#Riddles-wifey

[shannonsketches]

Maybe you don’t believe in destiny but I know Vegeta was born short and aloof with spiky black hair and a huge forehead because he was meant to meet his slightly taller wife who was raised to kiss little black cats between their pointy little ears

[morelikeravenbore]

Who are some of your mutuals that you would recommend for someone to check out? I’m new to tumblr and want to find some cool people :D

🦋 Welcome to tumblr you big anon cutie, thanks for asking me such a nice question!! Please imagine the above gif is me, you and all my favourite moots and creators lounging about in a field of wildflowers together.

But in all seriousness, there are sooo many sweet, funny, talented, and supportive people in this fandom that I'm having genuine anxiety about leaving anyone off this list [cat scream].

But here are some (SOME BUT NOT ALL 🫵) of my favourite writers, artists and general sweethearts who I interact with the most/have commissioned art from/whose fics I devour.

@sallowsangel

@galaxiasgreen

@sloanesallow

@lorriiraine

@lyworth

@vienguinn

@moonstruckmoony

@dwightschrute11

@puridewart

@girl-named-matty

@polarisgreenley

@sallowslove

@2centniffler

@mianeryh

@gingerlegacy07

@localravenclaw

@sunnyrealist

@esolean

🦋 I hope you have fun here and make lots of moots to scream into the void with!

[ccaptain]

@aguilareye: Boothill is plugged in, laying on his side, and cuddling Kaeya in a shared bed. The cowboy's metal arms are wrapped around the enigma and holding him close to his chest. Kaeya is on his phone and Boothill's eyelids begin to droop, the ghost sensation of fatigue beginning to settle in his mind. Boothill then yawns and nuzzles into Kaeya. ❝  deja eso ... let's snooze now, sugar ... ❞ Boothill pecks at Kaeya's cheek, convincing him to settle down for the night.

   There's some sort of safety in the way Kaeya's room has become their shared space, that Boothill recognizes the large bed as his own now, and all the fluffy blankets that come with it. After mounting a plug onto the nearest wall for maximum recharging comfort, there was nothing stopping the gunslinger from doing so in total comfort. And there's nothing stopping the lingering worry that he may overheat, curious, concerned fingers hovering near the port in his back to check for unusual heating signs, always happy to find none.

   With the comfortable silence settling between them, Kaeya has been absorbed on his phone for some last minute things: asking Gallagher if he could pick up some kind of very specific flour by tomorrow ( that got replied to with a thumbs up emoji. typical dad, ), making a brief list of missing groceries him and his husband can tackle when they're both well rested, and... a little guilty pleasure his man knows, as Enigma has shown him before: hydraulic press videos. 

   In fact, he highly suspects that the sleepy grumble in another language was said specifically because Boothill's fine hearing picked up familiar sound of it.

   He doesn't understand it much, aside from a few soft words of clear endearment, but pale diamond flits up from the refuge of strong mental arms, studies his lowering eyelids carefully. More than the words, he understands context- his phone is the intruder preventing some sleep. In his drowsiness, Boothill also wants his sugar to rest up a few hours. 

   Eso... referring to an object? ' My phone...? ' he asks tentatively, seeing as no further protests come after locking his phone and sliding it under one of the pillows, joins the metal rose made of spare parts handed to him so long ago. This seems like the correct choice, lashes fluttering close to welcome the kiss.

   With his hands now free, Kaeya tucks the blankets over metal shoulders, tucking him in better for the night, checking one last time if the charging port isn't heating up. Nope, the temperature is wonderfully cool. ' Is my Burritohill comfortable and cozy? ' He asks in a gentle tease, kissing once over small jawline before he settles better with a pleased sigh. Ah, out like a light... there he is, poor tired cyborg. He misses the happy ankle-on-ankle-cricket-like rub that Enigma does before settling.

   Mmm, resting is a very nice idea when his favorite sleepy lava cake is right here to hold him. 

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: you make sure caldarus is comfortable during a snowy day.

COMMENTS: for the dragon lovers. i hear you. @xxoomiii you asked to be tagged so here you are my wifey!!

Caldarus stands faithfully at the entrance to your farm, as tall and rigid and stoney as always. He’s awkward but it hardly shows, feeling the tendrils of sleep creep into his brain while knowing he will never truly be asleep.

Ironically enough, he will also never truly be awake.

He will forever be unaware of what led him to becoming nothing but a humble lawn ornament on your lawn, surrounded by the stone furniture you collected from the museum, placed to create a happier space around him. He is thankful for the gesture, yet another act of kindness he owes you for, even though he claims not to need it. It’s people like you who make the world turn. It is people like you who change the world. Caldarus knows that.

The lights in your house are on. The sheet of snowflakes makes the light seem fuzzy, and the wind is steadily growing stronger, but the warm glow of your presence does not fade. For some reason, he finds it difficult to take his eyes away from it. In all the years you’ve been here (what was it now, four? five?) he’s never felt this way. It puzzles him, like an ancient riddle or a new device humans created to keep up with the times.

People like you are always doing better, scrambling for a perfection that doesn’t exist. It’s as admirable as it is foolish.

He hears the door to your house open, and he’s certain his ears would have perked up had they not been stones. He can’t move his head but that doesn’t stop the instinctual urge to turn his neck, to see you, to catch even a single glimpse of what you were doing.

He’s thankful when you appear in the corner of his vision, making your way past the stone lamps and onto the giant stone pathway you put in front of his statue, a sign of respect for him and a testament to your hard work keeping the weeds and debris away from him.

“Hi Caldarus. I made you something.” you smile, and it’s only then that he notices the multicolored bundle in your arms.

“Oh?” he inquires, “What is it?”

You unfurl the bundle with a flick of your wrists, revealing a tapestry of some sort. Caldarus stares warily as you clamber onto his pedestal, positioning your body directly in front of him as you spread the colorful sheet over his body.

“A blanket?” he asks incredulously, a deep chuckle rumbling through his stone maw, “I told you, I have no need for such things. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.” you say sternly, adjusting the blanket so it fits over his back, tucking it around his shoulders securely, “Comfort is a luxury and you deserve it.”

He wishes he had something to say to that. Something witty, or something wise, or something to ignore the way something inside him melts, warm and heavy and thick. It sinks into every atom of his being, and although he isn’t breathing (he hasn’t done so properly since he was turned to stone) and feels his chest shudder.

Oh.

Oh.

You step back and admire your handiwork, your warm hand gentle against his cold cheek. Your mouth is moving but he can’t hear the words you’re saying, his ears are too busy ringing and his eyes are flicking between you and the tips of the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“You look cozy.” is what he hears you say, and you laugh so sweetly it sends his heart ablaze.

How could he be such a fool?

All that time he spent watching you tend to your crops, all that encouragement he offered you when you helped out the town, all of the snippets of your conversations he overheard, all of his yearning to retain that information if nothing else—

It was love.

“Thank you.” he says, voice gravelly with gratitude.

You perk up at his thanks and pat his snout, jumping off his pedestal and landing gracefully on the snow in front of him.

“Reckless.” he tuts, because what if you sprained an ankle or broke a leg, humans are so fragile and he is in no position to take care of you.

“I’ll be okay Calda. You know that.” you salute, going on your merry way with a promise to be back before nine and to sit with him until midnight.

For the first time, Caldarus feels impatient for your return.

[hellsslibrary]

✧･ﾟ:*NSFW Alphabet with Riddle Rosehearts*:･ﾟ✧

DNI : minors.

!!Warnings : switch(mostly sub)!bottom!Riddle, kink for size difference, oral, praise kink, soft sex, teasing, roleplay(King and Queen of Hearts), pet play, male reader.

Trey <————«« Riddle »»————> Jack

Heartslabyul. Riddle Rosehearts.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is very tired after sex, no matter what the pace was, no matter who dominated, no matter how many rounds and how intense the sex was. He is always tired. He also has a weak throat, I think, so he's always thirsty. So take care of the cute, red-haired boy, okay?

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Well... I guess his favorite body part in you is your eyes. He loves the way they shrink, looking down at him as he lies helpless underneath you, writhing in pleasure. He loves the way you close them when he pleases you. And he just loves your loving, sensual look when you talk about loving him.

His favorite body part in him is probably all parts of his body anyway. He's been very prepared for your first time by reading everything there is to know about two men having sex and... He's probably been doing some practice so somehow he loves everything about him and won't pick out anything about him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Considering his overly balanced and proper diet, his sperm is probably one of the most perfect. Like the truth, this is the most ordinary sperm, and it is released in a measured, normal amount, absolutely nothing unusual.

As for you, he'd rather you cum outside of him. He just doesn't want to give you the hassle of washing it out of him and himself too. Although he doesn't mind if you want to cum inside, yes.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Mmm, since the beginning of the relationship, he may have had the idea of role-playing the King and Queen of Hearts (Well, she's literally his prototype, so yeah). And, given that the king is much more loyal and kind (albeit still as infantile as his wifey), you would take a more submissive position, and he would, on the contrary, be more dominant and then you would violate one of the rules of the queen and on you would have hung a collar, though very unpleasant and heavy :( .Well, I leave everything else to your taste, imps~.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He's... a total virgin. His mother is clearly "one partner for life", at least for her ideal son, so yes, he is definitely a virgin. Although his mother probably taught how to handle the female body and certain parts of it, apparently confident that her son would not be able to fall in love with a guy.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Mmm, doggy style? He doesn't really like it when you see his face, although he loves when you play with his body however you want, but in the end he definitely gives up and puts his head on the pillows, exposing half of his face to you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is definitely serious. Although if you have the most ordinary relaxed, sensual sex where you just enjoy each other, then he can lower his walls a little and joke here and there, but not much.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Definitely very clean, the hair is just completely shaved off. Like really, how can Riddle of all people not be clean there? Although the color matches, the same strawberry red.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Of course very strongly! For him, sex is primarily a moment of your privacy, a moment where you can enjoy each other without unnecessary factors. He is incredibly romantic, even if sometimes he can be shy about it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He hardly has time for that, anyway. But I guess he doesn't do it often anyway, he'd rather have sex with you than his hand or anything.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Kink for praise, obviously! I won't even explain it, it's just Riddle. I think pet play. Like why not? He will gladly put himself under your command, knowing that you do not want to harm him. Or he will take command. Depends on your tastes. And I have one thought that maybe he has a kink for tenderness(?). I don't know how to explain it better, but I think it's the caring and gentle handling of him that turns him on during sex.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Within those places where ABSOLUTELY NO ONE can see or hear you. But probably the bed, he's simple enough in his looks.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I think it fires up surprisingly fast or not at all. Although given his temperament, this should not be surprising. It's just the truth... One moment he'll have a hard-on from a few words whispered in his ear from you, and the next time he won't have a hard-on even after you teasingly rub his cock through his pants.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Sex in public or semi-public places. Too much use of pain. And probably humiliation (albeit in a playful or, uh, romantic way maybe), but if you tease him like that... You better not do it.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves to give. After all, he read a lot of books before your first time, like I said before, so he definitely knows what he's doing... Only in his head, of course.

Although he still loves to receive, of course! Blowjob, rimming, eating out, whatever! He likes everything as long as you do it. (Although for some reason it seems to me that he preferred rimming/eating out).

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Slower and gentler tempo. He does not like to rush, he wants everything to be beautiful, cute and romantic. So he definitely prefers this pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He... Not a fan of that. Absolutely not a fan of this. One orgasm is probably not enough for him to satisfy himself. But if you or he really wants to fuck, but you don't have too much time, then of course he will agree.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He won't take risks, nope. Experiments of course. But he will not risk your reputation, health, or anything else. But to satisfy your perverted fantasies or offer his own, he is happy to.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Well, it lasts quite an average amount of about 5-10 I guess. Although somewhere around 12, he is already starting to get overstimulated.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He didn't have them. He considered it too dirty and unpleasant. Like who needs toys if there are hands, genitals and stuff? He... Began to treat them neutrally after starting a relationship with you. At least he doesn't mind them, and he'll keep something if you give it to him, but he's unlikely to buy it himself.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

Riddle will not tease you if you are dominant. He wants to be completely obedient and a good boy for you, although he may tease you a little if it pleases you, but he will immediately finish with any disapproval from you. But he loves to tease you when he dominates. He just finds something sexy in your pleading or in your facial expression when he teases you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He thought he would be quiet like 1/10. But finished somewhere at 7-8/10. It's loud enough, yes. He doesn't scream though. But it's still very loud and that changes that fact. It's too easy for him to feel pleasure when it all starts, so he just can't handle it.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He definitely has a kink to the size difference, it's true, you can't deny it. He's just tiny, and he's tiny there too. I'm just heading the headcanon for the fact that he has a small dick and has always been shy about it, even at the beginning of a relationship with you (well, I mean you're a guy biologically, if not, grow your dick). But after all, why does he need a big dick if he's the bottom, right? :)

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Very slim. Maybe a little muscle, but it seems to me that there are not so many of them. Well, his penis is small in both size and girth, as I said earlier. 3-4 inches / 7-10 cm.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It is very low. I doubt he ever wanted to have too much sex, other than his puberty, of course. But on his own, he doesn't want to fuck very often, so in almost all situations you need to offer it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

He... I think he generally has a hard time falling asleep, worrying about something or remembering. But I think next to you and even more so, given that he is tired, I think he will fall asleep quickly enough.

[musingsofahufflepuff]

oooohhhhh boy 😮‍💨 buckle up bc i have thoughts

THAT WAS SO GOOD! i knew it was going to be but still, blown away.

His cousin Draco’s was a little higher pitched, whiney. Theo’s was slower, like he had to think about each word before he said it.

cute 😭 lil baby theo and the draco slander, i’m so here for it. and not the first year cone hats making an appearance 💀

Mattheo felt a weird pang in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. It was almost like an adrenaline rush but he wasn’t in danger this time; his skin felt hot all of a sudden, his blood rushing to his ears. He pulled subtly on his curls on the side of his head, not sure exactly what he was trying to cover up.

i screamed when you were yapping about it and i screamed again precious baby boy 😭😭

and ugh THE SORTING. asking the hat to put you in slytherin bc he is 🥺 my heart hurts but i know it’s partially my own fault 😔

full of pride he made the statement, “That’s my friend.”

Draco’s irritating voice was coming from next to him again, “Well cousin, guess they’re not your friend any longer.”

this bit got me. it got me so good. draco, what an asshole 😩 and poor baby’s lil panic attack

i’m so excited for the next parts and i’m sat patiently waiting for baby enzo’s appearance 🤭

Origin Stories

summary: baby first year matty arrives at hogwarts and the first person he interacts with seems to not know him at all. matty is unsure how to feel when someone treats him like just another person instead of the dark lords son

warnings: fluff, little bit o angst, sad baby matty

an: something my hubby @musingsofahufflepuff and i have been yapping about constantly, there's more where this came from, and yes...it will continue to hurt you

Knees pulled to his chest, he sat at the window watching all the happy and excited parents dropping their children off for their first time at Hogwarts. It was Mattheo’s first time too, but instead of parents dropping him off he had Feindre, his house elf.

Feindre had gotten him there early enough for Mattheo to be one of the first students on the train and stayed long enough for Mattheo to see Feindre give a gentle wave before snapping his fingers and disappearing from the platform.

That’s what he’d been doing for the last half hour; watching family after family give loving hugs and cheek kisses and bidding their children farewell. Even Mr. Nott had come with his wife to see Theo off, giving a firm squeeze to the skinny boy's shoulder and a curt nod. 

The whistle blew overhead and Mattheo leaned his head back, closing his eyes and willing himself to think of at least one positive thing that may come for him this year. He’d be away from his mother; that was a plus. As far as Mattheo was aware even she couldn’t get onto the grounds without the proper permissions; that gave Mattheo at least four months free from torture.

As the train started to pull from the station he heard the train car door slide open, an entirely too excited voice suddenly speaking to him, “D’you mind? Every other car has four or so kids in it.” Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, not even opening his eyes to look.

He knew he didn’t recognize the voice. His cousin Draco’s was a little higher pitched, whiney. Theo’s was slower, like he had to think about each word before he said it. This voice was more neutral, but seemed to be speaking quickly, like they had so many thoughts and feelings they couldn’t get them out quick enough. 

“S’kinda weird we had to walk through a wall to get on the platform, right? Magic is so cool.” Mattheo peered an eye open, chancing a glance at the person across from him. It seemed as if you were vibrating, sitting cross legged on the seat across from him, hands braced on either side as your knees held a steady bounce.

Your smile was nearly splitting your face; Mattheo couldn’t decide if your question was indicative of a muggle upbringing or just the first born for your family. “So what house do you want to get into? I was doing some light reading in one of our textbooks, Hogwarts: A History, and I think any of them will be good.” 

Definitely muggle, Mattheo thought to himself as you kept talking, “I know that Hufflepuffs are very loyal, Ravenclaws are super smart I guess, Slytherins apparently are really clever and I read that Gryffindors are supposed to be just the bravest.” The scoff leaves Mattheos throat quicker than he could control.

“Well do you think differently? I know I can talk a lot but I’m also a good listener.” Mattheo lifted his head up at this, now choosing to stare at you with a quirked brow. You continued to press regardless, “What house do you think you’ll be in?” Mattheo stared out the window once more, watching the highland mountains pass by, “I already know my house.” This statement piqued your interest, “What do you think it is?”

Mattheo used all his mental energy not to roll his eyes, “I’ll be a Slytherin, my family has only ever been Slytherins.” You seemed to sit up straighter then, your tone getting more excited, if that was even possible, “So you’re from a family of wizards then? That’s so cool, what’s it like?”

He stared at you incredulously, “You being serious?” You simply tilted your head, smile never leaving your face, “Both of my parents are normal, erm, non-wizards? I don’t know what you guys call them but that’s what they are.” 

Mattheo wore an unimpressed look, “Shocker…never would have guessed by your raging enthusiasm.” You laughed softly, “I know, right. Mum cried for like an hour when I got my letter.” Mattheo sat up straighter then, eyes widening. He could feel his heart rate pick up slightly, a tinge of sweat beading on the back of his neck, “Why, because she was disappointed, was she mad? Where did you hide after she stopped crying?”

You looked at him with confusion, shaking your head and a small bit of concern in your tone, “What? No, because she was just so happy for me…” Mattheo shrank into himself, pulling his knees back up to his chest, “Right, yeah, a’course.” 

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, “So, ehm, do you know people who are coming to Hogwarts then? I don’t know anyone…well, except you now. What, erm, what was your name again?” Mattheo visibly stiffened. You could just be being polite, asking for his name like he was just any other student. Or his reputation precedes him even with muggle-born first years and you’re just too scared to tell him that you already know about him, his father, what he’s done. “Mattheo…erm, Riddle.” You nodded, “Cool name! I’m y/n y/l/n.”

Mattheo can’t help the quizzical look that takes over him at how breezily you move on and introduce yourself. How can you not be afraid of him, of his name. Not that he wants you to be, but if you’ve been reading as much as you say, surely you’ve heard of what his father has done. 

But all of it seems nonexistent as you start talking again, “Do you think we’ll have to wear those little cone hats I’ve seen in the textbook? They’re not very fashionable are they? And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to wear one either.” Mattheo took the bait, “Why would you think I wouldn’t want to wear one?”

You shrugged, smiling a little shyer than before, “Well because of your hair. If I had curls as pretty as yours I wouldn’t want to have to cover them up all the time.” The heat on Mattheo’s cheeks was nearly instantaneous, then he started to feel a bit of rage, “Are you making fun of me?”

You shook your head fiercely, “Oh no, no way! I figured you got complimented on your hair all the time.” Compliment? You were complimenting him. Why would you do that? What were you playing at? Mattheo was fighting an internal battle, not understanding why you were being so nice to him and trying desperately to understand the new feeling fluttering in his chest at your compliment. 

Thankfully the door to the train car opens and a jolly looking woman displays a trolly full of sweets and snacks in the doorway; the perfect distraction.

“Anything from the trolly, dears?” You’re excited once more, leaving your seat to get a closer look at the sweets. You turn towards Mattheo, “What’s your favorite candy? I’ve never heard of any of these before…chocolate frogs, cauldron cakes, fizzing whizzbees-” 

“The last one’s good I- erm, I think you’d like those,” Mattheo watched as you asked the trolly witch for one pack of cauldron cakes and two fizzing whizzbees. “That’ll be two galleons and a sickle, dear,” the trolly witch smiled kindly at you.

You pulled a handful of wizard coins from your pocket looking slightly confused. Mattheo cleared his throat, “Two gold ones and a silver one.” You nodded, taking the coins he described and exchanging them for your sweets. Sitting back down across from him you began opening your cauldron cakes.

You placed one on top of one of the fizzing whizzbees pack and then held it in front of you towards Mattheo. “What’re you doing?” he asked, finding your behavior rather odd, even for a muggle. You only smiled in return, “This is your half silly.” 

Mattheo hesitantly took the sweets, “Why would you share with me?” You sat back, taking a bite of the cauldron cake and humming in satisfaction, “Why wouldn’t I share with you?” you spoke around a cheek full of cake, “These are really good by the way.”

Mattheo felt a weird pang in his chest, something he didn’t recognize. It was almost like an adrenaline rush but he wasn’t in danger this time; his skin felt hot all of a sudden, his blood rushing to his ears. He pulled subtly on his curls on the side of his head, not sure exactly what he was trying to cover up. You didn’t take notice regardless, too engrossed in the foreign treat of your new world. 

The next few hours are filled with you making conversation, mostly one sided but you don’t even seem to notice. You’re the most at ease person Mattheo has ever met, finding interest in the smallest of things.

You talk about your family, and you do so with so much admiration and what Mattheo can only assume is love that he finds himself starting to get jealous. He does his best to shove that feeling down, like he does with most feelings. You’re the first person in his life that doesn’t seem to know him, his family, what that entails and he’d be damned if he let something like jealousy mess that up.

You try to ask him about his life, but he’s keeping it brief, somewhat deflective. He tells you that his father is not around, not dead but…working. He doesn’t know a good way to explain that his father has bits of his soul everywhere and your lack of knowledge on magical existence seems like that bit of information would cause your already highly wired brain to short circuit.

When you ask about his mum he stiffens involuntarily, “She’s, erm, passionate about me following in my father’s footsteps. Bit of an anger problem sometimes if I disagree about it.” You nod, a small frown on your face but seemingly understanding to not push the subject of his mothers anger further, “What’s your dad do?”

Mattheo’s eyes go wide, panic starting to spread through his body. He can feel himself starting to sweat as he looks out the window, trying to come up with an answer that’s not the truth when he sees his saving grace, “Look, Hogwarts.” 

If you’d had turned your head any faster Mattheo was sure it would have rolled off your shoulders and onto the car floor. Whatever he had anticipated Hogwarts to look like, his imagination could never have done it justice; and Mattheo hid in his imagination often at home.

Your nose was nearly pressed to the window, “Wicked.” Mattheo felt the corners of his mouth pull into a smile, half wishing the two of you never had to leave the train and could just stay here, in this bubble where you don’t know the horrible truths that come with being associated with him. 

As the train slowed to a stop, a whistle blew and the two of you noticed a flurry of students starting to clog the aisle between cars. “Guess that’s our cue,” you stood up, looking towards Mattheo and waiting for him to do the same. “You coming?” you opened the car door, looking back at him. “Erm, yeah. Yeah okay,” Mattheo pulled the hood of his cloak up and you gave him a curious look.

“Heard it’s supposed to be a bit chilly on the ride up to the castle,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, now staring down at the floor. You shrugged it off, only turning to join the plethora of students once you knew Mattheo was following behind. 

You couldn’t help but marvel at the giant man that led the pack of first years to what looked like ancient wooden boats. You looked everywhere you could, trying to drink in the whole experience; whereas Mattheo kept his head down, hood up and eyes on the bottom of the boat. If he did this long enough, maybe no one but you would know who he was until he was being sorted.

Once docked by the castle the pack of you were led through the castle by an older, stern looking witch. She had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall. As she led you through the castle you kept tugging on Mattheo’s sleeve. Every so often he would peek from the side of his hood and give you a half smile. 

Once in front of what you learned to be the Great Hall, McGonagall stopped all of you, giving a quick speech. “Once inside you will all be sorted into your houses. Once your house has been announced please make your way to your house table. Banners above will lead you to the correct one. During each breakfast and lunch you will be able to mingle with other houses. However, dinners are strictly restricted to your own house tables.” You turned to Mattheo, whispering, “This is so exciting!” Mattheo gives an undignified hum with a small nod as the doors to the great all open, he can feel his heart rate quicken as all the older students turn to watch the group of first years file in. Will people notice him? Can he hear them whispering his name? 

His automatic negative thoughts are interrupted by you gripping his arm lightly. Immediately he flinches away and you begin apologizing, “Oh, I’m sorry Matty, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Mattheo shook his head, hoping his cheeks weren't flushing at the nickname you decided to don on him, “N-no, sorry. S’just I- erm, have this thing about people grabbing me…sorry.”

You shake your head as if to dismiss his apology as unnecessary, “S’my fault, I just get so excited. Look up there, it’s the sorting hat, I read about it in the same textbook as the houses; that’s what’s gonna tell us where we go.” 

Mattheo could feel his stomach knotting. He knew he would be sorted into Slytherin; the blood in his veins guaranteed it. But, Merlin, did he hope you were sorted there too. It would be nice to have an actual friend there with him, not just his irritating cousin and the sons of his father’s loyal followers.

He was pretty sure they were only nice to him out of fear. Did you want to get sorted with him too? Did you consider him a friend? You were already far too nice to him; far too nice for your own good he thought. There’s no way you actually got sorted into Slytherin; it‘d be a bloody miracle. 

Too lost in his worries spinning over and over in his head he seemed to have missed everyone before him getting sorted, being pulled from his thoughts for the second time that evening by Professor McGonagalls booming voice speaking his name, “Mattheo Riddle.”

A hushed whisper seemed to fall over all of the students and even some of the professors at the head table. Mattheo gave you a worried glance, but you only smiled encouragingly back at him. Either you didn’t notice the whispers, or you didn’t care; Mattheo wasn’t sure which option had him feeling that same weird pang in his chest that he felt on the train. 

He needn’t push his way through the crowd of first years as they seemed to part willingly for him. He slowly climbed his way up the steps and pulled himself up onto the stool, legs dangling in front of him. The professor placed the sorting hat atop his head.

It felt two sizes too big, falling down and covering his eyes, now encasing him in darkness. It was actually much better this way, Mattheo would rather pass than watch the judgment in everyone’s eyes, especially if they came from yours. “Hmm, Riddle, eh?” the hat spoke loudly, much to Mattheo’s dismay, “Well there’s simply no question then is there. Why of course it's…SLYTHERIN!” 

The slytherin table broke out into cheers, but they seemed to be the only students to do so apart from your clapping in the first year crowd. The hat was pulled from Mattheo’s head and he searched for your face. He found you beaming, giving him a double thumbs up as he made his way down the steps and toward his house table.

He clocked his cousin Draco immediately, platinum hair sticking out like a traffic cone. His cousin tried to greet him, along with the others at the table. But Mattheo ignored them all, turning instead to face the stool you would soon be sitting at and be told your fate. 

When your name was finally called Mattheo sat up straighter, nearly leaning forward as if that would help him hear more clearly. As you made your way onto the stool you looked over at the Slytherin table. Making eye contact with Mattheo you gave a quick wave. Warmth spread throughout his body and he found himself giving a small wave back.

The whining pitch of Draco’s voice appeared on Mattheo’s right, “Who is that, cousin?” Mattheo watched as you took a deep breath in as the hat was placed on your head, full of pride he made the statement, “That’s my friend.” Draco was obviously confused, “I didn’t know you had any friends besides us.”

Mattheo turned his sights away from you briefly to stare Draco in the eyes, “You’re not my friend. You’re my cousin, I’m forced to be around you. And if you keep talking I’ll hex out your tongue so I never have to hear your annoying voice again.” Draco held his hands up in defense, scooting over slightly on the bench. 

Turning back to you Mattheo watched as your legs bounced excitedly, just as they did on the train and Mattheo found himself smiling. This smile slowly dropped as the hat began to narrate the internal battle you seemed to be having with it.

“You want to be Slytherin, is that so? Mmm…curious, curious indeed. I do sense a bit of cunning, but your loyalty is much stronger. Better be…HUFFLEPUFF!” The tables throughout the hall cheered for you as they did every other student being sorted. Your smile never faded but Mattheo felt like his whole world was collapsing. 

There was a pain in his side that felt like someone was hexing him with a stinging jinx and his breaths were becoming more shallow. Usually he only felt like this when being punished by his mother, but in that case she was likely actually cursing him.

It seemed like the massive walls of the great hall were closing in on him as he saw you being greeted by the students at your house table. Everything from the last few hours was going to be thrown away in an instant. They would all tell you who he was, what he was, why you should hate him. And surely you’ll believe them, won’t you? Then he’ll be alone once more.

As if to twist the knife that was already being pushed between his ribs, Draco’s irritating voice was coming from next to him again, “Well cousin, guess they’re not your friend any longer.”

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

A Pirate's Life for Me Chapter 2

Summary:  Captain Bucky Barnes and his crew on the Armored Star are the most fearsome pirates in the known world.  They’ve given the British fleet a run for their money as they try to free the enslaved and take from the rich, but they could have never guessed how the British empire would retaliate against them.  When a new pirate ship appears and lays waste to all in its path, will Bucky and his crew be ready for the wrath of a woman scorned?

Warnings:  piracy, pillaging, sexual assault, death/murder, blood/gore, violence, smut

*manbo:  voodoo priestess

Previous chapter Next chapter

After a long few months at sea that finally ended in a successful takeover of the British trade ships, freeing the enslaved people aboard and taking the other supplies and gold, Bucky was sitting in a tavern on Tortuga, celebrating their victory with his crew and stocking up on supplies before they would head back home in the morning.  He finished drinking his second pint, shooing away a prostitute before standing to relieve himself outside.  When he finished he headed toward the front door when he heard–

“Did you hear about Barataria Bay?” one of the prostitutes leaning against the wall said quietly to the one next to her.

“Barataria Bay?  No,” the other replied.

“The story is the British tracked down Barnes’ wifey and his crew’s families there,” the first continued, leaning toward her conspiratorially.  “Leveled it.  It’s still smoking to this day they say.”

“What?” Bucky barked, making them both jump at his voice.  He cornered them so they wouldn’t run.  “Where did you hear this?”

“At the docks!” The first said quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, the other’s mouth open wide as she stared at him.  “Captain of the Jolly Sailor said something about the smoke being a thousand feet high.”

Bucky’s eyes bulged, his breaths getting faster and heavier.  “What else did he say?” he demanded.

“I…I…” she stuttered.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.  “What else did he say?!”

“Please sir!” the first cried.  “He said he was sailing by and they saw the fire and smoke and a large British ship leaving!  He said he heard sirens crying.  That’s all I know!”

“When was this?” he whispered, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms.

She squirmed.  “I don’t know, he mentioned passing through Dominica, so a few weeks ago?”

Bucky was going to be sick.  He let go of her and thanked her quietly before running inside.  He started gathering his crew and they got to the Armored Star in record time.  It was still a few days trip home, and he was praying to whatever sea god he could think of to favor their sails to get home faster and prove it wasn’t true.

***

Ash.  Smoking embers.  Dried blood everywhere.  Bucky fell to his knees when he reached his home to find it torched, one wall still standing that was riddled with bullet holes.  The crew members had run through the surrounding village, calling out for their lovers, wives, and children, but no one was there.  He cried heavily as he looked around.  Y/N was right.  She was always right.  Why didn’t he listen to her?  Now she was gone.  Everyone was gone.  The cries of his crew were too much to bear, but he sat still and listened.  This was his punishment, surely, to hear the anguished cries of men who lost everything like him.  He looked to his left to the cemetery just beyond the hill and saw multiple rows of freshly dug graves.  His heart lurched to his stomach and he vomited profusely, the reality of it all settling in.  He’d abandoned her when she begged him not to.  He’d betrayed her.  He screamed as he felt something deep inside him fracture.  Bucky would never forgive himself.

***

“Did you hear about the pirate attack at the Brimstone Hill Fortress?”

“Yes!  It was a bloodbath!”

“What about the one at Fort King George?”

“Was that the same ship?”

“I saw it!  It was a deep, emerald green hull.  It used to be the British fleet’s Vanquisher, but was stolen and renamed Dido’s Lament.  It’s been wreaking havoc along the islands.”

“Dido’s Lament?”

Bucky tuned out the chatter around him.   A new, up and coming group of pirates that had taken the islands by storm, or something like that.  He didn’t care anymore.  Nothing mattered.  After he and his crew left Barataria Bay they had wandered the sea aimlessly, still fighting back the British and looting, but it all seemed meaningless now.  His crew’s morale was gone, all looking like shells of themselves as they went about their regular duties on board.  Bucky nearly inhaled his sixth pint, unsteadily standing and heading back to his room in the tavern.  He couldn’t remember what island they were on now.  

“They say you can hear sirens scream before they attack.”

“The sea is on Dido’s side…”

Bucky grabbed a prostitute by the arm and hauled her to his room.  She protested at first until he jingled a money bag in her face.  He slammed the door behind them and sat on a chair, undoing his belt and pulling his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free.  She kneeled in front of him and started to pleasure him, her mouth warm and inviting as she bobbed her head up and down.  He shut his eyes tight and envisioned his treasure pleasuring him and how perfect she was at it.  This woman could never compare, but it would have to do.  His hands gripped the chair’s armrests as his hips trembled, his breath getting heavier.  He could see Y/N now, smiling up at him as he caressed her cheek, her eyes twinkling with mirth as she sucked him just right so he was at her mercy.  The way her pussy would envelop him perfectly, like it was made just for him.  Her bright smile.  Her boisterous laugh.  Her love of the sea and the stories he would tell her of his travels and finding creatures of the deep.  Her kisses…

Bucky held the woman’s head down on him as he came in her mouth, spilling thick ropes of cum down her throat, making her cough and slightly gag.  When he was finished he opened his eyes and let her up.  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, sir, you're gonna have to pay extra for that!” she spat at him, wiping her mouth.  

“Fine,” Bucky said in a bored tone, grabbing the money bag and pulling out a handful of coins.  “This enough?”

“Yessir,” she said with a wide smile.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something more?”

“No,” he grumbled.  “Get out.”

She huffed but stood and nodded, quickly leaving his room and shutting the door hard behind her.  Bucky tucked his cock back into his pants, standing to lock the door and then walking to the bed.  He let his body fall on it with a grunt.  He hadn’t fully made love since he’d left Y/N then found the Bay a year ago, and he didn’t think he ever would again.  He only used prostitutes for quick relief while he was on land, then would let himself suffer.  That’s what he deserved, a lifetime of suffering for his sins.  He began to cry, like he did every night, exhausting himself into a fitful night’s sleep of memories of Y/N, and the harrowing cries of his crew.

[merakiui]

Tell us more about Dr. Riddle and his captive pregnant wifey please!! Omg

Riddle has this delusion that you’re incapable of taking care of yourself without his aid. After all, he’s the licensed professional. He knows your body more than you do—at least on a professional level. He keeps you chained and collared to a metal support beam in the basement, and there’s a fluffy mattress for a bed. He feels immensely bad for subjecting you to these conditions, but the last time he thought he could trust you enough to bring you upstairs you nearly ran away. So for now you’re given fluffy sheets and pillows in hopes that it’ll provide enough comfort and soften you to this situation. Riddle doesn’t want to hurt you, but he has no choice sometimes, especially when you try to escape.

Still, it’s in a doctor’s nature to be patient and so he remains calm when interacting with you, even when you yell and struggle and kick. Sometimes he snaps at you, but for the most part he’s always sweet. Always smiling so adoringly at you, even when you’re crouched and shivering, too fearful to do anything but nod. You pick at your meals and he tries so hard to get you to eat everything on your plate. You need the energy. Don’t starve yourself; he won’t allow it. He sits in front of you and tries to start conversations as if everything is completely normal.

Inevitably, you’ll get pregnant. He wants a lot from you, and there’s no chance you’ll ever escape him. You’re trapped here; you have no say in the matter. Riddle keeps you just weak enough so you won’t feel compelled to squirm or hit him when he’s near you. It’s medicine, he claims, but you never know where medicine starts and when magic fades away. You have no clue if any of this is even a spell or the result of some prescription he thinks you need. During copulation, you feel so foggy and distant, as if you’re wading through a sea of smoke. Shamefully enough, you hate that it feels good. You hate that you cling to him when he’s making love to you, and it’s always so telling when you soak through the sheets with your slick arousal. How can you not when he’s whispering the sweetest things—things no one has ever told you before?

He’s even more of a controlling mess when you start getting symptoms, even more so when you start showing. He treats you as if you’re glass. Everything must be perfect; he can’t lose the baby. He can’t lose you. He drives himself half-mad ensuring you’re content and healthy, but with each passing month you only grow more hormonal. You’re so protective of the baby. Every time he attempts to get close to you, you curl in on yourself and hide your belly with the duvet or your arms. Riddle understands the bond between mother and child is a special, sacred thing, but please let him take your temperature, let him rub the oil on your belly, let him help you to the bathroom. You’re so stubborn, but he remains patient, scarily so.

Your wardrobe changes with each trimester. By the final few months, you’re swathed in soft, flowing, easy-to-remove nightgowns. Riddle seems to fall for you even more, if such a feat was possible. He loves you in spite of all the heartache you cause when you hide from him, protect your baby bump from him, insist you can do everything yourself. In between all of that, though, you struggle with your pregnancy libido. Grinding into your hand isn’t nearly as fulfilling as real, raw sex with Riddle. He smiles at you as he watches you try and fail to work yourself towards orgasm. Let him help; he knows you need him. You just refuse to recognize this yet and that’s okay. Your doctor always knows best, after all. He only wants to help you as a doctor (and lover) should.

Your child is raised in captivity. She’s a sweet thing, rosy-red hair like Riddle. But she has your eyes and so she’s the most precious treasure in your world. You love her to pieces in spite of everything. At first you refused to give her a name, as naming anything leads to inevitable affection, and you almost didn’t want to love her. But she deserves to be loved; it’s not her fault. You try to raise her, but it’s tiring with Riddle’s constant control. He never raises his voice at either of you, though, even when he’s frustrated. For that, you’re relieved. It’s exhausting to be a mother, but you’re determined to be the best mother for your little girl.

You hope to escape someday with your child in tow, but Riddle always has so many elaborate plans. He’s so organized when he pens all of the future goals he has for you and your child to be a good, happy family. And if you start to get just a little too smart and cunning for his liking, some medicine will provide an easy fix. That, or another pregnancy. Doctor’s orders. :)

[we-were-born-to-be-free]

~Priyasha~ ~15~ ~South African~

Who I write for: Draco Malfoy, Kaz Brekker, Aaron Warner, James Potter, Regulus Black, Aleksander Morozova, Mattheo Riddle, Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Charlie Spring and Nick Nelson.

Fandoms I'm a part of: The marauders, Harry Potter (Fuck jkr), The Grishaverse, Lockwood and Co, Call Me By Your Name, Shatter Me, Haunting Adeline, Stray kids, Enhypen, Powerless and Heartstopper.

What I love: Rainy days, sunsets, stars, food, my religion (Hinduism), books, being on tumblr, characters that are special and just connect to me, My friends, TImmy Chalamet, the colour green, rum and raisin ice cream, music, piano and violin, reading, crocheting, cycling, bullying one specific friend (@grace1409 you know who you are), a few teachers at school and physical touch.

What I don't like: Stupid people, homophobes, transphobes, all the phobes, people that are unnecessarily mean, Afrikaans, eggplant chutney, banana flavoured things, my body, my skin, my hair, Romeo and Juliet, sweaty sports (cycling is an exception) and wool getting knotted.

Artists I listen to in no specific order: Taylor Swift, The Weeknd, Arctic Moneys, Chase Atlantic, Gracie Abrams, Mother Mother, Billie Eillish, Olivia Rodrigo, Bruno Mars, SZA, Doja Cat, Sabrina Carpenter, Lana del Rey, Gigi Perez, The Neighbourhood, Isabel LaRosa, Madison Beer, and Noah Kahan.

My most favourite moots in the whole wide world: @sc11vb my princess and little sister @sun-kissy my wifey @where-the-stars-collide my big sister @the-stars-drowning my dove @roadkill111 my darling @shattermelyhfmlblog my lovely @deadchaoticcosmos my moonbeam @my-castles-crumbling most famous moot

Dividers are by @sweetmelodygraphics. Pictures are from Pinterest.

[viperify]

MARYYYYY my love!!!💜💜💜

of course you will be! (you’ll even get some sneak peeks😛)

THANK U SM for ur lovely feedback and ur help as always darling, cant tell u enough how much I appreciate you💋💋

⊹ ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ˖ blood lust.

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ ᴀᴜ. ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ. 18+ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ.

SFW.

Vampire!Tom who has finally beaten death.

Vampire!Tom who knew he had to have you the moment he first caught your unmistakably sweet scent.

Vampire!Tom who was obsessed with you, leaving presents in your dorm, sending you bouquets of your favourite flowers—until he revealed himself to you.

Vampire!Tom who had to use all of his self restraint when you accidentally cut yourself in class, blood dripping onto the desk where you two were working.

Vampire!Tom who loved how your eyes widened, heart thumping in your chest when he first took on his vampire form.

Vampire!Tom who couldn’t wait until you finally let him taste you, a low groan falling over his lips when your blood stained his lips crimson for the first time.

Vampire!Tom who didn’t know when to stop at first, only realising he had drained too much of your vital fluid when you went limp under him.

Vampire!Tom who now loves to test your limits on how much blood your body is willing to give to him before your consciousness slowly slips away.

Vampire!Tom who praises you for how sweet you taste to him.

Vampire!Tom who refuses to turn you into a vampire, even if you beg him to. After all, he wants to be able to drink his favourite blood—yours—forever.

Vampire!Tom who doesn’t let you leave the house during full moons—because he just needs you so badly.

Vampire!Tom who has a blood-replenishing potion on him in case he hasn’t gotten enough of you.

Vampire!Tom who makes you taste your own blood, capturing you in a heated kiss after he is satiated, a silent thank-you for your sacrifice.

Vampire!Tom who spoils you with food and drinks afterwards, insisting you have to stay strong for him.

Vampire!Tom who knows that one sweet spot on your neck, shamelessly using it against you as he drags his sharp teeth over it, knowing you secretly enjoy the thrill of it.

Vampire!Tom who wouldn’t normally have to kill, your blood enough to keep him healthy. Though, always when another man looks at you the wrong way, you can be sure Tom will return with a blood stained chin and neck that evening, clothes soaked in the red liquid. You’re his, and his only.

Vampire!Tom who always has an eye on you no matter where you go.

Vampire!Tom who doesn’t sleep. Instead, he uses the time to read or watch over your innocent, sleeping form next to him.

Vampire!Tom who loves when you make him fight for your blood—because he knows you have no chance of winning.

NSFW.

Vampire!Tom who is a changed person when it’s full moon. Not only extremely needy for your blood but also in other ways.

Vampire!Tom who enjoys the flavour of your blood most when you are ovulating.

Vampire!Tom who loves leaving bite marks all over your thighs.

Vampire!Tom who lets you know just how excited the taste of your blood on his tongue gets him, pressing his growing erection against you as he feeds on you.

Vampire!Tom who gets absolutely thrilled when you make him chase you for your blood.

Vampire!Tom who loves more of your bodily fluids than just your most vital one, knowing exactly what buttons to press—only satisfied when your juices have made a mess on both him and the sheets.

Vampire!Tom who enjoys fucking you after he’s fed on you, your mind still hazy, arms weakly holding onto him as his hips snap into yours at a relentless pace.

Vampire!Tom who loves to gently bite down on your most sensitive spots, drawing small gasps from you in response.

Vampire!Tom who reminds you of who you belong to by leaving bite marks on your tender neck, visible to everyone as he empties himself inside of you with a low, muffled groan.

A/N: Full fic coming soon. Check out the moodboard in the meanwhile! <3

[fluffymaxsworld]

masterlist!🌷

i already know it’s gonna be so unorganized, so please tell me if i forget to update.

[^ oneshots]

new posts every week!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

👻 simon “ghost” riley

who’s calling you? pick it up.

just him fucking you dumb while soap hears everything (nsfw, mdi, porn no plot)^

halloween special! [pt2 coming out on xmas]

you’re price’s daughter at the tf141 halloween party (nsfw, porn and plot)

seven days

simon riley is a world famous model who need help with his reputation, so he decides to work in an orphanage for a week.

neighbors

you and simon are just neighbors, not even friends. but one day you decide to bring to him cookies<3 (fluff)^

request <3

you’re johnny’s sister and he’s drunk! (nsfw, porn and plot)

👑 könig

request <3

you’re very soft spoken and shy, but luckily this big masked man come to save you

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

🍰 leon kennedy

husband!leonkennedy x wifey!reader

headcanons with your sweet husband leon (slight nsfw at the end)

📻 carlos oliveira

headcanons<3

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

🌹 jason todd

impatient

just you being super horny while your boyfriend is out for patrol so you send him a spicy pic… (nsfw, mdi, porn and a little plot)^

💎 dick grayson

!! upcoming !!

💰 bruce wayne

!! upcoming !!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

💍 miguel o’hara

affection

a short love story inspired by “affection” by cigarettes after sex (no smut, hurt/comfort)^

🎸 hobie brown

!! upcoming !!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

🚬 theodore nott

“you were… everything”

he can’t get over you… but you can. (angst!! hurt/no comfort?)

instagram posts

literally what the title says lmao (modern au, fluff, photos)

🩹 mattheo riddle

!! upcoming !!

i accept request in dm or in the comments!🫶

[manic-sapphic]

everything's ok when they just stay together damnit lol

maaan tho, it bums me out that it took till s5 for catra to even be vulnerable enough to admit that w adora actually was where she'd always wanted to be but by that point she'd really come to believe it was too late. that there was no going back for her anymore. doesn't help either though that it takes adora till s5 to fully realize how much she actually truly needs catra and always has. i mean literally, "everything will be ok if we just stay together" adora says it back in s3 during "remember" i think, so it seems tbh like she was already starting to feel like she shoulda tried harder to get catra to come w her in the beginning. like, just made sure she knew how important catra was to her and basically drag her damn ass outta the fright zone. but i don't think she tells catra she needs her till failsafe, and i think atm it's just too hard for catra to hear & believe it, despite just how badly she's always wanted to hear it and wants it to be true, cause she's always needed adora too.

and i def think adora's grappling w regrets in a very big way when catra walks out on prime's flagship. like being clad in a horde prime uniform and opening her green eyes wasn't enough of a shock to her system, the totally emotionless "hello, adora" moment just - i feel like it's written all over adora's face right then and there but also during their entire fight and when she's holding catra after her fall - adora looks riddled with guilt and regret seeing what's happened to catra as a direct result of the sacrifice she'd chosen to make for adora. and all after adora left her behind w the horde and chose to follow a false hero's destiny > her and catra's promise to protect each other. but still after years fighting each other, when faced with the thought of adora truly suffering at prime's hands - esp given catra got to see better than any other character first hand just what a freaky creep prime was and prob felt truly horrified at the thought of what he might do to adora - catra chose to act on the promise for what she honestly thought would be her last chance to ever do so. as sw once threatened her with back at the beginning, "then you will suffer the consequences in her place." but yeah, this time catra fully and willingly chose to take that on w prime if it meant adora would stay far away from him.

-"it doesn't matter what you do to me, glimmer is gone and you will never get your hands on adora" ugh her saying that just kmn ok? the determination and passion in her voice as she protecc her would-be wifey, even tho she's aware that it means she's prob gonna be going through some real bad shit real soon. she'd still rather it be her than adora 💔

and just ugh i'm sure realizing that and seeing catra just consumed adora with grief and utter distress. like i don't think she necessarily felt like she never should've left the horde for the rebellion during the whole save the cat incident, but i can clearly hear her just thinking fuckfuckfuuck how did this happen, how did i let it happen, why didn't i drag this stubborn brat w me kicking and screaming when i left, omg omg what do i do now? how do i fix this?? can i fix this??? it's soul-crushing to watch forsure but at least they fully kick prime's ass into oblivion and get the happy ending they both deserve

<3

[return-to-twisted-wonderland]

Timeline + Event for Emily

Prologue

Book 1

Book 2

- Not in Riddle's and Leona's overblot

- Finally back from being in the other world

Before book 3

- The 2 lover met again

- Ghost Marriage event because you know Idia

- Husband and wife

Book 3

- In Azul's overblot because of Aquarium

Before Book 4

- Fairy Gala event (the first one ver)

Book 4

- Not in Jamil's overblot

- Meeting with her mother again and maybe take Riddle back

Book 5

- Not in SDC so not in Vil's overblot

Book 6

- In Idia's overblot

- Hmn a mad wifey

Before Book 7

- Fairy Gala event (the rerun ver)

Book 7

- 100% in Malleus's overblot

- Could be fighting Malleus in the real world because more character lore

— 👻 anon

Idia, sees his wife: Oh no!

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I've been feeling inclined to vent about the general concept of "substance use" and "dependency" recently for no particular reason, and it's probably just my own brain finally processing some of the things that happened to me in The Bad Times but what the hell lets go with it.

I was pretty much straight edge until my mid 20s, no alcohol, cigarettes, weed, nothing. Then I got into a series of abusive relationships, nearly died of Mystery Diseases, and a pandemic happened right after. My life went from barely getting by in the world to bouncing between constant crises overnight. I was in therapy and had been for years, I had self care tools and was using them. I was medicated for all of my diagnosed mental health needs (ADHD wasn't on the record yet, so was still unmanaged, but I was doing my best behaviorally to keep on top of shit, obviously that stopped working fast). I worked full time plus going to school part time plus working part time at my internship for a grand total of about 90 hrs per week of work/school related obligations. I lived with several other people who I worked to support financially and who I needed to also support emotionally, and I still managed to run my household for the most part with minimal support except from wifey who was also working about 60-70 hour weeks at her own job to help us make ends meet and was only barely medicated and managed herself. I genuinely don't know when I slept or rested.

The first thing I tried was weed. I used edibles to sleep without nightmares or the anxieties that would keep me up for the rare few hours I had to rest. It also helped with the constant pain I was in. I would get high as fuck on a weed brownie or a pre roll on the one day off I had each month so I didn't have to think or feel or exist because it was the only way I could find to genuinely relax anymore without worrying about the growing mountain of Life Responsibilities that I could never catch up on. Life eased a bit, and I kept doing that.

One day, I had a rare night off, and wifey was going to go out to a club with some friends. I hadn't been anywhere fun in years. I hadn't had time or money or energy. I was desperate to see people and relax and maybe sance a little. A pandemic was on, and the local clubs were having discounts like mad. We went and got shitfaced on cocktails that cost less than lunch at a diner for a round and I made out with a cute girl and I came home laughing for the first time in years. From then on, we would keep a cheap six pack of something in the fridge and every once in a while I would down 2-3 and get fucked up for a bit between that and the weed. Life felt a bit easier and I kept going.

But behind the scenes the cracks kept forming. It wasn't the substances that were causing them. And they weren't even what was making it worse. But they were letting me pretend those cracks weren't there. Letting me run from a reality I knew I couldn't fix. By the time I realized how bad things had gotten, how deep into the pit I was, I was living in a tent in the woods, cooking my dinners on a campfire with my family, throwing back weed and cheap booze like my life depended on it because god what the fuck else do you have when a creek and a rainstorm are the closest you get to a shower and your bed is a pile of blankets in a military surplus tent with all the warm bodies piled together so you don't fucking freeze at night?

I was still working full time though, and for those hours, I had to be sober. No if ands or buts about it. And I was okay with that line, even if it left me riddled with anxiety and trauma and stress 16 hours a day while I worked my doubles in the ER and came home to try and scrub the COVID off in the creek before I went back to the tent. And then a coworker asked me if I wanted to join her on a cigarette break. I did. I desperately wanted to feel normal. To chitchat and talk about nothing important, and feel the breeze on my face. So I bummed a cigarette and smoked with her. That one cigarette became 3 a day. Then 6. Then, a whole pack. A nervous habit of sucking on a cigarette or a vape whenever I needed to fidget or relax while still being sober. It's been 3 years now and I've tried to quit half a dozen times but here I am in my fucking home office pulling on a cigarette like it's my last hope of comfort.

I don't drink anymore though. My body won't let me. Blah blah allergic reactions blah blah. Fine. I kept trying for a while, allergies be damned. But it stopped being worth it. Sometimes the cigarettes aren't worth it either. I choke on every inhale and my body dry heaves like it knows I'm putting in something it doesn't want. On those days I don't smoke. I don't think there have been many days I've gone without weed. I honestly don't know what to do with myself on the days I abstain. Like I do? I can cope. I just. I'm still so tired.

The part of me that broke all those years ago and said fuck it, lets see what drugs do, is still recovering. It's still resting and healing. Some days are better than others. Some days it does fine and it says "lets fuckin rawdog the day my mans" and I do, and it's great. Other times it's so small and frail that I know if I tried I might break it again, and I just can't risk that.

I've been told before that this is dependency. Maybe even misuse. I've been told by others that this is the point. If it's helping, then let it. I don't know what the answer is. Some days I resent not being the person I was before I started using weed and cigarettes to get through the day. I've tried other things too, and they've never done much for me, so I never went back. Does that mean that I'm not "dependent" I'm "self-medicating"? Is that a good or a bad thing? Does it fucking matter? I honestly don't know. I wish it didn't feel like it mattered. I wish that I could go through my days and feel like I had more of a choice. I actually miss being able to get high lol. Like weed hasn't given me an actual high in years, it just. Helps me get through things a little better. But how much am I really willing to keep living that way? How much of my life do I *want* impacted by whether or not I can smoke or have some thc? Some days it's fine. Some days I'm bothered by it.

The thing that gets me every time though is how at every single point when I made the choice to pick up a new "substance" it was because I was desperate, overwhelmed, and completely without alternatives. I knew full goddamn well every time what I was doing. I had years of both anti-drug war knowledge and addiction/recovery knowledge in my brain and I understood that I was at my most vulnerable, I was my most at risk. That making this choice could be fine or could be life changing or could be somewhere in between and it was worth being self aware as I did it. But I just. I was so tired. I was so broken down. I just needed to rest. I needed to feel something other than the stress and fear for a while. And no one was offering me anything else that made a dent. Trust me. I tried.

I don't say this to suggest to people that Drugs Are The Answer. I genuinely don't think they are. I still wish every day I had never picked up that first cigarette. I still wish that I felt well enough to live my life without needing help to rest and recover. But I can't blame anyone who makes the choices I did. I can't doubt the feelings of need and desperation that often drive us to interact with our support tools the way we do. I've also found over the years, that it's not just "substances" that people will turn to for help with avoidance the way I did. Avoidance is so very very human, and the way I skirted around acknowledging how beyond my capacity for repair my life was getting (even while actively working to resolve those things) had more to do with mh inability to acknowledge that I was failing people I loved than what tool I was using to avoid the acknowledgement. It could just as easily have been my work, or video games, or shopping, or gardening, or anything else in the world that allowed me to isolate myself in a world that felt smaller and simpler for a while so I could take a break from problem solving the way the rest of my world was steadily crumbling around me. I chose weed, alcohol and nicotine. Other people will make other choices. But maybe we all sometimes run away from problems we realize we can't solve until one day we're backed into a corner we can't run from. Maybe that's just human. Maybe the drugs just made me feel less like shit while I ran. And maybe that's part of how I survived to make things right for myself.

I really don't know. I can't know.

What I do know is that I left the relationship that was destroying my life. I'm safe now, and wifey and I are doing much better now that our communication isn't being actively sabotaged. I'm doing much better now healthwise that the food in my home is consistently safe to eat for me and I'm not being left without any food at all on a semi-regular basis. I *am* still the primary breadwinner of the household, but it no longer feels as though I have to run the household itself on top of that, and I *am* consistently supported (encouraged even) to rest when needed, even if that is still hard for me to do. I've stopped drinking, and that does feel better. I spend less time and energy seeking substances and I *do* smoke fewer cigarettes less often even if I do still smoke sometimes. I feel happier and more stable than I think I ever have. My life is. Mostly working? And pretty good now. The cracks have been able to heal in ways that are, if not structurally sound, at least working up to it. I am fragile, but making progress. Does that mean I made the right choices? The wrong ones? Will I ever know?

I dunno comrade. But. We all do what we can, what we must, and what we can figure out. Maybe judgement and shame about all that just doesn't help.

[daddyhausen]

• sunflowers — hangman adam page — chapter two •

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ masterlist } | { aew masterlist } | { hangman adam page masterlist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ warnings } — none

{ word count } — 790

{ pairing } — fem!reader x hangman adam page

{ genre } — none

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ taglist } — @stxrrlightwrites13 @boutmachines @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @baysexuality @legit9thlunaticwarrior @slut4kennyomega @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @baybay-boom @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @eddie-kingstons-wifey @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ chapter one }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

{ you have chosen : go with willow }

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

🌻

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

fighting willow’s strength was practically impossible, for she had managed to drag you from your bedroom, down the hall and out the front door within a matter of seconds, with little to no objection from you…not that you had much of a choice in the matter.

the warm summer sun beating against your skin with a blistering heat, rays of light practically blinding your eyes, sensitive to the change of light. once they adjusted, after a few rapid blinks or so, you caught a glimpse of the beautiful mare prancing openly in the fields, her gorgeous dapple grey coat shimmering under the midday sun, with an almost blue-grey hue.

“looks like she finally had that foal” willow mentioned, momentarily distracted by the foal following behind her closely, barely leaving its mother’s side. the ranch looked especially dishevelled this day, the heat already getting to the few farmers in the fields, fanning themselves off with their hats while the other had retreated back to their quarters to cool of for a few moments, even the animals mimicked their human counterparts, the horses especially taking shelter underneath the gigantic oak tree near the far left of the pasture, those of which who had to retired back into the stable already.

“anyway, i wonder where that handsome devil is?” willow quickly returned herself back to reality, eyes scanning cautiously for this new stable hand.

“willow, i don’t think this is such a good idea-“

“there’s no harm in introducing yourself my dear, y/n” her infectious smile matched the same radiating warmth of the sun. god she could be so persuasive even without saying a word. she still held a death grip on your wrist, dragging you off the porch, almost falling flat on your face in the process as you attempted to make your way down the stairs due to willow’s brute yet unintentional force

“bet he’s in the stables” willow commented, more to herself than to you. a determined look graced her usually soft and innocent features, pouty lips furrowed slightly hellbent on your introduction to the unknown stablehand.

“if i embarrass myself i am going to kill you” you whisper-yelled as the two of you approached the stables, silently praying to god that he was not inside.

“y/n if that happens, which i highly doubt, i give you my permission” her response quick and sarcastic, her curls bouncing slightly with them quirky movements of her head

your body felt weak, chest felt heavy and riddled with an anxiety that was definitely not commonplace. you eyed willow suspiciously, her hand lightly pushing the heavy barn-like door open slightly. she’s leaked through the crack offering you a silent thumbs up mere seconds after confirming her suspicions. the two of you tip-toed inside, hoping the slight creak of the door did not alert him of your presence.

“he’s around the corner, take a look”

“are your crazy?! don’t you think this is a bit creepy?!-“

willow clasped a hand across your mouth hastily, quickly peering around the corner, noticing that he was still enamoured with the horses

“just be quiet and take a look”

you rolled your eyes exaggeratedly, perking slightly past the corner, freezing when you first caught a glimpse of him. your mouth ran dry, throat hoarse and empty of words. willow was right, he was indeed be

handsome, his hair long, golden curls tied back into a loose bun, trimmed beard matching the same golden hue, body soft, yet shapely and firm, perfect for cuddling-

you shook your head at that last part of your thought, trying to rid it from your memory.

his attire was neat, yet slightly smudged with dirt and hay, a pale blue button down, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, a simple pair of dark washed denim jeans and brown cowboy boots hidden underneath. you caught yourself staring, not able to bring yourself to look away, simply watching on in awe, blinking absentmindedly as he tended to the horses.

his eyes twitched in your direction slightly, seemingly having caught you in his peripherals. you squeaked in embarrassment, quickly taking your place behind the stable wall, willow show you a questioning look

“what happened-“

“he saw me-“ you whisper yelled

“what-?!” willow remarked, a sliver of a smile forming across her petal-shaped lips

“he saw me!-“ you repeated immediately clasping your hand across you mouth upon realising how loud you were

“is anyone there?” his voice echoed around the stables, the slight southern drawl made your heart flutter despite your shock and horror. you could barely catch a glimpse of him scanning the stable through the small cracks in the wood, willow already, albeit silently, urging your to introduce yourself

“go.” willow urged continuously.

.*•…………………..•⊹•…………………..•*.

[fatedstrands]

16. Be embarrassed or be afraid?

OOC//Munday Meme

I would rather be embarrassed. I'm tired of being afraid, tired of being scared, call it my villain era or whatever but I don't care anymore, yknow?

Besides, embarrassing moments sometimes become your greatest memories. Like with my sister's name, or with my wifey we've had MANY silly moments I was embarrassed about but now are some of my most beloved memories.

Like the Nib Ribbler or when I try to speak and flub so hard I just sound like a seal, we both fall into the happy little seal flubs and it makes us laugh and my days so much brighter.

Fear just lingers, it clutches your heart and hauls you down into anxiety riddled freezing and I just can't handle it more than I'm already forced to.

'I'd rather die on my feet than live on my knees' - Citizen Soldier's 'Face to Face' song.