#i may not know exactly who you are but i need you to know that i think ur awesome! u rock!

[natalchartnurtures]

PAC: What Do People Find Pretty About you?

I'm backk (oh and happy new year, people)

Pile 1: The reading starts with the message- "marching to the beat of your drum," so I'm guessing you love to do your own thing? This quality/essence of yours is exactly what people find pretty about you. You EXUDE this airy-fairy kinda ethereal energy, laced with an almost Aquarian and Gemini-like quality. You have your own blueprint, set of beliefs, and ideas that you LIVE by, and your beauty is inspired by your individuality.

For example, say you grew up in a culture where most people are fair-skinned, but you have darker skin. You absolutely love and adore your skin for what it is, and because you embrace it, others love it by extension. Whatever stands out about you in the society you live in right now is what people find pretty about you. Say you have long hair when the norm is short hair—well, that's what people find pretty about you. They find your unique features breathtaking. It’s otherworldly.

You know, you give me Maeve Wiley vibes from Sex Education. She had her own style going on, and didn’t we absolutely love her for it? Her edgy vibe contrasted against the more simplistic vibe of the rest of the town. Yeah, there’s something about that which STANDS OUT and beckons for people’s attention (even if you’re not out here actively seeking attention). And boy, is it refreshing AF. You don’t know just how much you bring to the table by being yourself 😊.

You may like to dress "intelligently," or your natural style simply makes you look really smart, and this adds to that Aqua/Gemini quality that others find so pretty about you. Maybe you’re into graphic tees? Or your clothing simply makes people think, you know? Your style is different, and gosh, it’s so, soooo pretty (I really hope you understand that by the end of this read, haha).

You seem to take on a more carefree and blasé approach to your physical appearance, and it’s MAGNETIZING. Side note: I don’t think you realize the effect you have on people, lmao. It’s so funny because that’s such an Aqua quality, hahaha.

Moving on—it seems like you’ve never let go of your connection to your inner child, and this keeps you fun, joyous, and energetic. This is something people instantly notice about you, and they LOVE IT SO MUCH. You brighten people’s days with your little giggles, pranks, and jokes (even if they’re dark).

Again, there’s something deeply unconventional about you that’s soooo pretty. Like, it’s almost as if you are your own beauty standard, you know? Haha, you’re a trendsetter, aren’t you? It’s reminding me of Rihanna’s energy—how different she looks from Western beauty standards, but boy, does she make WAVES with her presence alone.

What’s pretty about you transcends the material realm. It’s your faith in the divine shining through your eyes when you walk past a stranger on the street, or the endless energy you contain because you’re so connected to source (or whatever “god” you believe in). This openness to anything or anyone that comes your way is what makes you OH so pretty ✨️.

Thanks for reading, sweet Pile 1! Have a good rest of your day/night 😊

Pile 2: Your spirit message to open your reading said- “CUTE AF.” Haha, people seem to find you cute AF, Pile 2! That’s what makes you pretty. You may be the type of person who has the perfect ratio of cute and pretty, like Lisa or Rosé from Blackpink. You have a certain charm about you that people can’t seem to shake off, and boy, it sticks for a while. You’re unforgettable.

You’re incredibly physically attractive too (you might be very aware of this 😏), and boy, need I say more? Side note: People find your chest area, boobies, and décolletage really freaking pretty 😍.

You have a side to you that you NEVER show people—your softer, mushy, gushy, sensitive, unconditional-love side (for obvious reasons, hello?). And people seem to sense that you’re hiding SOMETHING. Usually, they can’t guess what it is, and they find this super mysterious, enchanting, and ALLURING. They want to know this other side of you. They want to bring it out (and by "they," I mean anyone interested in getting to know you deeper). This makes you irresistibly pretty, Pile 2.

I see that you’re an incredibly humble person, and this only adds to the magnitude of PRETTINESS I already told you about! Sheesh. Could you be any more charming and awesome? Side note: People really appreciate the random acts of kindness you bestow on them when no one’s looking. If you have a habit of smiling at people (no matter who they are), this is perceived as reeeeeeally pretty 👀. (Also, it makes you all the more lovable?!)

You seem interested in bringing as much kindness as you humanly can into an inherently unkind world, and this honestly takes your physical beauty to another level! Your heart is so generous and pure, kind of like Leo or Cancer energy. You don’t stand for injustice, and you MAKE IT KNOWN (quietly or not 💅🏾). It’s almost as if you have the ability to love people’s hearts back to life again if they’ve been through injustice, which is honestly so precious. You’re a national treasure, Pile 2!

What’s beautiful and pretty about you is how you naturally allow people to feel safely vulnerable around you. You seem like someone who can listen to people’s woes and almost make them disappear 😶‍🌫️. Haha, I love that.

People can slow down around you (because of your energy, bruh) and let down their guard, even if it’s only for a moment. It’s a beautiful gift you have. I’m happy you exist. BIG HUGS, Pile 2!

I love you so much, and have a wonderful day/night!

Pile 3: Message to open your reading- "You GIVE Sabrina Carpenter vibes." "You serve MOTHER vibes." Lol, a lot of people seem to thirst after your maternal vibe, Pile 3. You’re out here taking care of people, huh? Let’s get into it—

What people find pretty about you is your cozy, emotionally healthy, and prosperous energy. It’s almost like people feel “taken under your wing,” as if an angel is taking them in to help heal and rejuvenate them. You have angel vibes, Pile 3, and that’s what’s PRETTY about you.

You might have really pretty (and really watery?) eyes with big natural lashes, and they look very glossy and big—lowkey like anime eyes 👀. Tehe ✨️. Love that!

You seem very protective of the people you love, and they really appreciate that about you. That’s what makes you so pretty. Maybe when you defend someone close to you who’s been wronged—say you’re arguing with the offender—you might come off really attractive to people. The passion with which you protect is SEXY, baby. Keep 👏🏾 it 👏🏾 up 👏🏾.

You’re like this stable figure in your life to a lot of people. So many of them lean on you for support and come to you with their problems, and you happily help them. Side note: I hear this incredibly helpful and giving nature of yours is going to bring A LOT of abundance into your life, so keep an eye out for it, hehe.

Also, a slightly off-topic message keeps coming in STRONG—there’s a specific person (romantic) who wants to dedicate a song to you. It’s called “Made For Me” by Muni Long. Maybe it’s how they’re feeling about you right now? Take this only if it resonates :)

Moving on with your reading now, you seem to be a guiding light in people’s lives, kind of like a lighthouse for lost boats, so to speak. Your beauty follows closely with this wisdom of yours, and that’s what people find pretty about you. You wear your wisdom like a warrior wears armor, and gosh, that’s very beautiful, almost in an enchanting way.

You have seer energy about you, and maybe it reflects in how you present yourself? Maybe you seem very calm and grounded? Maybe you have great hygiene or look really put together? If so, this is really pretty, Pile 3 :).

It’s like your energy is medicine to people who are naturally anxious. You allow them to seek respite from their own minds, and boy, does that make you so PRETTTTTAYYYYYY, ugh.

Thanks for reading, my sweet Pile 3. Have yourself a wonderful day/night, and keep being the stable, sexy baddie that you are, hehe 😊🫂. Love you! <3

[the-corset-witch]

In Texas (and all across the bible belt of the US) some of these clinics often present themselves as the place you have to go first before you can find a doctor, they will 'help you' find a doctor, or also sign up for any benefits (state healthcare, WIC, food stamps/SNAP, etc); you do not need their help in doing any of these things and you do not need their harassment either.

I ended up at one with my very first pregnancy and the most they did for me was have me take a store bought pregnancy test, hand me pamphlets about what websites to go to, and because I was married, and this was a wanted pregnancy and there was no guilt-tripping needed for me to keep the kid, they sent me to one of their associate OBGYNs. If you are a person who planned/wants your pregnancy, you may never even know these clinics are fake except for the very peculiar vibe you get- and that very peculiar vibe is exactly why I chose to never go to that OBGYN and found my own.

Is anyone else just... exhausted?

[gumii-bearr]

Alt!Megumi who fucking hates you but has to tolerate you bc you’re Yuuji’s best friend. Yuuji drags both of you to a party and abandons you, leaving the two of you to get drunk off your asses and insult each other. Until Megumi starts getting handsy and leads you off to a room for a nice hate fuck 😇😇

YEEAASSS BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAA–

thinking about... ❝ hate sex ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, hate sex, rough sex, mirror sex, swearing, dirty talk, HELLO SAILOR–

author's note: u have awoken something in me i hope ur ready for my wrath, also i made them actually fucking hate each other it's so funny.

── alt!megumi who has hated your guts from the start.

── yuji was your best friend and was always bringing you around, and it always pissed megumi off because why exactly did you need to be involved in everything?

── you were a rude, insolent brat at the best of times, always had a snarky remark or a smart ass comment loaded in the chamber ready to fire when you could sense megumi was even slightly irritated by your presence.

── it became a thing. everyone knew you hated each other, always bickering and arguing over stupid shit.

── alt!megumi who is normally a very chill and somewhat anti-social guy. but you just bring out this hot-headed, unbridled anger in him. and you do it all with the flutter of your lashes and a cheeky fucking smile on your face.

── you always had something to say. like when yuji and nobara were taking forever to pick a snack at the convenience store down the road from your college campus:

── megumi was cranky, "jesus christ, just pick something, you're taking forever"

── "you'd know all about finishing fast, huh, fushiguro?"

── alt!megumi who simply put, cannot stand you. if looks could kill, you would be so dead. and you, who is equally bothered by him and his fake tough-guy persona and how he's always pretending to be this big scary guy who is just so unbothered by everything.

── except for you, since you always manage to wriggle under his skin and piss him off.

── or when yuji dragged you both along to a party, telling you two to "be nice" to each other then promptly ditched you because, well, he's yuji, a social butterfly who makes friends wherever he goes.

── alt!megumi who isn't a big drinker, but if he has to stay at this god forsaken party, he may as well drink.

── alt!megumi who is chatting up a girl when you appear, bumping shoulders with him drunkenly as you scare away whatever little piece he was talking to because you're you and you make his life difficult for your own enjoyment.

── "why don't you just fuck off?"

── "you'd miss me too much."

── the two of you becoming progressively more drunk at this house party, and the alcohol seems to thicken the sexual tension between you and megumi.

── you're the only person he knows here other than yuji and vice versa, the two of you unintentionally gravitating toward each other no matter how much you try to avoid one another.

── you, who is dancing and grinding up on some guy and megumi is standing by the stairs just fucking watching you and he's clenching his jaw and staring daggers at you because don't you have any fucking self-respect?

── and you're wearing the tiniest mini skirt he's ever seen and a low-cut top that your tits threaten to spill out of and the gawking of these useless frat guys is pissing him off.

── and when you bend over to pick up a drink off the table, megumi just loses it because he can see your lacy black panties and your plush ass from under your skirt.

── and alt!megumi who drags you upstairs and away from all the prying eyes and wandering hands by your arm before laying into you about your lack of self-respect.

── "you want everyone to think you're some fucking slut?"

── "yeah, but you were looking too, weren't you, fushiguro?"

── alt!megumi who just stares at you, absolutely seething before the tension between you two just fucking snaps and he slams you against the closest door, his mouth on yours in mere seconds.

── alt!megumi who's tattooed hands grab and knead at your hips and ass and your tits over your shirt.

── alt!megumi who pushes you into the closest bathroom, his hand squeezing your throat as he kisses you but it's not gentle, it's mean and it's hard.

── and you, who tugs at his hair and at his belt buckle because the two of you just need to fuck out whatever the hell your problem is.

── alt!megumi who is pulling your skirt over your ass and forcing your panties down your legs and you're fucking helping him because there's something seriously wrong with how much you want him to fuck you.

── alt!megumi who bends you over the bathroom sink and squeezes your heated cheeks together as he forces you to watch him fuck you.

── "always acting like a fucking slut."

── "you've wanted to fuck me so bad from the beginning. don't lie."

── alt!megumi who is thick and long and heavy, and his pace is fucking brutal. he's forcing noise after noise out of you as he forces your hips back onto his cock, your knees buckling as he basically holds your lower body up while you brace your hands against the counter.

── and the two of you hate how good it feels.

── hate how good he's fucking you, hate how soaked you are, hate how hard you've got him.

── you hate it all so much you fucking love it.

author's note: HAHAHAHAH I NEED TO MAKE THIS A FIC IM FERAL HELLO– help i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure like a rabid gorilla.

[cherrymoonxx]

A Look in the Mirror Pick a Card:

Come with me on a journey to see what the depths of your soul truly looks like. Who are you at your core?

Choosing a pile:

Take a moment to connect with your body. Allow yourself to really feel. Focus on your breathing and clear your mind. Choose the pile that calls out to you.

Pile 1:

Welcome, pile 1!

Plunged into the depths of the sea, surrounded by silence. Darkness… Emerging from these depths, slowly wading through the waves.

My pile ones, you are resilient. Your mind and your ambition are your gifts. You are meant to be seen and heard by the world. You have the ability to leave a lasting impact on others but, for some of you, the world has not been kind. Your light may have been dimmed due to the harshness of reality. You may have been discouraged from pursing your passions, from following your dreams, or just from dreaming in general. You may have given up hope that life will be anything than what it is now: cold, dark, and unforgiving.

For some of you, you may have also felt like an outsider looking in. Almost as if the world was passing you by, with everyone experiencing things you weren’t able to. As if life is happening to everyone else but you. “When will it be my turn?” “Am I doing the right thing?” “Why does everyone else seem to be so well off but I’m still in the same place?” You ask yourself these types of questions often, wondering when your life will pick up and when things will change.

My dearest pile ones, I’m here to tell you that though the world has been unkind and things have been going at a slower pace than you would like, this is not the end. Life has so many blessings to bring you. The world needs people like you. Each and every one of you are special. It won’t be long before the fog will clear and the world will shift in your favor. The darkness will no longer hold you, and instead, you will be guided by the light. Life will no longer feel heavy for you. And it is then, you will truly feel at peace to live your life exactly the way you desire. And just know, the world is ready to experience your greatness.

Pile 2:

Welcome pile 2!

A peaceful snowy evening. Fluffy blankets of snow settling into the quiet of the night. Cozy sweaters, hot chocolate… Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Rosy cheeks. A childlike wonder that follows you forever.

My sweet, sweet pile two, you are the dreamers of the world. The kind that never stops daydreaming. The sky is only the beginning for you! You have this wonderful and truly beautiful ability to see the world through a lens that not many can. You are bright eyed and are not afraid to see the beauty of the world, the beauty that many often overlook. You are sunshine incarnate. The physical embodiment of joy and wonder. You have an innate curiosity that allows you to dream and see beyond the mundane.

Though, life is not always rainbows and butterflies. For some of you, you may have felt misunderstood. Perhaps people may have misjudged you because of the way you view the world and the way you choose to express yourself. Others may feel triggered by your ability to live your authentic truth and that manifests in the form of them harshly judging you. But their nasty words and opinions are a reflection of themselves and not you. Jealousy eats away at the soul. Don’t let these people stop you from living your truth.

At your core, you are a guiding light for others… your curiosity brings innovation and perhaps even entertainment. You could be artists, writers, actors, singers, etc. You bring upon creation into this world. You’re meant to create and express your mind. Pour yourself into these creative pursuits and your heart and soul will sing songs of joy. At your core, you are a creator. The world is in need of your creativity.

Pile 3:

Welcome pile 3!

Witty remarks, charming eyes… enveloping others with your words. Heated whispers with the promise to capture your heart by the end of the night.

My lovely pile three, you are the charmers. The ones who know just what to say to and how to say it. Your presence is loved by many because of your innate ability to make people feel safe and comfortable. You may not always realize it, but you are someone that people genuinely like to be around. People may gravitate towards you because you are nonjudgmental. You take everyone as they come and love them as they are. You never ask anyone to be anything other than themselves. And you love people for it. You love learning about others and getting to know people. You’re a real people person, whether you claim to be or not.

At your core, you just want to help. You want to be seen as a helping hand for others because people actually mean so much to you. Despite how others may view you, you know deep down that your truest desire is pure. Your intentions are to aid others when they’re in need. You love to feel needed and helpful. You desire to be someone that people can rely on no matter what. And you truly are. You’re a pillar of support. No one else is doing it like you! You’re one of a kind. A heart as pure as yours is rare to find.

As pure as your heart is, that’s not to say you don’t have a bit of a mischievous side. You have your moments in which you indulge in your witty banter and sarcastic comments. You may tend to seek those that can keep up with your wittiness. It keeps things interesting for you. And who doesn’t love a bit of banter!

Thank you all for reading! This is my first pick a card, but hopefully not my last! This went a bit different than I expected it to but it was fun reading for you all. I hope this resonates with you guys.

Please let me know what you guys think! 💕

[katsu2ji]

perfume — s. gojo

a/n: i got perfume by dojaejung stuck in my head again (not mad abt it AT ALL.)

satoru who goes absolutely crazy when he smells your new perfume.

he went ahead and got up while you were in the bathroom getting ready, starting on a simple breakfast as you both had busy days ahead. he smiled as he heard you come into the kitchen, turning to greet you happily.

"morning, baby."

you returned his smile as you walked past him to the coffee maker, the subtle scent of a new perfume trailing behind you—one he hadn’t remembered smelling before. he froze mid-buttering the toast, his attention caught by the unfamiliar scent.

you hadn't heard him come up behind you, but you definitely heard a loud sniffing sound next to your ear. he abandoned his previous place at the counter and was now right behind you, his face curious as he sniffed the air around you.

you craned your neck, finding the situation amusing. "satoru? what are you doing?"

without answering, he buried his face in your neck and inhaled like his life depended on it.

you laughed, the sensation tickling your skin. "satoru, what are you doing?" you repeated.

he did it again, and this time you can feel an idiotic smile spread across his face. he arms come up and wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he mumbled against your skin, "god, you smell good. what is that?"

you smiled, your attention now back on the mug in front of you as you stirred your coffee. "it's a new perfume i got," you set the spoon down, turning your head ever so slightly. "i take it you like it?"

he took another deep whiff, like he was trying to somehow inject the scent into his veins. "i love it. i'm gonna need you to wear this everyday, baby."

he makes it his mission to make sure that you have enough to do just that. you know exactly what one of your gifts will be every birthday, valentine's day, and anniversary. thank god you loved the scent too, because from then on he gets you bottle upon bottle of the stuff at slightest excuse.

you say your running low? no worries—he's stopping by the store on the way home and picking up another bottle. scratch that, make it two.

and every time he smells even the tiniest bit of that perfume, he swears he's falling for you all over again. it's like the scent was made for you. if he ever has to leave for work for an extended period of time—which, when it came to you, could literally mean one night—he's asking you to wear something of his and spray the perfume over top, just so he can make sure that he has a piece of you even when he's away.

satoru gojo may have been the strongest jujutsu sorcerer the world had ever seen, but that man could be brought to his knees in a heartbeat when it came to you and your heavenly scented perfume. and he wasn't even the slightest bit ashamed of it.

katsu2ji © 2025. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[alagaisia]

I really think that as long as you’re bringing it to a good, reputable shelter with high turnover, you can think of it in a purely positive way. You’re giving that pet a chance to find a home and a family that are a better fit where they might be much happier. And, a surrendered pet at a shelter often comes with a lot more information about its likes and wants and behaviors and habits (compared to puppies/kittens or strays) and someone who is looking for a pet with exactly the traits that didn’t work for you will be so glad that you were able to tell the shelter all about the pet.

I’m coming to this from the other side- my family has only ever adopted dogs from the Animal Humane Society, and we’ve had incredible luck. Our first dog, my sweet Cosmo, love of my life, was not quite this situation- he had an elderly owner who either passed or had to move to a care facility when he was two years old- but regardless he was an adult dog with good training and an established personality, so we knew something of what we were getting ourselves into with a first dog. We grew up together and he was a wonderful companion for 14 years until he passed last summer. Squiggy, our little muppet mutt, was a failed designer dog whose original owner hadn’t realized that a purse dog puppy would still need training and attention, and while he was a little old to just be starting potty training by the time we got him, he figured it out. He has bells hung by the back door that he rings when he wants to go outside. He’s very dumb but so fluffy and he’ll snuggle right up under your chin if he’s not busy following my mom everywhere (or crying if he can’t find her).

Our most recent dog, Wilson, we got just a few weeks ago. He’s four years old, very smart, very curious, such a sweetheart. He was a surrendered dog from a family that had recently had to move into a smaller space due to a house fire, and the family didn’t have room to give him his own space (apparently he’d had his own whole room at their old house). He was reported to have issues with chewing on shoes and furniture. We think that maybe this isn’t the whole story, and that there were other lifestyle incompatibilities that led to him being put up for adoption.

For one, we have not had any issues with him chewing on anything at all that he’s not supposed to (although he has rapidly dissected a great many stuffed dog toys). It’s quite possible this was an anxious response. Or, an exaggeration, so that his previous owners didn’t feel as guilty giving him up. He also has very little training for a four-year-old as smart as he is; he learns very quickly, so he knows “sit” already, but it seemed like he knew “no” and not much else when he first got home. He also was not entirely house trained, and didn’t seem to super understand the concept of having a yard (but he’s picked up on both of those things already!). So we think that even in his owners’ previous house, him having his own room may have been more to keep him out of the way than anything else, and he maybe didn’t get as much attention as he needed until he was constantly underfoot.

Obviously I’m a little biased, since I enjoy having him around, but I think Wilson might have a much better life with us than he had with his previous owners (who got him as a puppy from a breeder!) even though there wasn’t necessarily a “good” reason for them to give him up. It seems like they maybe liked the idea of having a dog, and didn’t realize until their living situation changed that he didn’t actually fit that well into their lifestyle. And that’s fine, because it means my family got to bring home a wonderful new dog who we adore. My dad bought him a hoodie so that they can have matching outfits. He gets to play so much fetch. I’m knitting him a sweater to match the one I made for our other dog last year.

Pets that go to shelters are not doomed to a sad and lonely life in a cage. They go on to have wonderful loving families with lifestyles that can prioritize the needs of a pet and they live ✨happily ever after.✨ Just because it’s the end of their time with you doesn’t mean it’s the end of their life. It’s an opportunity for them to get a second chance at that forever home.

hi! can i ask what's ur opinion on giving pets away? not necessarily because u can't afford to care for em anymore but maybe incompatibility of personalities or maybe lifestyles. is it wrong to give ur pet for adoption if u know someone who's better suited for keeping a pet, like emotionally?

This is going to be controversial, but I support making that choice.

There’s a lot of rhetoric lately around how it’s evil and unethical to rehome your pet if you don’t “need to.” And what that does is prioritize human ideology over the actual animal’s well-being.

Pets that aren’t a good match for your home or pets that aren’t really wanted anymore frequently have lower welfare! When caring for an animal becomes a burden or is forced, people end up resenting them, and that means the animal often doesn’t get all of its needs fulfilled. Even if you’re still feeding it and providing appropriate vet care, how likely are you to provide affection or enrichment to an animal you’re tired of being stuck with?

Lifestyle and personality really matter to making sure a pet is a good fit for a home. A dog that alert-barks at every leaf that moves is probably a bad fit for someone who has a chronic migraine syndrome, and they might not know that until the dog has been in the home for weeks and started to open up. A really feisty kitten that requires a ton of play might not do best in the home of someone older who wanted a quiet lap cat. And while you can you do your best to plan to find a compatible animal, you won’t always know ahead of time what issues might arise.

“Forever home” rhetoric is really, really popular and I think it’s very unfair to the animals it is supposed to support. It started with the backlash of seeing animals abandoned inappropriately, and has been heavily reinforced in the public mind because it’s so frequently used to drive fundraising and support for legislation. The whole “forever home” concept communicates to people that getting an animal is an immutable commitment and that if you can’t keep an animal, it is a personal moral failing. It frames human priorities (we think people who get rid of animals are Evil and Bad and should be shunned) as more important than actual welfare needs for individual animals (are they getting the care they need where they are).

Obviously, I don’t support people dumping animals or just getting fad pets they’ll discard immediately, but there’s so many alternate situations that can arise. Even if it’s just “they got a pet and didn’t know what caring for it would take and didn’t want to care for it so they brought it back, how awful” like… okay, I’d like the person to have done more research before they got a pet, but isn’t it better that the animal now has a second chance to go to better home? Knowing what a commitment requires theoretically can be very different than having to actually follow through regularly, and I’d rather see someone maturely acknowledge that having an animal isn’t a good fit than keep it anyway!!

If animals being happy and with all their biological, veterinary, and social needs fulfilled is actually the goal, we need to prioritize their welfare over human opinion. I’d much rather see an animal rehomed responsibly to somewhere it will thrive and be welcomed than see people keep animals they can’t/don’t want to care for out of guilt or shame. 

[harrywavycurly]

Can you imagine you’re on your couch enjoying your second glass of wine and on your Bumble account, just checking to see if anyone new has joined recently that strikes your fancy when you come across a very recognizable photo of Harry. Making you instantly go to his profile and feeling a bit unsure about it since it’s not the most detailed thing on the planet and filled with things that someone could easily find on Google. But you decide to swipe on him anyway just to see what happens, and to your shock it says you’ve matched so it’s up to you to send the first message, that’s why you enjoy Bumble because it lets you control if and when you send someone you match with a message.

Thinking that this profile can’t actually belong to the real Harry Styles you quickly type out something silly that even a Harry imposter would probably get a laugh out of, hitting send before taking another sip of wine while you read the message again giggling to yourself.

“If it stays between just us can you please tell me if Olivia is a person, place, emotion or if it really did just rhyme?”

You expect the person to take a while to respond so you feel your eyes go a bit wide when you see a message suddenly appear underneath yours.

“Sorry I can’t talk about songs that aren’t fully finished yet but…I mean picking a word just because it rhymes? Talk about lazy songwriting.”

You lean your head back and laugh at what they sent you and for a moment, just a brief one, you think it might actually be Harry Styles who just messaged you on Bumble. But you quickly shake it off and assume this is just a very good Harry impersonator who knows the lore of Olivia not being finished and the lazy songwriting quote that was said back in an interview with Niall. So thinking nothing of it you message him back.

“Oh well since it’s not fully finished may I make a suggestion?”

You barely have time to take a sip of wine before a new message appears from “Harry” making you smile.

“I’m listening…”

You bite back a giggle as you type out one word, and it’s not the word the person you’re messaging is probably expecting if they really do know their Harry facts.

“Saxophones.”

But unbeknownst to you only a few miles away tucked into the corner of his couch in his dimly lit living room Harry is laughing as he holds his phone in one hand and his whiskey glass in the other as he reads your suggestion. Taking a quick sip of his drink before leaning over and placing it on his coffee table his thumbs are typing back a message and hitting send before he’s even fully leaning back and getting comfortable again.

“You know what? That’s brilliant. I was thinking it needed some horns.”

Harry chews hit bottom lip as he waits for you to reply, a grin taking over his face when he sees your message appear just below his. He can’t help but find himself intensely enjoying the way the conversation, as silly as it may be, flows between the two of you making his nerves about even wanting to join the app fade away with each new message he receives from you.

“Don’t worry I won’t make you credit me or anything. At least this time.”

He doesn’t let even a minute go by before he’s hitting send on his reply and he wonders if you’re possibly doing something similar to him right now, just having an evening in with a drink and smiling at your phone like an idiot.

“Ah so your next suggestion won’t be free then? Is that what you’re saying?”

He runs a hand through his hair as he waits for you to say something, not sure if maybe he accidentally ruined the fun and easy tone of the conversation but before he can really begin to overthink anything he sees a message appear from you making him let out a quiet chuckle.

“Exactly.”

[shalomniscient]

convenience, part 1 || tsukishiro yanagi x reader [NSFT][MDNI]

Your heat, rather inconveniently, comes a whole two days early in the middle of your shift at your job. Your boss drops you off at a heat clinic, and you manage to get paired with who you think might just be the most perfect alpha in all of New Eridu.

cw. omegaverse, alpha yanagi, omega reader, all the usual omv stuff like knotting & breeding

notes. wrote this in a haze of horny delirium for tsukishiro yanagi. yes there will be a part 2 at some point because i will most certainly slip and slide back into horny delirium for tsukishiro yanagi one of these days

Heat clinic.

Such a nice, polite word for what’s essentially a fuck-centre.

Yes, you know in reality it’s just another facet of reproductive healthcare services, and there’s nothing really intimate about it—if the dozens of screenings, tests, and legal documents were anything to go by—but the concept itself is still a little funny. The idea that something so inherently primal could just be dressed up in some clinical wording and a facade with the aesthetic of a dentist’s office and suddenly be completely socially acceptable.

A foggy part of your brain is trying to do the same right now and draft up some polite excuse as to why you had to leave work early today, but with the way Yanagi’s cock is literally rearranging your insides, it’s an effort in futility.

You almost melt against the sheets with another low, drawn out moan feeling her all the way in your damn stomach. You barely even remember how you got here; your heat, the damn unpredictable thing it is, had hit early while you were still on your shift. Staying in the store would’ve been a terrible idea, what with it almost being rush hour, and so your poor boss—a beta man, thankfully—had sped you on over to the nearest heat clinic in Lumina Square. And you had writhed and squirmed on the bed that had too many too sterile pillows for God knows how long until they finally managed to send an alpha in to help you. She’d smelled of fresh laundry and warm bread and by that point there really wasn’t much else you wanted to think about besides getting her scent all over you immediately.

“Yanagi,” you whine, wiggling your hips petulantly at her slow, controlled pace. It’s strange, how well her name fits on her tongue despite you only learning it a few—minutes? hours? you don’t even know, honestly—ago. The alpha behind you croons low in her throat, leaning down to brush the bare, sweat-damp skin of your shoulder with her nose. But instead of that skin-to-skin you expect, you get smooth leather instead, and you remember that this is a damn heat clinic, and all heat clinic alphas have to wear a Mask.

It’s a safety precaution, and a sensible one at that; having an omega be accidentally marked during what should just be a transactional encounter would be horrifying for both the alpha and omega, and a world of legal pain for the clinic. Hence the invention of the Mask—a generally non-invasive little leather contraption that covers the alpha’s mouth completely, with well placed openings to still allow for easy breathing and speech. You’re normally more grateful for its existence in keeping omegas such as yourself safe, but right now it may as well have been invented by the devil.

“Breathe,” Yanagi reminds you, her voice ever so soft in a way you’ve never heard an alpha be before. Your previous heat partners, while still somewhat gentle—you’d specified as such in your documentation—still tended to have that typical alpha-ness to them. Demanding and commanding, eager to take and wring as many orgasms from you as they can manage. Which is, of course, exactly what you need, deep in the throes of heat as you are, but it leaves you with a rather heavy mental weight after that takes a while to lift. But Yanagi is calm, measured, and careful, even as she sinks balls deep into you, knot bumping the stubborn ring of your entrance. It makes your basest omega instinct preen with satisfaction at being so tenderly cared for, that you find yourself thinking, quite stupidly, that you could get used to this—to Yanagi.

She coaxes you out of that little reverie with the brush of her thumb against your clit. You jolt, startled but pleased, rocking forward slightly onto the sheets ruined with your slick. Yanagi follows with a roll of her hips, bumping the head of her wonderful cock against that spongy collection of nerves and drawing another warbling cry of her name from your lips. She moves with such patient elegance and finesse that you’d think she wasn’t in rut and had to find refuge in the nearest heat clinic like you. Or, rut clinic, in her case. This particular branch in Lumina Square did both, and what a blessing that turned out to be.

“Yanagi, faster,” you urge, whiny and out of your mind with lust, looking over your shoulder at her. Soft pink eyes meet your own, and her pupils blow just a little wider. You hear her breathe in deep through her mouth, the sound amplified by the Mask, and a primal giddiness runs down your spine. You know what she’s doing; inhaling your scent and letting it coat the inside of her mouth, her throat, and letting it fan the flames of her own lust. She relents with the quietest growl you’ve heard from an alpha, drawing her hands back to rest them on your hips, palms flat against your skin.

And then she’s snapping her hips forward, fucking you, and you’re completely and utterly gone. Your head drops, cheek against the mattress as your arms give out under you, and you melt against the sheets into a delicate arch that has Yanagi twitching inside you. Your brain drips out of your pussy around her cock, not a damn thought in your mind beyond the steady, rhythmic drives of her railing you senseless. You can feel her knot swelling, bumping against the lips of your cunt and it only makes you squeeze tighter around her.

Yanagi pants behind you, nails digging more into the meat of your hips. The scent of her floods your senses, and she almost smells like home were it not for the underlying, extremely faint but still somewhat noticeable scent of ozone and iron. She’s testing the waters with her knot, seeing how much you’re ready to give by pushing it forward ever so slightly then drawing back. It makes your fingers curl in the sheets, more needy whines falling from your lips as you beg her to stuff you full. Yanagi shudders at that, leaning down to—or attempting to—nose the dip of your spine between your shoulder blades.

“I’m going to knot you,” she promises gently, and you mewl in anticipation. “Be sweet for me, okay? Breathe, and relax. You’re doing so well, good girl.”

Holy fuck.

“Likes to be praised” was not an option even given to you on the forms, but somehow, either by luck or intuition, Yanagi had struck absolute gold. You nearly cum then and there at the praise, moaning unashamedly as your cunt clenches like a vise around her cock. Yanagi makes a small, choked noise in the back of her throat, clawing at your hips to steady herself again. It takes her a moment and several calming breaths before she can resume her slow press into you and you bite the sheets to make up for the fact you can’t sink your teeth into her shoulder instead.

Yanagi is already big, deliciously so, but her knot is certainly something else. You’re suddenly grateful for the generous amount of lube that was provided in the room and that Yanagi had the sense to use before she stuffed you full of her cock. It makes the stretch of her controlled slide into you far more bearable—not that you would’ve given up even if it wasn’t. Heat crazed as you are, you’re sure you’d find a way. Thankfully, Yanagi’s foresight made such extremes unnecessary, and she nuzzles soothingly at your neck, by your scent gland as she inches deeper and deeper, stretching you more and more until her knot slips fully inside you with a wet pop.

Your eyes roll back into your head and you cum with a loud cry, inner walls spasming and fluttering around her thick length. You almost feel like you might pass out, utterly light headed, cumming not in spite of the stretch but because of it. Fuck, Yanagi might just have ruined you for any other alpha. You feel your slick spray out and coat your thighs despite the knot buried inside you, and you make a noise between a moan and a sob as your orgasm rips through you viciously. Yanagi rocks and grunts behind you, riding that knife’s edge of stimulation until she’s tipping off of it herself, releasing your hips in favor of bracing herself over you, palms bracketing your head as she spills into you with a stifled, drawn out groan. You feel her throb inside you, pulsing with each jet of cum she deposits into your eager cunt. You can’t help but preen at the sensation of being filled so thoroughly, which Yanagi returns with a low, soothing croon.

She makes sure to lie on her side to recover, deceptively strong yet slim arms holding you close. It’s a welcome reprieve from the many alphas who would simply flop on top of you and crush you into the mattress, and you make a pleased noise, your brain buzzing with happy, satiated chemicals. Her cosy scent just makes you relax further, sweet honey on fresh toast, like home, and you find your eyelids drooping. Yanagi notices, and a lilting, melodic laugh resonates through the Mask.

“Rest,” she says gently, a hand caressing your side, “you did well.”

You have some time to kill anyway, knotted together as you both are. So you take her suggestion, and drift off into a satisfied slumber. What happens next is for your heat-free brain to deal with, but you’re certain of at least one thing: you’re not spending your next heat with anyone other than her.

When you wake, you wake woefully bereft.

Your thighs are parted, and you hiss when something wet and cold touches your skin. You blink open your eyes blearily, and find Yanagi looking down at you from where she kneels by your side, running a washcloth along your inner thigh. Her Mask is off, set on the bedside table now that both of you are somewhat stable enough to head back home and weather the rest of your respective heat and ruts privately. Her lips are curved into a small, glossy smile, and a pair of red-rimmed glasses rest delicately on the bridge of her nose.

“Did you rest well?” she asks, smoothing the washcloth down your other thigh. “I hope you don’t mind that I took some initiative. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or sticky when waking up.”

It takes you a while to find your voice, but when you do find it, it’s utterly wrecked. Yanagi flushes slightly at the sound when you speak, looking ridiculously cute for someone who just gave you the most intense orgasm of your life.

“Yes to the first, no to the second,” you answer, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Yanagi’s smile broadens, and she shakes her head lightly. “I should be thanking you—my rut hit early out of nowhere, and if you weren’t willing…”

“I could say the same for you,” you rasp wryly, watching as she diligently cleans you. She takes care not to give too much stimulation to your sensitive sex, but makes sure to clean up the remaining drops of her cum that still leak from you. “I guess we both got lucky.”

“Quite,” Yanagi agrees, and you see her throat bob as she tries not to focus on the way her seed drips out of your cunt. “In any case, you were… very helpful. Thank you.”

You manage a dry chuckle at that. What a polite alpha. “You weren’t too bad yourself.”

The flush on her cheeks deepens ever so slightly, and she ducks her gaze away from yours, almost bashful. She sets the cloth down on a disposal bin on the bedside table, then turns to grab something further down the bed. A surprised noise leaves your lips when you see what it is: your clothing, all neatly folded. And if your nose is telling you the truth—

“I… took the liberty to scent your shirt,” she admits, still not meeting your eyes. “Just to tide you over until you make it home. It should deter any other alphas from trying anything.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. You wonder if you’re dreaming—do alphas this nice really exist? You’ve met your fair share of decent alphas, but they all have that typical alpha arrogance about them. If she hadn’t just knotted you, you might have thought she was an omega with how tender she’s being, and you find yourself thinking for the second time today how you could get so used to this.

“Thank you,” you say eventually. Yanagi nods, relieved, then rises from the bed. She’s already clothed; although, she didn’t take much of her clothes off while fucking you in the first place, just popping a few buttons of her shirt and hiking her skirt up enough to get it out of the way after ditching her corset. She fixes the tassels of her tie, ready to head out the door, and the words blurt out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Do you want to do this again?”

Your jaw clicks shut as soon as Yanagi stills, turning to face you with a puzzled look on her face. She blinks, brows furrowing as she considers your words. “This… again?”

“There’s an option for, uh— scheduled sessions between an alpha and an omega, if they choose,” you explain, trying not to sound as nervous as you feel. “It saves on hoping for another presentation to be available when your heat or rut rolls around.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Yanagi hums, eyes drifting to the side as she takes a moment to consider.

“It’d be convenient,” you continue, unable to help yourself from pressing a little more. If you sound desperate, you can’t be bothered to be ashamed. You’d rather lose your dignity than this damn perfect alpha before you. “And you’re someone who likes convenience and routine, right?”

Yanagi raises a brow. “How did you figure that?”

“Well,” you shrug, attempting nonchalance, “I suppose it was a lucky guess. How did you know I liked being praised?”

Yanagi turns beet red at that, a palm shooting up to cover half her face. Even her ears are a delicate blush colour. “It just… felt right,” she mumbles, her home-like scent thick with embarrassment. You chuckle softly at that.

“See? I think this could be mutually beneficial, Yanagi. What do you say?”

The time it takes her to think feels like it stretches on forever. You can almost see the gears on her head turning, analysing, as if weighing the costs and benefits over every last detail of your proposal. Those pink eyes gleam with an intensity you can’t help but feel drawn to in a way you’ve never felt before with any alpha. Eventually, she turns back to you with a small, polite smile.

“We could give it a shot.”

You grin, feeling relief flood your system so strongly you nearly fall back onto the bed. “Sounds great. I’ll see you next month, then?”

“Next month,” Yanagi returns, and then she slips out the door with the click of heels on cold tile. You flop back onto the pillows when the door closes, unable to stifle a giddy, girlish laugh from spilling from your lips.

God, for once in your life, you can’t wait for your next heat.

[cece693]

Hihi, may I request a Hannibal x Reader where the Reader has NPD and doesn't form a connection with anyone till he meets Hannibal? A bit self-indulgent, but I reckon Hannibal would be fascinated by the prospect of being 'special' to a narcissist.

My Mirror

pairing: hannibal lecter x male reader tags: no background info used when writing this, sorry in advance, vain male reader, hannibal indulges him, talk about superiority

You’ve never been one for emotional attachments—an understatement, truly. Where others might feel devotion or longing, you observe a mild, clinical detachment. People, with their petty wants and whining needs, amuse you for a time but rarely hold your attention for long. You’ve grown comfortable in the self-contained world of your own superiority.

In clinical terms, you’ve been labeled with narcissistic personality disorder—NPD. The label doesn’t disturb you. In your eyes, the world is simply out of sync with you; it fails to meet the high standards you’ve set. You don’t consider this a “disorder,” exactly. Yet you recognize that it isolates you. No one has ever managed to breach the lofty gates of your interest…until meeting him.

The first time you hear of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you’re skeptical. Your colleagues and acquaintances speak of him in hushed, reverent tones: a brilliant psychiatrist, a culinary savant, a polymath of refined tastes. You grow used to overhearing their effusive praise, and it only piques a faint curiosity at best. Everyone extols him so highly—could he possibly live up to the hype?

Yet, from the moment Hannibal Lecter opens the door to his lavish Baltimore townhouse, you sense a shift. The warmth of candlelight glints off polished silver in the foyer. The faint aroma of roasting meat teases your senses. But none of these details hold your attention half as much as the man himself. Dark, composed eyes meet yours—eyes that see you in a way no one else has before. You feel an uncanny ripple of fascination, and it snags you before you can slip away behind your usual polite mask of distance.

Throughout the evening, you watch Hannibal with an intensity you typically reserve only for yourself. He tends to his guests with an elegant flourish, every word precisely chosen, every subtle gesture purposeful. It’s all done with a perfection that borders on artistry.

At dinner, you test him—sliding in a barbed remark about the “vapidness” of certain guests, just to see how he’ll react.

Hannibal raises his glass and murmurs, “You see them as uninteresting, do you?” There’s something in his voice, a mild fascination, that instantly pricks your pride in a pleasurable way.

“Don’t you?”

He offers a small, knowing smile. “Their concerns may be pedestrian,” he allows. “Yet, occasionally, there is merit in observing what they fail to perceive.” His gaze flickers to you, lingering. “And how do you find me?”

It’s a straightforward question, one most people would dodge, but you don’t. “Relevant,” you reply smoothly. “Rarely do I meet someone who isn’t painfully predictable.”

You expect a mild scoff, or perhaps a faint show of offense. Instead, Hannibal’s eyes gleam with a genuine spark of intrigue. “How refreshing,” he says, a gentle timbre in his voice that resonates.

As word of your growing closeness spreads among your acquaintances, it ignites a ripple of scandalized curiosity. After all, you’re you: proud, self-assured, never known to settle on anything or anyone that doesn't meet your standards. Many interpret your relationship to be built on purely superficial aspects—perhaps you're just dazzled by Hannibal's wealth (as if you don't have money of your own) or you seek to climb the social ladder (as if you would desire to spend your priceless time entertaining the mindless sheep for longer than necessary.)

They see your vanity, your precise grooming, your tendency to remark on the trivialities of others’ failures. They judge you for it. But what they can’t see is how Hannibal perceives you differently. He recognizes that your so-called “superficiality” is both shield and sword: you offer praise only where it’s truly earned, and you expect nothing less in return. He praises your refined tastes, marvels at your knowledge of art and culture. Far from dismissing your grandeur, he encourages it. In moments stolen away from prying eyes, Hannibal’s soft voice murmurs the subtlest compliments:

“You wear that suit as though it were designed exclusively for you. Magnificent.”

“Your insights on Baroque architecture are enthralling. Not many people appreciate ornamentation like we do.”

No one has ever spoken to you this way, not without an undercurrent of envy or mockery. Yet Hannibal’s praises feel earnest, almost reverential. His acceptance of your worldview—that you are remarkable—bolsters an unfamiliar warmth within you. You, in turn, find his own superiority mesmerizing. This is what it’s like, you think, to be understood.

If others see only the two of you exchanging indulgent remarks about fine wines, then let them. If they think it’s just a coupling of vanity and pretension, so be it. What truly matters is the inexpressible energy that crackles in the space between you—a reflection of two minds that appreciate the rare delight in one another.

[millieisawriter]

The spell (Javier's version)

first ending - javier escuella x reader

summary: the one where javier comes to terms with the fact he caught feelings for you, and the two of you learnt to love each other despite your differences.

first part

wc: 2.6k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡the people have asked for a second part♡

a/n: i don't usually tag people on my fics, but this time i did tag everyone who commented under the first part <3 ily

It had been a few weeks since that night in Javier’s tent. You hadn’t spoken to anyone about it, not even to the girl who became a friend to you – Mary-Beth. Despite that, the whole gang must have known about what had happened between you and Javier.

Why? Well, it was difficult not to notice the sudden shift in your interactions with Javier, or the lack of these. Normally, there wasn’t a day the two of you didn’t exchange a few angry sentences. Ever since the tent incident, however, you didn’t acknowledge one another’s existence.

“You’ve got to tell me what happened!” Mary-Beth insisted.

You rolled your eyes. There was nothing to talk about, not even to your best friend. What Javier had done felt embarrassing enough, you didn’t need anyone else knowing about it.

You had just sat down to fix your pendulum when the girl approached you. The chain, to which a crystal had been attached, worn from years of usage from even before you had acquired it, finally gave out and broke a few days ago. “There’s nothing to tell,” you stated.

“Don’t lie to your best friend,” she insisted, and you know she wasn’t going to let go of the topic when she sat down on the chair next to you. “Your… necklace broke?”

“It’s called a pendulum,” you explained, still focused on fixing the chain, “I use it for simple yes or no questions. But, yes, the chain broke a few days ago.”

“So, back to the previous thing,” Mary-Beth returned to the topic of Javier, “what happened? First you two couldn’t go five minutes without snapping at each other. Now? Not even a glance. You could at least tell me if you hexed him or something.”

You finally look at your friend, leaving the pendulum on the table. “If I had hexed him, he deserved it,” you scoffed.

The girl’s eyes widened. “Did you?”

“No, Mary-Beth. I didn’t hex him. But if I had, it would have been well-deserved is what I meant.”

“Then what? Whenever he’s not out on a job, he strolls around the camp all depressed like those funny english dogs.”

“The bulldogs?”

“Exactly!”

You laughed at the comparison. Mary-Beth wasn’t wrong, though, you noticed the change in Javier’s behavior as well. He became less visible around the camp, unless he was playing his guitar. And even then, as much as you didn’t know spanish, you could tell the songs he sang were rather sad.

However, Mary-Beth wasn’t going to let go easily. “Why are you keeping secrets from your best friend?”

“Fine,” you sighed, knowing there’s no backing away from this, “something might have happened between us.”

“Something? Like what? That’s a very vague answer.”

The embarrassment physically hurt you when you thought about that specific night. “You remember the night a few weeks ago? Dutch’s gramophone played, everyone was drunk, all that…” you paused, fiddling with your fingers underneath the table, “we may have ended up in Javier’s tent.”

Her jaw dropped, and she immediately slapped your arm. “No! You’re kidding! You and Javier? I knew something was going on! Oh my God. Was it good? It was good, wasn’t it?”

“That’s not the point!”

“What is the point then?”

The point was that what happened the following morning, hurt you. Even if you never showed it, it pained you to know Javier considered his desire towards you a sin heavier than the blood that stained his hands. And just like the blood, though washed off, left a scar on his conscience, the same way his prayer didn’t make his feelings disappear.

“Next morning I woke up to Javier praying. For forgiveness. For… me,” maybe for the first time you let the hurt show through your voice as you made the confession to your friend.

Mary-Beth couldn’t believe that. She heard Javier bickering with Swanson here and there, but she never took the Mexican for someone religious to that degree. “He didn’t!”

“He did,” you sighed, “I felt like… like I wasn’t even a person to him. Just… something dirty he had to wash away. But, of course, God doesn’t care about him being a damn criminal.”

“How could he do that to you? Have you talked to him since?”

“No. I figured everything between us is done. Anything that could ever be.”

Javier made it clear enough. To him, you were a mistake. A moment of weakness at most, and you didn’t hope for more. Getting over him would be preferred, but you couldn’t help that he happened to dig a hole in your heart.

And you were left wondering – was God going to forgive Javier for how he had treated you? Or was God okay with one of his sheep taking advantage of another human being like that? God didn’t seem to care about that, so maybe you really were the Devil, after all.

Your emotions clearly affected Mary-Beth. “You can’t let him get away with that,” she stated.

“You’re a romantic, I get it,” you replied with a tone sharper than you intended, “but he and I were never meant to be. We’re too different.”

“You don’t believe that. If you did, you wouldn’t be so heartbroken right now.”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel. He made his choice, and I’m not going to beg him to change his mind.”

Last thing you ever imagined to do was begging a man to love you. Not even last, you’d die before you do such thing.

Suddenly, both you and Mary-Beth shifted your gaze to a figure riding into the camp. It was Javier, returning from whatever business he was attending to. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been on a visit to the nearby town’s brothel.

Your eyes held a slightly longing look as you watched the man dismount from Boaz, a look that stopped only after Mary-Beth had nudged your arm. “Completely not heartbroken, huh?” she teased.

You looked away, and tried to argue, but before you could come up with a good response, you heard the leaves on the ground being rustled by approaching footsteps.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Mary-Beth, with a knowing smirk on her lips, stood up.

“Don’t you dare,” the sentence came out like a threat from your mouth. You attempted to grab her arm, even yank the girl back onto her seat if you had to, but her slim arm easily slipped out of your hand.

A moment later, Javier stood in front of you. “I wanted to talk.”

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” you insisted, standing up so that you were on at least similar level.

“We do.”

“What, you wanna talk about how I ruined your soul?”

Javier flinched slightly at your hiss, but then looked back at you. “I’ve got something for you,” his hand went into the pocket of his jeans.

You wondered what it could be. If you had been accused of being a vampire, he could’ve brought you garlic, or a wooden spike. But how could one kill a witch in a way other than burning her at a stake? He wouldn’t even need a stake for that, you had burnt long ago from the embarrassment.

The thing you could have never expected was now dangling from Javier’s hand as he extended it towards you. “I noticed the one you used to use broke some time ago,” he said.

Your mouth fell open, but no words were conjured. Javier getting a new pendulum for you was not something even your cards could predict.

You stared at the pendulum, the delicate chain shimmering faintly in the sunlight. A teardrop-shaped crystal hung from the chain, catching the light and scattering fractured rays across your skin as you took it in your hand. It was beautiful, far more elegant than the one you had broken.

“Where did you get this?” you asked, an idea in your mind. “Did you steal it?”

Javier shifted in spot. “I saw this woman, she travels in a wagon similar to yours. Madam Nazar, or whatever she introduced herself as. I wouldn’t dare steal from her, she’s a bit scary,” he chuckled lightly. “Don’t ask me where I got the money, though.”

Your eyes finally met his when you finished checking out the crystal. “Why did you get this for me?”

“Because I was wrong—”

“You were more than wrong, Javier.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I shouldn’t have made you feel the way I did. I thought… pushing you away would make it easier. That I could forget how you made me feel, or that I’d stop wanting you if I could convince myself it was wrong.”

“And?”

“And I couldn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you eyed the pendulum again. It wasn’t hard to recognize the crystal as clear quartz. Possibly the best one for a pendulum, clear quartz was known for providing clarity and amplifying energy.

“I’m sorry,” Javier continued, “I can’t change what I did, but I can tell you I never meant to hurt you. You’re… you’re everything I can’t stop thinking about, and I hate that I let my fear ruin what we could have had.”

The words cut through your ears. You closed your palm around the crystal and looked at Javier again. For the first time he finally looked vulnerable. As if the regret he seemed to feel was honest. For the first time, he didn’t build up any walls between the two of you.

“You can’t just walk back in here with a gift and expect me to forget how you made me feel.”

“I don’t expect you to forget,” he said. “But I hope you can forgive me. There’s something between us, and maybe it’s not a spell you casted on me.”

“I’m glad you finally see that.”

Javier sighed. “Let me prove to you that I’m serious. About you, about us, about your… magic, too. And that I don’t think you’re sinful.”

You had no idea what got into Javier, and it certainly wasn’t your doing, but he had changed. In the following weeks, he grew more interested in your beliefs, in your practices. Often he sat and listened intently as you explained tarot to him, or when you taught him about the pendulum.

One night, sitting by the fire next to Javier, you shuffled your cards. “Pick a card, Javier,” you said, spreading the deck on the cow skin rug.

The man’s eyes brushed over the cards as he hesitated. The deck was, obviously, facing the side with pictures down, so that he had to use his intuition. He had almost taken one card, when you smacked his hand away.

You lectured him. “Just point at it, don’t actually grab it!”

“Why not?” he asked, both amused and confused.

“Only I can touch my cards, it’s one of the rules.”

“What happens if I touch them?”

He was curious, which was good. Curious was way better than hateful, scared, or ashamed. The way Javier evolved, and warmed up to your witchy practices made you happy. You could now see that maybe there was a chance for your relationship to grow.

“Nothing, but that’s the rule. You love breaking rules, don’t you?”

He was persistent. “Would I die a painful death?”

Once again he attempted to touch the cards. Once again, you slapped his hand away.

“Stop acting like a child,” you were ready to collect your cards and put them back in the safety of your bag, “you changed, and I like it, but I don’t wanna have to cleanse my cards again, I’m almost out of white sage.”

“I’ll buy you some more, what’s the issue? How expensive can it be?”

“You’d have to go all the way to California, and have something to give in exchange to the Indians there. They don’t need money.”

“You’re more complicated than I thought,” he sighed, but it was playful this time.

“So don’t touch the cards! Tell me which one you choose.”

Javier’s gaze returned to the deck spread in front of him. He thought for a moment before pointing to one card, even though on the backside all of them looked identical.

“Great, let’s see,” you mused, taking the card and studying it before turning it to Javier. “Death.”

He scoffed. “That’s optimistic.”

“Don’t take the meaning literally. This card represents change.”

Javier tilted his head. “I think I know what’s changing.”

“Oh?”

“Me.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing your face. His gaze traveled down from your eyes to your lips, and you knew what it meant. No sooner, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle as if he were scared to hurt you.

You let him guide you through the kiss as it became more. More in both, the touchable and spiritual meaning. Your hands found their way to his jaw and neck, meanwhile he grabbed onto your hips. This allowed him to confidently move you from where you were sitting next to him, to make you straddle his lap. Almost instinctively, you grind your hips against his, sending a clear message to the neurons in his brain.

Javier groaned into the kiss, and you could feel his grip tighten on both sides of your body. This time, you could tell, it wasn’t solely desire between you. And neither one of you was on alcohol. This time it was real, a real raw emotion, and the peak of everything between you. Your connection, your need for each other, your past tensions, and your current longing. All of these exploded between the two of you in that exact moment.

The moment was interrupted, of course. “I’m glad to see y’all making up,” Arthur cleared his throat, “but could y’all not fuck on display for the whole gang to see?”

You practically leaped off Javier’s lap, your face burning hotter than the campfire. “Arthur!” you hissed.

Javier, however, didn’t seem nearly as bothered. He smirked up at Arthur with the kind of cocky confidence that made you want to smack him. And kiss him again.

“Jealousy isn’t pretty on you,” Javier joked.

“Don’t have to be pretty,” Arthur shot back, “just don’t wanna see y’all exchanging spit like two horny teenagers.”

You knew Arthur was just joking, there was no real bite in his voice. He was secretly glad to see the two of you getting along. But that also doesn’t mean that being called out like that didn’t get you all shy and blushing.

You stood up. “Javier, let’s take this to my wagon.”

“Our wagon you mean,” he said, following you.

“Yes, our wagon,” you rolled your eyes.

Truth be told, the wagon had undergone a transformation since Javier started spending more time with you. More time, as in he was practically living there with you. As you walked in, on your left Javier’s rosary was hung on the wall. The beads were darkened with use, and the small brass crucifix blended nicely with a bundle of sage and sweetgrass that hung next to it.

The shelves along the wagon’s interior were equally divided. On one side, you organized your herbs, dried plants, and jars filled with ingredients only you could name. On the other side, Javier had placed the wooden icon of the Virgin Mary, her peaceful gaze watching over everything, just like she had watched you that one night which changed everything. Except, this time you didn’t feel judged.

You smiled to yourself. The clash between the sacred and the mystical was oddly fitting.

___________________________

people that seemed interested in a second part:

@zenyattaiscute @warmsideofthepillow03 @sockisanidot @esquilone @yolky555 @veronika272

[changingplumbob]

Glenn and Silver got properly dressed and walked over to where Phoebus lived. Glenn's grandfather Howard had gone over there for supper like he usually did when he was trying to give the couple alone time. Letting themselves in the pair found Howard talking to Gillian while Phoebus and Miranda were talking on the couch.

Miranda: Hey, did I just see Koko fly past your place

Silver: Yeah

Miranda: That doesn't sound like a happy "yeah" there buddy

Silver sat down on a couch while Glenn took the armchair and turned to his grandfather with excitement.

Glenn: You'll never guess what! There's another Sutherland on the way, I'm pregnant!

The lounge was quiet for a minute, the only noise being Pockets scratching at a rug.

Phoebus: Are you certain?

Glenn: Ophelia had Koko deliver a test. I'm pregnant

Miranda: Okay pardon my ignorance but... I thought you were a cis guy Glenn

Silver: He is

Gillian: What does cis mean

Howard: It means he was classified as a male at birth and feels it was the gender that best fits him

Gillian: But if that's right... boys can't get pregnant... can they?

Silver: I... male werewolves... we've always been able to get pregnant

Phoebus: You have? Fascinating

Glenn: You didn't know Phoebus?

Phoebus: For various reasons occults have always felt that their own kind are the best keepers of their knowledge. I know almost everything a spellcaster could about us and our history but werewolves... they don't exactly take kindly to visitors approaching their packs

Silver: Normally visitors mean hunters

Miranda: But if male werewolves can get pregnant then... why aren't you the pregnant one

Silver: *snaps* I don't know! It's not like I don't want to be

Phoebus: Silver did you ever hear of a werewolf getting a male who was not a werewolf pregnant

Silver sat sulkily. No he hadn't. His dad hadn't wanted them to find mates outside of their own species anyway. If it had happened, he wouldn't have told Silver.

Glenn: Silver's dad... he wasn't exactly big on sharing Phoebus

Phoebus: Hmm...

Silver: That's all you have? I thought you were supposed to be an all knowing spellcaster! Keeper of the knowledge or something! Do you know anything?

Phoebus: To my knowledge Glenn would be the first male spellcaster to carry a child. Perhaps if you explained how male werewolves can-

Silver: I don't know the science stuff, not to the level you'd need to make sure he doesn't die

Glenn: *quietly* Silver is concerned that I could die trying to carry our kid to term

Phoebus: Well we would certainly need to look in to how to get them out safely. Some kind of imaging. We can't risk going to a human hospital but there are spells those who specialise in healing magic know. It will be a big stress on your body-

Silver: Can't you just use magic to move it in to me? Werewolves can survive almost anything. It wouldn't be able to hurt me like it could hurt Glenn

Phoebus: I know spellcasters may not be as sturdy as werewolves Silver but I assure you, we can survive a lot. Including pouting werewolves

Silver: *sighs* I just want Glenn safe. What's so wrong with that?

Miranda: No one is saying we want Glenn to get hurt Silver. Trust me, we can look after him

Phoebus: There is a lot of talent in this coven alone. We will find a way to keep Glenn safe. But I suspect like any kind of transplant magic, the risk would be too high for the unborn to try and move them

Gillian: You don't want to get rid of it, right Silver?

Howard: I'm sure Silver doesn't want that at all

Silver sighed and put his head in his hands. He had been alive for a long time. He had lost a lot. Over and over. As scary as this was he didn't want to lose his kid. But could he keep Glenn and their child? Was there even an option that would let that happen? All he could see in his mind was Glenn being torn apart from the inside.

Glenn: We want our kid I just think... we don't want to lose each other

Phoebus: Getting rid of it would likely be even more dangerous. I think we need to let the pregnancy run it's course. I am going to have to some deep research though

Miranda: So... congratulations?

Silver and Phoebus sighed while Gillian scooped Pockets up for a snuggle and Howard kissed his grandson on the head.

Previous ... Next

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter One

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12& ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: This was a story of mine on an old blog and I wanted to publish it on here. Since it's quite a long fic, I've decided to slowly updated it chapter by chapter. If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home. 

Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place. 

My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them. 

I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement. 

With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited. 

The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?” 

I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”

Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”

With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.” 

She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left. 

“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled. 

My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.” 

“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.” 

She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.” 

I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?” 

“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?” 

When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.” 

Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York. 

“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did. 

Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.” 

“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned. 

Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space  until you’re ready to stay with him.” 

I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside. 

The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note. 

Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven. 

B.B.

“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed. 

“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.” 

“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile. 

Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway. 

I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes. 

He definitely had to work for him. 

“That should be everything.” 

I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”

“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands. 

Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked. 

“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile. 

“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.” 

I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?” 

“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”

Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement. 

Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered. 

He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.

“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him. 

I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.” 

“Call me Bucky.” 

I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face. 

“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly. 

“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.” 

My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again. 

I ignored him, yet again. 

“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested. 

Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?” 

I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.” 

We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them. 

“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said. 

These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for. 

Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.” 

He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.” 

“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.

[dc-sideblog]

Okay so I said more thoughts would go in the fic, and they did, here's the relevant snippet. Context you need to know: this comes from a Green Lantern Steph fic where she was recruited by Kyle right after Final Night and Batman firing her for the first time. Steph is crashing on Donna's couch because this was the era where she refused to go home to her mom

There was a knock on the window.

Kyle was floating out there. He waved sheepishly.

Donna sighed and pushed her chair back, opening the window to let him fly in. Kyle landed and his uniform vanished in a wash of green light and sparkles.

It occurred to Steph that this was the first time she had seen him out of uniform. Turns out Kyle was a leather jacket, combat boots, Nine Inch Nails t-shirt kinda guy. Who knew?

“So I’ve been evicted,” he said. “Something about not paying my rent for the past two months? Weird. Totally thought I had done that.”

“Uh-huh. So you got evicted and you came straight here? What exactly are you expecting, Mr. Rayner? My couch is taken.”

“Well,” he said. He leaned in, cupping Donna’s face. “I was hoping you wouldn’t want me sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.”

“Is it? I seem to recall you—”

Steph cleared her throat loudly. “Reminder that I am here,” she said.

Kyle jerked back like he was shocked. “Oh! Hi, Steph.”

“’Sup,” she nodded. She twirled her fork around some noodles.

“Would you like some spaghetti?” Donna asked.

“I would love some,” Kyle said.

A minute later, he was sitting at the small table with her and Donna, steaming plates of spaghetti in front of them all.

“Thank you so much for putting us both up, Donna,” Kyle said.

“Yeah, thanks,” Steph agreed.

“It’s no problem,” she said. Her lips twisted wryly. “I’ve heard plenty from Diana about how often Hal was homeless. I expected it to happen sooner or later.”

“Homeless? We’re not homeless,” Kyle said.

“Oh? Then how would you describe it?”

“I’m just temporarily couch-surfing,” he said. “The starving artist bit is tired, Donna. I swear I’m not a bum. I’ll be out of your hair in a few weeks, tops.”

“I’d get over whatever hangup you have about the word ‘homeless,’ Kyle. It seems to be a fact of life for Lanterns. You’re gonna have to get used to it sooner rather than later.”

“The other Lanterns were all homeless?” Steph asked.

“Well, I don’t know about John and Guy, but Hal in particular always had trouble with stability. He was off-planet so often, you know. Didn’t give him much opportunity to hold down jobs or pay his rent on time. It was a recurring problem, especially towards the end.”

“He was a veteran, right?” Kyle asked. He twirled some noodles around his fork. “Was he in any assistance programs for that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so,” Donna said. “He mainly relied on his friends, Barry and Oliver. Oliver especially. But then…”

“Yeah,” Kyle said.

They ate in silence for a moment.

Steph thought about that. About Hal Jordan, as a homeless veteran. As a soldier, still fighting, just in a very different battlefield. Putting his life on the line every day out in space. Doing the unseen work that almost no one on Earth knew about, much less understood.

She thought about how Batman always talked about him. About what a failure he was, how incompetent he was, how reckless and brash and cocky and a thousand other negative things he thought about the Green Lantern. She thought about how much money Batman had to have. It was coming from somewhere, and it was seemingly limitless, to fund all that tech and gear of his.

Batman had never been homeless. Not a day in his life. Steph may not be trusted with his identity, but she still knew that for a fact.

She thought about his leadership of the Justice League. How they all fell in line with his ideas. How isolated Hal had been towards the end. All his friends dead, his city gone, his support network completely deteriorated.

She thought about the idea of a savior of the planet, the universe, sleeping on the street. She thought about Batman criticizing him at work the next day. She thought about Hal detransforming his uniform and becoming just another homeless veteran in a soup kitchen for dinner afterwards. She thought about Batman going home to gourmet meal and a bed with silk sheets.

She wondered if Hal had even considered going to any other member of the Justice League. Or if they had all been marked as Batman’s friends, not his, not safe options for help. Because Hal’s friends were dead.

And now Hal was dead.

She wondered how Batman talked about her, to others.

She wished she could have met Hal before he died.

At the end of the day Hal Jordan is just another homeless veteran. He does unpaid hard labor every day and gets belittled and blamed by the 1% (Bruce)

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

(Jerrod clearly very happy to be reunited with first round housemate Delphine.)

But where are we going in our brand new duds? Why, we are helping out a local business!

Sara Scott needed some more hands on deck, and so to determine who gets a solo date with Lilac, we will be making nectar. And while there is a nectar maker out the front of the house, no sim has autonomously used it, so everyone starts with zilch in the art.

(And who’s this well-turned out fellow? It’s our security personnel Lou Howell, who took Lee’s drama llama behaviour from Round One personally and is even wearing a suit or something like it.)

Avery was the first to get stomping. And as the skill building component of this day, maxed out HANDINESS Lou mentored each contestant. His first student of the day - Pauline - discovers that she actually likes the task.

While he may not have the best vintage of the group, Avery however has acquired something more precious - Araminta’s friendship.

Random townies are not only being especially annoying today, but stealing Sage’s cc hair, so we summon her to deal with it.

Oof - Jerrod does not like handiness, and by the looks of things, even RANCHER Delphine is not exactly enjoying her turn with the nectar maker.

Alongside a hot date (err, some dirty dishes) Sage orders a well earned brew - and continues to send unwanted townies on their way.

I think Sara rather likes her new security cadaver.

Just when I think that Sage has a potential employment opportunity after this show, I spy her hiding in a stall, check her moodlets and yup - she had attempted to swipe something.

In spite of Lou’s alarm, CLUMSY Delphine is taking rather well to handiness, and even manages to level up under his guidance.

Jerrod continues to have a no good day, and by those cc slippers, has not quite grasped the finer points of nectar making either.

I realise that as well as HANDINESS, he dislikes NECTAR MAKING, and thus that expression he had on his face as he arrived was him staring into the void while trying to show no fear.

Pauline’s own bottle of nectar is of NORMAL quality, but being a RANCHER, she gets an embarrassed moodlet over it anyway. However also being a RANCHER, she has an energized moodlet from making it in the first place, so… all things neutral, I guess?

As it’s now Sage’s turn to shine (or something), COMPASSIONATE traited Araminta manages to persuade her out of the toilet stall. In spite of having her spirits bolstered, Sage (like Jerrod) only manages a POOR quality nectar.

Lou suggested to Delphine that they get to know each other a little better, which I refused according to her permissions, so awkward.

(See, this is why I was so insistent on you lot filling out those - otherwise your Sim may have slipped and fallen on some werewolf eggplant 😏. Admittedly there are worse fates.)

However Lou’s a fairly chill sim when not overwhelmed by Fury and quickly got over it.

While Delphine, Avery and Pauline all had NORMAL quality nectar that was worth the same price, Pauline made the highest skill gain - so she gets a date with Lilac!

And look who autonomously shows up after sportsball practice? COOKING non enjoyer Araminta persuades him to tag along to the farm afterwards. So Dodo makes dinner while she tends to the animals.

After dinner friendships continue to bloom - but I think it’s time to send these two back to their own household, don’t you?

dodo harper by @akitasimblr

@x-digitaldollhouse-x @changingplumbob @simstagramsomeone @invisiblequeen @panicsimss

[becauseimswagman1]

Lightskin brothaaaaa

Kelvin Harrison Jr. x reader

Warnings: humiliation kink mentioned, voyeurism kink mentioned, suggestive flirtation, hint at bisexual!Kelvin, hint at bisexual!Aaron

----Reader asks Kelvin to have a threesome... kelvin has some qualms about it---- Reader is in a girl group btw-----

--------------------

Life after hard launching your relationship with Kelvin was actually pretty fucking chill.

The two of you went almost everywhere together, unlike your typical couple with busy schedules.

You practically lived in his skin and vice versa. Since y’all have been together, going on two years (secretly at first), the fans have gotten used to him appearing on not only yours, but your group’s social media doing dance challenges. He especially made appearances on Instagram since that’s where you’re the most active. Every chance you got, you posted relatable relationship quotes that the fans immediately knew were talking about Kelvin. You also posted a shit ton of pics of him being the lightskin ass clown he is.

But that’s surface level, let’s get into the real shit.

You wanted to spice things up (as if things could get any spicer, y’all two gots DOWN) with him by having a threesome, but he was NOT having it.

“What do you mean you want me to watch while another man fucks the shit outta you?!”

“Exactly what you think it means! It’s not like you’re not into voyeurism.” You really couldn’t see the problem here.

“As true as that may be, that shit is NOT happening with Trevante of all people!”

….There’s the problem…

“Cause he’s wayyyy buffer than me and I don’t have time for my girlfriend to say mildly mean things to me while she’s about to get fucked by a big strong man.”

“But you’re into that….”

“Shut it! That was ONE time!”

You laughed, “I said you nutted like a weak ass bitch then you literally shot so hard it got on the ceiling. And you wanna try and tell me you’re not into a little humiliation.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. Look, if we’re gonna do it, then who it’s with has to be my choice.”

“...what?”

“Yeah, it has to be. I need to do research first on candidates.”

“Candidates? Is this the presidential election? Baby, what the fuck? And what type of research are we talking about?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just know I got it handled.”

“...Are you gonna survey dick sizes? Is this about him not having a bigger dick than you?”

“No! No! Of course, not- maybe- okay No! It’s not. I’m just gonna do extensive searching for the perfect man. He’s gotta be really fucking hot, but not hotter than me if he’s gonna get my permission to touch you.”

You cooed, “Awe, babe! I knew you were bisexual-”

“Baby, no!”

“... Just a little bisexual…? It’s okay to admit it. We all are.”

“I’m not unpacking that right now!”

All you could do was laugh as he stormed out of the room like a diva.

—-----------------------------------------

After that conversation, neither you nor Kelvin spoke of the topic again. You figured he was taking finding a partner seriously, but not this seriously.

In secret, he had been conducting interviews, asking basic questions. Asking for kinks (if they had any) and their most recent STD test results (and if it’s been a while, then that they get tested). Ya know, standard shit. Nothing serious.

—-----------------------------------------

—--TWO MONTHS LATER—---

Kelvin had finally found the perfect person for the threesome.

The guy is someone he trusts, not only with his well-being but with you and your pleasure in bed.

—---------------------------------

“Baby!” Kelvin steps into your dorm like he lives there. He was so ready for you to stop being so picky about choosing an apartment. You also didn’t wanna leave your girls’ unattended, lord knows they’d burn the place down without you there, but the two of you wanted your own space. Kelvin wants to be able to love on you without someone popping up and interrupting.

“Baby, where you at?” He took off his shoes and walked around your dorm. It just seemed to be just you home today.

“Bae? I’m in my room!” you almost didn’t hear him due to your music being turned up loud through your headphones.

He walked in, “I’ve found someone.”

“Found someone for what?”

He sat next to you on the bed and sprawled out, “Someone for our rendezvous.”

“OH! A rendezvous? Bae, are we going on a quest? The fuck is a rendezvous, call that shit what it is.”

“Fine. I’ve found someone for our threesome.”

You snickered, “There you go.”

“Anyways, this guy is perfect. He’s tall and checks all of our boxes.”

“Oh… ours? As in our boxes? You must be finally ready to unpack-”

“No!” he put his hand over your mouth, “I’m not. Shh! The guy is Aaron.”

Your eyes widened and you spoke behind his hand, “Aaron?”

Kelvin moved his hand, “Yeah. I had listed what you liked about me and the traits you liked, that I didn’t have and came up with an extensive list of guys. And no Trevante wasn’t on it so don’t even ask.”

You slumped down in the bed a bit.

“After talking to all of them, Aaron ended up being the best choice.”

Your brows furrowed, “Wait… does he know it’s for a threesome?”

“Nah. I lied to them all and said I was doing a survey for this underground actor freaky club.”

You held back your laughter. Only your man would do this. “So we gotta ask if he’s down?”

“Yeah, babe. Aaron’s chill though.”

You looked at him, “Riiight, asking your close friend to have a threesome with you and your girlfriend is so easy.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“You know it was.”

“It’ll be fine. We’ll talk to him over drinks tomorrow.”

“TOMORROW?!” you got up off the bed and started pacing around your room. “The fuck you mean tomorrow?”

Kelvin sat up, “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“You’re ready?!” you slowed down your pacing, “Like actually?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m more than ready, I’m excited.”

You sat down next to him, “If you’re confident then so am I. I trust you.”

He wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your forehead, “I love you.”

“I know.”

He smacked the side of your head playfully.

“Fineeeee. I love you, too, my bisex-”

He mushed your face, “Sweet moment over.” —-------------------------

Tomorrow came way too fast. Luckily it was a rare day that y’all had the day off, so you had the whole day to freak out and get advice.

You walked into your favorite member's room.

“Damn, you don’t how to knock?”

“Hush. I’m having a threesome.” you plopped face-first onto her bed.

She shut the book she was reading, “A what?! I knew you and that lightskin were freaky frogs. Who’s it with?”

Muffled, “Aaron.”

“WHO?!”

You turned over on your back, “Aaron.”

“Oh, he’s hot. Have fun for real.”

“Have fun???? I’m supposed to fuck him in front of Kelvin.”

“That little cuck bitch. Y’all are nasty!”

“I know you ain’t talking, yo ass in a scandal now for sneaking around with most of the motherfuckers in my man’s friend group. You ain’t slick.”

“You didn’t even have to go there.”

“Well, I did. Anyways, I need help.”

“For what? You’re fucking tw…” she gags, “two hot men.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I heard that. You not slick.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

“Kelvin and I are discussing things over with Aaron tonight over drinks. I just want things to go smoothly.”

“And things will, sis. Trust in your man, yourself, and most importantly, trust in that Henny.” she chuckled.

You laughed, “Bitch, you so stupid.”

“But that Henny’ll get you right. Nice and relaxed.”

“That’s true.” You got up off her bed, “I’m gonna go start getting ready.”

“Put on something sexy! And tell that lightskin that you wanna try double penetration!”

“Absolutely not!” you walked outta her room.

—-------------------------------

Kelvin walked into the apartment you shared with your group, per usual, like he lived there.

“Kelvin, what’s up?” the youngest member greeted him.

He smiled, “Hey, is she ready?”

��Almost. You want some water while you wait?”

“Nah, nah. I’ll be alright.” he went to the living room and sat on the couch.

“Lightskin!” the second youngest yelled as she sat next to him, “Y’all, uh, tryna have a threesome with A-A-ron I heard.”

Kelvin sighed, sometimes you were the bain of his existence, “Yeah and I heard you’re still getting death threats from fucking half of my friends and getting caught doing it, right?”

She nodded, “Okay okay. Coming with the jokes. I’ll leave you alone. I can see how nervous you are.”

Finally, you walked out of your room, “Is this whore bothering you?”

Kelvin stood up at the sound of your voice and walked over to you.

“Whore?? I resent that.”

“Sure you do. It’s practically tattooed on your forehead.”

Instead of answering, she just slumped down on the couch.

“Ready, babe?” he said kissing your cheek.

“Yeah, let’s go before I get the itch to ring somebody’s neck.”

And with that, y’all were off.

—---------------------------------

“When I agreed to drinks, I didn’t think you would’ve rented out a section for us. Why so secluded for some drinks?” Aaron said.

Kelvin smirked, “Oh, you know we just wanted some privacy for what we plan to talk about.”

“Talk about what?”

“Uh…” Kelvin trailed off, “Babe?”

Oh, he expected you to say this. You guess it’s only right since you were the one who brought it up to him.

“Aaron, we wanna ask if you’d be down to have a threesome with us. Total one time thing and it’s completely fine if you say no.”

Aaron chuckles and finishes his drink, “I think I’m gonna need another drink.”

“I think we all do.” Kelvin motioned for the waiter to bring y’all the bottle.

“Actually, leave it. Thank you,” you said to the waiter.

The waiter set the bottle on the table and walked off.

Aaron poured refills for you and Kelvin first then refilled his own and took a long sip, “Is that why you were you asking me about my kinks? I knew it wasn’t for a freaky-ass actor sex club!”

Kelvin chuckles, “Yeah, man... Sorry, I lied. I just wanted the best guy for this.”

“And what does your girl think?”

You took a sip of your drink, “His girl thinks you’re very sexy and that you look like you can fuck good.”

Aaron smirked, “Looks like you’re in luck, I never leave my partners unsatisfied. You’re both attractive and I’d never miss an opportunity to have two hot people in my bed.”

You smirk, thinking of a sly game to play. You slid your left hand onto Kelvin’s lap, switching between rubbing and squeezing his growing erection, and slid your right foot up Aaron’s leg, just resting the sole of your shoe on his crotch.

“Oh…” Aaron chuckles, “Someone wants the party to start early.”

“Seems like she does. Having fun baby?” Kelvin looks at you.

You smile a little, “Yeah, but I could have more if we get outta here.”

Aaron cleared his throat and then stood up, “I’ll get the check.”

“What a gentleman.” your boyfriend said.

Aaron leaned over to the side y’all were sitting on and said to no one in particular, “I’m always a gentleman.”

“Promise?” you said.

“Like I said, always.” then he walks away, searching for the waiter to pay.

“Kelvin he’s fucking perfect.”

“Yeah. I made a good choice didn’t I?”

“If your dick is anything to go by then I’d say you did. You’re hard as fuck.”

He glances down at his growing pain and holds in a groan, “Yeah, I am. Aaron’s hot as hell.”

“Thank you.” Aaron said, “Let’s get outta here. I got more liquor at my place and ya know, my bed. ”

You and Kelvin stood up quickly, sneaking glances at each other. Y’all knew a time would be had.

—---END—-------

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[femmesandhoney]

why type this shit up if you knew it was stupid in the first place? this woman is not a famous individual. she does not have the thick skin of larger streamers, but she also reacted pretty reasonably for herself and did not "give the troll satisfaction", but telling women to neuter their own emotional responses each and every time is ridiculous though. "Its just words on a screen" it is still sexual harassment. The largest female streamers literally deal with bait blogs taking their stream clips and pairing them with suggestive and trauma-banking titles to try and max engagement out of sexually harassing them (exp: valkyrae). women can not just sit silently and let this have zero emotional impact on them, if you routinely "ignore it", it actually doesn't stop either and your body will keep the score! Btw!

there is no obvious stopping of trolls, but that doesn't mean women cannot still be emotionally harmed by these things even if they try to put on a show of nonchalance. they may get used to it as the larger streamers must, but don't act like a world where this happens is inevitable either. i wrote this post bc im a frequent viewer of her streams and have been for almost two years. i could read her energy very well for how it affected her, maybe new viewers played along w the "nonchalant" attitude, but to me it felt discomforting and emotionally unsettling to watch her have to perform nonchalance at all. why should women not be allowed to get upset at all, ever? for these hypothetical trolls that may pop in? tell me, if these trolls are everywhere and endless, then what fucking matter does it make playing it cool or not. if its literally inevitable, why does the female streamer and/or internet user have to pretend its not revolting and disgusting behavior they see and are responding to? what lessons does that also teach the female viewers watching? i felt uncomfortable watching her play it off, women are always told to ignore sexual harassment and abuse by men. that we need to have thick skin, to not bring more attention to ourselves, to be quiet. that feels wrong, that feels bad, and if every damn side of the screen hates it, i do not support the idea that every women who wishes to publicaly build a community or voice online has to constantly keep her mouth shut and keep smiling just to make a man hypothetically less satisifed. hes already satisfied, he typed out exactly what he wanted and got insta banned as he knew he would. he would likely have been just as satisfied by her being upset as she was trying to play cool, bc her reactions are secondary to the power they feel already by being able to openly say such perverted shit outright in her space and taint it. her just kinda glossing by it is still a bad end to her night, and he knows that. everyone knows it. don't play dumb that not everyone knows any form of sexual harassment online still doesn't hurt behind a mask. we all know it does. every damn person, including the troll, the viewer, the streamer. again, larger streamers can brush them off easier in a sea of a larger chat waving by, but im sure they note it, they internalize what they feel, and they still fucking feel it when the cameras turn off.

ugh i hate how much men love sexually harassing women online. my fav streamer was about to end stream and raid her mod when some absolute asshole wrote in her chat "can you please look at the camera im almost finished" (paraphrased). she had been in a fantastic mood before that and so had the chat and she immediately got disgusted and the vibe changed instantly i felt so horrible for her. shes not a huge streamer, there were like 60 some people in there on average, and some fucking disgusting ass man had to ruin her joy by sexually harassing her right before she left for the night. just disgusts me.