

My bookmarks are also entirely private. I only bookmark writing I love, but I don’t wanna accidentally upset someone when they reasonably interpret things differently, you know? Especially w/authors like you who have written enough for some serious variety and might be worried about people reacting immaturely to new kinds of fic.

I enjoy everything you put out, both for the stuff I found you for (SuperBat for days) and things I honestly used to consider a squick of mine (You have rewritten my brain with your A/B/O AUs)!

I appreciate both your rating system and your care in making sure it's private to prevent misunderstandings. I think I'd be 90% more chill about ratings in bookmarks if they gave an explanation like you described -- though I don't speak for all authors and sometimes the rating itself, even with context, is a slap in the face.

I do think you bring up an important thought here. So much of our tone online is context-dependent, and authors and bookmarkers are sometimes operating in very different circles. Meaning can get lost easily, and feelings can be hurt easily without that being the intention. Keeping things private unless we're certain the author won't be hurt makes the most sense to me right now, until we come up with a better system.

An example of this came to me as I was writing this reply. A few months ago I had someone reblogging my posts on here and tagging them "pedantic." And while yes, I agree that most of my posts are probably a little pedantic, that still stung. I mean, pedantic? You think I'm pedantic? That's all you have to say about it? Why are you reblogging it then?

So I went to their blog, read their pinned post, and realized they had a complex tagging system set up for archiving. "Pedantic" was their own tag for posts that were either longer than a paragraph, or that got into greater detail about certain topics. Their explanation/tag summary made perfect sense after that, but from my POV back on my own blog? All I get is the "pedantic" which again, didn't feel great.

That's all to say -- reader and writer relationships are a push and pull, a constant evaluation of ourselves and others, and we should seek to be kind and perhaps overly cautious when possible. Too many things already get lost in translation here on the internet.

[muffinsin]

hi hi !

could you to HCs of the sisters and how they prefer sweet, romantic smut (if that makes sense). like i think dani would absolutely adore the slow, sensual, very loving stuff, but i wanna know your thoughts on it!!!

love ur writing btw, stay cool <3

Hiya, hon! :) Absolutely! Awhh, I can 100% see that. Our little romance bug for sure deserves some loving

The inbox is back open for the time being. Requests might be edited a little slow :)!

Let's get into it :)

Masterlists

Bela

Starting off, it’s very fair to claim Bela isn’t the most…sexual, of people outside of a relationship

She doesn’t go chasing highs with people that mean little to her, with random women regularly throwing themselves at her. Usually, that is, at least

And while her view and eagerness on this certainly shifts when she gets with you, she still isn’t quite one to rush things, to be hectic, to be rough exclusively

She likes to draw things out, likes to make them intimate

Who said even rough sex can’t be deeply intimate and even romantic, after all? She finds a way

Then, one night, when you’re curled up in bed together and tangled in one another, you “confess”

That you too prefer soft, sensual sex

The romance, the love

Of course, the two of you have times when the two of you like to indulge in one another a little faster, a little more cautious because you have little time

But, no matter how desperate, Bela likes to take her time with you

She likes holding you, likes to cup your face in her hands

She likes being tangled in one another

Likes to feel your breath against her skin

She loves to make you shiver and plead for it

At other times, she loves being made to plead and gasp and moan, in return

Her favorite way of being with you is at night, the room drenched in the dark shades of the night and illuminated by the warm, cackling fire

She likes the gentleness, the love shared between the two of you

And while she is by far not as romantic as her sister, she likes this better than fast, rough sex

At other times she likes to speak to you softly

To tie you for her, to caress your flesh

To drown in your scent and make you down in the pleasure she can grant you

Should you behave for her, that is

Cassandra

A sharp contrast from her sisters, this one

While Bela prefers slow, sensual sex and Daniela melts the thought of romantic, slow, passionate lovemaking, Cassandra has…different thoughts

She isn’t quite one for love, and affection, and her behavior in the bedroom certainly reflects this

Normally, Cassandra is all for taking what she wants from whoever she wants

Fast, hard, rough

Often, this leaves her “lovers”- what a ridiculous thing to call them, given how she cares for them little more than one might care for a toy- hurt, aching, dead in the worst of cases

She never cared, would have never cared

Why?, after all?

It’s not like they were lovers to her

Tools

Toys

Pets

Until you

And even with you, even as she cares for you deeply, the thought of taking things slow, sensual and romantic is almost foreign to her

She gets off, to no one’s surprise, to hard, rough, fast, even painful things. Whether they’re done to her or she inflicts them upon others depends entirely on her mood

Cassandra just doesn’t understand the point of taking it slow. If she wanted to hold you, after all, she would do just that

But, when you approach her about your wish to try a different, a more gentle and romantic route, she’s willing to give it a try

Anything for you. Well. Most things for you, she insists

And while she finds she doesn’t necessarily like it, she doesn’t care

She loves to watch you at those times, to bask in your love and happiness

It isn’t about the pleasure for her, then, and she usually wanders off to handle things herself, the way she’s used to, even while listening to some of her prey’s screams if you had to guess

She insists, she doesn’t mind

She likes watching you enjoy yourself like that. It gives her a sense of relief, to know she’s capable of being gentle and loving as it comes to this, even if being like that always isn’t her thing

Daniela

Oh, Daniela

Our little romance bug, really

Out of her sisters, she is by far the most romantic one

And, in turn, the one craving romance the most too

While she can enjoy rough, fast sex, there's often times she just craves something else

Something loving, and gentle, something romantic

Something so pure and intimate

When her cheek is cupped instead of her hair or throat, when her lips are wet from soft kisses instead of bruised from rough make out sessions

Not that she doesn't like those things, too

Ah, but she just melts when she's tangled in bed with you, when she feels the love shared between the two of you

When it comes to being with you, she goes all out very often

A dimly lit room, candles scattered up and about

A fire cackling in the distance

Delicious scents filling your noses

Flowers set up

Sometimes, she even likes to scatter a few rose petals about for you

All this, of course, pouring her little heart out, in hopes of this love and these efforts being returned

She's gentle with you, loves to praise you

She just has a way of making you feel like you're the perfect person in the world. She loves you so much

When it's you in charge, she absolutely loves when you treat her gently

Slow, sensual touches

Gentle, hungry kisses placed against her skin

Her face held, cheek cupped, while your fingers drive in and out of her sopping wet core

Oh, and just how wet she gets for you...

She's leaking, her pussy a wet mess, overly sensitive for you in no time

She can't help it

She's addicted to feeling loved

[revelboo]

Hello, I just wanna say I’ve been eating up your blog daily, I absolutely adore your writing and how you interpret the different bots, if it’s not to much to ask, could I request some more Waspinator?

Sure!

Worker Bee Pt 16

Waspinator x Reader

• “Nope!” Awkwardly sliding off the chair and into the floor to escape, you end up with a leg hung up on the chair and your alien bestie staring down at you. Scrambling to get up before he can ‘help’ you back up, you watch his antennae go back. “Remember the personal space talk?” Head tilting slightly, you shove a hand through your hair. Of course he doesn’t. You’ve only explained it how many times? “Okay. This is my personal space.” Waving your hands in front of yourself, you watch his wings flick. “Right? My space. This is your space.” Waving vaguely an inch away from him and he just leans forward, optics shuttering and pressing his face against your palm. “No, see, now I’m invading your personal space.” Even if it’s just a tiny bit cute. Blowing out a breath when he doesn’t move and just softly makes that humming buzz of noise. Right.

• Mandibles flexing when you pull your hand away, he watches you reach up and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Waspinator’s space is little friend’s space,” he offers and you just frown at him. Can’t understand why you’re so funny about ‘your space.’ You’re sharing a hive aren’t you? A nest? Why is he allowed to touch sometimes and not others? Deciding it must be a weird human thing, your moods indecipherable sometimes.

• Maybe you should try something simpler? Because you doubt he’s going to stop clinging to you like a little kid with their favorite stuffed animal at this point. “Sure,” you mutter. “Maybe just watch where you touch?” Antenna perking up, he’s at least listening. Maybe. Who knows what’s going on in that weird, little bug head as he looks at you then at his clawed servos. “Like,” you start, face heating. How do you explain this to a big alien bug robot with the IQ of a decorative soap dish? Gesturing vaguely with your hands at off limits areas and not even surprised he immediately reaches out and grabs. “Yep.” Prying his servos loose before he tries to squeeze, you gently press his hand to his own chassis. “That’s a nope.”

• Venting at you, because he likes laying his head there to recharge. It’s soft. “Why?” So many rules. Too many, but he’s willing to obey for the most part if it keeps his little friend happy. But he enjoys curling up against you, your warmth and scent soothing him. Reminding him that he’s home. And he’s not relinquishing that. Had figured out that if he just keeps asking why when you ask him to do things he’d rather not do, you eventually just give up and let him have his way.

• You already know that’s his go to when he doesn’t want or just flat out isn’t going to do something. Unless you can convince him there’s a good reason to not do whatever he wants. Taking a deep breath, you roll your wrist. “Humans don’t touch there unless they’re together.” See his mandibles open and hurriedly add. “Intimately together.” And he’s just staring at you with those big optics. “And then only after they date and get to know each other.” Still just staring and you wait for the inevitable ‘why’ or worse, to be asked about being ‘intimately together.’ Cause he would ask and just stare blankly while you try to explain sex to him.

• “Dating?” And your shoulders sag at his question. Hasn’t heard that word before. Listens as you start explaining and realizes it’s courting. Human courting for a mate. Candies and flowers. Movie night. Fancy food. Mandibles working, it’s a curious thing. Can’t really figure it out. The food, he understands. Proving he can provide. But flowers and movies? Knows humans are a bit funny, though. If ‘dating’ is needed to prove his place in your hive, he’ll do it. It can’t be that hard and then you’ll stop this ‘personal space’ nonsense.

Previous

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Uhm… alright??

Goop

Sevika x Female Reader (Smut)

Content: Sex: fingering and being observed.

NOT Proofread || Note: Sorry guys, got bored! I hope u enjoy this, cus I sure did! Barely put effort into this, it was meant to be a joke…..

Your wrists stayed tied to the levitating bed by a special rope, one that glew blue in the dimly lit room. You weren’t sure where you were, all you knew was that you were naked. Bare with every inch of you showing. Your ankles were, also, tied by the same kind of rope. Everytime you struggled, it pulled tightly onto your legs until they were spread and open again.

What the hell was going on?!

Before you could speak up, the door in the corner of the room slammed open. Your lidded eyes tried to make sense of the sight infront of you, it all felt as if it were a fever dream. A sort of.. nightmare. Nonetheless, you gather your courage and speak.

“Hello?.. Who.. who is it?” Your voice echoed through the empty room.

“Glorp glop glip, glippian glarpi glore.” A high pitched, strange voice came from the far end of the room. You heard a few human grunts before whatever it was stepped up. The view of it terrified you, but it’s funny looking face made you fight the urge to smile.

It’s deformed, large head and eyes stared at you. Slender, thin body naked and exposed as it’s lanky arms held onto a muscular, human woman’s. Wait.. wait, no.. was that—

It couldn’t be?!

Sevika?!

“Glip!” The thing exclaimed, pushing the woman onto the bed and she hesitantly crawled closer.

“Sevika—“ “Shh.. I know, I’ve got no fuckin’ clue what the hell’s goin’ on.” The woman’s flesh hand ran up your side, resting on your back for comfort.

“They want me to..” she paused, clearing a lump from her throat. “Have sex with you.”

“Glip glip! Glop glian gilder, GLIP!” The alien looking thing raised its hands and demanded intimacy. It was scary, having a nonhuman thing watch you have sex? Disgustingly unreal. So freaky.

“Look, they just wanna know how we reproduce.” She tried calming you, mech now on your thigh. “We?.. Us? Two.. two girls—“ “Yes, they.. they wanna see us.”

The room went from quiet to irritably loud. The alien shifted a levitating chaid infront of the bed, sat down, and just.. stared. Seemingly growing impatient. The chair hummed a frequency that you found aggrivating, as if it were taunting you— telling you to “get to work.”

“I’ll be gentle.” Sevika reassured, siding her flesh hand to your inner thigh before spreading you wider. Her warmth helped you relax, you were glad you weren’t the only human in the room. She pressed her large finger against your clit, circling in a slow, tantalizing manner.

See, you and Sevika were.. well, friends. Friends who often kissed in the public restroom, friends who slept at each other’s place every few days, and friends who.. fucked. It was just the fact that you had no idea what was going on, how you ended up on an airship. You were just strolling around Zaun with the muscular woman when you randomly passed out.

Everything was confusing.

“Pretend the thing’s not there,” the woman spoke. Her voice making your cunt, already, pool. She’d used the same tone she did whenever she was.. in the mood. Whenever she needed to ruin you and make you feel good.

“But, how the.. the fuck?..” your breathless response was countered with a shove up your pussy. You recoiled at the sudden movement, even moaned as your insides clenched around the woman’s fingers. “How? ‘Cause I told you so, doll.” Her usual demeanour somehow back, how was she so unfazed by everything? So casual?

“I know it’s weird, but I need you to cum for me. Can you do that for me?” Sevika’s voice dropped to a whisper, her breath hit your ear and you found yourself too desperate to oblige. Your relaxed your muscles, gave into her touch, let her make you feel good, and gave her a nod of approval.

The alien, on the other hand, just sat on the chair and took.. notes. It seemed. It seemed to be writing with the use of his big head, the tool infront of it moved without being touched; meaning it was writing something. Possibly in it’s own language.

“I’ll make y’feel so good, baby,” Sevika’s voice was too distracting that you couldn’t focus on anything other than it. Her two, pretty large, fingers curled inside of you as her fingertips hit your sensitive g-spot. Her mission was clear: make you cum, feel as good as possible, then get the hell out.

“You’ll cum for me, yeah? Such a good girl.” The woman picked up her steady pace, pushing in and out all the while rubbing against your g-spot. With your legs and arms tied, all you could do was take her, moan in response to her dirty little words. Give her full excess of your body. Which felt like lava, hot. Burning hot. Your skin was sticky from sweat and your head barely managed to stay upright.

Your orgasm was close, pooling in your abdomen as Sevika showered you with pleasure and love. Her fingers never slowed, only worked faster, harder, and rougher. Her own breath was heavy, mixing in with yours as she captured your wet lips in a passionate kiss. Tongue against yours, mouth open for you, and her sweet moans escaping. You, yourself, couldn’t help but express your feelings. Moaning her name inbetween to show her affection; which the woman smiled at.

“Mm, yeah. Y’gonna cum for me? Gonna let it out?” Her voice a gruff as she wrapped her mech around your waist; forgetting you were tied to the bed. She was getting ahead of herself, and you loved every second of it. “Shit, these ropes ain’t no fun.”

You breathlessly chuckle at that.

Sevika wasn’t one to stop until you were completely satisfied. Even if her forearm hurt, jaw ached, and her body gave up, she’d always push through for you. This time was no different, the woman gave you pleasure through and through. Helping you ride your amazing orgasm to the point where you were writhing against her, whimpering into her in appreciation.

After you finished, the big headed alien stood up and approached. It’s fingers reaching to your cunt as it “sampled” some of your cum.

“Goop.” It said, eyes wide with awe, curiosity.

I’ve lost all of my dignity. Enjoy.

[satsugacafe]

𝐉𝐮𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: (1) Can I ask for relationship hcs for Jugram?(If it really possible? Lollol) And NSFW too, if u dont mind :)This boy need more love in this fandom :c (2) Can you please write sfw and nsfw headcanons for jugram, yhwach (separately) x fem reader? Thanks ❤️❤️

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: Yhwach headcanons will be in a separate post, anon, since I wrote so much for Jugram. I really hope you all enjoy this and aren’t overwhelmed by the length, because I tend to be thorough for these types of content, and I also wanted to write a lot for him (he’s my fav). I also sectioned of the SFW from the NSFW for those who just wanna read the SFW.

➳❥ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: I tried to make this entirely GN reader, but got sidetracked in the NSFW section, so fem!reader in the NSFW section, very long, possessiveness, talks of hard and soft dom!Jugram, oral (giving & receiving), rough & soft sex, sub!reader, marking (spanking & creampies), hair pulling, pet names, fingering, aftercare

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: SFW and NSFW headcanons for being in a relationship with Jugram Haschwalth

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

「 ✦ SFW Headcanons ✦ 」

˚₊‧꒰ა He wasn’t perfect when it came to dating you. At first, he made it appear out of duty rather than emotions and connections, so it was a bumpy start. Juggling you, his duty to Yhwach and his friendship was an imbalance in the beginning. He struggled to separate his time for each of you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Dating Jugram is not an easy task because you have to be prepared to have most of your time with him fragmented, because of his dedication and loyalty to Yhwach. A date you two planned might be interrupted by the sudden request of his presence or helping him de-stress would be interrupted by him needing to sort out some arising matters.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once joked about how Yhwach might be jealous of you stealing away his right-hand man and having him devoted to another, which made him momentarily smile. He doesn’t admit it much, but you make him feel alive and help add colour to the mechanical aspect of his life.

˚₊‧꒰ა You must be prepared to receive his form of words of affirmation. They’re not over-the-top, or flowery. Instead, they are rather curt and straightforward. His compliments and adoration surround your duties and how good you are to him. “You were excellent today on the field,” he’ll mention softly, or on softer days, “You’ve ruined me, you know?”

˚₊‧꒰ა There are moments when you can manage to catch him in a slight sentimental drift, and many tender words come tumbling out. Preferably during a stressful period when Yhwach came down harsher than usual, or he had a burnout—he would hold you tighter as though you were his lifeline. “This feels nice. Thank you,” he whispers into your stomach as he holds you.

˚₊‧꒰ა It’s an odd, yet comforting and understanding gesture you had come to learn about him. Given his childhood and upbringing, physical affections weren’t something Jugram relied on or received in a comforting manner. It left him touch-starved with a bitter taste in his mouth. Hesitant to approach the act even though he desired to.

˚₊‧꒰ა So when you came into the picture and started showering him with physical affection, he treated you with feline behaviour, seeking distance because it was overwhelming and not within his stoic mannerism to be so physical. But when he did come around, you’d get those moments when he would cling to you as though you were about to vanish.

˚₊‧꒰ა All his touches are reserved for closed doors, minus brushing your hair out your face, placing a hand on your lower back or brushing his hand against yours. He found it odd how much he craved your warmth and safety. You were his safe haven.

˚₊‧꒰ა Falls asleep in your arms after a long day of duties and overseeing the Empire for Yhwach. At first, he used to tense when you ran your fingers through his hair. Now, he melts under your touch as it lulls him to sleep. Your arms have become a frequent place for him to disassociate from the world.

˚₊‧꒰ა Speaking of hair. You once asked him for his hair routine, and he calmly stated that he had none and that his hair was naturally silky and majestic. You had never been so bummed out in your entire life. However, it doesn’t stop you from offering to wash his hair or combing it after a long day.

˚₊‧꒰ა You’re the only person who can convince him—through dire persuasion—to allow you to style his hair during your private moments behind closed doors. But you’re not getting to put bows and clips in his hair. He’ll let you put some braids in since he’s from a time when braids were a common practice and a form of affection, even let you wash his hair (scratch his scalp and he might pur).

˚₊‧꒰ა Though, he would request that you keep your affections quieter in public settings since he had his professional image to upon and Yhwach was always observing. He didn’t need his King questioning why you were clingy and could not control yourself.

˚₊‧꒰ა Getting Jugram to whisper those three little words was perhaps a roller coaster ride. To him, his acts of service and words of affirmation should be enough to let you know that he loved you. Why do you need him to vocalise it?

˚₊‧꒰ა A trip to one of the female Sternritters or Bazz would let him know that it was important to say nonetheless. And that’s how you got Jugram to whisper, “I love you,” in the most heartfelt and tender tone as he held you closely. Still, it’s not all the time he says it.

˚₊‧꒰ა Expect to hear it if you get injured and he nearly loses you, after a sentimental moment filled with reassurance, or when you shower him in kisses and whisper the words until he mutters them with a tender smile.

˚₊‧꒰ა As an individual who is focused on displaying his devotion through his loyalty and service, the same will be done towards you. Silently draping his cloak over you when he notices you forgot yours or were chill, sending up fresh tea or breakfast each morning because he knows you’re too stubborn to eat properly, helping you ascend through the ranks.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram cares more than he likes to admit, believing that his actions were enough to convince you of his affection and devotion towards him. In the beginning, your relationship would be rough since he treated it like a duty similar to serving Yhwach. You had to be patient when it came to teaching him the proper ropes of relationship etiquette, so he could excel.

˚₊‧꒰ა Overprotective to some degree. The world is already cruel to Quincies, he doesn’t need to lose someone he considers important to the horrors of this world. Hence, his reason for excluding you from certain fieldwork or tagging along for extra security when he can. If not, he would pair you with someone he considered capable, though he never once saw anyone worthy of protecting you besides himself.

˚₊‧꒰ა His protectiveness does become overbearing because he treats you like glass as if you didn’t have the capability to dismantle the second-strongest Quincy with a few sweet words and hugs. It does lead to arguments which results in getting nowhere due to his stagnation. However, for your sake, as much as he wouldn’t outrightly admit, he would ease up on certain protective measures.

˚₊‧꒰ა Gifts will be given and that’s one time Jugram will not hold back, nor will he accept you informing him that he was doing too much. It’s his way of expressing his love and devotion—by wanting the person he’s with to have all that they need and want to make living comfortable. “Is there anything else you wish for, liebchen?”

˚₊‧꒰ა It is also his way of apologising if he did something. However, he would take a trip to Bazz, Askin or Bambietta for a bit of advice on what he could do to make it up to you, without revealing your relationship details.

˚₊‧꒰ა On that note—incredibly private on any topic involving your relationship and hate when something speaks about you. He would stand nearby, straining his ears to overhear the conversation, and should it be negative, whoever it was, would be removed from office before the day was over. “You’ve exercised your ability to be insolent for quite some time—today that ends.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Doesn’t like when you talk negatively about yourself because what do you mean you don’t see yourself as capable or strong or worthy? Hello?! In his mind, the fact that you were able to convince him that you were the best person to be with and managed to bag yourself a complex man like him, was an accomplishment by itself. You should be praising yourself, highly.

˚₊‧꒰ა He would be awkward on the emotional spectrum of consoling you. He would sit there, staring at you and wondering what exactly he should do. Say something? Hold you? Give you space? Sit and wait till you were done? Call for help? His words, when he does find the right thing to say, will carry notes of warmth and appreciation. “Please do not cry, schatz. It hurts me to see you this broken—you are one of the strongest people I know.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He would nestle you in bed, draping a ton of blankets over you and demanding that you remain stationed since you were in no condition to perform your duties. Would send the servants to fetch you food and tea, and well…you might be lucky to have him feed you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Stepping aside from that, you have Jugram who grows weak and flustered whenever he sees you in his clothes. Be it his uniform or his clothes, it doesn’t matter if it’s fitted or loose, he grows weakened at the sight. His hands would curl into fists at his sides as he fights to restrain himself from holding you. “You look…—It would appear that my clothes suit you better than me.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Reassurances. On his end that is. You need to let this man know that he’s enough and important. Let him know how much you adore and need him, he is loved and appreciated. He’ll fumble—stunned at the emotional display of words being directed towards him but appreciated them.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, onto kissing him. The first time he experienced what a kiss felt like, he would not admit it—he melted on the inside and couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips on his. From that day on, kissing you has become one of his favourite forms of physical affection. Be it to his forehead, the crown of his head, your hand or wrist, your cheek, neck or lips.

˚₊‧꒰ა There’s something about you kissing him goodbye or good morning that helps to make his day a little brighter. It’s like a good luck charm that unconventionally chases away the stormy clouds.

˚₊‧꒰ა Kissing him easily ventures into an erratic interaction if one of you doesn’t break apart. His lips will remain glued to your skin and wander, while his grip on you tightens, his body pressing firmly against yours. He becomes a little more vocal during this moment, his terms of expressions confidently flowing from his mouth. “You drive me crazy, you know that? I could keep you here with me all day—you’re mine.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ah yes, how could I have forgotten. His possessive streak. You cannot tell me that this man is not naturally possessive and jealous. Like why do you need to be close to others when you have me? Why do you need someone else to train you? I’m here. Where are you going without me? Why was that person flirting with what’s mine? “You’re mine, don’t forget that, or I’ll have to remind you and everyone else.”

˚₊‧꒰ა When it comes to ensuring that you and others remember who you belong to, Jugram transforms into a calculating, dominant individual (as if he isn’t). He wouldn’t be heavily affectionate and whatnot, but he will hover and remain glued at your side, and use terms of endearment a lot more, like ‘Schatz, engel, liebchen, liebe lien and so forth.’

˚₊‧꒰ა He’ll whisper against your lips after a hungry kiss, “You’re mine. Don’t forget that, or I’ll have to remind you.” His way of saying that you’re his, while it is possessive, he says it with the hidden meaning of ‘Don’t leave me, you’re all I have,’ since you are regarded as the (second) most precious person to him. You gotta fight against Yhwach for first place.

「 ✦ NSFW Headcanons ✦ 」

˚₊‧꒰ა First and foremost, his cock is pretty (if y’all didn’t know that). It’s pretty just like him—long, thick and girthy. And his stamina is insanely otherworldly. He could edge himself for a long while, all for the sake of ensuring you come first, and to display his dominance.

˚₊‧꒰ა He is a service top. This man’s entire life is built around being devoted and serving, you cannot tell me that while he retains his dominance, he is willing to showcase his ability to care and provide through being a thorough lover—listening to your needs and desires and giving, while incorporating his touch.

˚₊‧꒰ა He thrives off knowing that your pleasure is taken care of and you are satisfied. But it doesn’t mean that he isn’t willing to accept reciprocity. On his days when he’s stressed or requires reassurance, you just gotta push him down in his chair or bed and get to work. He’ll be gripping the sheets or you for life.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, with his service top complex, he is a dominant, somewhere in between a hard and soft dom. Being submissive isn’t something you would get from him, but Jugram will allow you a moment to show your devotion by relaxing and letting you do your thing. He’s still holding onto the reigns.

˚₊‧꒰ა So, with his possessive streak, he enjoys body worshipping and leaving his mark all over you, in discreet places, of course. His mouth is attached to your skin throughout the entire session. If he’s not whispering in your ear, he’s biting or kissing your skin. Or his hands are gripping you tightly to leave a few bruises. And, uh, he secretly enjoys it when you leave scratches down his back.

˚₊‧꒰ა You once saw him looking at his back in the mirror one morning after a rough night, his fingers tracing the red lines he could reach with a small smile on his face. He likes the idea of having a mark that represents you, on him.

˚₊‧꒰ა Now, speaking of marking. Jugram has a thing (his possessiveness) for filling you up to the brim and no, he doesn’t agree to make a mess. It’s either swallowing (if you’re into it) or he empties himself inside you, and he prefers the latter a lot more due to his mild breeding kink. It’s not to get you pregnant, but he enjoys the idea of you being thoroughly marked through this method.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’ll calmly push his cum back into your pussy if it was spilling out, murmuring about how pretty it looked in you, and this leads to him fingering you into another orgasm. He also enjoys watching his handprints all over your ass after he spanks you.

˚₊‧꒰ა When he’s being a hard dom, you can expect it to showcase during times of high stress or you’ve riled him up. He’s rougher and will have you pinned under him for hours, leaving you incapacitated when finished. He’ll take you from behind, pulling your hair to sink you into a deeper arch while leaving handprints all over your ass as he whispers his filth. “Look at how well you take me. Just like that, liebchen. Squeeze me tighter.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s a simple guy when it comes to positions, sticking to missionary, face down ass up, cowgirl, bent of his desk and taking you against the wall. As for where he takes you, mainly resides behind closed doors—you aren’t getting him to take you in public. In the bedroom or in his office for the most public of places.

˚₊‧꒰ა His patience is unnerving. The way you could tease and taunt this man the entire mission, even if it takes days to complete, he will retain his composure UNTIL you return to Silbern. Then it’s his game, and you are to do as he commands otherwise, punishment.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram’s usual form of punishment, when you misbehave, would focus on spanking, overstimulation, edging and orgasm denial. He loves to hear you beg and sound needy and desperate for him—fuels his pride to know you want him so badly. He’ll use this opportunity to have you on your knees and show him just how much you crave him—suck his dick.

˚₊‧꒰ა I’m serious. He really enjoys it when you suck him off—when you struggle to take all of him yet determined to continue pleasing. It makes him smile as he guides your mouth along his cock. “Such a good girl. You’re doing so well.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Ugh, the way he speaks to you during sex is heavenly. The things he says make you question where this vocality was hiding. “You were made for me, every inch of you belongs to my will,” “I can’t get enough of you,” “Look at me—let me see how crazy I drive you,” “Do you feel that? How consumed you are by me?” “You know exactly what you do to me, and you like it, don’t you?” “Say my name. Say who you belong to.”

˚₊‧꒰ა He loves to whisper and remind you that you belong to him. Whether you’ve done something that requires him to put you in your place or a passionate moment—he’ll always tell you that you’re his and never forget that.

˚₊‧꒰ა  Underneath this shell of his, Jugram also has his softer dom side which is displayed more often whenever you two have sex on the regular. His soft dom side is filled with him expressing his reverence, like a sentimental moment, a little session before you sleep or you returned from fieldwork alive. Along the lines of that.

˚₊‧꒰ა His lips are attached to you most of the time, his forehead against yours and looking into your eyes. There’s not an inch of space between your bodies due to the way he’s moulded himself against yours. A little more vocal in terms of moaning, and fewer words since he’s deep into the moment, trying to connect with your soul.

˚₊‧꒰ა Eye contact is a serious thing for him. Whether his face is buried between your thighs, you’re going down on him or either of you are on top, he wants to maintain some level of eye contact.

˚₊‧꒰ა During his softer side, he’ll have you face him a lot more and will also allow you to ride him without attempting to manhandle you under him. However, the grip on your waist and hips is a silent reminder that he is still in control.

˚₊‧꒰ა Ah, yes. Pet names. I know I’ve mentioned terms of endearment he would address you by, but during sex, he’ll call you a ‘good girl,’ ‘princess,’ ‘darling,’ ‘sweetheart,’ in his sultry voice. Especially when he’s moaning in your ear or sweet-talking and praising you.

˚₊‧꒰ა Jugram really loves it when you moan his name. It doesn’t matter how. Be it sweetly, raspy, broken, squealing, whining, pathetically—he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue. A reason why he indulges in eating you out, just to watch you lose composure as you struggle to catch your breath and speak his name.

˚₊‧꒰ა I might not have mentioned it, but Jugram loves the way you taste. The act of eating you out is something he views as him venturing into losing control. Like, he knows he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself after getting a taste. He gets so lost in your taste, that he can’t believe you’re this heavenly and capable of making him lose his composure.

˚₊‧꒰ა He’s not going to tell you this, but during the session when you take the lead, mainly because of him being stressed or needing reassurance. When you praise him, letting him know how good of a lover he is, how he takes good care of you and how important he is to you and the empire—he loves it. Makes him feel good.

˚₊‧꒰ა Just praise this man more often. He praises Yhwach far too much, that he deserves his moment for being front and centre.

˚₊‧꒰ა This one doesn’t matter whether or not he’s in hard or soft dom mode: wear lingerie for him and watch as he slowly cracks, especially if it’s his favourite colour. He has a preference for babydoll dresses, but honestly, just wear lingerie or even his clothes if you want to drive him up a wall.

˚₊‧꒰ა Whisper in his ear how much you want him, run your hands all over his chest, rake your fingers through his hair. Congratulations, you have a composed man who lost his control and has become unhinged. If you’re in his office, you’re getting bent over his desk, if in the bedroom, then pinned under him in some position.

˚₊‧꒰ა Not a fan of quickies since he isn’t allowed to have you the way he would like, however, he would oblige if he has the time for them, due to your persuasive methods. A quickie in the shower is one he wouldn’t have an issue with.

˚₊‧꒰ა Doesn’t matter whether hard or soft dom, aftercare is important to him. Jugram will clean you up, get you a glass of water and massage what areas he can while asking how you’re feeling. His favourite aftermath is mostly pillow talk, as you two are lying in each other’s arms, your body still trembling from the intensity because he’s a thorough lover. He’ll press a kiss to your hair and whisper, “You did well. I love you.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @edensrose

©satsugacafé 2025: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[pikachicachan]

Omggg, after seeing the news of the winter storm, I had to write this! This is as fluffy as snowww:

[At the Table]

Gov: Alright, let's do a weather update! California, how are you doing?

California: [cough] Horrible! The winds have picked up again and a fire started near San Diego like what the [censored] is happening?!

Gov: [winces] Well, that's not good... and the southern states, you guys got a historical amount of snowfall! Tell me about that —

Texas, Louisiana, Florida, Alabama: [dazed and smiling]

New York: [gestures to those states] What tha [speaks New York] is goin' awn with dem?

Gov: I... actually have no idea.

Georgia: [sips coffee] I've been gettin' snow for a while so I'm used to this, but they haven't had snow like this in ages so... [swings his mug to the southern states] they're frozen in awe, so to speak.

Louisiana: [chuckles] Mais, NOLA has neva looked more gorgeous! Last time it saw snow like dis was in 1963... da streets looks amazin' in tha snow! I don't even need a daiquiri with all dis joy in da air!

Texas: [hums] I can't remember the last time I felt ma people be so... happy. [smiles and sips on Mexican Hot Chocolate] It's nice seein' them havin' fun for a change. [mumbles to himself] Ma power grid is also holdin' up so that's a miracle in itself too...

Florida: This white stuff... is snow?? I'm actually seeing snow?? IN FLORIDA?? AND IT'S COLD?? CALI, SWITCH WITH ME. THIS IS NOT RIGHT!!

California: [cough] You'd rather have fires??

Florida: I'm literally surrounded by water like I'm pretty sure I can handle it.

California: [pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs] if only we could switch...

Texas: [grins] awe, chin up California! Ya know whut, I'm in a good charitable mood. HEB will be donatin' $1M to ya and we've sent about 6 truckloads of supplies to the Los Angeles Regional Food Bank! You'll be back up on yer feet in no time!

Gov, New York, Georgia, California: [stares at Texas]

California: More help from you? I [cough]... I don't know what to say.

Texas: [shrugs] You don't need to say nuthin'. Just accept it.

California: [cough] Right... thanks dude.

Florida: [shudders] I felt a chill go down my spine, but I don't think it was because of the weather... anyway if y'all wanna have a snowball fight at the beach, let's go! [snaps away]

Texas, Georgia, Louisiana, Alabama, California: [snaps away]

Gov: New York, are you going to go?

New York: Yeh. Ain't no way Florida is nawt gunna put rocks or sumthin' in his snowbawls.

Gov: Yep, yep, you have a point. I'm going to call CDC just in case.

New York: Hold off on dat. I wanna see wat he does an' who gets hurt. [grins] Ma monies on Alabama. [snaps away]

Gov: No stop — ugh! [snaps away]

Hehe, just a cute little thing that I wanted to write.

I'm not even sure how to write Gov anymore cuz he's not our good ol' Gov anymore... 😔

I feel like the bad parts of Texas are always emphasized, so I want y'all to know what good things Texas is doing too! We're more than our bad government, I swear! 😭😔

But also, I'm burning with envy that a huge chuck of Texas got snow BUT NOT WHERE I AM. It hurts seeing the news about it and not being able to play in the snow with everyone else 😭

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed! ✨

[joosthead]

Ok now some non-family thoughts. I love normal au in any era or timeline. Not just the family stuff. I would love to know more of their backstory. I wanna see the 1.5 breakups, how they were during lockdown, how they were when Fryslân got released, how they were when he got the call that he was going to represent The Netherlands.

I'm very intrigued about Reader's role in the whole "eurovisie saga" (not surrounding the DQ itself obviously, but the happier parts. Before it all crashed and burned 🥲)

I wanna see Reader at the J005t Klein 4D Experience meeting Enzo and Myron for the first time and planning future double dates. I wanna see Reader backstage at Lowlands 2023 with matching mime makeup. I wanna see Reader in the hot air balloon with the rest of the gang; asking Joosti to kiss her before he takes a bite out of that onion and laughing at Appie fake proposing to Alanis for tiktok.

I love how you gave her friends too!!! Ruby and Marina seem so cool. So Ruby is involved with Tantu. Is Marina romantically linked with anyone or is she just living her best life as Alanis' friend? After seeing her having a drinking contest with Stuntje, I kinda ship it....lol.

I imagine Ruby is hanging out with Tantu and his friends one night and in walks in this goofy blonde man wearing clothes so baggy they look like they are falling off of him and a light bulb goes off in her head.💡 "Hey! Wanna meet my friend who needs to have fun for once in her life?"

Ruby and Tantu setting up their workaholic friends with each other and forming the most mismatched power couple in the friend group that some how produces a lasting marriage and 3 kids. Their impact lol. Well more like purse and baco's impact but the intent was there.

We have so many great writers and artists in the fandom and I love it so much. There's different flavors and vibes for everyone. So many creative and kind people. So chill compared to other platforms. Thank you again for taking the time to read and reply to these. It makes me so happy. More to come I promise. Overstim is going to be fire I know it. - family anon :)

omg i almost passed out i thought i lost this ask

but HEWWOOO FAMILY ANON

ive finally made time to write the response to this!!! i hope you enjoy !! its quite long ahdfskjf

suggestive rpf ahead, minors dni, anti-rpf dni, 18+ only

1.5 breakups will have their time in the sun hehe ;) i wish i could elaborate but huge spoilers LOL. you don't have to at all and please don't feel pressured to -- but i am always down to give spoilers in dms LOL !!

to be honest i have it so that the pandemmy doesnt happen because i tried writing with it and it was soo hard adksjakjds the bulk of their big relationship events and conflict happen during 2020-2021 so i just took it out LOL.

if the pandemmy did happen: there would definitely be a normal au baby or two MUCHHHH earlier LOL. yes it would be an accident. yes it would encourage them to get together much faster than they did. their lives would still be amazing <3 i always think its so interesting to think about stuff like that happening LOL

how they were when fryslan got released:

fryslan was huge for them cuz it was the first album he released with them officially together!! reader definitely gets lit at the release party (also they have crazy good sex that night). she was there through the entirety of the creation of fryslan so like... knowing how much it took to make it, start to finish was very :''') huge for them. j005t klein 7 was already in the midst of the process and one of the breakups happens during albino sports vol 1 creation. so fryslan being their first "wow everything is okay and we will together forever" is emotional for them hehe

eurovisie saga: i usually skirt around this event completely though it does canonically happen in universe. i probably will never write about the sad parts for obvious reasons

i think normal au reader was very involved in the planning for esc :) down to outfits and the rollout and the marketing for it ... definitely lots of sleepless nights in the klein household in the lead-up to. calling out of work cuz they pulled an all-nighter helping with the visuals. when they got the call it was a ton of tears for SURE like they cried for hours about it cuz they were just so proud of him after everything he's gone through... it is a huge "you made it" moment. they were already impressed with how far he'd gotten when they met in 2019 -- never thought something as big as this could happen, but knew that he could make it once he put his mind to it :''')

4d experience

FUTURE DOUBLE DATESSS WAHHHH i think for every friend that reader meets they become friends as well even if they're not super aligned with work and such LOL ... i think it's surprising for enzo that joosti would get with someone so different from him but he soon sees they fit together like pieces of a wonderfully weird puzzle <3 double dates are definitely in line!! especially when they all have kids and can save on the babysittter LOL reader 10000000% gets a little bit of a big head about being his gf and being backstage with him.... definitely lots of quickies lots of hands over mouths lots of disheveled clothing and having to run to the stage before he's late. heheheh

lowlands 2023

HNNNNNNNG they do mime makeup on each other and then fuck about it so they have to wipe it off and let the makeup artists do it LOL. smudged gray black white paint and breathy kissing ,,, fucks them in the skirt and everything... so into it. when they wash it off and get it baxk on again they take a million photos LOL he invites them on stage with the rest of the crew since they're all dressed up for it perfectly but once they see how GINORMOUS the crowd is they refuse and its good cuz once they see how huge this is they cry about it happily

hot air balloon

reader is like the biggest scaredy cat and had to be dragged onto the hot air balloon. im talking eyes screwed shut clinging onto joosti and the friends gigglign about it and promising they'll be fine ... joosti is like guys stop they're really scared :// so they stop and he talks to them. is fully ready to insist that the hot air balloon comes down but reader relaxes and they get to film their content for it <3. once they start making all their little tiktoks reader laughs a little bit and then asks for a kiss before joosti eats the onion hehe and they're fine for the rest of the time :)) my babies

im so glad ruby and marina are liked hehe -- i normally hate inserting ocs when writing rpf (and especially elaborating on them more than a name LOL) ruby and tantu are dating! and marina is the resident lesbian (idk if you know her but ive always envisioned marina like... looking like the director emma seligman LOL not to give my own faceclaims and affect your image of them but yeahhh. she definitely is living her best life as alanis' bestie !!

ruby and tantu

YESSSS i fully believe that once tantu and ruby get involved and she meets joosti she knows... she knows this guy will be fun for dear reader. whatever that means for reader since they never really have fun anyways. i think ruby fully decides on setting up reader and joosti after seeing tantu and joosti work on music together. his work ethic is on par with reader's and they're the same brand of detail oriented but the difference is joosti knows how to have fun and i think ruby really wants her girl to have some fun and live a little :'''). she is a little worried that reader will immediately shut it down cuz joosti is so. joosti. yknow. but shes so pleased when she sees they've argued and reader's given some fun to occupy them LOL. it's sort of a mental stimulation principle (mental stimulation that isnt work or school hehe) they are so mismatched and so unexpected but so goooood for each other. ruby is so happy about this until she's left babysitting 3 rowdy kids LOL at least it's always with tantu

i will give you some songs on the normal au playlist that might give some hintie hints about how the relationship is gonna play out: "spring into summer" by lizzy mcalpine (this is the defacto title of the au in my head. itll continue to be called normal au but this is sorta the perfect perfect encapsulation of the au.), "ankles" by lucy dacus, "maroon" taylor swift, "im not in love" by 10cc, "archie, marry me" by alvvays, "pristine" by snail mail, "everyday almost" by madi diaz, "could cry just thinkin about you (full version)" by troye sivan. hehe. i listen to music 90% based on lyrics and 10% based on sound LOL. so maybe this will help!

im so happy joostblr is this way !! ive never felt so safe in a fandom especially to post and talk and make friends... my last fandoms were pretty hostile so this is so so lovely even if the other platforms are sort of messes. i hope joosti come back soon so everyone comes back !! i miss everyone being here sooo much ajsdasj. im so happy joosti has connected me to wonderful readers and people like you who take their time to truly read and see my work -- i'm so grateful!!! so so so grateful :)) it makes me so happy being able to reply !! ily family anon and im so excited to see you again!!!

[kiigan]

smol note:

ㅤIt's been about a year since I've had this blog. A year that, ooc speaking, wasn't easy - as some of you know, I've been working on my doctorate research project for a long time and at present I'm finally at the last stages of writing my thesis. I don't always have the free time to be here and, even when I do, I'm sometimes so tired and braindead that I just wanna curl up in bed and sleep and do nothing.

ㅤAll this to say, I would like to give a big and heartfelt thank you! to everyone who's been a part of this year-long journey. Everyone who's reached out to me and welcomed me into the Naruto rp community, everyone who's shared ideas and plots with me, everyone who's put enthusiasm and creativity into their replies to me, everyone who's come to yell at me about the relationships between our muses (romantic or otherwise), everyone who's sent me stuff that reminds them of our muses or plots, everyone who's sent me asks and prompts and kind words, everyone who's genuinely enjoyed my writing and portrayal. Itachi is very important to me - he was my first ever rp muse, all the way back in 2005-ish, and he's the one I always end up coming back to. It means the world to me that you guys gave him/me a chance and that you've stuck with us throughout all this time.

Thank you so much, friends!

I cherish and appreciate you, and here's to a few years more! ❤

[blkkizzat]

I've been holding this in for a while but the latest "lets flood the x reader tags with posts complaining about what writers write" has pmo to my limit. allow me this please and i will put the rest under the cut...

for the love of god please stop calling people on tumblr, especially smut writers/enjoyers, 'porn addicts' because you sound like an uneducated, highly sheltered, dumbfuck.

i'm sorry but you sound slow and like you have zero life experience. and it seriously makes me question if you are a minor hiding behind an 18/19 age tag. (because it is always y'all especially saying this).

do y'all know what addicts are? have you ever had an addict of anything in your life? do you know what that entails?

What IS a porn addiction.

being an addict means your entire life is centered around your addiction.

it means your work, school, home and general relationships with everyone in your life is being negatively affected by this addiction

It means if you are driving/taking public transport, you watching porn.

out with friends or dinner with family? you're sneaking away to consume porn or reading smut.

At work/school, you watch or read in the background (think of all the stories of kanye west in adidas boardroom meetings literally having porn playing in the background while they discuss shoes... insanity and i can only imagine the amount of paperwork HR had to do to ensure no one would gets sued).

Overall, you are constantly consumed by the urges to consume smut/porn and its the main priority in your life. THAT is addiction.

What is NOT a porn addiction:

It's not after a long stressful day of work, school, and just surviving in this fucked up world (especially if you support yourself 100% and pay bills) wanting to decompress and escape by writing, consuming or enjoying smut/hentai/porn about fictional characters.

hell it ain't even a porn addiction if to fall asleep or decompress you need to self-soothe rub one out to it at night to relax to smut or hentai or porn links.

It's more of a reflection of a fucked up world who majority of people are so stressed because they can barely afford a living or have no access to mental health services, let alone medicines, or maybe they have all that but they also are just trying to exist in a country that either wants to take all their rights away or see them d3@d. it could be literally anything that causes them stress and they just want some relief and endorphins. that is not an addiction. sure its not the solution to their issues, but its helping them get by and they are perfectly functional without consuming porn.

now COULD there be some people on this app who do have porn addictions? Sure, but those aren't the people you know about who are taking the time to write fics, or engage with others or be apart of the community. they are likely just blank accounts liking/reblogging so they can just binge all day.

and low key the once or twice i did see someone say "they had a porn addiction" they literally just sounded like the actual root of the issue was depression and using smut/porn as an avoidance to dealing with issues. BUT it didn't quite qualify as an addiction because they were easily able to disengage cold turkey and not have it negatively effect them when they did decide it was getting to be unhealthy. thats also not an addiction, maybe heading towards it but not there yet. addiction means dependency you dont have a dependency if you are able to give it up easily.

wanna hear about someone who actually had a porn addiction i've personally seen? so storytime...

i've worked in media most of my career. at one point i worked for the mouse's sports company (think about it lol should be obvious). for orientation i was flown out to big HQ. everyone is given a tour of the facilities where they film everything at. also we saw behind the scenes. you know in tv/movies you see those dark rooms where producers/editors sit during a live broadcast? those rooms. so at this company they allow people to see into those rooms without disturbing them (as they could be live on air) as there is a dark one way type of mirror so you can see in, but they cannot see out/see hallway light that would be distracting.

one of the jobs in the production rooms at this sports company is a sports analyst. now this aint no easy job to get, it is probably one of the hardest jobs in the entire company to get, harder than executive interviews, as they open applications once a year and there is probably 6K+ applicants for that ONE position. your job is to feed the sportscasters sports facts live as they are on air. 95% of what you give them has to be off the top of your head, so you literally just have to know hundreds of random sports facts and just be able to give that to them at a moments notice. its a very respected job in the company cause these guys know their shit and study sports facts for years to get this position.

so wouldn't you know one of them had a porn addiction.

on my tour, literal first day at the job, and we were walking by one of production rooms. there sitting at the back row, so the row we can see the easiest that is in front of the windowed mirror. he is literally sitting there with three monitors: whats happening live on air, random files/notes, and then hardcore porn of this woman getting fucked from all angles by like different men. He wasn't even jerking. He wasn't even looking at it. He was just doing his job like having that porn up was the most normal thing in the world, like it was a fuckin podcast lmfao. LOL our tour guide was so scandalized, she immediately rushed us away from there and phone in on her walkie talkie. (it was a kiiii though me and this other guy were trying not to laugh but i was literally in tears trying to hold it in. i think other people thought i was crying cause i was upset but it was just too funny but i had to play it off cause people got yelled at for laughing).

but the sad part is i heard later that the guy didnt even realize he had it up. that watching porn was just so normalized to him and something hed do all the time he didnt even think that he had pulled it up at work. Now he fucked up his dream job and is unemployeed with a super niche skill having to provide for his family and i think he had like 3 kids too. He'd studied 5 years straight to get that job and he blew it. THATS what addiction looks like. That's how it can utterly destroy your life. Even an addiction that is not drugs can physically destroy you can still tear apart your life.

I don't think anyone who calls people reading smut on tumblr 'porn' addicts understands that. nor do you have the proof to know what people do outside of this app to know how it is or isnt consuming their life.

this was long and alot but i needed to get his off my chest cause some of y'all really be pmo by how ridiculous you sound throwing around the term 'porn addiction' please grow tf up, quickly.

imma start blocking y'all saying it too cause regardless of your age im going to assume you are a minor cause theres no way an actual adult with any kind of education or life experience is saying this shit.

cut it tf out.

xoxo, Kali.

p.s. this also includes haters of twt porn links saying people who like/enjoy them have addiction. im callin' your dumbasses out too.

[crescenthistory]

heh-the anon who said i js sent my first ask and now this is my second!!!!

ok so....is there anything from the 2K event YOU want to write/expand on? like smt YOU wanna do.....cause this is me telling u to do it <3

i love everything youve written so far and i think you should write smt that you kinda wanna do....if that makes sense....not saying ur not happy abt ALL of the asks-i can tell u love ur readers-but js, smt you want to do yk?

this is SO sweet of you my dearest anon, thank you so so much<33 hahaha it's silly but you make me feel seen, thank you for daring to send asks! proud of you. in general, i want to write more drabbles for the valkyries, but i've also had magical!dealer!remus on my mind lately, so that's what we're going for !

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will EXPLAIN magical!dealer!remus

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: kind of drugs but it's mostly magical, systemic injustice, wizarding war without casualties

remus who can't get a stable job seemingly anywhere in the wizarding world because he's a registered lycanthrope

despite the fact that he essentially helped save the entire wizarding world with the rest of his friends – most of which were offered honorary positions in the ministry for their efforts

not remus

he was dirt poor, burnt out and pessimistic about life and institutions

james and sirius tried to various extents to help support him financially, but he would not accept it unless he physically had to

he lived with sirius without paying rent but tried his best not to think about it – especially because after the war he couldn't really stand being away from his friends

still:

"i'm not your charity case, prongs, you have a kid to look after"

"i don't want you to use me to pay off your sins sirius"

"i can take care of myself"

i think he would angrily say "fuck this shit" for a while and work in a muggle bookshop in london while

and maybe he would even enjoy the reprieve

but he would quickly feel isolated

in the wizarding world, he feels that he is not fully understood because he's a werewolf, but in the muggle world he has to even hide the fact that he's a wizard

he winds up applying to random jobs in wizarding london again, everything from shopkeeps and waitressing to pharmacies

throughout his life, remus has used a lot of different medications, ranging from potions to muggle medication to various ~herbs for pain relief

and at hogwarts he always made sure he did as well as physically possible to "make up" for being otherwise highly unemployable

he particularly excelled in DADA, potions and herbology, for obvious reasons

at some point when struggling to pay for the super overprized ingredients he need for the next full moon at an official apothecary that had rejected his application weeks prior, i think a bulb would go off in his head

he would more or less run home to sirius and they would have this conversation:

"if i were to start a business, would you sponsor me?"

"i've been trying to shove money down your throat for years moons, you already know this"

"would you be willing to get your money dirty?"

".... go on"

remus pitches this: he opens a "chocolate store" on the outskirts of diagon alley to serve as a front for him dealing various magical and non-magical herbs, potions, medication, drugs. etc.

everything and anything that unconventional wix could need to get through life that's hard to access

whether that be other werewolves, other "half-breeds", those with permanent magical injuries/conditions that the ministry ignores, those with ptsd from the war, etc.

you need to show registrations or prescriptions to get most lycanthropy potions, pain remedies, etc. which makes it hard to get for anyone flying under the radar or too poor for medical documents

not with remus – anyone can come in and ask for anything

thus, a form of dealership

his intentions are 1) be anti-establishment and say f u to the minister 2) supply the people with what they need without the hellish and discriminatory bureaucracy of the ministry

(unless kingsley becomes the minister in this au, in which he would begin working on the problems from the inside while turning a blind eye to remus' endeavors)

i think remus would also have a designated section for helping treat addiction of different sorts

his pitch stretched on for forever but sirius was with him from essentially his first word

"hold up, i need to rope james into this"

james immediately suggests that the front store should be called "moony's delights"

"... i'll think about it"

the front store would serve as a regular chocolate shop to the average bypasser, so there would often be children stopping by getting chocolate

remus would sell regular chocolate – that i imagine marylily help bring to life – to regular customers

but his real services were to the non-regular wix, for which he's got stacks on stacks of alternative chocolates, in addition to his shelves upon shelves of ingredients and potions

i imagine remus fetches most of the ingredients and brews most of the potions himself, utilising all his expertise

for once, he allows his friends to join in because in his mind they're not just helping him but also the greater good

lily becomes his partner who helps with both chocolates and potions

molly prewett/weasley grows some of the herbs lol

sirius and james supply both any legal patents they need to put down to get a shop and then they preemptively set up a team of top notch lawyers for protection

by the time remus gets around to this, one of the best educated lawyers is their dearest order-member emmeline vance who is more than happy to help out

i believe frank longbottom could be her apprentice

the order of the phoenix remained close friends and kept an "it takes a village" mentality to everything, whether that be getting friends back on their feet or raising the little baby phoenixs

(because they fought way too hard to keep this village to not utilise it to its fullest extent)

it takes a while to get the shop up and running efficiently, of course

at first it's something you need to have heard about from a friend, but as it surges in popularity, more and more wix know where they need to go if they need a fix of any kind

within the "underworld" of the wizarding society, i believe word spread the fastest

and perhaps the knowledge that "moony's delights" sold potions and herbs specifically for various "half breeds" may be contained to just this underworld

while more everyday wix know that they can get general pain relief or help chilling the fuck out

there are so many reader insert ideas i have within this au that could be requested

customer!reader would be fun, but so would business partner!reader who is brought in by lily or emmeline and eventually falls in love with remus

in general i think little punk remus lupin would 100% open a semi-secret dealership while the marauders and co protect him