#Challenge Coins in Fortune Coins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crossingthedreams · 4 months ago

Text

growing pains — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: i know i’m late. shit happens. i’m having so much fun with this writing challenge that the lateness isn’t even bothering me anymore, lol. here’s day 08 — growing pains. of course i had to keep it in the family for this one (got it? hehehehehe)

a/n 2: hey! just posted day 10 - humiliation, which can be read as a prequel to this. check it out!

summary: the daughter of the Realm’s Delight and the Rogue Prince was a valuable trade coin. amidst the chaos, and fortunately for her, there was one who saw her as a person and not a merchandise.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst. targaryen incest (uncle/niece). mentions of death. slight ooc!aemond.

As a little kid in the Red Keep, you were under the constant eye of your mother’s step-mother. Your parents were always coming and going, and your siblings were all boys, who had the privileges that came with it. Your uncles and aunt were most often than not more than willing to ignore you, as well as your grandfather, the King.

Your uncle Daeron was sent away when you were very young, which was very painful, as he was very kind. The only one out of your entire extended family who could be considered as such.

From then on, with two grown sons and one far away, the Queen seemed to have more time with you. She always praised your silver hair, saying it differed you from your older brothers.

You weren’t even a woman, hadn’t even bled yet, when Aegon made his first pass on you. He was to be married to his younger sister, the Princess Helaena, and he knew very well your father, the Rogue Prince, would gut him if he ever laid a finger on you. Still, he made his remarks and made sure it was known throughout the Keep that he could have you any time he chose to.

Your mother spent most of her time in Dragonstone with your older brothers, sisters and father, and you got news from a raven that she was with child once more. Joyous news, of course.

However, even in happiness, you still felt a little left out. With the Blacks, you were the distant sister, kept away by the politics of it all. With the Greens, you were the first trueborn child of an heir who would never be, your legacy tarnished by the constant discussions of your brothers’ legitimacy.

Your Uncle, the Prince Aemond, was a constant in your life. Ever since birth, the two of you were always in each others’ camp of vision. Sometimes a bully, sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friendly face in tedious functions, Aemond was always there. You had danced with each other a million times in events, not only in King’s Landing, but all throughout Westeros.

As the second son of the King and the first daughter of the Princess, you both were disposable enough to be sent wherever the Crown needed an appearance, but the royal family wouldn’t be able to attend in its entirety.

He wasn’t always a dragonrider, much like yourself. You only claimed a dragon as an adolescent, and he made sure you knew how proud he was.

The Cannibal, your dragon. Never before mounted, always thought to be a wild, untameable beast.

You proved them all wrong, and when you did it, their faces showed nothing but horror, except for Aemond.

Aemond was there, and Aemond was proud.

It was the dead of night in King’s Landing, but you couldn’t sleep. It was when you heard the muffling and quiet running of servants from outside your door.

You knew you were in danger before anyone walked in, even though the reason was unclear to you.

You changed out of your nightgown and hid a small dagger in your clothing. Something was coming, of that you were sure, and you wouldn’t stick around to find out. Women, even royalty, only had two fates in a crisis: death or marriage. You refused both.

You didn’t fear for your life as much as you did for the second option. No one was insane enough to put a child of the Princess to the sword.

It was then and there you knew you had to go to your parents, in Dragonstone.

Aegon was married already, but there was nothing stopping him from taking a second wife to strengthen his claim. Queen Alicent was arduous when she needed be, and you had no doubt she would whore you out in order to protect her own children.

Your uncle Aemond loved you, of that you were sure. He would marry you gladly and he would make sure you were happy. When you were younger, the thought made your stomach fill with butterflies. You didn’t need the Iron Throne, you were more than content with your beautiful uncle, who rode the largest dragon and was educated enough to carry a conversation for hours.

Even with his quarrel with your siblings, he saw you as a valuable member of the family. The main reason for that, you now understood, was because your allegiance was questionable. You were loyal to your parents, but you were also living with the Queen Alicent and her children.

In your mind, all the family bickering and fighting could have been solved if Jace and Helaena were to wed each other, but the Queen refused, of course. A marriage between you and Jacaerys would’ve been the second option, and it probably would’ve happened, if Luke’s claim to Driftmark wasn’t so controversial. There was no doubt as to your heritage, silver hair and lilac eyes. You were the spitting image of your parents, and a perfect Targaryen Princess.

Such were the growing pains of life. The nostalgia and longing for better days, even though the days past were just as tumultuous. Above all, you missed the innocence you lost.

You looked around your room, and it pained you to realize there was nothing to take but yourself.

There was a secret passageway in the backs of your room that would either take you to the Small Council or outside. Leaving now seemed like the only sane option.

As you made your way very quietly down the spiral stairs, you couldn’t help but wonder what your life would've been like if your mother and her stepmother had simply gotten along. Maybe you would not be fleeting King’s Landing in the middle of the night like a criminal.

It was then that you felt an arm involve you, paralyzing you, and a hand fly up to your mouth to keep you quiet. You began to react, but the soothing shh made you calm down. You recognized that voice, and you knew who you’d see even before you turned around.

Aemond was hiding beneath a cloak, much like yourself. He looked around to make sure the two of you were alone, even though you were in a deserted, secret, ancient passeaway.

“Uncle…”, you wanted to be honest and simply ask him what was the matter, but you had to play your cards right.

“Rȳbagon naejot issa (Listen to me)”. Your parents made sure you were fluent in Valyrian even before you fully understood the common tongue, and you were thankful for that. On the rare occasions you and Aemond spoke High Valyrian to one another, it was because something very funny or very important was happening. Now, you doubted it was the first.

Aemond’s one eye had so many emotions in them you couldn’t focus on one alone, and his hand still held your arm tightly. You had no idea what he was about to tell you.

“Gūrogon aōha zaldrīzes se jikagon. Se dārys iksos morghe, Aegon jāhor sagon vēttan dārys sir se ao issi nykeā trade gelebo hae se tala hen Rhaenyra. ȳdra daor sōvegon se route naejot zaldrīzesdōron, jikagon naejot Dorne nykeā naejot se Arryn's. Aōha kepa jāhor ao adhirikydho. (Take your dragon and go. The King is dead, Aegon will be made King now and you are a valuable trade coin as the daughter of Rhaenyra. Don't fly the usual route to Dragonstone, go to Dorne or to the Arryn's. Your father will surely find you quickly)”, he spoke quietly, but intensely.

“Why are you telling me this, Uncle?”, the frown was inevitable. Aemond had too many reasons to take you back, kicking and screaming, and present you to his mother. He was never kind, and this made no sense other than he was trying to lure you into a trap.

For the first time in your life, you looked at Aemond and saw exhaustion.

“Nyke bē ao daor naejot gūrogon aōha hen ao (I care about you enough not to take your choices from you)”, he said, not looking directly at your eyes.

Years ago, you would have believed him in a heartbeat. He had just said the most perfect words a prince could ever say. Now, a woman grown, you didn’t fully believe it, even though your heart wanted to, desperately.

You approached him, and your hand met his, that was still on your arm. The other cupped his cheek, making him look at you as you firmly said, “Gūrogon issa naejot se shores, mazverdagon issa aōha ābrazȳrys. Vīlībāzma hen iksos jāhor mōris istin īlon dīnagon īlva ēlī āzma tala naejot Jaehaerys (Take me to the shores, make me your wife. Whatever war of succession is happening will end once we marry our first born daughter to Jaehaerys)”.

You didn’t know how much your words resembled your mother’s. You would never know just how much it affected Aemond, making his manhood twitch with the thought of spilling in you and seeing your body grow with a little Targaryen princeling.

In another life, maybe, Aemond made you his. But now, as he well knew, the two of you had dance the dance to the choreography that was made for you.

He could still steal one moment, as all this was already borrowed time. Just one more.

So, he pulled you by your waist, closer to him, and pressed his lips to yours. First, your eyes widened, and then closed. You melted in his arms, and you kissed him back. The good feeling lasted only for a second before he was pushing you away.

“Jikagon se ȳdra daor jurnegon arlī (Go quietly and don't look back)”.

He was already turning back and motioning for you to go, leaving behind not only him, but the life you made for yourself, quietly. It broke your heart, but you knew where your loyalty lied: with your mother, the only heir to the now late King Viserys. Soon, you’d be back at the Red Keep, and hopefully Aemond would be forgiven. Hopefully, the two of you could pick up where you left off.

Even with hope still in your heart, you knew the truth. You knew Aemond was just a memory now, even if you could still listen to his footsteps. You were older, wiser, and it ached, but such were the growing pains in life.

467 notes · View notes

mydearestbeloved · 4 months ago

Text

Imagine #1

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW: Implied Yandere (If you squint), mild grotesque imaginary of killing a magic beast

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

This is now officially a series! You can check "Trial Player AU" here: [Masterlist🦋✨️]

You never imagined your life would take such a drastic turn. One moment, you were typing away on your laptop, and the next, you found yourself in a universe where Hunters, dungeons, and magic were the norm.

As a casual fan of the manhwa, you were more than familiar with the storyline and its characters. But this was real, painfully real, and your heart raced in your chest as you tried to make sense of it all.

Isekai'd into the world of Solo Leveling was unexpected, but this?

This was even more bizarre.

___

Isekai stories were meant to be fun. A fresh start in a different world with cool powers and thrilling adventures, right?

[Congratulations!

You have been selected by the System for an exclusive test run.]

The first time you saw that message, you had no idea what it meant. But after receiving a few more cryptic messages and nearly dying in a lower-rank dungeon?

You would be foolish if continue that thought.

You weren’t just dropped into this world—you were the 'Trial Player'. A glitch, a test subject for the system before it latched onto its true player.

It sounded like a game, a brief test before things returned to normal.

Except now you’re stuck.

___

You didn’t want to interfere, to change the storyline you knew too well.

The system gave you powers once you started leveling up.

Since you weren’t a fighter by nature, learning how to defend yourself have been a whole other story. Healing however, had come to you almost too naturally. You were rather fortunate (or is it unfortunate?) in that regard, as you discovered early on that your specialized ability was more… versatile, than it seemed.

Simply put, they were dual-edged.

Healing and harming were two sides of the same coin—just a matter of intent.

You could heal yourself and allies just fine, but with enemies? The same touch that mended could also cause harm.

A giant serpent once learned that the hard way.

___

The cold wind brushed against your face as you stared down at the monstrous serpent writhing in its final throes. You hadn’t meant to do it that way—honestly, it was an accident.

You had only wanted to defend yourself, yet in an act of panic, you had somehow amplified the beast's venom glands, forcing it to produce venom at an uncontrollable rate to the point of overloading its own internal organs.

The monster literally drowned in its own deadly concoction.

As the hissing faded, you watched with wide eyes as the giant serpent collapsed, dead. A familiar notification dinged in the corner of your vision.

[Congratulations!

You have successfully defeated a C-Rank Venom Serpent!]

The cheerful tone that rang in your ears was far too enthusiastic for your liking.

[System will now place Blue Venom-Fanged Kasaka in its place.]

You let out a shaky breath, still in shock.

[You have just proven yourself to be quite entertaining,

Trial Player (Name)_

Shall we continue with more interesting challenges?]

What the hell just happened?

___

From the start, you’d made the decision to stay under the radar.

At first, it was overwhelming.

The system's notifications, the power you gained with each step, and the dangerous world you were thrust into were enough to make anyone completely lost their mind.

But, despite the insanity of your new reality, you had to admit you’d adapted rather well.

From that day forward, the system acted more like a mischievous partner than a mere overseer.

In fact, the system had seemed delighted by your attempts to remain discreet, since it was more than willing to help you falsify your ranking, allowing you to masquerade as a mere C-rank. Not that you cared much about rankings, but blending in was important, especially since you knew what was coming. You didn't want to stand out when the real chaos began.

The system had its reasons, no doubt, but you didn’t question it. As long as it kept your secret and allowed you to survive without drawing too much attention, you were content.

With your knowledge of the Solo Leveling storyline—albeit you still need to fill in some gaps in your memory here and there—you avoided changing the narrative too much. However, when it came to the protagonist, you found it difficult to completely stay away.

As a fan, you already knew what hardships awaited him, and as much as you tried not to interfere, your heart ached terribly seeing him suffer through his early days as an E-rank hunter.

Even knowing he’d become the world’s strongest eventually, you still found yourself lessening his burden.

You weren’t trying to change anything significant—just minor things. Healing him faster when he was injured and unconscious after dangerous raids, anonymously covering some of his mother's medical bills, leaving useful items at his doorstep. All of it was done behind the curtain, leaving no trace.

You kept your distance; each act was a silent tribute to a hero you believed deserved better.

Or maybe, it was because you saw something in him that reminded you of your own struggle—your own loneliness in this strange world.

After all, this wasn’t your story. It was his.

___

You vowed not to meddle in the timeline.

That was to say, you had no intention of getting involved in the main storyline.

So, when the time came for him to finally accept the system’s offer and became the player, the trial period for you ended.

The screens pop-ups ceased.

The missions vanished.

The system had gone silent.

You could finally step back, let him take the reins. You could enjoy the world for yourself, live your life in this reality.

Or so you thought.

___

It was supposed to be a quiet day, just like any other.

You found yourself wandering through a familiar street in Seoul, lost in thought.

You weren’t sure what it was that tipped you off—the weight of someone’s gaze on your back, perhaps—but when you turned around, your breath hitched.

Gaze locked in with sharp, glowing blue.

And a familiar chirp in your mind, as smug as ever.

[Fancy meeting you here,

Trial Player (Name)_ ]

Damnit, you sly—!

"‘Trial Player’, huh?"

You clenched your fists and bit your lip as his voice cut through your inner turmoil.

Stormy hues, and ebony locks that looked too fluffy not to touch.

Taller, and his voice deeper than the last time you heard him.

There was no way you could mistake him for someone else.

There was no way you could forget him.

Sung Jinwoo

The system hummed in amusement behind him, oddly pleased with itself.

A screen flickered in your periphery.

[Dear Trial Player, (Name)_

Be careful not to spill your secret to Player Sung Jinwoo,

else you may find the penalty quite costly.]

Playful, yet the warning echoed in your mind.

You had no idea what the system’s penalty might be, and you weren’t eager to find out.

“I’ve been wondering about the mysterious healer who’s been helping me. I guess I have my answer now.”

Calm, that tone of his was way too calm, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt your stomach drop. How much did he know? How long had he suspected—

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jinwoo continued with a chuckle, a small, dangerous tilt playing on his lips, “The system can be… revealing at times.”

The insufferable chirps like giggles in your ear following his statement made it clear—there was no escape now.

Sung Jinwoo knew, or at least, he knew enough.

“I’ll make it easy for you,” Jinwoo said, stepping closer.

You instinctively took a step back.

"Join my party."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat instead.

“What?"

“I want you to join me,”

Jinwoo repeated with the same exact tone, as if that one sentence was enough for your mind to grasp at—whatever situation this had spiral to be.

Your brain scrambled for an answer. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. “I prefer staying out of the spotlight,” you muttered, trying to avoid his gaze.

Jinwoo leaned in slightly, his expression unreadable. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t think I’m going to let that happen.”

The system pinged again.

[Player Sung Jinwoo has extended a party invitation.]

“I didn’t agree to—”

The screen popped up again.

[Trial Player cannot refuse this invitation.]

You blinked at the screen, then at him.

Jinwoo kept his eyes on you—glowing in that beautiful, beautiful blue—practically daring you to refuse.

You felt trapped.

___

And that was how you found yourself reluctantly dragged into Sung Jinwoo’s (formerly solo) party.

You were supposed to be a background character at most, but now you were standing beside the future strongest hunter, going on raids, facing dungeon bosses, and… spending far too much time with him outside of said raids.

You don’t know why, but outside of dungeons were even worse. Jinwoo seemed to find excuses to be around you, despite your best efforts to avoid him. Whether it was casual visits to the same cafés you frequented or crossing paths in the market, he always seemed to be there at every turn. It was unsettling how often his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to unravel the very essence that made you, you.

Persistent, relentless, and far too observant for your liking. Jinwoo followed you, making sure you never slipped away, sticking close like your own personal shadow.

You might have laughed at the irony, if you were not the center of his attention.

Sung Jinwoo refused to leave you alone.

You weren't sure how he'd managed to pull you into his orbit, but he had, and now you were stuck in the very story you were trying to avoid.

A soft laugh; a rare sound that made your heart skip a beat.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, My Healer.”

___

"Oh, what have I gotten myself into..." you muttered under your breath, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

The system chimed in, always and without fail, far too gleeful for your liking.

[What indeed, Trial Player?

What indeed.]

You really, really, want to kick this damned system to space.

End Note:

Finally, I can sleep now...

Every related imagines I post after this WILL NOT follow any particular/chronological order.

#Solo Leveling Imagine #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo #solo leveling jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo #only i level up #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #fanfic #fanfiction #solo leveling fanfic

735 notes · View notes

dieseldame · 26 days ago

Text

𝗗𝗿𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀

Sevika x Fortune Teller! Reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2,1K

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: Intrigued by Sevika’s use of a tarot deck, Reader joins her for a game that takes an unexpected turn.

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: Slow burn, fortune-telling, tarot, romantic tension, domestic fluff, Zaun setting.

𝗔𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: I’ve recently gotten my hands on my very first tarot deck, and it’s been such a fascinating journey learning the meanings behind the cards and their symbolism. That curiosity sparked the idea for this story—combining Sevika’s no-nonsense attitude with the mystical allure of tarot readings. I wanted to capture the tension, the mystery, and the inevitability of fate in this piece. Enjoy!

The Last Drop was alive with the raucous energy of a late Zaunite evening. The air thrummed with music, laughter, and the click of glasses colliding in toasts. Smoke curled lazily from various corners, and the smell of spilled liquor clung to the damp floorboards. It was a place for the desperate and the bold, where fortunes were gambled and lives sometimes exchanged for coin or glory.

And at the heart of it all sat Sevika.

She leaned back in her chair with the air of someone who owned not just her table but the entire room. A small smirk tugged at her lips as she toyed with a glass of amber liquid in one hand and shuffled her deck with the other. The cards moved between her fingers like extensions of herself, each flip and ripple precise, hypnotic. Around her, a circle of admirers and challengers alike watched with bated breath. Another winning streak. Another pile of coin gathered at her elbow.

For Sevika, it wasn’t about the money—it was about control. She reveled in the predictable chaos of it all: the sweat beading on her opponents' brows, the way their bravado faltered under her calculating stare. She was the gravitational force pulling them all in. And she liked it that way.

But tonight, she felt it before she saw it. A shift in the air.

You had been watching her from the edge of the room, drawn like a moth to a flame. Something about her presence—the easy confidence, the intensity in her gaze—snared you and wouldn’t let go. It wasn’t just her skill at the table or the low rasp of her voice as she called her plays. It was something deeper, something unspoken, like the hum of an engine beneath layers of steel.

Before you knew it, you were moving. Through the crowd, past the jeers and cheers of the patrons. Closer to her.

She noticed you immediately, of course. Her eyes flicked up, sharp and assessing.

— Another challenger? — she drawled, her voice cutting through the din like a blade.

— Not quite, — you replied, your voice steady, though your heart raced. You gestured to the seat across from her. — But I’d like a hand.

Sevika arched an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. She nodded toward the chair. — Your funeral.

The deck moved between her hands again, shuffling with practiced ease. As you sat, you noticed the intricate designs on the cards—less a standard playing deck and more… something else. Tarot cards.

— Interesting choice. — you said, gesturing to the deck.

Sevika’s smirk deepened. — Keeps things interesting. You’d be surprised how much the cards know.

She dealt three cards in a smooth, deliberate motion. One. Two. Three. Face down.

You hesitated before flipping them over. Something about this felt… significant.

The first card revealed itself: The Tower, reversed.

The air seemed to thicken. You swallowed hard, your fingers brushing the edge of the card. — Your past. — you murmured.

Sevika chuckled, low and rough. — Go on, fortune teller. Enlighten me.

You didn’t know what compelled you to continue—whether it was her challenge or the magnetic pull she had on you. But as you spoke, the words came unbidden.

— The Tower reversed represents… chaos avoided. A disaster that didn’t destroy you but left its mark. You’ve rebuilt yourself, piece by piece, but the foundation still trembles. — You glanced up, meeting her gaze. — You’ve survived, but survival came at a cost.

For a moment, something flickered in Sevika’s eyes. Recognition? Pain? It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual mask of indifference.

— Lucky guess. — she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

The second card. The Eight of Swords, upright.

— Your present, — you continued, your voice quieter now. — You’re trapped. Not physically, but… mentally. You feel confined by something. Your choices, your loyalty, your circumstances. You’re strong, but even the strongest can feel caged.

This time, Sevika didn’t speak. Her jaw tightened, and her hand curled into a fist on the table. You could feel the tension radiating from her, a storm barely contained.

Finally, the third card. The Lovers, upright.

You froze. The card seemed to hum with its own energy, the vibrant imagery drawing your eye.

— Your future, — you said softly. — A union. Love. A choice that will change everything.

Sevika scoffed, breaking the spell. — Love? Please. I don’t need anyone.

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning forward slightly. — The cards don’t lie.

Her gaze locked with yours, a challenge in her eyes. — We’ll see about that.

The moment stretched, taut and electric. You could feel the weight of her attention, the way it pinned you in place. Finally, you stood, letting the tension break.

As you turned to leave, you glanced over your shoulder, offering her a teasing smile. — I’ll be seeing you, Sevika.

She didn’t reply, but her eyes followed you, dark and unreadable.

Months Later

Sevika’s apartment was quiet, save for the soft clink of pots and pans from the kitchen. The first rays of dawn filtered through the grimy window, casting long shadows across the room.

She stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind her. The weight of the day’s winnings—gold and coin stuffed into various bags—pulled at her arms, but she barely noticed. Her gaze was fixed on the figure in the kitchen.

You stood at the stove, humming softly to yourself as you stirred a pot. The warm, familiar scent of spices filled the air. You looked over your shoulder as she entered, your lips curling into a smile.

— Late night? — you teased, your tone light but knowing.

Sevika grunted, dropping the bags near the door before making her way toward you. She leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, something she wouldn’t dare name.

— You’re cooking again. — she said.

— Someone has to keep you alive, — you shot back, turning to face her fully. — And I’d rather it not be through Zaun’s questionable street food.

Her lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost.

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with mischief. — Come here, Sevika.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Crossing the small space in a few strides, she slipped her arms around your waist, pulling you close. Her body was warm, solid, grounding. You leaned into her, resting your head briefly against her chest.

— Miss me? — you asked, your voice teasing.

— Don’t push it, — she muttered, but the way her hands lingered on your hips betrayed her.

You tilted your head up, catching her gaze. — You know, — you said softly, — I told you the cards don’t lie.

Sevika rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, you leaned up and kissed her. It was soft, almost chaste, but it lingered just enough to make her breath hitch.

When you pulled back, she gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and affection. —You’re insufferable.

— And yet, — you replied, your grin widening.

Without warning, she scooped you up, setting you down on the kitchen island with ease. Her hands framed your face as she kissed you again, this time with more heat, more intent. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you.

When you finally broke apart, your breathing uneven, your gaze drifted to the counter beside you. There, lying face up, was a single card: The Lovers.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and joyous. — See? I told you.

Sevika smirked, brushing her thumb over your cheek. — Maybe the cards know a thing or two.

And with that, the night gave way to something new, something bright, something undeniably yours.

ㅤㅤㅤ

#arcane #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #sevika #fem reader

188 notes · View notes

munchkinchild · 7 months ago

Text

Okay, since we're once again playing the "Nesta has to apologise for every single thing she's ever done wrong in her life" game, I thought I'd make a list of nearly everything Feyre has apologise for when it comes to Nesta;

- I'm sorry for insulting the way you looked when you were born saying you had a sneer on your face when I literally didn't exist.

"She wasn’t like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for cooking for us every night since Elain and I didn't know how to.

"We dined on roasted venison that night." ACOTAR CH.2

"Heat. I can't cook" ACOMAF CH.54 (Proof that she can't cook)

- I'm sorry for insinuating that you are a horrible person and that our mother realised that on her death bed.

"Or maybe impending death had given her some clarity about the true nature of her children, her husband." ACOTAR CH. 1

- I'm sorry for judging you for trying to befriend the village people because your old friends ignore you.

"Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle." ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for making fun of you, telling you you can't and calling you a burden for wanting to marry an abuser to help the family when I literally said a few paragraphs before how much I was looking forward to you and Elain leaving so I could be alone.

"Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colors and shapes down on paper or canvas or the cottage walls." ACOTAR CH.1

“Believe me,” I said to her, “the day you want to marry someone worthy, I’ll march up to his house and hand you over. But you’re not going to marry Tomas.” ACOTAR CH.2

"If Nesta wanted to leave, then fine. Good. I’d be one step closer to attaining that glorious, peaceful future, to attaining a quiet house and enough food and time to paint." ACOTAR CH.2

"While Tomas might want to marry you … you’re a burden.” ACOTAR CH.2

- I'm sorry for not thanking you for caring about my safety with the mercenary after you had been robbed.

“They’re dangerous,” Nesta hissed, her fingers digging into my arm as she continued to pull me from the mercenary. “Don’t go near them again.” ACOTAR CH. 3

//“Some other one who passed through. We had only a few coins, and he got mad, but—”

“Why didn’t you report him—or tell me?”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenged him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“What about your Tomas Mandray?” I said coolly."// ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for pushing you away when you showed concern for me sleeping with Isaac.

“I do hope you two are taking precautions.”

“It’s a bit late to pretend to care,” I said." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for complaining about not being included when all I do is exclude myself and judge what you bought with the tiny amount of money I gave you.

"I watched my sisters whispering and laughing together. They’d spent every copper I’d given them—on what, I didn’t know, though Elain had brought back a new chisel for our father’s wood carving." ACOTAR CH. 3

- I'm sorry for almost scolding you for not being able to afford new boots and a cloak when I literally judged you for wanting a new one

"The cloak and boots they’d whined about the night before had been too expensive. But I hadn’t scolded them for it, not when Nesta went out a second time to chop more wood without my asking." ACOTAR CH. 3

-I'm sorry for saying you wouldn't protect me and then in the same sentence say that I know it's because you know that I can fight my own battles.

"I knew—with a sudden, uncoiling clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not my father, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles." ACOTAR CH. 4

- I'm sorry for saying that you were probably happy that I was gone and hoping I had been eaten so you could get attention when you were literally hiking alone trying to cross the wall to find me and save me.

"Nesta must be stretching her legs and smiling at the extra room. She was probably content imagining me in the belly of a faerie—probably using the news as a chance to be fussed over by the villagers." ACOTAR CH. 7

- I'm sorry for trying to put blame on you when you were telling me how you think our father forgets that he literally neglected all of us.

“There are days,” Nesta said as she paused in front of the door to her room, across from mine, “when I want to ask him if he remembers the years he almost let us starve to death.”

“You spent every copper I could get, too,” I reminded her." ACOTAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for blaming you for not teaching me how to read and write when that was never your responsibility, I never told you and I should've been able to do that because I was 8 when we lost our fortune. I'm also sorry for assuming that your level of reading would be better than mine since I admitted that our mother neglected our schooling.

"Before our downfall, my mother had sorely neglected our education, not bothering to hire a governess. And after poverty struck and my elder sisters, who could read and write, deemed the village school beneath us, they didn’t bother to teach me. I could read enough to function—enough to form my letters, but so poorly that even signing my name was mortifying." ACOTAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for telling Ianthe everything about you, including where you lived, which ended in her being able to kidnap you and force you into the cauldron.

"I’d told her about the village, and the house my sisters now lived in, about Isaac Hale and Tomas Mandray. I hadn’t been able to mention Clare Beddor—or what had happened to her family." ACOMAF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for telling the IC that you only cared about money and social standing.

“I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who only cared about their money and social standing." ACOMAF CH. 16

- I'm sorry for telling Rhys that I would make you and Elain help the fae with their problems and even consider asking Rhys to force you to help the fae.

//"They might not be happy about it, but I’ll make Elain and Nesta do it.”

"I didn’t have the nerve to ask Rhys if he could simply force my family to agree to help us if they refused. I wondered if his powers would work on Nesta when even Tamlin’s glamour had failed against her steel mind."// ACOMAF CH. 19

- I'm sorry for showing up unannounced to the house with a group of dangerous men and immediately expecting you to be okay with it.

Chapter 23 of ACOMAF ~ it's too long to post.

- I'm sorry for leaving you both to clean up after I'd insulted the food and let complete strangers openly judge you.

//“Is there something wrong with our food?” she said flatly.

I made myself take another bite, each movement of my jaw an effort. “No.” I swallowed and gulped down a healthy drink of water.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore—or are you too good for it?” A question and a challenge.

Rhys’s fork clanked on his plate. Elain made a small, distressed noise.

And though Nesta had let me use this house, though she’d tried to cross the wall for me and we’d worked out a tentative truce, the tone, the disgust and disapproval …

I laid my hand flat on the table. “I can eat, drink, fuck, and fight just as well as I did before. Better, even.”// ACOMAF CH. 24

//"Cassian’s brows rose—little amusement to be found now. “Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.” My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I didn’t know. “Your sister died—died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make—and insult my people in the process.”

Nesta didn’t bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely."// ACOMAF CH. 24

"My sisters cleaned the dishes while we worked, and had excused themselves to bed hours before, mentioning where to find our rooms." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for calling you a creature after Rhys insulted you and saying it's the kindest thing I could say about you.

“Nesta is a delight, by the way.”

“She’s … her own creature,” I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about her." ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for not standing up for you when Rhys claimed that only Elain cares about me and that it's your fault for not protecting me.

"Rhys didn’t answer. Instead he said, “I didn’t think I could get through that dinner.”

“What do you mean?” He’d been rather … calm. Contained.

“Your sisters mean well, or one of them does. But seeing them, sitting at that table … I hadn’t realized it would hit me as strongly. How young you were. How they didn’t protect you.”

“I managed just fine.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for saying that you let me go into the woods when you aren't my mother or responsible for me.

“But if I hadn’t gone into those woods, if they hadn’t let me go out there alone …" ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for allowing Rhys to say he can't look at you without wanting to roar at you when he doesn't know a single thing about you.

“but it will be a long while yet before I can look at your sisters without wanting to roar at them.” ACOMAF CH. 24

- I'm sorry for comparing the anger I felt about Eris and the nail in Mor to Rhys hating you for your "failings"

"And I understood—why Rhys could not endure Nesta for more than a few moments, why he could not let go of that anger where her failings were concerned, even if I had." ACOMAF CH. 41

- I'm sorry for forcing you to help in a war you had no original part in and for telling Rhys I would make our desperation obvious so they're manipulated into helping.

//"Let me figure out how to deal with both of them, as family, but mostly as their High Lady.

Mor’s face tightened, but I shook my head. “I can—ask my sisters. See if they have any sort of power. See if they’d be willing to … talk to others about what they endured. But I won’t force them to help, if they do not wish to participate. The choice will be theirs.” I glanced at my mate—the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right. Rhys’s violet eyes flickered in acknowledgment. “But I’ll make our … desperation clear.”// ACOWAR CH. 16

- I'm sorry for repeatedly asking you to tell complete strangers what happened to you in the cauldron after you had said no several times and I'm sorry for trying to abuse my power as High Lady to manipulate you into telling your story

//“And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords—to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you.”

“No.”

“You don’t mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?”

Nesta’s mouth tightened. “No.”

High Lady or sister; sister or High Lady … “People’s lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it.”

She gripped the arms of her chair, as if restraining herself. “Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no.”

I angled my head. “I understand that what happened to you was horrible—”

“You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I’m not going to tell them that story—my story.”

“The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—”

Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen. “Then it is not my problem if you’re unreliable. I’ll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf.”// ACOWAR CH. 18

- I'm sorry for trying to force you to train when you said multiple times you didn't want to.

"But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

“Azriel?”

“Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

“If you’re referring to Mor—”

“And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

“It could make you strong—”

“There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.” ACOWAR CH. 24

- I'm sorry for telling you off for not being respectful to the healer when you were rightfully annoyed that no one was helping Elain, accusing you of barking at them and snapping at you to "be quiet" when you were worried.

//“How.” The word was barely more than a barked command.

I braced myself to warn Nesta to be polite, but Madja said to my sister, as if she were a small child, “The mating bond. It is a bridge between souls.”

The healer’s tone made my sister stiffen, but Madja was already hobbling for the front door. She pointed at Lucien as she saw herself out. “Try sitting down with her. Just talking—sensing. See what you pick up. But don’t push.” Then she was gone.

I whirled on Nesta. “A little respect, Nesta—”

“Call another healer.”

“Not if you’re going to bark them out of the house.”

“Call another healer.”

I caught Lucien’s eye. “Would you try it?”

Nesta snarled, “Don’t you even attempt—”

“Be quiet,” I snapped.

Nesta blinked.

I bared my teeth at her. “He will try. And if he doesn’t find anything amiss, we’ll consider bringing another healer.”// ACOWAR CH. 28

- I'm sorry for winnowing away when we were going somewhere together, leaving you with a man you felt uncomfortable around and calling me doing that "sisterly payback" because you're attitude was not what I wanted it to be.

"Ready for some flying, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

The wrong thing to say, from the way Cassian’s eyes lit up.

I chose that moment to winnow to the skies above the House, chuckling as wind carried me through the world. Some sisterly payback, I supposed. For Nesta’s general attitude." ACOWAR CH. 30

- I'm sorry for not believing you when you told me that we weren't safe, telling you that because the others don't think anything is wrong, it's all fine.

“We need to leave,” Nesta said. “Right now.”

Every sense went on alert. “Why?”

“It feels wrong. Something feels wrong.”

I studied her, the clear sky beyond the towering, drape-framed windows. “Rhys and the others would sense it. You’re likely just picking up on all the power gathered here.”

“Something is wrong,” Nesta insisted.

“I’m not doubting you feel that way but … If none of the others are picking it up—” ACOWAR CH. 47

- I'm sorry for telling you that I would build a shower for you after you told me you can't take baths anymore and then never doing anything.

Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.”

I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water …

I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” ACOWAR CH. 52

- I'm sorry for judging where you spend your time.

"Nesta shrugged. “She could have eaten with me here.”

“You know Elain wouldn’t feel comfortable in a place like this.”

She arched a well-groomed brow. “A place like this? What sort of place is that?” ACOFAS CH. 13

- I'm sorry for forcing you to come to a religious holiday you don't celebrate and judging the place you want to celebrate in. And then trying to use our father's death as a way to guilt you into coming.

//"Finally, my sister looked back at me. “So you’re bribing me, then?”

I didn’t flinch. “I’m seeing if you’re willing to be reasoned with. If there’s a way to make it worth your while.”

Nesta planted the tip of her pointer finger atop her stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. “It’s not even our holiday. We don’t have holidays.”

“Perhaps you should try it. You might enjoy yourself.”

“As I told Elain: you have your lives, and I have mine.”

Again, I cast a pointed glance to the tavern. “Why? Why this insistence on distancing yourself?”

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?”

“You’re my sister.”

Again, that empty, cold look.

I waited.

“I’m not going to your party,” she said."//

//“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.”// ACOWAR CH. 13

- I'm sorry for withholding your rent unless you came to an event you didn't feel comfortable coming to and then when you came, ignoring you and being insulted you didn't get me a gift when I didn't get you one.

//She swigged from her glass. “It’s due next week. In case you forgot.”

I said flatly, “Come to Solstice and I’ll make sure it’s delivered.”// ACOFAS CH. 13

//"It occurred to me only when she said the words that none of the gifts in this room had Nesta’s name on them."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nothing from Nesta, but I didn’t care. Not one bit."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//"Nesta watched warily from her chair, Elain’s present—her only present—in her lap."// ACOFAS CH. 20

//“Here.”

Nesta half turned toward me, focus darting to what was in my hand. The small slip of paper.

The banker’s note for her rent. And then some.

“As promised,” I said.

For a moment, I prayed she wouldn’t take it. That she would tell me to tear it up."// ACOFAS CH. 20

- I'm sorry for not saying anything when Amren openly slut shamed you.

“Though I bet it’s hard to look good,” Amren went on, “when you’re out until the darkest hours of the night, drinking yourself stupid and fucking anything that comes your way.”

Feyre whipped her head to the High Lord’s Second. Rhys seemed inclined to agree with Amren. ACOSF CH. 1

-I'm sorry for telling you that you embarrassed "my family" when you're my sister.

Do you know how embarrassed I was when we got the bill this morning and my friends—my family—had to hear all about it?”

Nesta hated that word. The term Feyre used to describe her court. As if things had been so miserable with the Archeron family that Feyre had needed to find another one." ACOSF CH. 2

- I'm sorry for painting everyone but you and then only painting you when I decided that you had earned it.

//"Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family.

There were none of Nesta, naturally.// ACOSF CH. 1

//"She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry.

A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius."// ACOSF CH. 80

-I'm sorry for telling you that I would tie you up and force you to go to the House of Wind when I myself should know what it feels like to be locked up against my will.

"You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there." ACOSF CH. 2

I can go on...

#pro nesta archeron #nesta archeron deserves better #anti rhysand #anti feysand #anti sjm #anti inner circle #anti feyre #high queen nesta

485 notes · View notes

another-lost-mc · 3 months ago

Text

Mammon reaps the rewards of a certain arrangement he has with Lucifer.

THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS | Mammon x gn!Reader x Lucifer

Content Warnings: NSFW. Established Lucifer x Reader. Prompt: Lucifer gets cucked by Mammon (by invitation/with consent). Mammon-centric POV (unreliable narrator). Mentions of gambling. Some jealousy/possessiveness and self-deprecation/angst. Oral sex (Mammon and Reader receiving); nipple play, fingering/prep and penetrative sex (Reader receiving); implied masturbation; biting and marking; lowkey scent kink. 3.3k words no we're not going to talk about it

A/N: This is my contribution to the @ficsforgaza Kinktober event! Please check out the other fics and show the authors some love for their amazing work this month.

Sometimes it starts with a glance. A brief look across the dining room table or across the student council chambers at RAD. The weight of Lucifer’s gaze is its own unspoken question, an invitation and a challenge issued wordlessly in one fell swoop. Mammon can sense the anticipation that radiates off you as a promise of what’s to come once night falls, the decadent sins that ripple through your soul and overwhelm his senses like waves against the shore. Where denying Lucifer something is like a bad habit, denying you something you want goes against everything he believes in as your first. His brother’s arrogance and condescension makes his teeth ache with the urge to draw blood; the love and lust in your eyes when you look at him makes his heart race and his cock throb instead.

This little arrangement they have has no schedule. It's uncharacteristically impulsive, at least where Lucifer is concerned, and there's probably a complex set of circumstances when Lucifer offers Mammon an invitation to join. To partake. And to date, Mammon has never refused.

Tonight's offer catches the second-born completely by surprise. Mammon is at the casino when he feels the familiar bzzzt of his D.D.D. vibrating in his back pocket. The mountain of chips in front of him is a glorious sight; he’s been on a ruthless winning streak since he walked into the casino nearly three hours ago and he’s ecstatic with the fortune he’s earned so far.

Among the Devildom elite, it's a well-established fact that the only thing more entertaining than watching Mammon in the throes of a losing streak, making reckless bets and getting more riled up by each loss, is his unrivaled excitement and infectious luck when he wins. He's in his element in a place like this, and the Avatar of Greed lives up to his name when there's plenty of coin in his pocket. Gathered around the table where he has made himself comfortable this evening, there’s a large crowd surrounding the table, eager to witness the sight for themselves. demons hoping to challenge the Great Mammon with bets of their own for the smallest chance to take him down a peg or two. Some demons get close to him in hopes that his good luck will rub off on them too. Others are simply curious to see what else this promising night will bring if they stick around to find out.

There’s not much that would drag Mammon away from the promise of an exorbitant amount of Grimm that awaits him by the time the casino closes for the night. The money he’s won so far is already spoken for: the new seasonal launch at Majolish he wants to buy for himself (and for you), new detailing and mechanical upgrades for his precious car. Hell, he might even pay off some of his debts with what's left over just to get Lucifer off his ass about it for a change.

He doesn't think twice as he pulls out his D.D.D. and swipes his thumb across the screen, breath catching as he reads the brief message that awaits him. Mammon can’t tell whether Lucifer's words are meant to be a friendly invitation or an arrogant summons. Both possibilities irk him in ways he can’t explain, but Mammon blames it on poor timing as Lucifer's tempting yet sudden proposal threatens to derail what would otherwise be a very profitable evening.

Since the very beginning, you and Lucifer both assured him that he could participate at his leisure. He had no obligations to indulge their whims, no repercussions or hurt feelings if he refused.

(He has no doubt Lucifer might find a way to punish him for his refusal later, but that threat pales to your own disappointment that Mammon knows you have difficulty hiding from him at the best of times, and isn't something he ever wants to do - not if he can avoid it.)

Mammon shuffles the dice in his hand and glances at the waiting challengers seated at the table nearby and mulls over his options quickly. He can ignore the message - try to pretend he didn’t see it - and see where his rare lucky streak takes him. Or, he can return home earlier than planned and indulge in a little bit of sin of a different variety.

It's almost embarrassing how quickly his mind's made up because he’s already getting up from his seat, waving over an attendant to cash out his winnings while placating the disappointed crowd with bland, half-hearted apologies. What he realizes later, once he stops sulking about his wasted good luck by the time he drives home, is that you are, undeniably and without a doubt, the best prize he could've hoped for tonight.

Mammon has a vague idea of what to expect when he raps his knuckles roughly on the dark wood grain of Lucifer’s bedroom door. When he got home, he spared a few minutes to shower so the stench of the casino and countless faceless demons didn't cling to his skin like sweat. His white hair darkens in damp curls at the back of his neck, and a pair of loose sleep pants hang low on his hips. He didn’t bother putting on a shirt or underwear - he won’t be dressed long enough for it to matter. After the discomfort of pulling his tight denim jeans over his erection earlier, hard and cramped inside the thick and unyielding material as he swore and fumbled with his zipper, he’s glad for the loose fabric that brushes teasingly against his bare skin now.

There's a soft patter of footsteps before the door swings open. Inside the room is dark except for a few flickering candles and the light from the hallway that spills across your face, illuminating your dark, lust-blown eyes and mischievous smile when you see him.

His vision is still spotty as he adjusts to the drastic shift from light to dark when you pull him inside the room and push him against the door, effectively slamming it shut, and his sputtered greeting trails off into a sharp curse when you waste no time tugging his pants down his thighs as you fall gracefully to your knees. Your delighted hum as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock leaves him gasping; his fingers curl around the back of your head encouragingly as you flick over the slit and lap up the beads of pre-come before you bob your head, shallowly at first and then faster as your mouth stretches around him, while his hands guide your rhythm without pushing too forcefully.

His cock grazes the back of your throat, muffling your moans when you pull back teasingly to lave over the slit and lick the underside of his shaft just to swallow him down again. Your fingers curl around the base of his erection where your mouth can’t reach, pumping him with the same rhythm as your mouth sliding up and down his length, and it sends him spiraling towards his release. It’s fast and desperate and perfect. His own desire echoes in the wet, worshipful look in your eyes when you glance at him from beneath your lashes, the way your free hand strokes his hip and caresses his thigh and cups the warm, heavy weight of his balls as you urge him closer to the edge.

He can smell your own arousal permeating the air and knows it's probably staining the flimsy fabric of your underwear. He fantasizes about pushing aside the sticky fabric with his fingers - or perhaps ripping through it with his fangs - and then he finally comes with a hoarse shout, with the phantom taste of your cum on the tip of his tongue as he pants your name between deep, shuddering breaths. When he blinks the haze of his orgasm from his eyes, the sight of you kneeling at his feet and palming yourself through your clothes, lips dark and shiny with spit and eyes begging him for more, is nearly enough to completely unravel his self-control.

He lifts you into his arms and carries you effortlessly across the room before dropping you onto Lucifer’s oversized bed with a heated grin. You crawl up the mattress and lay back against the soft, dark sheets as he kneels on the edge of the bed and crawls over you, kicking off his pants and baring his fangs in a smirk. He's already half-hard eager for more; his cock hangs heavily between his legs, bobbing between his belly and your thighs as he positions himself over you, and smearing the first drops of his renewed arousal across your skin.

Subtle movement across the room catches Mammon’s eye, and he wonders how he nearly forgot Lucifer’s presence. It’s not unusual for Lucifer to observe quietly while Mammon takes you apart for his viewing pleasure. Mammon’s actually grateful for his brother’s silence most of the time because he can pretend it’s just the two of you, the way he would prefer, but this is the next best thing.

(He tells himself it’s not pathetic to crave these moments with you that he’s allowed to have, when the only other alternative is not having you at all.)

Mammon ignores the tall shadow in the periphery of his vision, with its sharp smirk and blood-red eyes, as he peels off your clothes, tugging off your shirt first followed by your sleep pants and underwear.

(Wet, just like he knew they would be).

He leans down and one slow, soft kiss turns into many, filthy and deep and all-consuming. The room is quiet except for the slick sounds of lips and tongues grazing each other, punctuated lightly by thready moans and contented sighs. He can taste a hint of blood when he sucks on your bottom lip with too much enthusiasm and kicks you with one of his fangs. He licks across the cut in apology before slowly sliding down your body, eager to make it up to you in other ways.

He drags his mouth along your jaw, nipping down the column of your throat and littering your neck and collarbone with red marks shaped like his mouth, indents of his teeth that are likely to bruise by tomorrow, and presses you into the sheets as he slowly eases down your body.

(He hopes the fresh spritz of citrusy cologne he applied before coming here overpowers the barely-there traces of spice and smoke from the cologne that Lucifer wears instead.)

Gooseflesh follows the trail of his greedy hands and mouth as he continues his ministrations. He flicks his tongue across your nipples and rubs your chest with his palms, smoothing his hands over the curve of your belly before easing them gently between your legs and prying them open so he can settle comfortably between them. One lube-slicked finger works you open, dipping inside with shallow thrusts, scissoring gently to stretch you wide enough to take his cock, and he exhales hotly between lazy kisses along the tops of your thighs. His eyes glance upward and drink in the delightful arch of your back as your legs gently lock him in place as he alternates pumping three thick fingers inside you with the devilish curl of his tongue so he can taste you too.

He could stay buried between your legs all night, knuckle-deep and mouthing at your arousal, but each moan and broken gasp of his name shoots through him from the tinted tips of his hair all the way to his toes, and it’s all he can do to control his own lust and resist the urge to rut against the bed. He might only come once more tonight, and he’ll be damned if he spills himself over Lucifer's thousand-count-sheets instead of inside you (where he belongs).

Usually when Mammon fucks you, he likes to see your face. The way your desire for him shines in your eyes, how your skin warms with sweat and flushes from his attention. He hoards all those reactions to think about later when he misses you and jerks off to the memory of your body pressed against his, opening up and falling apart like he’s the only one in the world that gets to see you like this.

As he holds himself above you, balancing his weight on his hands while he kneels between your legs, he glimpses your arm thrown across the mattress, fingers stretched out towards the corner of the room where Lucifer watches from the darkness. You haven't said his brother's name, but the silent plea is just as visceral, and Mammon tugs your hands above your head and pins both your wrists down firmly, but not enough to hurt. He growls deep in his chest, eyes narrowing slightly in warning, but you squirm beneath him helplessly, urging him to keep going. It turns you on when he gets a little jealous and no matter what he says or does, you know that he won’t hurt you.

For the first time tonight, Lucifer makes a noticeable sound at that little display - an amused huff of laughter that adds a hint of embarrassment and shame to the desire coiling deep inside of Mammon. He knows Lucifer can probably feel the indignant flicker of pride along with the waves of greed and lust that overwhelm him. It’s natural that their sins feed off each other - that’s part of what makes this so damn good for both of them. But when Mammon risks glancing at his brother for a moment and expects Lucifer is watching his display of jealous insecurity with an arrogant sneer, something like approval flickers in his crimson gaze instead.

The moment of pettiness and mutual understanding passes, and Mammon shakes his head and refocuses on the task at hand. He shushes you even as you wriggle your hips and rub yourself against him, trying to coax his cock, slick with lube and dribbles of pre-come, into your stretched and eager and very empty hole. The angle’s not quite right but the faintest bit of pressure of his tip catching the rim before slipping past, over and over as you whine and tremble in frustration, is enough to disperse all his self-deprecating thoughts so all he sees and hears and wants is you.

Your voice cracks pathetically when you beg him to please, please, please fuck you already, and he’s nearly undone by the sudden heat that envelops him when he digs his fingers into your hips and finally pushes inside, firm and deep in one smooth thrust. He holds himself steady even though every spark of white-hot pleasure ricocheting through his body is practically screaming for more, to take what you offer him so willingly and consume you until there's nothing left.

He waits patiently for you to adjust. His meticulous prep beforehand still doesn’t compare to the way he stretches you open with his cock. It’s a sight that leaves him breathless every time and he can't help but stare greedily, transfixed as he moves deeper inside you, inch by tantalizing inch, until he's fully seated and has claimed you for himself. Only when your trembling legs tighten around his waist and your nails dig deep into his shoulders and scratch down his back, giving him a dreamy smile and a nod, does he finally start to move.

He starts with a few tentative pumps of his hips but he has no patience for slow, drawn-out lovemaking tonight. It feels like he’s teetering on the edge of a knife with a lit fuse deep in his gut that’s already close to bursting. Usually he teases you with slow, languid strokes, alternating deep and shallow thrusts, drawing back and holding himself still before burying himself to the hilt over and over again.

Tonight there’s no no finesse, no tenderness, no teasing games to see which of you breaks first. His body moves with purpose, fueled by raw power and the lust that clouds his mind. He fucks you hard and deep, and he can’t hear the creaking springs of the mattress over the sharp thud of the headboard that bangs against the wall from the force of his movements. He leans forward and braces himself on his forearm so he can sneak the other hand between your bodies and stroke you clumsily with his fingers to help you finish when he does. He knows he’s not going to last long, not with the quick, rough snap of his hips as he fucks you.

(Lucifer's presence, still cloaked in shadow in the corner of the room, makes him feel more sensitive and exposed - but he senses his brother's own desperation as Lucifer's greed swells too, reverberating in the sin he knows so well, and part of him is grateful that they're both hurtling towards the edge of lust-fueled madness, together.)

When you come, it's with a shaky moan beneath him. The pulsing heat tightening around his cock sends Mammon hurtling towards his own release. He rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm with lazy, stuttered thrusts.

(A deep groan and a soft curse resonates briefly in Mammon's awareness, the only indication that Lucifer must've brought himself to orgasm watching you both fall apart in his bed.)

After fucking his cum back inside you, as deep as he can until he’s too sensitive and has to pull out, Mammon enjoys a brief sense of primal satisfaction that he’s left a trace of himself behind, one that’ll hopefully linger long after he’s gone for the night.

He kisses you again, gentle and sweet, and helps you settle on your side before getting up on wobbly legs to find something nearby he can wipe you clean with. He’s not completely surprised that Lucifer’s already approaching the bed with a warm cloth for each of you. Mammon who wipes his hands and the wet patch of hair around the base of his cock gingerly before using the other clean towel to wash carefully between your legs. Afterwards, he tosses both of them towards the laundry hamper nearby. It's a good effort, but a miss - the messily rolled-up cloths land on the carpeted floor with a wet little plop.

(He's worn out and his hands are still trembling slightly from the exertion, but he's not about to tell his brother that.)

Next, Mammon busies himself looking for his sleep pants among the rumpled pile of discarded clothes on the floor and wonders how Lucifer can still look so prim and proper in comparison. As he tugs his pants up over his legs, he looks closer at his older brother and feels vindicated that he's not nearly as unaffected as he pretends to be. There's a faint sheen of sweat beading along his brother’s hairline and greying temples, and a healthy pink flush colours his cheeks. The only hint that Lucifer lost control of himself at some point during the proceedings are his slacks that sit low on his slim waist, unbuttoned and unzipped, with a glimpse of silky black boxer briefs peeking out through the opening.

They don't exchange useless pleasantries at the door except for a murmured good night and Mammon's lazy wave over his shoulder as he spins around and waltzes back to his bedroom. He flops down in his own bed and breathes deeply, enjoying the tingly afterglow and scent of your arousal still wafting off his skin. He looks thoroughly fucked with sweat-slicked and messy hair from your fingers running through it. The bite mark in his left shoulder, your effort to muffle your cry when you came, and the scratches in his back sting and ache deliciously when he rolls around in his sheets and drifts off to sleep, weary and so utterly content.

(If he wears a sleeveless shirt tomorrow that shows off the crescent ring of teeth bruising his shoulder, it's no one's business but his own.)

Read More: Obey Me Masterlist

#obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #mammon smut #obey me smut #obey me x reader #x reader #fics for gaza #ffg kinktober

329 notes · View notes

violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

Note

hii, I wish to request a Willy Wonka x reader 😭🙏 where reader doesn’t like chocolate at all because it’s too cloying, so Wonka tries to make the right candy (or chocolate) to give it to the reader at Christmas Eve (he wanted to gave reader a small gift before Christmas day, like a form of confessing his feelings to the reader). And reader also prepares a small gift to Wonka bc they also want to confess their feelings to him

Reader can be gender neutral, or however you want

English isn’t my first language so sorry any grammar mistakes, also sorry if I didn’t explain myself well

have a good day and thanks for reading 😭🫶💐

The Bittersweet Gift of Love [W. W]

Willy Wonka x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

note: don't worry! English is not my first language either. I have to admit that writing with neutral readers is always a challenge for me because I translate my texts directly, but I think this time it's a decent thing. I hope you like it!!

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

What could a chocolatier give to a person who didn't like chocolate? That was the question Willy had been asking himself for the past few weeks.

You hadn't specifically said that you didn't like chocolate, rather it was a matter of not liking the excessively sweet or sticky taste that some had. That is, most of the chocolates he made.

“Maybe it's just that you haven't found the right flavor,” he had told you once, while the two of you were talking.

And he was quite convinced of that, even thinking that if he managed to make something special for you maybe he would earn some affection from you. It would be as if he gave you a certain part of himself, so that you could make it yours.

So it was that Wonka, after reflecting a lot, decided to try all kinds of combinations until he found one good enough to satisfy you. Christmas was approaching and he believed that the occasion would be perfect not only to give you the present, but also to take an important step for which he had not yet had the courage: he wanted to confess his feelings for you.

The man didn't know much about love, however, he knew that he liked you a lot and he wanted you to know it. It was just that he was pretty nervous about it and he hoped everything would turn out as perfect as possible, after all, you deserved it.

Christmas Eve came when he was least expecting it and then it was time to dress in shades of green and red to attend the party that the Smith family would throw, as a thank-you to everyone after Dorothy had heard what the entire group did for help Noodle when she needed it most.

Willy put a lot of effort into buying, with some of the few coins he had left, a cute outfit appropriate to the occasion that he combined with his characteristic coat. When he was in front of the library door he felt the little purple box in his hands extremely heavy and he thought it would be a better idea to put it in his pocket, or else you would realize ahead of time the surprise he had for you.

“Mr. Wonka,” Dorothy greeted, as she opened the door “Come in, come in. It's freezing outside”

“Good night, Mrs. Smith,” he murmured cordially, removing his hat and placing it on a rack in the entryway. Apparently he was the last to arrive, since everyone else was already talking happily in the room.

Of course his eyes went directly to you, who was wearing a green sweater that highlighted your beautiful skin tone and you already had a huge smile on your pink lips from the cold.

“It's good to see you, Mr. Wonka,” said Abacus, being the first to speak “Sit over here.”

He smiled internally at the good fortune that the place the man had left him was right next to you and when you gave him a look, he felt himself blush.

“Hi,” he murmured shyly.

"Hello! I'm so glad you could come."

“I would never miss it,” he responded smilingly. His knees collided with yours and suddenly your warmth seemed to invade him as well, perhaps because of the closeness, but also because of the overflowing love he felt for you “How are you?”

With this question you began a pleasant and private conversation, which developed between close whispers and giggles that made him increasingly nervous. The others didn't mind too much that you didn't participate in the general talks, as they knew that certain unresolved matters probably needed time.

You ate the delicious dinner that the family had prepared, you drank punch, you sang some Christmas carols and when the night had advanced enough you returned to your previous place, although now with fewer people around.

“This is so nice, I love Christmas. The atmosphere is always so homely and warm” you said, with your eyes resting on the simple tree that adorned the room.

It was almost midnight and the others were in the kitchen sorting through some of the cookies that Noodle had put there an hour ago, which only left you and the chocolatier in the living room.

“I guess I believe you, your eyes are literally shining now,” he said happily. He felt like sliding his hand into yours and this time, steeling himself, he didn't hold back. You flinched slightly when you felt that.

“What are you doing?”

“I have something for you,” he breathed, feeling strangely excited by what he was about to do “It's a gift.”

“Oh, Willy,” you responded, a bit incredulously, as you bent down to grab something from your bag on the floor. “I have something for you, too.”

He chuckled when he saw the box lined with bright red and a purple bow decorating it, since it was a pleasant coincidence that you had also prepared something for him.

“But don't tell anyone, because he didn't bring gifts for the others,” you added, quietly, and then he helped you up, still holding onto your hand.

"Come with me"

He led you to an empty room and he closed the door behind you, hoping he only needed enough minutes to not raise suspicions among the rest of the guests. You were nervously holding the gift, with both hands now that he had let go of you.

“Okay, listen. I wanted to do something special for you today,” he began to explain, as he pulled the box out of his pocket. “And I also added, uh… a note. You don't have to read it now or anything, but it says something in it that I want you to know."

“You're starting to scare me,” you stammered, obviously nervous. Willy was going to ask what you meant until he saw you take a small envelope out of your pocket, which you placed on the red paper. “Because I have the same thing for you.”

He stumbled a little at the second coincidence of the night and he wondered what your note could be about. He knew that he had written a little poem confessing how he felt about you, but... what if you were just wishing him a Merry Christmas? He was going to look like a complete fool.

“You can read mine in a more… private place if you feel comfortable. Maybe alone,” he suggested, though he knew it was more for his comfort than yours.

“Huh, how about we just open the gifts and leave the notes for later? I wouldn't want you to read mine now either” you murmured, just as shy as him.

Willy agreed and you extended your gift in his direction, hinting that he would be the first to open. He undid the bow, carefully, and then opened the box, revealing a beautiful scarf.

“Wow, I…”

"Do you like it? I made it myself”

“I don't believe you,” he said immediately, looking even more surprised. “It's beautiful, I really love it. Thank you so much"

He wasted no time and placed the garment around his neck. Curiously, it matched the rest of his outfit.

"It looks pretty"

“Mine is also a gift made by me. Feel free to tell me if you don’t like it, I… I’ll understand, okay?” you looked a little confused at that and then he took out the piece of chocolate, carefully placed inside the box “I know you don't like chocolate, but I don't think anyone should live without consuming such a great delicacy. So I made you this, because it doesn't have those things that you don't like. It's... different, but I hope you like it”

With some shyness he offered you the sweet and you put it in your mouth, under his watchful eye during the process. You tasted what he had offered you: it was a little bitter, but not in that way that makes your head hurt or leaves a bad taste on your palate, but with just the right touch. It was firm and didn't melt in your mouth, but decent enough to chew on. And finally, it had a touch of something indecipherable to you, but that gave it a certain exotic flavor that was pleasant to your senses.

He, without knowing everything you were experiencing, kept looking at you because he wanted to analyze your reaction to know what you really thought, and luckily your reaction showed agreement with what your chocolate lips said:

“It is the best chocolate I have ever tasted”

Willy felt that like the greatest compliment in the world and he couldn't help a smile crossing his face, satisfied with himself for having achieved his goal, but above all for seeing the happy expression on your face.

“You will never have to eat chocolates you don't like again, I have a jar full of these just for you. They will even bear your name."

It was inevitable not to take a step towards him to hug him and the boy, although at first he seemed surprised, soon responded to you.

“No one had ever done anything like this for me. I appreciate it a lot"

“Well, it's my Christmas gift. I wanted it to be something special,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating in time with yours “Merry Christmas, Y/N”

“Merry Christmas, Willy,” you said. The note in his hand felt extremely heavy and he was eager to read it, but he knew he would have to wait a while.

Suddenly you heard Noodle calling your names and you got out of there before anyone else noticed your absence, which worked because the girl was walking around the hallway when you were closing the door.

“It's going to be midnight, come here,” she said and you obeyed.

Dorothy revealed that she had a small present for each person and you began to look under the tree, eager to find out what would be in those little boxes. It wasn't something very ostentatious, but you were grateful anyway.

So, when no one was looking, you ran to the bathroom to finally read whatever he had written to you, hoping it wasn't as embarrassing as the confession you had made. You were stunned to learn the content and for a moment you feared you were dreaming, but you weren't.

When you left you knew well what your intentions were and your heart stopped for a moment when you noticed that Willy was nowhere to be seen, until Lottie told you that she had seen him heading to the kitchen. You rushed over and when you opened the door you noticed that he was about to do the same, with a bright expression on his face.

A second later he had already pulled you inside and without saying another word, he kissed you.

#wonka 2023 #willy wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka movie #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #willy wonka #roald dahl #wonka fanfic #willy wonka 2023 #wonka fanfiction #willy wonka x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

831 notes · View notes

fandomverseofanthony · 3 months ago

Text

WE'RE CURRENTLY STUCK AT 25% AND NEED YOUR HELP! CLICK HERE TO GO TO THE KICKSTARTER AND CONSIDER BACKING OR SPREADING THE WORD TODAY!!!

Tales of Forge & Fortune is inspired by Tabletop Roleplaying Games and Cozy Games such as Dungeons & Dragons, Animal Crossing, Pathfinder, Fantasy Life, Dave the Diver, Stardew Valley and many others!

Gather your friends, or set out on your own, traversing the land in search of materials to craft countless wondrous items to sell at your shop within an ever-evolving town! Although crafting is at the heart of this game, there are still PLENTY of opportunities for roleplaying and adventure, providing a unique without ever having to worry about losing your character or progress in the process.

Immerse yourself in a world teeming with life, potentially encountering enemies and adventurers during your journeys, while also getting to know your fellow townsfolk. Participate in holidays and special events, such as the Battle of the Bards and Heart of the Forge Competition, that test your skills in creative new ways, while also ensuring that there is never a dull moment.

Every aspect of play leads to new experiences that also affect the world around you. Watch as your small town evolves into a grand city or bustling trade hub, due to your continued efforts to help out your community!

Writing and playtesting have been completed, and it’s currently in the editing phase. The Kickstarter is currently at 25% as of writing this, but I’m hoping to reach the goal before November 10th, so that I can fund the very talented artist and graphic/layout designer who are waiting to take the game to the next level!

Here is some quick, additional info about the game itself

14 Playable Lineages - with classics such as Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Goblins, and Halflings, along with original ones like Squalosone (Shark people) and Goltha (four-armed, tall and muscular people)

4 Playable Classes - Traditional, Mystical, Inventive, and Smooth

20 Crafting Related Skills with 4 ranks each, providing further bonuses - Novice, Journeyman, Adept, Mastery

34 Talents to choose from, to further customize and cater to your playstyle

200+ Items to craft, sell, and equip - with inspired crafted items being the most power in the game

Upgradeable shop and town through a combination of coin, materials, and renown

Simple d20 system broken into 3 parts: Crafting - d20 + bonuses determine quality of creations; Exploration - d20 + bonuses determine degrees of success or failure when challenged; (Optional) Combat - Opposed d20 + bonuses, letting players attack AND defend

The Quickstart for Tales of Forge & Fortune is finally here! Get a small taste of what you can expect from this Cozy Fantasy Smithing TTRPG system, and back it on Kickstarter Today!

Itch.io FREE Download

DriveThruRPG FREE Download

Kickstarter Page

176 notes · View notes

gingerteawrites · 1 month ago

Text

PIRATE - GOJO SATORU

A/N: I was studying last night and at some point the pirates of Caribbean soundtrack came up on my playlist. And I just couldn't shake the image is Gojo being a pirate, so this brain of mine HAD to write something about it.

Content: Gojo x female reader, sfw

Pirate!Gojo whose name is feared across the seven seas. The blue-eyed devil is his moniker, a man known for his unsatiable ambition and terrifying strength. Even the royal navy had resorted to avoiding him, too prideful to walk away from yet another defeat at sea.

This mighty reputation brought as much admiration as it did vitriol. From those who envied his great fortune, to others who sought to discover the secrets of his strength.

Disguised as a lowly sailor, Pirate!Gojo slipped into the crowded bar in dire need of alcohol, and perhaps company for the night.

When you approached with the wooden jug full of beer, he had expected for you to offer more intimate services. That was the norm for him, after all. But you delivered the drink and walked away without as much as a second look, and he grew intrigued beyond belief.

Pirate!Gojo who spends the evening watching you. Quietly working in the raucous bar, slipping in-between groggy men and putrid sailors. You had not stopped once to talk with anyone. Not even the other girls who seemed to be endless chatterboxes. You did not seem like the shy type, but neither did you have the attitude of haughty women.

Pirate!Gojo whose need for the booze slowly subsides, giving rise to a need for you. Of discovering what laid behind the mask of silence. He leaves his quiet corner for the bar, set on breaking your shell. The notion of a challenge always made his blood grow warm. Excitement at the opportunity to test your limits. Or maybe his own.

Unfortunately for him, a drunk man recognizes the tufts of white hair peeking from under his scarf, and charges at him angrily, shouting about a stolen loot during an encounter years ago. Chaos mounts in the small space, with everyone hoping to land a hit on the famed sea devil.

Pirate!Gojo who is utterly astounded when you grab his hand and help him slip out of the bar with a stealth worthy of praise. In the shadows of the night he observes your face, a pleased smile pulling at his lips.

“I owe you one, missy.” He comments when you finally let go of his hand. “Though I don’t know why you would venture to help the blue-eyed devil.”

“I expect compensation.” He is thrown into a fit of laughter when the words exit your mouth

“Well I guess that is to be expected.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Name your price.”

A list of possible options ran through his mind. Gold coins? Maybe jewelry… What could someone like you possibly be after?

“You.” He blinked at your words, not sure if he heard correctly.

“Did you say me, little lady?” You took a step, closing the distance between the two of you.

What a daring display of recklessness he mused. Hadn’t you heard the stories? Didn’t you know how strong he was? How easy he could kill?

“I want you, Gojo Satoru. That is my price.”

Pirate!Gojo who finds himself enamored by the fire behind your eyes. By the daring boldness. By the sentiment behind your actions, that did not seem to stem from the blind worship women approached him with.

Pirate!Gojo who does not realize he is falling to his demise, letting you join the crew. Letting himself into your arms. Letting you so close. Because there was only one thing that BountyHunter!Reader was truly after, and that was Gojo’s head.

Hehe, I was genuinely evil cackling while writing this. Please let me know what you think!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

#jjk #jjk x reader #gingerteawrites #jujutsu kaisen #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #satoru #jujustu kaisen #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #jjk imagines #jjk angst #jjk fluff

101 notes · View notes

d4isywhims · 4 months ago

Text

🚨 breaking news: vandeleur heir is seeking love!

submissions officially closed!!!

more details on our bachelor here <3

heir to the vandeleur fortune, arvin is brimming with excitement at the prospect of a life steeped in luxury. however, there’s a catch: he must find a partner to uphold the vandeleur legacy, as mandated by the patriarch, victor vandeleur. arvin hatches a plan to create a bachelor challenge for himself. after all, his father never specified that he had to marry for love—he can secure a beautiful partner and a lavish lifestyle, a true win-win. besides, old victor vandeleur is blissfully unaware of his son’s machinations. he’s staunchly resistant to social media, much to the chagrin of his children and new trophy wife, who find it utterly absurd. as for arvin’s sister, delphine? she’s too furious to engage with their father, harboring resentment over not inheriting a single coin. with all this chaos, arvin thinks his plan is foolproof. What could possibly go wrong?

more info below!

i will be carrying out this challenge based on the original rules by @xurbansimsx, but with a few added twists of my own :)

🏅 challenge events

there will be three events that feature a skill challenge! i won’t tell what the challenges are but you might be able to guess based on the events i have planned (list of events are on this google doc that i hastily prepared 😌). the winner of each challenge will get an intimate one-on-one time with the bachelor after the event which lasts for 1 in game hour. other than the challenge, events will be used to mingle around!

🎭 elimination

after a challenge event and the speed dates, elimination will be held where arvin will send two contestants home. the contestant with the lowest romantic relationship bar will be eliminated. the cycle repeats until we have the last two contestants!

❤️‍🔥 woohoo/romantic interactions

woohoo is strictly not allowed until the final 2 contestant remains. arvin will be staying with the contestants at the vandeleur estate, but only friendly interactions are allowed. romantic interactions are only allowed during events, one-on-one time and dates. if a romantic interaction happens autonomously outside of these events, it happens 👀

💭 wants

as stated in the original rules, if the bachelor has a want (romantic or not) with a contestant, he is allowed to perform so at any given time.

there will be twelve contestants, submissions are on a first come first serve basis

female young adult sims. no occults this time, loves :(

any three in game traits allowed, except for the romantic trait. each contestant must have one negative trait (keeps the challenge interesting hehe)

must have likes/dislikes

go crazy with your sim’s background! :D

give them occupations if you want to, but this will only be for storytelling purposes. we wouldn’t want our contestants leaving in the middle of a date 😔

you have 12 points to distribute to any skill(s) of your choice (read: list of events). you can also list down their traits + points in their introduction post and i’ll gladly set their skills for you :D

use all the cc you want, but preferably maxis match/maxis mix simmies 🫶🏼

all outfits are optional (i can dress your simmies up for events/dates if you want! but it would be fun to see the contestant’s personal style hehe)

poses might be used here and there for a bit of storytelling

your sims might look a bit different in my game due to my defaults, but i’ll try to keep them as is the best i can!

tray files for the sim downloads, please :)

aaaand i think that’s about it! apologies for the lengthy post T_T submissions are open until the 20th of october or until i have all twelve contestants. but i might extend if i need to :) i’m so excited for this as this is my first EVER bachelor challenge :D credits to @flocy-sims’ nafisa and @bloomingkyras’ gemma for inspiring me! go check them out 🫶🏼

don’t forget to tag me @d4isywhims and use #hearts4arvin in your submission so i can reblog! :D and also keep track

list of contestants:

1. larissa harrison by @bloomingkyras

2. clementine strafford by @channyology

3. [reserved] by @flocy-sims

4. luna convington by @simsinfinitylt

5. cynthia gray by @honeysylvan

6. melissa tucker by @aliengirl

7. francesca williams by @ruthplaysthesims

8. cora vinson by @jazzy-jazzsims

9. everly malone by @simlish-clouds

10. lourdes jaleel harper by @akitasimblr

11. averie ocampo-muñez by @squeezesublime

12. ashley evans by @linalinsims

#hearts4arvin #*arvin #ts4 bachelor challenge #the sims 4 bachelor challenge #the sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 gameplay #ts4 gameplay #maxis match

139 notes · View notes

akitasimblr · 6 months ago

Text

yay! household four starts with good omens! someone will join the team ☀️☀️☀️

who can it be? well, it's not that difficult to guess...

it's ava landry! the one and only!! welcome back, girl!

oh my, and dodo starts flirting right away!! 😉

and while hailey tells her fellow islanders about the unlucky days of last houselhold, shay starts blowing kisses to dodo, because that's why we're here, right? 😁

oh, yes! and dodo and alejandro being bros 😎

the paranoia started! oh yes, i missed you paranoid pixels!! 😂😂😂

the first bladder failure medal goes too... ariah!!

ava decides to go hunt... seaguls? really? are you that hungry?

tasks have been defined! tempest is taking care of the fishing; dr johannes asked for a proper challenge, so the watcher told him to catch mermaids... 😎 shay didn't listen to the watcher's words and went looking for dolphins! and hazel is planting pineapples!!

dodo is cooking again, so... 🤢🤢🤢 ava is now trying to collect some coins... ariah is building sand castles and hailey is setting her tongue on fire!!

tempest flirts with dodo by the fire. seconds next, shay appears shouting about them all being under surveillance or something... and'. tempest is clearly thinking to herself 'duh, we're on a bachelor, shay...'

kuddos for ariah who discovered the waterfall! and more applauses for shay who keeps flirting with dodo in every opportunity!

what, poisonous ghosts and deadly machetes? that is what dr johannes calls 'small talk'! alejandro was too way too at ease with dr rodes crazy stories; tempest, on the other hand was getting a bit worried... 😁

i think ava was evaluating dr johannes' fortune... not sure he is a man of treasures, ava 😂

no idea why dr johannes is being mean to dodo... i think it had to do with some bad joke from dodo...

oi! where are you going??? 😟😟😟

🌴previous | next🌴

@whyeverr @joleyssims @igotsnothing

@linalinsims @panicsimss

@doglover-trait @changingplumbob @shmoodlet

#mad about dodo #orlando harper #johannes roder by whyeverr #hazel arias by joleyssims #alejandro flores by igotsnothing #ariah davis by linalinsims #tempest graves vatore by panicsimss #hailey heath by doglover trait #shay mcclain by changingplumbob #ava landry by shmoodlet #twgif

122 notes · View notes

city-of-ladies · 1 month ago

Text

Though Qutlugh Turkan (c. 1208/1213–1283) began her life as a slave, she rose to become a ruler in her own right, ushering in a golden age for her lands.

A resourceful wife

Qutlugh Turkan was likely born in Transoxania between 1208 and 1213. She was enslaved as a child, purchased by a merchant from Isfahan, and given an excellent education. In 1235, she married Qutb al-Din Muhammad, the nephew of Buraq Hajib, the founder of the ruling dynasty of Kerman (in present-day Iran), a local power that emerged after the Mongol invasions.

After Buraq’s death, the Mongol Great Khan Ögedei granted Kerman to Buraq’s son, prompting Turkan and her husband to move to Transoxania. During this period, her intelligence and resourcefulness proved vital to her husband’s survival, earning him the of the local nobility.

In 1252, Qutb al-Din was installed as the ruler of Kerman. When he died five years later, it was time for Turkan to step into power.

Queen of a golden age

Turkan assumed control of Kerman in 1257, even though her husband’s male heirs were alive. The transition appears to have been smooth, with little opposition to a woman ascending the throne. She quickly established her authority, dispatching gifts to secure recognition of her rule.

Initially, Hulegu Khan granted her authority only over civil affairs, but Turkan’s persistence won her full control, including military oversight. She ruled independently for 26 years, a period celebrated as a golden age for the region of Kerman. The khutbah (Friday sermon) was proclaimed in her name in mosques, and her name appeared on coins.

Her reign brought stability and economic prosperity. Turkan was known for her equitable administration of justice and her benevolence. During times of famine, she opened the granaries to feed her people. She also initiated major building projects, including a madrasa, a hospital, a mosque, and fortified borders with new fortresses.

Coin minted during Turkan's reign

Challenges and Deposition

Turkan forged alliances with the Mongols, even marrying her daughter Padishah Khatun to Abaqa Khan, the ruler of Iran starting in 1265. She also sent troops led by her stepson (or possibly her biological son) Hijaj Sultan to support Abaqa.

However, Hijaj turned against her, publicly mocking her with this verse:

Young are your destiny and star, but old is your fortune; the one that is old should make way for the young.

Turkan sought Abaqa’s support and was reaffirmed as the ruler of Kerman. Hijaj’s attempt to depose her failed, forcing him to flee to Delhi, where he died a decade later.

Turkan’s fortunes changed with Abaqa’s death. His successor, Tegüder Ahmad, granted Kerman to her stepson, Suyurghatmish, ending her rule in 1282. Her efforts to reclaim the throne were unsuccessful and she died shortly afterward in a city in northern Iran.

Turkan’s daughter, Padishah Khatun later reclaimed the throne and ruled Kerman in her turn.

Enjoyed this post? You can support me on Ko-fi!

Further reading

De Nicola Bruno, Women in Mongol Iran: The Khatuns 1206-1335

Mernissi Fatima, The Forgotten queens of Islam

“QOTLOḠ TARKĀN ḴĀTUN”, Encyclopedia Iranica

#Qutlugh Turkan #history #women in history #women's history #historyedit #13th century #medieval women #ruling queens #queens #powerful women #iran #iranian history #kerman #central asian history

68 notes · View notes

rainystarters · 2 years ago

Text

* ☔ : action prompts inspired by FANTASY, NOBILITY, ETC. some prompts are usfw. add reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. ( adjust scenarios or specify details as needed. )

crown of dawn. sender swears their fealty to the receiver.

crown of silver. sender congratulates the receiver on their political engagement, hiding their true affection for the receiver.

crown of midnight. sender dances with the receiver at a masquerade.

crown of glass. sender meets the receiver while their true identity is concealed.

crown of shadows. sender controls the receiver through magic or blackmail, making them their pawn so they can rule from the background.

crown of ink. sender meets the receiver for the first time after they are joined in an arranged marriage.

crown of starlight. sender kneels before the receiver to receive a boon.

crown of rot. sender accuses the receiver of failing their people.

crown of sorrow. sender tells the receiver they are the new lord/queen/etc. as those ahead of them in the line of succession have died.

crown of blood. sender stands before the receiver to be judged for their crimes.

crown of lies. sender accuses the receiver of not being the true heir.

crown of thorns. sender crowns the receiver after killing the previous ruler.

crown of nightshade. sender consumes a poisoned drink meant for the receiver.

---

wand of bone. sender uses necromancy to raise the receiver's companions from to dead to aid the sender in fighting against the receiver.

wand of ivy. sender ensnares the receiver in a net of living vines.

wand of twilight. sender conjures the spirit of the receiver from the land of the dead to speak with them.

wand of clouds. sender infiltrates the receiver's dreams to learn their desires.

wand of portals. sender summons the receiver to their world.

wand of resurrection. sender brings the receiver back to life.

wand of memory. sender clouds the receiver's mind so they don't leave.

wand of blossoms. sender grows flowers in the receiver's hair.

wand of salt. sender heals the receiver's wounds.

wand of leaves. sender asks the receiver to read their fortune.

wand of lightning. sender conjures a storm to impede the receiver.

wand of masks. sender crosses paths with the receiver while disguised as them.

wand of flesh. sender wounds the receiver to fuel their blood magic.

---

sword of honor. sender challenges the receiver to a duel to decide an argument.

sword of moons. sender wakes up to discover the receiver pressing a blade against the sender's throat.

sword of sacrifice. sender takes a deadly attack meant for the receiver.

sword of wrath. sender kills the receiver's loved one(s) as they watch.

sword of loyalty. sender executes someone at the receiver's command.

sword of blessings. sender asks the receiver to bless their weapon before battle.

sword of madness. sender tries to stop the receiver's bloodthirsty rage.

sword of ruin. sender tortures the receiver for information.

sword of defeat. sender surrenders to the receiver after a hard-fought battle.

sword of ash. sender asks the receiver to kill them for failing the receiver.

sword of spite. sender twists their weapon deeper into the receiver's wound.

sword of wind. sender quickly kills an enemy before they attack the receiver.

sword of betrayal. sender stabs the receiver in the back.

---

card of misfortune. sender catches the receiver trying to pick their pocket.

card of coins. sender buys the receiver a drink at a tavern.

card of vipers. sender meets the receiver in a thieves' den.

card of fools. sender finds the receiver caught in a trap, magical or otherwise.

card of iron. sender recognizes the receiver from a wanted poster.

card of vultures. sender is caught looting a dead body by the receiver.

card of songs. sender asks a bard to sing a ballad about the receiver.

card of keys. sender picks a lock to help the receiver escape.

card of winter. sender finds the receiver dying of frostbite and gathers them in their arms to warm them.

card of dust. sender finds the receiver asleep over a book and wakes them.

card of stars. sender keeps the receiver company during first watch at camp.

card of crows. sender warns the receiver they're being followed but that the sender can protect them—for a fee.

card of twine. sender stitches a wound shut for the receiver.

---

heart of virtue. sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's hand.

heart of devotion. sender slips their signet ring onto the receiver's finger.

heart of roses. sender gives the receiver a token of their favor before a tourney.

heart of thrones. sender kneels before the receiver to pleasure them.

heart of destiny. sender tells the receiver they are fated or reincarnated lovers.

heart of honey. sender intimately feeds the receiver by hand.

heart of darkness. sender cloaks themselves and the receiver in shadows so they can kiss in public.

heart of stone. sender asks the receiver to be their lover as they can't marry.

heart of gold. sender renounces their title to be with the receiver.

heart of wolves. sender intimately licks blood from the receiver's body.

heart of knives. sender cuts the clothes from the receiver's body, unable to wait.

heart of dusk. sender meets the receiver in secret to be together.

heart of embers. sender initiates intimacy to keep the receiver warm.

#rp memes #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #sentence starters #rp prompts #action rp memes

1K notes · View notes

feeder86 · 1 year ago

Text

Wish Upon a Weight Gain

“Okay, let’s make this more interesting,” smiled the party girl, eyeing the assortment of scruffy notes and coins in the middle of the table.

“I’m out! I haven’t got any more cash on me, anyway” laughed Dirk, getting up to grab another beer from the noisy kitchen and abandoning his cards.

“I’m out too,” Danielle sighed, throwing her cards down on the table in resignation.

“What do you mean by… interesting?” Matty asked, intrigued. Having been abandoned by his roommate, Josh, he’d followed his crush, Danielle, to the corner of the room, playing poker with a couple of other people he’d never even met before. He’d lost the last seven rounds, waiting for an opportunity like this; feigning ignorance of the game and pretending to be a lot more drunk than he actually was.

The girl turned to him and smiled, seeing that everyone else had given up. “Bet me something more extreme… Say, five years of your life?”

Matty hooted in laughter. He might have known from her alternative style that Heather was into some freaky voodoo shit. However, she seemed entirely convinced of herself as she made this as a suggestion for Matty’s next bet. He looked around for someone else to laugh with about the idea; instead seeing that they were now entirely alone at the table.

“Maybe,” Matty smirked with a shrug. “It’s all bullshit anyway. But what do I get in return?”

“A wish,” Heather replied, pulling out a tiny birthday cake sized candle and holding it between her finger and thumb.

“I’d rather the cash,” Matty grumbled, feeling that he had wasted the opportunity to fleece this weird girl earlier.

“Alright,” Heather smiled brightly, placing a further fifty bucks down on the table, then holding out her hand to shake on it.

“You’re on!” Matty cheered, reaching his hand in quickly and shaking firmly before she could come to her senses. Then he pulled his hand away and deliberately knocked over a leftover bottle of beer, pretending not to even notice in his drunken state. “Show me what you’ve got then,” he insisted, letting his eyes roll a little in his head.

Heather sat up straight and spread her cards: Four of a kind.

“Ah… shit!” Matty groaned, pretending to squint to even see the cards. “You got me!”

Heather beamed, beginning to sweep the cash with her arm until Matty’s steady hand reached in and stopped her. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he let his own cards drop with a strange authority onto the table: a straight flush. “Actually, I think that’s my cash!” he laughed, suddenly a lot more sobre.

Heather immediately picked up the cards and searched through the rest of the deck. Whatever method she had been using to win those last few rounds, Matty’s demeanor had clearly made her too complacent to see him as an actual challenge. “That’s not possible!” she stuttered, before seeming to sigh and realise that she had indeed made some sort of error in her own method.

Heather stood up, more frustrated than angry, regarding Matty with contempt as he sang happily to himself, stuffing his new cash into his pockets.

“Fine! Whatever!” she growled in resignation. “Make your wish then,” she snapped, pulling out a lighter and igniting the tiny candle.

Matty scoffed and turned to walk away.

“I’ve lit the candle now, buddy. You’ve got to make a wish,” Heather warned him. “It was part of the bet.”

Still beaming with his own good fortune, Matty decided to humour the strange girl. “What should I wish for?” he asked with a little merry flirtation.

“Whatever your simple little mind wants,” Heather replied impatiently. “Why don’t you start with her?” she suggested, nodding her head over at Danielle. “You’ve been checking her out all night.”

“I don’t need a wish to get girls,” Matty laughed.

“She’s not interested in you, and you know it,” Heather shot back spitefully. “But… make the wish and she’s all yours,” she explained, holding the small candle close to Matty’s face and waiting for him to blow it out.

Despite his good looks, Matty knew that he actually wasn’t getting anywhere with Danielle, just like Heather had noticed. She didn’t seem to be interested in his muscular physique and sporting prowess like the other girls. Not being able to scratch the itch he had for her was slowly killing him. He rolled his eyes in acceptance, then filled his lungs to blow out the candle.

At that moment, the roaring voice of Matty’s roommate, Josh, sang out from the kitchen as he dared one of the other guys to chug a jug of beer right to the very end.

The candle was extinguished.

With that, Heather collected her things and disappeared out of the house without a second glance.

As for the rest of that night, Matty couldn’t remember much. With his pockets full of cash, he drank beer late into the night and awoke the next morning in his dorm room with a particularly fuzzy head. His roommate, Josh, was already out for his run and Matty rolled over, feeling nothing but sorry for himself for the state that he was in.

“Morning, sleepy head!” Josh teased as he strolled back in, drenched in a sweat that made his sleeveless shirt stick to his powerful chest. He pulled it off and threw it over to Matty, hitting him straight in the face.

Matty recoiled and pushed the sweaty shirt off his bed using as little of his hand as possible. “Ugh! That’s gross!” he lied, trying his best to conceal the man crush he had on his roommate. As usual he tried to avoid looking at the shirtless hunk in the middle of the room: a strapping 6 ‘6 twenty year old; muscular, broad and powerful in every conceivable way, yet with the prettiest face and deep, soulful eyes imaginable. His only option was to throw his duvet over his head and turn his back on him; genuinely feeling like this was the worst hangover of his life.

“Feeling rough, huh?” Josh asked in his deep, lightly mocking voice. “I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen anyone chug beers like you did last night!”

With his eyes closed, Matty allowed himself to just appreciate how much his head was banging. Josh’s assertion about the amount of beer he had consumed made complete sense.

“Did you come back here last night?” Matty asked from under his duvet. “Or did you get lucky?”

“Well, I probably would have got lucky, had I not had to put you to bed at three this morning,” he laughed.

Internally, Matty sighed. He hated getting so drunk that he couldn’t remember things. What if he had rambled about his crush on Danielle? Or worse, what if he had accidentally let Josh know that he had a thing for him as well? “I’m sorry, buddy,” he grumbled, uncovering his head from the duvet. “I don’t know why I let myself get so drunk. I didn’t mean to spoil your evening.”

Josh shrugged as he grabbed his dumbbells and began pumping. “It’s fine,” he smirked. “Your friend, Gemma, snuck into the bathroom to give me a blow job early on in the evening. That’s why I was missing for a little while.”

“Gemma?” Matty asked with surprise. “She a bit too…you know… for the likes of you.” he tried awkwarkly. However, it was completely true: Gemma was heavier than most of the guys on the football team and not the type of girl a guy like Josh would be expected to have fun with.

Still pumping his weights, Josh’s grin was shining through. “I’ve told you before, man. If you want a decent blow job, you can’t go wrong with a fatty. The more cake and hot dogs they can stuff down their throats, the better they are at giving head. I came, like, three times!”

Matty knew that no one else saw this side of Josh, apart from him. To everyone else, Josh was the outstandingly handsome football jock; with good manners and from a decent, successful New York family. But, in the privacy of their shared room, Josh could also tell Matty endless tales of his kinky exploits with girls; never failing to cash in on his good looks for a fun ride with women of all shapes and sizes. Perhaps that was the reason why Matty had started to be so attracted to him in a way that he never had for another guy before. Although, he couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for the many girls who ended up on his kinky radar.

“Does that mean you’ll be seeing her again?” Josh asked with a slight pang of jealousy.

“I promised I’d take her out for some ice cream today,” Josh chuckled to himself. “Fat girls love ice cream! She’ll probably eat about ten of them, then I’ll bring her back here for an hour or so, about seven this evening.”

Matty nodded. That was his cue to be out of the room before seven that night. In which case, he needed to get himself feeling more human, and fast!

“Woah, what’s up with you?” the football coach frowned, seeing Matty’s time on the shuttle run two weeks later. “Is that the best you can do?”

An exhausted Matty bent over and leaned on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t believe that Coach wasn’t impressed by that. He’d never put so much effort into running before.

“We need to work on your fitness,” Coach stated without a hint of humour in his voice. “You need to spend less time partying and more time training,”

“Seriously?” Matty asked, perplexed. Usually, it was only Josh who could outrun him on the entire team. He opened his mouth to ask why he was being singled out like this, when he felt a hard thwack on his rear. ‘Perfect Josh’ had just finished his laps and was slowing down without even appearing to break a sweat.

“How was that, Coach?” Josh asked; his large hands on his powerful hips and strutting back over to them, already knowing that he’d bested every one of the other boys.

Not being known for his modesty, Josh was sure to taunt all of them as they made it back to the changing rooms, pulling his shirt off for no real reason than to show off his powerful body. Usually, Matty was all in with going along with it, but something didn’t quite feel right that night. He’d struggled more than usual with the training and his muscles were aching from the effort he had been putting in. He also sensed a strange feeling amongst the group of guys, as if they were judging him somehow; his skills questioned and his ability in doubt. After the shower, he felt the eyes of all of them on him and he dressed himself quietly in the corner as fast as he could. He’d packed some jeans for afterwards so that he could head straight out for a date with a girl he’d met in one of his new classes. He wriggled into them with surprising awkwardness. Asssuming that he was still slightly wet after the shower, he pulled at the waistband and tried again. Yet, still the jeans refused to button with their usual ease, and Matty found himself sucking in and grimacing until they at last closed. Not wanting to look down, he threw the t-shirt over his head and stuffed the rest of his things into his bag, heading straight out.

The date has been a flop. Matty wasn’t really in the mood and his conversation had been dull. The girl wasn’t his usual type, so he didn’t feel bad when they parted without so much as a kiss, yet he still headed back to his room feeling a little deflated. So lost in his own world, he hadn’t noticed Josh’s message to not come back early and he suddenly walked straight into the room, seeing his roommate Josh passionately having sex with the biggest girl he’d ever known the stud to show interest in.

Still in the moment, Josh glanced back in annoyance but didn’t stop thrusting with his powerful hips. However, the big girl, down on all fours, looked back in horror at the intrusion and it was then that Matty noticed the strange facial attire Josh had put on her face: a little round pig nose. At the same time, her mouth was smeared with what appeared to be chocolate sauce and there were many different empty packets and plates of food littered around the room.

Matty ripped his feet from the spot he had been frozen to and left as fast as he could, heading to the kitchen area and safety. He stayed there for a little while, trying to get the images he had seen out of his head. He knew that Josh got up to all sorts of kinky things when he wasn’t there, but seeing an example of it in real life was something entirely different. He wondered what the rest of the team would think if they knew Josh had a taste for women as big as that.

It was only ten minutes later when Matty heard their door open and saw a large girl slipping out; trotting off down the corridor as if worried she may bump into him after being caught out like that. Josh left the room moments later and strutted down the corridor to the kitchen, wiping his thick, luscious hair away from his sweaty brow. Dressed in only his underwear, it was obvious from the glistening skin on his muscular body that he had just returned from having sex. He smiled conspiratorially at Matty as he saw him in the kitchen and headed straight to the sink to fill a glas of water and drained two of them back to back. “Didn’t you get my message?” he finally asked.

Matty shook his head. “I forgot to check my phone,” he replied apologetically.

“No worries,” Josh shrugged, filling his glass once more. “What did you think?”

“Think of what?” Matty asked, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

“Of Emily, of course!” Josh laughed.

“Is that her name?” Matty mumbled. “She’s pretty… big,” he answered shyly.

Josh nodded slowly and made a noise of approval. “Almost 400lbs,” he grinned. “Well, possibly over that, after tonight. The room’s a mess. She ate like a real little piggy for me tonight, as you probably saw.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Matty asked next, trying to resist the urge to stare at the twitching in Josh’s crotch that he’d noticed in the corner or his eye when the handsome guy spoke about the size of his date.

Josh simply smiled and made the most casual of nods. “Trust me. Once you date a fatty, there’s no going back!” Despite everything, the man seemed genuinely pleased that Matty had walked in on them; as if he was secretly delighted to have a witness for his biggest conquest yet. He reached in the refrigerator and pulled out one his beers for Matty. “Here, have one of these and give me another five minutes to tidy up,” he insisted, already slowly strutting back to the room and giving Matty the best view of his large, muscular butt. “That piggy made a big mess tonight!”

Over the next few days, Matty noticed that many other items of his clothes were starting to fit him strangely. It wasn’t just his jeans that he was struggling to put on, but other pants and even a few of his more fitted underwear. It didn’t take a genius to work out that he’d put on a few pounds. He could feel it in his stomach and in the softening up of his butt. He’d bulked too hard a couple of summers ago and saw those old familiar puffy cheeks returning to his face. However, back then, he had been consuming upwards of six thousand calories in a day in an effort to pack on muscle for the team. However, right now, he hadn’t changed anything about his diet and already he had gained thirty pounds of what appeared to be pure fat all over his body.

His pecs had filled out more and the six pack he’d been so proud of had slowly slid away under the depths of a little round paunch that was bloating up each day. The fat was there in his neck and under his chin, jiggling in his thighs and filling up his tight glutes. He’d skipped training, horrified by the extra pounds on his own reflection in the mirror, and feigning illness in order to stay at home. He trained alone in the gym across the weekend, yet still managed to put on another five pounds by the following week.

“I need some help,” Matty finally admitted the next weekend as even his loosest t-shirts failed to conceal the strange tire of fat that was beginning to spread just below his belly button.

“What sort of help?” Josh asked distinterestedly, scrolling through his cell phone at the same time.

Matty couldn’t bring himself to say the words and so he decided to rip the bandaid off in one go, removing his t-shirt and standing there for Josh to see the entirety of his weight gain.

Josh was silent. Stunned. He gazed across, his mouth half-open. “What… the fuck..?” he finally muttered.

Matty didn’t reply but took a deep breath and simply prepared himself for whatever Josh was about to say to him. Nothing could be worse than what he had said to himself when he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to hear it. It would motivate him to try and get a handle on his weight. It would push him harder on the treadmill and ensure he didn’t skip his crunches before bed each night.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Josh asked, standing up from his bed and gazing at Matty’s chubby torso. “You got… you got FAT!”

“I know…” Matty nodded shamefully. His hand immediately went to rub the top part of his distended stomach as if to comfort himself. “I don’t know how it happened!”

“How did I not notice this?” Josh asked, actually reaching out and grabbing at the soft love handle that was starting to flop over Matty’s tight waistband. “Is this why you’ve been wearing those big sweaters?”

Matty nodded. “I didn’t know what else to do!”

“What the fuck have you been eating, man?” Josh asked, perplexed.

“Only what I normally eat!” Matty answered him.

“I don’t think so!” Josh laughed at last. “You don’t put on this much fat by eating a regular diet. Trust me, I should know. Your ass is just…” he marvelled, reaching his big hand out to cup it.

“What do I do about it, though?” Matty questioned, turning to face Josh instead.

“Do about it?” Josh asked, as if he did not understand the question.

“How do I lose it?”

Josh looked puzzled for a moment. “Well, I suppose you stop skipping football training for a start, Fatass!” he teased. “Seriously, dude! What the fuck have you been eating?” he laughed, reaching his hand out again to grab at Matty’s lovehandle again.

Matty sighed and bent down to pick his t-shirt back up and slipped it over his torso once more. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you!” he grumbled in irritation. “I knew you’d just make fun!”

“Make fun? Me!” Josh smiled with false surprise at the acusation. “Really, Fatty, I thought you knew me better than that?”

One part of Matty wanted to cry, yet the other longed to just laugh at Josh’s comical face as he couldn’t help but find Matty’s sudden weight gain such an amusing turn of events. “You’re such a bad friend, you know that?” Matty spat teasingly at Josh.

“Oh, I really don’t think you should be the one throwing around insults right now, do you?” Josh chuckled back, stabbing Matty in his middle with his outstreched finger. Then he looked down at his cell phone, seeing he’d had a new message. “Gotta run,” he smiled, patting Matty’s butt one last time before slipping out of the door.

Matty played the waiting game over the next few days. He cut his caloiries as much as he could and worked out as hard as possible in the tiny shared room. Meanwhile, Josh showed no sign of offering advice or support. He merely looked across at Matty’s body with a strange, superior sense of satisfaction. Josh had always enjoyed teasing him and as the days went on, his name-calling only became more imaginative and even crude. Yet, he always said these things in a way that ensured Matty never really took any true offense to them; that humour of his always shielding him from being taken too seriously.

Unfortunately for Matty, nothing he did seemed to work. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror one morning and saw that even his nipples had started to become pointed. The fat that had begun to fill his stomach had become especially pronounced at the top of his new belly, rounding out the initial paunch he had developed into a full blown gut. It was disgusting! He’d been in serious trouble at training, not keeping up with any of the guys at all, and it came as no surprise that he hadn’t been selected for the team for the third week in a row.

“What are you doing?” Matty asked Josh as his nose caught the scent of the packaging his roommate was opening in the bed opposite him.

“What? Me?” Josh grinned. “I’m just enjoying a few delicious donuts before bed.” He took a big bite of one and moaned in appreciation, closing his eyes to appreciate the flavours on his tongue.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” Matty grumbled. “You know I can’t eat shit like that.”

“Who said anything about you eating my donuts?” Josh laughed, delighted that he was getting to his roommate. “But, all right then. If you insist, Fatboy. I’ll give you a donut.”

From across the room, a donut flew over to Matty’s bed and landed, right side up, on the sheets. “Don’t! They’re sticky!” Matty argued back, picking it up immediately and surveying the greasy damage. That sugar really did smell good. He stared down at the treat; his mouth already watering.

“Go on, Fatty. Take a bite!” Josh teased him.

“We both know I can’t. Coach will kill me,” Matty sighed back.

“Fuck him. Take a bite,” Josh repeated.

“None of my old pants even fit me!” Matty argued in response.

“We’ll get you new ones. Just take a bite.

His resistance ebbing away, Matty took a small bite and closed his eyes to enjoy the taste of his first sugary treat in weeks.

“Mmm! Tastes good, doesn’t it, Fatty?” Josh chirped from across the room. Finish it off.”

Matty knew he was falling for whatever twisted mockery Josh was conducting on him. The guys in the changing rooms would probably hear all about it in the morning, but, at that moment, he didn’t care. He closed his eyes and took another large bite.

“FUCK!” Josh marvelled from his bed, seemingly caught off guard by the size of the bite Matty had taken. He watched as his roommate finished the donut by pushing the last of it into his greedy mouth.

Plop. Another donut expertly landed on Matty’s bed and he stared back in surprise.

“Come on, Fatty. Don’t stop there. You know you want it. You’ve already fucked up your diet plan today. What’s one more?”

Accepting the logic of that, Matty shrugged. Why not just have another? This time, he took it in two bites and opened his eyes as the large muscular bulk of Josh came to sit down on the edge of his bed. In his hands sat the remainder of the donuts he had bought.

“Next,” Josh grinned, holding out another donut. There was an odd twinkle in his eye and a devilish excitement on his face that Matty hadn’t seen since he’d heard Josh talking about the largest girl he had ever fucked.

Before Matty knew anything else, he saw the donut heading towards his mouth and he reached a hand out to hold it just after it arrived, pressing at his lips. There was something about this situation. This didn’t seem like something normal roommates got up to.

“Let me hold it for you,” Josh insisted as the fourth donut made its way to Matty’s lips.

Matty opened his mouth and allowed Josh to push the sugary treat inside, then chewed. As the final half was pushed in, Matty felt Josh’s fingers crossing into his mouth, stuffing it in as deep as he could without choking him.

“How was that?” Josh asked, as Matty swallowed the last of it down; all donuts now consumed, and a complemplative silence existing within the room.

“Good,” Matty nodded, feeling the tension between them both.

“You did well,” Josh nodded, staring without embarrassment straight into Matty’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Matty responded, unsure what else to say. Then he watched as the large football player got up and walked back to his own bed; all of his jokey bravado now gone.

The light switched off.

Nothing that Matty had done to control his weight appeared to be working. And so, as Josh began to make a habit of tempting him with little treats, Matty put up little resistance. His waistline grew further and those small hurdles that he had worried about were being overcome. His parents had been over to visit him one weekend and were surprised, alarmed and a little disgusted to see how much weight their boy had gained. Yet, the world had not ended. Matty had also been officially kicked off the football team for his lack of fitness, and the gossip around campus about how much weight he had gained had well and truly made its way into each and every dark corner. It was official. Matty was the fat guy now.

Despite everything that had happened to him over the last few months, there was only one thing that Matty couldn’t really explain, and that was his friendship with Josh. As Matty began to relax more into his new body shape, Josh seemed to become more tightly wound, like a spring. He must have spent much of his spare cash on beers and treats to tempt Matty with in the evenings, and the guy’s lovelife had become strangely more extreme. It was as if the jock was looking for the next big high. Matty noticed that the handsome stud no longer looked twice at the pretty, slim girls who flocked to flirt with him, seeking out only the most obese women in the city. He became known for it, with people on the campus finding it difficult to comprehend. Josh was almost as much of a freak as he was. But the fact that Josh had given up caring about what people thought of him made it all the easier for Matty to do the same. He was fat now. So what?

Matty often felt that Josh practised his demeanor on these fat women with him. There was a flirtation in his voice as he encouraged Matty to overeat and whenever he came back shirtless from the shower, Matty had the odd sensation that his fleshier parts were being checked out by the beautiful man.

“I know you,” Matty pointed, seeing the girl he had beaten at Poker a few months’ earlier. “I’ve not seen you at one of these parties in ages.”

Heather looked at Matty in confusion until recognition finally dawned on her face. “Is this seriously what you wished for?” she asked, poking her finger into Matty’s now quite extensive pot belly. “What a weird one!”

Matty had forgotten all about the wish he had supposedly been granted and he sat himself down at the table chuckling in recollection. “What a load of crap that was!” he sighed. “I’ve not even seen Danielle in weeks. She never was interested in me. And she certainly isn’t now.”

“It sounds like you fucked up your wish then,” Heather shot back, shuffling her cards and looking around, hoping that some curious partygoers would show an interest in joining her. “You must have lost your concentration and started thinking about something else.”

At that moment, Heather looked up and saw Josh chatting flirtatiously with an enormously obese girl he’d invited along that night; his broad back and muscular butt turned to them both, yet his large hand rubbed the girl’s enormous, blubbery rear.

“Oh!” she laughed, almost sympathetically. “You were thinking about him! Your roommate!” she pointed at Josh. “The dumb chubby chaser!”

“No I wasn’t!” Matty shot back indignantly. He had never uttered a word to anyone about his crush on Josh. No one.

“Yes you were!” Heather smirked. “You’re getting fat and as a result, little by little, he’s falling in love with you.” She eyed Josh carefully, as if peering into his very soul. “He’s a kinky bastard though. I hope you’ll be able to keep up with him!”

Matty didn’t believe a word of it, but the thought stunned him into silence nonetheless.

“I was so pissed at you that night you beat me at Poker. I’ve not lost a game since. Wanna play again? I’ll go easier on you to start with…”

“No, thanks,” Matty smirked, remembering how savagely Heather had won the early few games last time.

“Suit yourself,” Heather shrugged. “Let me do you a favour then,” she winked, before putting her fingers to her lips and whistling incredibly loudly to Josh. “Oi, Cutie. Come join us!”

Josh, never one to resist a cheeky callover, kissed the large girl on her cheek and then slid over to the table to see why he was wanted.

“What have you done to my friend here?” Heather asked accusingly. “Last time I saw him he was probably a hundred pounds lighter than this.”

Josh raised his eyebrows. “And that’s my fault?” he laughed, brushing his beautiful, thick hair off his face with a little nervousness in his voice.

“Are you saying you didn’t encourage him, even in the slightest?” Heather teased, seeming to know all.

“Well, I mean… I may have just… you know… a little,” he mumbled.

“Aw, aren’t you romantic?” Heather joked, rolling her eyes. “Listen, Romeo, dump your girl over there. She’s already texting the husband she’s been hiding from you,” she pointed over at the big lady behind them, quietly typing on her cell phone. “And go and take this fat boy out for some pizzas instead. I know you’ll like that. At the moment, he’s scaring off my customers!”

Josh got up from the table and slid behind his large girl without her noticing, clearly taking a quick peek at the message she was typing. Within seconds they were arguing. Had Heather been spot on with her assumption? Then, just like that, the enormous girl stormed out of the party.

“That’s your cue,” Heather nodded over to Matty. “Like I said, I hope you can handle him!”

Perplexed, Matty got up and walked over to Josh, who seemed annoyed and disappointed. “Want to get out of here?” he asked the handsome guy.

A few minutes later, and after many complaints from Josh about how much he had been strung along, he finally seemed to relax a little as the pair of them walked back through the middle of town. “So, who was that girl you were with? I’ve not seen her around here before. Is she someone you’re interested in?”

Matty scoffed at the idea. “Heather? No way!” he laughed. “She’s way too creepy for a start and, well, look at me. I’m too fat for a girl like that now. Although, I do think she might be a little bit psychic,” he conceded.

“Oh, come on. You don’t believe in all that crap, do you?” Josh chuckled.

Matty didn’t answer straight away, considering everything he had been told by Heather that evening. If anything she’d said was true, then it would explain absolutely everything that had been happening to him over the last few months. “So, are you taking me for some pizzzas then?” he asked to swiftly change the subject. “This new beer gut of mine needs some grub!”

Josh had laughed, but altered their course at the end of the next block, taking Matty to the pizzaria that often delivered to people on the campus. He strolled in first and ordered extra cheese on each of the three pizzas he’d requested, then sat down by a greasy table next to his roommate who tried to hand over some cash to pay for his share of the food. Josh refused. It was his treat.

When the food arrived, Josh claimed he was no longer hungry and still a little too frustrated by what had happened with his girl to even think about eating. Matty simply shrugged and began eating from the first pizza box, letting Josh ramble on about how many girls had messed him around in the last few months. Before he knew it, he was slipping the empty pizza box down underneath the others and starting on the next one. He didn’t know where his enormous appetite had come from, but ever since he had started gaining weight, he never seemed to get full like he used to. It was a Saturday night, he wasn’t counting calories.

“Are you serious?” Josh smirked, halting his rambling to watch as Matty slipped yet another empty box to the bottom and opened the third and final pizza. “You’re still hungry?” he asked, flabbergasted, despite the wicked twinkle in his eyes.

Matty shrugged. He didn’t think he was hungry, but he certainly wasn’t full either. He followed Josh’s gaze down to his torso, spotting that his shirt was straining against the ever increasing size of his stomach, loaded with everything he had already eaten. “Shit!” he chuckled to himself, seeing that his skin was showing between the straining buttons. But, with his hand already loaded with the next slice of pizza, he began eating it anyway, deciding that he should make this his last.

“I bet you can’t finish that whole pizza as well!” Josh stated daringly.

Matty chuckled at Josh’s naivety. “Oh, trust me, buddy. I could easily finish all this!” he countered, taking an extra big bite, as if to demonstrate.

“Five bucks says you can’t,” Josh stated next, reaching into his pocket to hold up a scrunched note.

“You’re on!” Matty smiled, knowing it would be the easiest income of his life. He doubled up his slices and, without even really thinking about it, consumed the entire third pizza in mere minutes, slapping his victorious hand down on the table to collect his winnings. “What’s for dessert?” he quipped.

The two boys walked back slowly to the dorms, partly because of how bloated Matty’s stomach was, although he didn’t really feel like he had eaten as much as he actually had done. “I’ve never seen anyone eat three whole pizzas like that,” Josh kept on saying, making Matty feel like he was becoming almost reacquainted with his previous masculine prowess, despite the fact that his pecs had slid into drooping, pointed nipples, resting on a shelf of stomach fat. “I’ve got some ice cream in the freezer if you want some of that when we get back?” he asked with surprising enthusiasm.

“Sure,” Matty nodded, quite taken by all the attention he was getting from Josh at that moment. So much so, that he took off his shirt the moment they made it back and stared into the hidden mirror within the closet door. He’d never seen his gut look bigger than this, nor his love handles so rounded and juicy.

“Look at you!” Josh cried in awe. “You’re getting huge! Even your arms are starting to go,” he noted, fluttering the fat at the back of Matty’s arms and watching the fresh lard flutter and rippled out, even onto the blubber that was spreading across his shoulder blades.

Matty turned in the mirror to get a look at his ass. Despite the sweat pants and elasticated waistbands, there had been no hiding the sheer width that had been developing back there. He thought back to his fine, pert little glutes of a few months earlier, realising that they had now swollen and grown to almost twice their size; squishy, with pure fat that had even spread down into his thighs and made them rub together when he walked.

As Matty gazed and studied himself in the mirror, he didn’t notice Josh slipping out to get the ice cream he had promised and returning to the room, slipping his own shirt off at the same time. “I didn’t think it was a full tub!” Matty laughed when the jock ripped open the lid.

“That’s not a problem, is it?” Josh chuckled back, digging the huge spoon in and holding the first load ready for Matty to eat.

Matty opened his mouth without even attempting to hold the spoon himself. It was like receiving his medicine; something that would make him so much better. Then, after a few more spoons, Josh slipped down onto his bed, making room for Matty to lie back with him against the headboard and eat some more from him. Matty would have followed him anywhere: that strapping chest and the scent of all his exposed skin now that he was shirtless too.

“Man, you eat like an absolute pig!” Josh laughed at how easily Matty was able to get the first half of the tub down.

Matty laughed as well, very used to the names Josh used to describe him. “You should put that little pig snout of yours on me,” he joked.

“You know about that?” Josh chuckled, without a hint of embarrassment. “I’ve got loads of kinky shit like that!” he smiled, delighted with himself. “But, the pig snout is definitely one of my favourites…” he teased, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling it out. He settled the ice cream carton down for a second and pulled the string over Matty’s face. Then, settling the snout over Matty’s nose, he looked on in appreciation and sighed with pleasure. “Much better!” he grinned. “Now you’re a proper pig!”

Matty had noticed Josh’s big, musular arm slip over his shoulder as he settled back into spoon feeding him now; his fingers gently caressing the new blubbery bulk at the tops of Matty’s own arms. But this gentle motion was driving him wild with a secret lust. He wanted to stay here forever, submitting to this perfect being; eating for him, gorging. Whatever he wanted. “I think I’m going to need something else after this ice cream,” he breathed, imagining all the women this gorgeous man had fucked whilst they were wearing this piggy snout.

“So am I…” Josh nodded down at the steep tent that had formed in his pants.

“Are you asking me to..?” Matty began, surprised by how blatant Josh had suddenly become.

Josh nodded and sighed with lust, setting the ice cream down and scrambling to pull his pants down below his hips. Out plopped the most mostrously thick man dick, throbbing with lust. He picked it up and looked deeply into Matty’s eyes. “Suck it, Fatty” he ordered, as if too aroused to construct even a full sentence.

Matty manouevered himself and did as he was told, sliding his lips over the head of Josh’s penis. Immediately, the enormous jock moaned loudly and the giant muscle flexed and leaked within Matty’s mouth. It wasn’t going to take much work at all and Matty could actually make this kinky stud come. He felt Josh’s hips shudder and jump as he worked; the boy’s breathing becoming deeper and more frantic. Then, with a growl that Matty had never heard anywhere off the football pitch, Josh exploded into his mouth, making it hard not to gag from the force of it all.

There had been no going back from that night. Heather had been right: the kinky boy really was a handful. But, had it been worth it? Matty certainly thought so, even as his weight spiralled on and on into greater depths of obesity and he learned to enjoy such transformative feedings with the person of his dreams.

“Are you ready for our next adventure, Piggy?” Josh asked his rotund boyfriend a year later, stroking his wide, enormously fat butt as they left their college dorm for the final time.

Matty smiled back with excitement. “Always.”

984 notes · View notes