#some of this and more of this might find its way into various places at some point along the series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwnglx · 9 days ago

Text

pick a pile - what makes you attractive?

welcome back lovely reader! let's take a peak into what makes you so attractive. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 1 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you're interested in creating these meaningful and emotional connections to people.

you aren't the type of person who feels the need to place yourself above anyone, in order to feel good about yourself. your desire for balance and harmony in your relationships makes you highly attractive.

the way you're able to put yourself in other people's shoes, and approach them with empathy, is wonderful. you give them this precious feeling of being understood.

you're a person who has very comforting energy, and a soothing effect on others. someone who brings the calm after the chaos, and hope into situations that seem lost.

spirit keeps showing me this image of a bandaid.

your attractiveness lies in your gentleness. in your ability to mend and heal.

the fact that you've been through so much, but this inner spark of hope inside you still remained bright and dazzling in the end, makes you very special.

it's likely that a lot of you aren't fully aware of this, but your existence is dazzling, and extraordinary in many people's eyes.

you stand out. you're unique.

there's something about your presence that shines differently, compared to the people around you. it's almost like a butterfly that can't see the beauty of its own wings.

i believe a good amount of you, have gone through your own losses and heartbreaks in the past.

it's likely you went through different cycles, and various impactful stages in your life where you were forced to adapt and adjust. unexpected situations which caught you off guard and resulted in you needing to pick up the pieces by yourself.

but the way you've been able to bounce back, and still find this inner courage to keep going, despite the hurt, is impressive.

i believe you've come to a point where you've been able to move away from that state of sorrow, and turned it into something that fuels your power.

your ability to bravely deal with the things that life unexpectedly throws you head on, makes you very attractive.

you still have a more sensitive heart, and your core will always be a little soft and sweet deep down; but your character has gained a lot of strength throughout the years.

this is something you radiate to the outside now. your inner power makes you incredibly attractive.

you look at the things you've been through till now, as experiences which have shaped you immensely, and turned you into the person you are today.

a lot of you are also likely to be outspoken, and pretty straightforward. you like getting to the true core of topics, and aren't afraid to voice things others might shy away from.

your attractiveness lies in your ability to balance these two coinciding sides in you; one that is full of empathy, warmth and a kind heart, and one that is self-sufficient, ambitious and courageous.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 2 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you relentlessly work towards fulfilling your own dreams and goals.

you're willing to put in consistent effort, in order to build yourself the dream life you desire so badly.

i just don't see you liking to rely on anyone else to do the work for you. you're very self-sufficient, and recognize that in order to get to a place of satisfaction and contentment within yourself, you have to be the one to make the effort. there's nothing like enjoying the fruits of your own labor.

a lot of you are very sure of what you want for yourself. some of you might actively manifest, by imagining and picturing how you want your life to be.

creating moodboards on pinterest or something. creating folders of style inspiration, or interior design inspirations. this is how i want to be dressed, this is the place i want to live in.

you're not gonna be someone who throws the towel and gives in, just because someone else might label your dreams as impossible, or unrealistic.

it's almost like you'll tell them “well, i'll show you then”

you have high aspirations, standards and expectations towards yourself, as well as others, which makes you even more attractive.

you just do not settle for anything less than what you want.

people can't get to you too easily. you're guarded and careful about who you let in closely.

many people are likely to look at you as a person they can't quite decipher or fully figure out at first; someone whose facade they'd like to look beyond.

the fact that you aren't an open book who's constantly accessible and available twenty four seven, makes you highly attractive to others. you cautiously keep them at an arm's length, and people might have to work for your attention.

there might even be some people envious of you.

envious of the fact that you're so self-reliant, independent, and in no need of anyone's help or guidance in life.

and although you give off a more detached and colder vibe to some people on the outside, people who actually know the true you, are aware of how sweet and empathetic you can in fact be. you just have a genuine heart deep down.

you're likely to be someone with a lot of depth and layers, and the closer people get to knowing you in your entirety, the more they get to see of your more complex, introspective and sensitive sides.

you might be much more emotional, romantic and dreamy than what meets the eye at first; and this is likely to draw a lot of people to you.

like “wow, i didn't know you had this side to you”

there's this type of reversal charm, where you might pleasantly surprise some people with how soft you can actually be at times, compared to the first impression they had of you.

some of you might literally have an rbf, but a beautiful smile that brightens and lights up your face in a whole new way.

you also give me very very creative energy. i feel like you love to express yourself beautifully, in many artistic ways. and you see art as a way to live out your most authentic self.

˖ ࣪ ⊹ ꒰ঌ pile 3 ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

you're attractive, in the way you lead with your heart.

it's likely that you're a person who nurtures a strong connection to their vast and rich emotional world. you're someone who genuinely cares.

like.. i don't think you even know how to just not care about things, and go through life in a nonchalant “meh” way. most of the time, you're very chalant. (ㅜ same!)

this makes you much more attractive than you might realize.

you can easily get emotionally invested in plenty of your endeavors; whether that's your relationships, the choices you have to make, the different situations life throws in your way.

you feel everything in a deep and profound manner, and this makes you unique.

reason why i believe you might not be fully aware of this, is because you seem to have the tendency to see yourself as more lacking than you actually are.

you're likely to be a person who's very humble at their core. an eternal student of life.

someone who tries their best to grow continuously and better themselves through every situation they get confronted with; especially the disappointments, regrets, losses.

you're eager to pull the lesson out of every experience in life, and sincerely want to learn from your mistakes.

despite criticism hurting you sometimes, you're still trying your best to improve yourself through it all.

this hard-working, grounded, down to earth and modest energy makes you incredibly attractive.

i think you're slowly but surely trying to let go of certain limitations you habitually set yourself till now. you might've felt trapped in your mind and stuck for a good while, but you're progressively coming out of that place.

despite the exhausting struggles you've been through till now, you're still standing strong!

your endurance, resilience and inner strength makes you immensely attractive.

yes you're wounded, yes you don't see yourself as perfect, but you're still ready to fight. you are a true warrior.

even with your naturally modest character, i don't see you as a person who allows people to step all over them anymore. you're starting to learn to be more strict and clear with your boundaries.

people might see you as someone who's becoming more guarded and closing yourself off, but to you, it's what's necessary to protect yourself.

you're attractive in the way you're becoming more and more aware of your true worth and your value.

you shouldn't let people look at your inner softness as weakness anymore.

on the contrary, it makes you incredibly strong and attractive, if you confidently embrace that side of you. i can see you stepping into your true power, once you learn to acknowledge your qualities more.

it's very likely for the things you yourself see as your downfalls, to be your actual strengths. you might just see yourself in a negative light way too quickly.

for example, your emotionality and sensitivity doesn't have to be a flaw. it can be your asset. it makes you special.

not everyone is capable of emotional connection the way you are. not everyone has the ability to be so genuinely loving, caring and sincerely empathetic the way you are.

don't constantly see yourself for what you aren't, for what you lack, for what you can't do. but see yourself for what you are and what you have, what you can indeed do!

note; i was definitely the most passionate about this pile because i have to admit, i relate so much 🥹 sending you all my support and hugs sweet reader

#kpop tarot #pac reading #pac #tarot reading #tarot community #tarot #personal reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading

430 notes · View notes

booksandchainmail · 5 months ago

Text

I've started reading Anne Lister's (early 1800s lesbian) journals, some highlights:

where they start off, she's accompaning her ex-its-complicated (Mariana) who just got married on her honeymoon. Anne responds to this heartbreak by fucking Mariana's sister (also along on the honeymoon)

she is also an absolute dirtbag towards this sister (confusingly also named Anne aka Nantz), "she would gladly have gotten into bed or done anything of the loving kind I asked her", "I said she excited my feelings in a way that was very unjustifiable unless she meant to gratify them"

part of how she explains she's gay to Nantz is saying how pretty hr sister Eliza is. Notably this is not the sister that Anne has been dating.

then she immediately drops Nantz and makes a snide note that "superior charms might not be so easily come-at-able on such easy terms"

Later she meets back up with Mariana and then proceeds to spend so much time hanging out with yet another sister (Lou) that Mariana gets jealous, which Anne glosses over in a way that might read more heartfelt if she had not previously a) noted that one of Mariana's sisters was very pretty or b) slept with another one

On the one hand she is such a snob towards her neighbors, but on the other its clear she's acutely aware that they are all aware she is Different and are gossiping about her, so I find it hard to hold the classism against her

her idea of flirting with a local middleclass girl she meets is to send her a poem about having a temporary fling with a social inferior. Luckily she does not go through with this idea, but big Darcy energy

at one point she buys a pistol and shoots out of her window and the recoil knocks it out of her hand so dramatically that the pistol smashes the glass

so much of these journals are about finances, which I'm sure the historians adore, Anne keeps noting down how much everything cost

There's some interesting gendered bits going on in her: Anne mentions at one point sitting in just her underwear and men's suspenders, and mentions "the abuse I had received for [...] manners like those of a gentleman". She's also very focused on getting a full (masculine) education: classics, math and science, etc, and there are multiple places where she notes particularly when a(n unfamiliar) man treats her intellect as an equal.

there's one long bit that really gets me where she goes on for a while about the various expenses of traveling by coach and ends it with "Any gentleman might travel on these terms, if he chose to go into the traveling room & was sure of being well received so long as he did not give himself airs, but behaved like a gentleman. Indeed, he said, many gentlemen did travel in this way..."

gods I wish she lived in a time where she could be butch

Anne Lister kept parts of her journals encrypted, mostly the lines to do with her sexuality, and there's a strange poetry in the way this collection renders the encrypted text in italics, queerness once unreadable but still written plainly alongside the deniable straightness, "Had a hot supper & did not get back until 3. I slept with M---"

#anne lister #gentleman jack #the secret diaries of miss anne lister

538 notes · View notes

vexwerewolf · 4 months ago

Note

If I could ask you for some advice, what do you think helps the flavour text of a mech or piece of equipment sell a player on the fantasy of using it?

I'm finding it frustratingly difficult to do so with my own homebrew content: I can come up with lore and backstory easily enough, but re-reading it feels dry, and I can't help but contrast it with how the descrptions in official content and other supplements is more evocative, at least for mechs.

Let's observe some corebook Lancer flavour text and examine the various varieties it comes in.

Purely Functional

While it's usually not the most fun type of flavour text, this just tells us what the weapon is, and - if it has any particular tags or on-hit effects - why it's like that. The Hand Cannon is a good example: here's what it is (modified pistol), here's why it does more damage, and here's why it has Loading.

The main advantage of Purely Functional flavour text is that it provides space for other types of flavour text to breathe. Flavour text is a great place for jokes, but it's not good for every piece of flavour text to be a joke - the pauses between notes in music are just as important as the notes.

Obfuscating Vendorspeak

The Bristlecrown Flechette Launcher this is a great example of dark humour that Lancer uses quite often: marketing fast-talk to cover up something really unpleasant. The joke here is based on us understanding precisely what the equipment does mechanically, and then seeing how the manufacturer tries to sell it. There's a bunch of dense technobabble here meant to obfuscate the fact that this weapon fires knives in every direction specifically designed to kill infantry.

Deadpan Weirdness

The joke here relies on describing something extremely weird like it's the most natural thing in the world. Wait, you're telling me that in a world where I can just print new parts if the old ones break, they put DRM on my fucking knife and I have to apologise to the fucking knife maker to get a new one? What the fuck, dude? Why are you acting like this makes any sense?!

My sword uploads fucking what to the Space Internet?!

Third-Act Twist

This type of flavour text disguises itself as something else - most often Purely Functional - and then hits you with Third Act Twist. It makes you go "wait, what?!" It's very classic setup-punchline stuff. You're telling me my mech can rot?!

As a side note, Lancer loves to use this for its NHPs.

WHY DID YOU PUT THAT IN SCARE QUOTES, LUCIFER

Worldbuilding

This is similar to the Purely Functional, but instead of just describing technical specifications of the weapons, it puts the weapon in the broader context of the setting's history. Okay, so we know what this weapon is and what it does - why was it built? What was the original use case, and why? Most importantly, what can the existence of this weapon tell us about the world that build it?

Whimsical Aside

This is the insertion of a light-hearted, humanising little insertion regarding how this piece of equipment gets used in the field. This serves to remind us that soldiers aren't cold, unfeeling killing machines: they can be as emotional, irreverent and silly as the rest of us, and they do things like name their mobile bombs...

... or call resupply drones "mech snacks."

The Ominous Out-Of-Context Quote That Explains Nothing And Only Raises More Questions

As I've said in multiple textmash memes, this is basically Tom and Miguel's shorthand for "this technology is Intensely Fucked Up in a way that it is more fun and scary not to explain." This is essentially Lancer's version of SCP's [REDACTED].

You might think this is the domain of HORUS, and you'd be right, but every single manufacturer indulges in these - although IPS-N had to wait until NRFaW to get theirs:

What the fuck do you mean by that, Lancer?

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #vex asks

580 notes · View notes

twitchmattentusiast · 2 months ago

Text

( twitchmattenthusiasts kinktober ! )

“ SOME HOCUS POCUS TYPE SHIT. “

pairings. enemies to lovers + brothers bsf!matt.

warnings. body switching, spells, spanking, bondage, use of toys. switch matt x oc but mostly sub!matt tbh. slight mommy kink major daddy kink.

EXTRA warning: this is kinky as shit, so be warned! oc and matt are ENEMY enemies, so them having sex is going to be rough as fuck and they’re going to take their frustration out on each other, so um, this is your warning! it’s an oc just because i felt it made more sense!

“this is stupid as shit.”

"you’re stupid as shit." matt instantly shoots back.

bianca rolls her eyes, crossing her arms as she trails behind matt. she’s annoyed as shit right now. if she's being honest, she didn't even want to come to this stupid escape room in the first place, but chris and nate wouldn't get off her back and begged her to come, promising she wouldn't be anywhere near matt, but of course it's just her luck that she's lost her best friends and her brother and has ended up with matt.

matt rolls his eyes dramatically as bianca goes on yet another rant about how this is her worst freaking nightmare ever. “oh my god, can you shut the fuck up for once? it’s not like i want to be stuck here with your annoying ass either. let’s just find the fucking clues and get out of here already.”

he turns back towards the room, scanning the walls and shelves for anything that might help them escape. “stop fucking whining and actually look for something useful, would you? the sooner we get out of here, the better. i’m tired of being stuck with a fucking brat like you.”

bianca scoffs, following behind matt as he walks into a room. "are you fucking kidding me?" she yells. "i’m the one who's been looking for clues; all you've done is fuckin stand there and text your stupid hoes instead of actually doing shit!”

matt ignores bianca’s bitchy comment, continuing to browse through the various items scattered around the room. he picks up a small vial filled with clear liquid, examining it closely before setting it back down again.

“whatever," he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes. “keep being a little bitch about everything."

“you’re an asshole, you know that?”

matt shrugs nonchalantly, not bothering to hide his smirk. “so what if i am? at least i’m not some uptight bitch like you."

he moves further into the room, poking around shelves and drawers with little regard for their contents. his gaze lands on a collection of old, dusty bottles, and he starts to grab them, examining each one curiously.

“what the fuck is this shit?" he asks, holding up a bottle with strange symbols etched onto its surface. “looks like some kind of potion or something."

bianca shrugs, looking down at her nails. “probably fake or somethi-“ she’s cut off when matt suddenly opens the bottle and starts sticking his nose in it. “what the fuck are you doing?”

"chill the fuck out, will ya?" matt retorts, ignoring bianca’s warning.

“it’s probably just some lame-ass decoration or something." he sniffs the contents of the bottle, wrinkling his nose at the strong scent. “that smells weird as fuck.”

bianca rolls her eyes, watching as matt continues to mess around with the strange bottles. she lets out an exasperated sigh, clearly growing more impatient by the second.

"you’re such a dumbass sometimes, you know that?" she huffs, shaking her head in disbelief. "put those things down before you break something valuable, yeah?"

matt tosses the bottle aside carelessly, not giving a flying fuck about bianca’s complaints. “relaxx, princess. it’s not like i’m gonna break anything important."

his gaze falls upon another bottle, this one filled with a dark, murky liquid. curiosity getting the better of him, matt unscrews the cap and takes a long swig directly from the container. “tastes like cheap vodka," he remarks with a smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “not bad for some ancient relic shit."

“there’s actually no way you just drank that shit.” bianca complains, looking at matt in total disgust.

matt shrugs, ignoring the looks of disgust she shoots him. he runs his fingers along another set of bottles. picking a white one up, he twists the lid, holding it close to his nose as he takes another whiff. “you’ll like this one b.” he tells her, holding the bottle out to her, "smells like malibu.”

“malibu?” bianca asks curiously. she appears right behind matt, looking down at the bottle. malibu being her favorite drink.

matt grins slyly, noticing bianca’s interest “yeah, smells just like it. too bad it's probably not the real deal or you'd be sucking this shit down like a champ, huh?"

bianca snatches the bottle from matt’s hand, uncapping it quickly and bringing it to her nose. her eyes widen in delight as the familiar scent fills her nostrils.

"see, i told ya it smelled like the good stuff." matt smirks, watching bianca eagerly sniff the bottle.

"go ahead and take a shot, princess. live a little for once in your life." he gestures for her to drink it, a mischievous glint in his eye. “unless you're too much of a pussy to handle it." he taunts, knowing full well how competitive bianca is.

“cmonn, i dare ya." matt pushes, wanting to see if she'll rise to the challenge. “drink it all down like a good girl." he goads, egging her on relentlessly.

bianca hesitates for a moment, her competitive nature warring with her common sense. but the allure of the familiar scent and taste proves too tempting to resist. with a defiant glare at matt, she tilts her head back and pours the mysterious liquid straight down her throat.

bianca gasps, her face contorting in surprise as the potent liquor burns its way down her throat. “fuck that shits strong.” she coughs, sputtering as she tries to catch her breath.

but despite the initial shock, bianca can't deny the thrill that courses through her veins. she feels a rush of excitement at pushing past her limits. "guess you were right about it tasting like malibu,"

matt chuckles, enjoying every moment of bianca’s discomfort. “see? told ya it wasn't so bad."

his gaze drifts over to the other containers still untouched on the shelf. picking up another bottle, he examines it carefully before opening it and taking a deep sniff.

“matt that literally says ‘do not touch’”

matt waves off bianca’s concern with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “relax, it's probably just some stupid warning label.”

he rolls his eyes as bianca shoots him a look. “cmon, bianca what’s the worst that could happen?”

bianca scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. "i don't know, maybe we get turned into frogs or something?"

her words come out more sarcastic than genuinely worried, but there's a hint of unease beneath the surface.

with a careless shrug, matt pops open the bottle and brings it to his lips, not caring about the consequences. “cmon b don’t be such a pussy."

bianca rolls her eyes. as she reaches for it, a strange sensation washes over her—a tingling warmth spreading from her fingertips up her arm. it’s just for a moment though, and it goes completely unnoticed as bianca takes a long chug of bottle like matt did.

“happy now?” she asks, sarcastically handing matt the bottle.

before matt can even respond, a man suddenly appears out of nowhere. staring at the both of them curiously. “did you drink that?”

bianca opens her mouth about to reply when matt speaks first. "nahh,” he says, lying smoothly. “just lookin at em.”

the stranger narrows his eyes suspiciously at matt’s denial, clearly not buying it, but doesn’t say anything else. he nods his head towards bianca, who’s standing really close to matt because the guys are honestly freaking her the fuck out right now. “you two are from that group, aren’t you?”

“umm . . . yeah.?”

the stranger nods his head. “interesting,” he says. “you two get along?”

matt snorts at the question, shaking his head. "hardly. this bitch here thinks she's queen of everything, always trying to tell me what to do."

bianca bristles at his harsh words, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “shut up, matt!" she spits back, her voice venomous. “at least i’m not a complete asshole!"

the stranger watches them with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

the stranger clears his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “you wish he could step into your shoes sometimes huh? to see what you have to deal with?” he asks bianca curiously.

“oh all the time!” she instantly replies.

the stranger smiles. he shoots matt one last glance before turning around. “i think i know where your group is if you want to follow me.”

matt and bianca are instantly hot on his heels.

it’s been two hours now since the group left the escape room. they’re all at nate and bianca’s, chilling in their living rooms as the triplets are planning to spend the night.

bianca gets up from the couch, stretching her arms as an yawn escapes. “gonna head to bed,” she tells nate. her brother nodding her head and wishing her a good night. “night,” she says, rolling her eyes as matt flips her off.

she heads to her room, instantly jumping into her bed and turning the lights off. more than ready to welcome sleep. today had been a longgg day.

bianca groans, still half asleep, as she moves around the bed. she moves her arms, and her arms hit the back of someone. she sits up in confusion, wondering what the fuck chris is doing in her room. suddenly needing something to drink, bianca quickly shuffles out the room.

she moves down the stairs, her body feeling suddenly really heavy. she’s still half asleep until she stops in the hallway mirror and freezes as she sees matt staring back at her. “what the fuck?” she exclaims, and her eyes are wide as matt’s deep voice fills her ears. she moves her hand around in confusion, thinking it’s a nightmare or her mind is playing tricks on her, but matters follows her back in the mirror.

with wide eyes, bianca quickly moves up the stairs and dashes straight to her room, where she finds herself sleeping peacefully on her bed. only it’s not her, it’s matt.

matt starts to stir slightly as bianca moves around the room. “bianca?” matt says, rubbing his eyes slightly. he’s instantly confused as he realises he’s in bianca’s room. he’s even more confused when he removes his fingers and finds a fresh manicure set on his nails. “what the fuck?!” matt exclaims as he looks up and finds his own body staring at him.

matt blinks rapidly, struggling to comprehend the bizarre situation unfolding before him. his gaze darts between his own body standing there in shock and the unfamiliar female form he now inhabits.

“what the actual fuck?" he mutters under his breath, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “this isn't possible..."

he swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up gingerly as if testing whether this reality is indeed real. matt’s hands instinctively move to cover his chest, feeling the soft swell of breasts beneath the thin fabric of bianca’s tank top.

“did . . . did you do this?" he demands accusingly, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at his former self. “is this some kind of sick joke?"

“you think i did this?” bianca exclaims. “i didn’t fucking do shit!”

“well, it sure as fuck wasn't me!" matt retorts defensively, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he's now in a woman's body. "so how the fuck did this happen?"

bianca crosses her arms over her chest, her expression a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. "i don’t know, okay? maybe it was those weird drinks at the escape room or that creepy guy who showed us the way back. but whatever it was, i didn't do it!"

“this is insane bianca.” matt exclaims. “some hocus pocus shit!”

bianca rolls her eyes dramatically. "spare me the dramatics," she says. "we need to focus on getting back to our own bodies and-“ she pauses as she watches matt stand in front of the mirror, smirking as he moves bianca’s hands over her tits. well, technically matt’s hands since he’s in her body, but-

“what are you doing!”

matt chuckles lowly, his eyes never leaving his reflection in the mirror as he continues to explore his new feminine curves. “just seeing what i’ve got here," he says nonchalantly, giving one of bianca’s breasts a light squeeze through the thin material of her tank top. bianca glares at him, and matt chuckles.

“oh, come on, b, i’m a guy, of course i’m going to want to touch some tits,“ he pauses as he turns around, smirking when he looks down at bianca-well himself. “holy shit, you’re hard!” he laughs.

bianca’s face flushes bright red as she stammers, unable to look away from the obvious bulge in her shorts. "shut up! it’s not like i wanted this to happen!" she protests weakly, crossing her arms over her chest again in a futile attempt to hide her embarrassment.

matt lets out a low whistle, his smirk growing wider as he takes in the sight of his own erection straining against bianca’s shorts. “admit it, b. this is kinda hot, isn't it? being in each other's skin, touching ourselves..." his hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek. “we could have some fun with this..."

bianca swats his hand away, her cheeks burning with a mix of anger and arousal. "don’t get any ideas, pervert!" she snaps, but her voice wavers slightly. she can't deny the thrill of exploring her own body through matt’s eyes, the forbidden excitement of being touched by another person - especially her sworn enemy.

matt’s grin widens at bianca’s reaction, sensing her inner turmoil. he steps closer, invading her personal space as he leans in to whisper in her ear. “come on, b, don’t pretend you're not curious. we’re stuck like this for god knows how long... might as well make the most of it."

“you did say you wanted me to see what it’s like to be in your shoes. why don’t you be in my shoes and be me?”

bianca smirks suddenly. “you want me to act like you?”

matt nods eagerly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "you act like me," he says, trailing his manicured fingers down his own chest, which feels weird as shit but strangely excites matt and bianca’s body, "and i’ll act like you.”

bianca raises an eyebrow skeptically. "fine, you're on." she steps back and folds her arms across her chest, mimicking matt’s typical stance.

matt stares at her in confusion, waiting for her to do something. when suddenly bianca pushes him against the wall. matt gasps, feeling the weight of his own body being strange but oddly arousing as bianca reaches down to choke matt with his own hands.

“what the fuck?” he manages to gasp out, despite the strangling pressure. but instead of fighting back, matt’s hips involuntarily buck forward, grinding against bianca's buldge. “fuck, b, that's...not bad actually."

bianca releases the chokehold and smirks down at matt, her chest heaving. "like that, huh?" she purrs.

matt nods, panting lightly as he looks up at bianca through hooded eyes. “yeah, keep going," he urges, biting his lip.

bianca smirks. “you know matt...” she trails as she pushes a strand of his hair behind his ear. “you’ve been a really bad boy these last few months. always complaining, talking back to me, and shit, and you knew i couldn’t do anything when i was in my body, but since i’m in your body, i can treat you like the slut you are, huh, baby?”

matt swallows thickly, his breath catching in his throat as bianca leans in close, her words dripping with seductive menace. “fuck," *he whispers, squirming under her intense gaze. “do your worst, princess."

bianca grins wickedly before spinning matt around to face the mirror. she positions herself behind him, pressing her clothed body against his backside as her hands roam over his tits and stomach. "look at yourself, matty," she coos, her hot breath tickling his ear. "such a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

her fingers deftly unbutton his shorts and slip inside, running softly against her wet cunt "mmm, so wet already," she murmurs approvingly. "guess being in my body and getting treated like a whore turns you on doesn’t it?”

matt whimpers, his hips bucking into bianca’s touch as her fingers tease along his soaked slit. "yes, fuck, just like that," he moans shamelessly, his eyes locked onto their reflection. the sight of bianca’s hand disappearing into his shorts, coupled with the delicious friction against his clit, sends jolts of pleasure coursing through his borrowed body.

"please, b, more," he begs, his voice high-pitched and needy. In this moment, he's completely surrendered to the sensations, to the taboo thrill of being used by his mortal enemy while trapped in her skin.

bianca chuckles darkly, revelling in matt’s desperation. she pulls her hand out of his shorts and brings her slick fingers to his lips. "open up, slut," she commands, smearing his juices across his mouth. "taste how much you want this."

matt obediently sucks her digits clean, keeping eye contact as he does so. bianca and walks to the bed, sitting down on it and patting her lap for matt to sit on.

matt saunters over to bianca, swaying his hips seductively as he settles himself on her lap, straddling her thighs. he grinds down against her, relishing the friction of their clothed sexes rubbing together.

“‘s this what you want, princess?" he purrs, draping his arms around her neck. “for me to be your little toy?" matt captures her lips in a filthy kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste himself on her mouth. he rocks his hips faster, chasing the building pleasure, desperate for more.

breaking the kiss with a gasp, matt rests his forehead against hers, panting heavily. “use me," he breathes. “make me yours." he says whining exactly how he imagines bianca does.

bianca flips their positions, pinning matt beneath her on the bed. she looms over him, drinking in the debauched sight of his flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. "gonna ruin you, baby," she promises darkly, hooking her fingers in his waistband and tugging his shorts down his legs. her gaze rakes hungrily over his exposed flesh, lingering on the glistening pink folds of his bare cunt.

matt gasps as bianca tears off his shorts, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. he writhes beneath her domineering presence, craving more of her rough touches. his pussy throbs with need, visibly swollen and aching to be filled.

“you’ve wanted this forever,” matt challenges with a sultry smirk. “to have me completely at your mercy.”’he reaches up to grasp bianca’s face, pulling her in for another searing kiss, his hips rolling upwards to grind against her.

��take what you want,”

bianca smirks, as she reaches into her bedside table to grab a vibrator matt watches as she sticks it in his pussy, jolting slightly as it turns on. matt instantly moans. no wonder girls like this shit.

matt lets out a guttural moan as the buzzing sensation washes over him, his back arching off the bed. his eyes roll back, lids fluttering shut in ecstasy. he begins to ride the vibrator with wild abandon, his hips jerking erratically to meet each thrust.

“ohh fuck” he cries out, sounding eerily like bianca.

matt's entire demeanor shifts, adopting bianca’s sassy tone and confident air. he spreads his legs further apart, as if eager to show off the pleasure he's experiencing. jis hands move to grip the sheets, knuckles white with tension.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum," he warns, voice breathless and husky. “don’t stop, please..."

bianca keeps the vibrator going strong, watching intently as matt’s orgasm builds. she leans down, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss as he starts to shake and twitch beneath her. when he finally comes undone, bianca drinks in every moan and whimper, feeling the ripples of his climax against the vibrator.

bianca keeps the vibrator on and matt’s eyes widen. she pulls down matt’s boxers. “you gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”

now bianca was joking. when matt said that she should act like her she took it as a joke, but surprise etches onto a face and a smirk forms when matt whines bucking his (her) hips in the air as he says “yes daddy.”

now bianca was joking. when matt said that she should act like her, she took it as a joke, but surprise etches onto a face, and a smirk forms when matt whines, bucking his (her) hips in the air as he says, “yes, daddy.”

bianca’s cock starts to sit even more uncomfortably, matt’s words making her harder. turns out a girl lying there spreading her legs open turns a guy like matt on a lot.

bianca grabs matt’s chin firmly, forcing him to look up at her as she strokes her hardening cock. "open wide, bitch," she growls, her voice dripping with dominance.

matt parts his lips obediently, submitting to bianca’s demands. she presses the tip of her dick against his mouth, teasing him with the salty flavor of pre-cum. "take it all," bianca commands, pushing forward until her cock fills matt’s mouth completely.

matt starts bobbing his head, sucking lewdly on bianca’s cock. he hollows his cheeks and swirls his tongue around the sensitive head, coaxing out more precum to swallow. the vibrator continues to buzz insistently between matt’s legs, prolonging his aftershocks and keeping him intensely aroused.

matt takes bianca’s cock greedily, swallowing around the thick girth stretching his jaw. he hums in approval, sending delicious vibrations along bianca’s length. matt looks up through his lashes, gazing adoringly at bianca as he worships her dick with his mouth.

the combination of sensations - the vibrator still buried in his cunt, the weight of bianca’s cock heavy on his tongue - is overwhelming. tears prick at the corners of matt’s eyes from the effort of deep-throating bianca, but he doesn't relent. he wants to please her completely, to feel her release coating his throat.

matt grips bianca’s thighs for support as he picks up the pace, sucking hard and fast. his pussy leaks into the sheets “fuck daddy”

bianca smirks, her cock pulsing in matt’s mouth as he calls her 'daddy'. she grips his hair tighter, guiding his head up and down her cock. "that’s right, baby," she purrs. "such a good little slut for daddy."

the degrading words only seem to spur matt on further. he sucks harder, hollowing his cheeks and swirling his tongue around bianca’s sensitive cock. lewd slurping noises fill the room as spit dribbles down his chin.

bianca’s balls tighten, signaling her release. she holds matt’s head steady, fucking his face with quick, shallow thrusts. "you gonna swallow every drop like a good girl?”

matt whimpers around bianca’s cock, nodding frantically in response. he can taste the impending orgasm, the tang of salt mingling with the musk of arousal. as bianca’s thrusts become erratic, matt opens wide, letting her flood his mouth with her cum

he swallows convulsively, gulping down every thick rope of cum. some escapes past his lips, trickling down his chin to join the mess on the sheets below. matt’s own pussy clenches around the vibrator, milking it for all it's worth as he savors the taste of bianca’s release.

bianca pulls out of matt’s mouth with a wet pop, smirking down at the debauched sight before her. matt’s lips are swollen and slick with saliva and cum, his hair mussed from bianca’s rough handling. she traces a finger along his jawline, gathering some of the stray drops and bringing them to his lips.

“clean yourself up, slut," bianca commands, pressing her finger into matt’s mouth. he obeys without hesitation, lapping at her digit with his skilled tongue until it's spotless.

satisfied, bianca withdraws her hand and stands up, admiring how matt looks spread out on the bed - flushed and needy, his pussy glistening with arousal. she trails a hand down his chest, tweaking a nipple roughly before continuing lower.

“you wanna come again?" she teases. she’s half surprised that she’s managing to play the role of matt so well. and also even more surprised that he’s even letting her it’s almost too suspicious if she’s being honest.

matt whines softly, his body craving more stimulation. he nods eagerly, his gaze locked onto bianca’s hand as it inches closer to his soaked folds.

“yes, please... daddy..." he whispers, the word slipping out unbidden once more. matt bites his lip, blushing furiously at his own submission. but the desire coursing through him overrides any embarrassment.

bianca’s fingers brush against his sensitive clit, making matt gasps and buck his hips. he’s painfully aware of the vibrator still buried inside him, the constant thrumming driving him wild with need.

“i want... i need..." matt trails off, unable to articulate exactly what he craves. all he knows is that he's never felt so desperate, so consumed by lust.

bianca chuckles darkly, amused by matt’s desperation. she circles his clit with a finger, applying just enough pressure to make him squirm. "tell me what you need, baby," she coaxes, leaning down to whisper hotly in his ear. "i’ll give it to you."

matt whimpers, his body trembling under her touch. "please... use your fingers... fuck me with them..." he begs, his voice barely above a whisper. "make me come, daddy..."

bianca smirks, pleased by matt’s complete surrender. she slides two fingers into his soaked pussy, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside him. matt cries out, his back arching off the bed as pleasure crashes over him.

“that’s it, take it," bianca purrs, pumping her fingers in and out of matt’s clenching heat.

matt's mind goes blank, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of bianca’s fingers violating his most intimate space. he’s never felt so full, so stretched, and yet it's precisely what he needs.

“fuck, yes!" he chants, his hips rocking to meet bianca’s thrusts. the vibrator continues to buzz away, adding another layer of stimulation that threatens to push him over the edge.

“daddy, ‘m... i’m gonna..." matt’s words trail off into incoherent moans as bianca’s fingers find that magic spot inside him again and again. his walls flutter and clench, trying to milk her digits for all they're worth.

with a keening wail, matt’s orgasm hits him like a freight train. his vision whites out, his body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy rips through him.

bianca smirks seeing matt whimper as she removes the vibrator. she takes a minute to admire how fucked out matt looks already without actually being fucked, and then without warning, she flips matt over, leaving him on his stomach and pointing his ass up in the air as she quickly lines up behind him.

matt gasps as he feels bianca’s hard cock pressing against his entrance, stretching him open. he clutches at the sheets beneath him, his knuckles turning white as he tries to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

“fuckk... so big..." he groans, feeling impossibly full. matt rocks his hips back tentatively, relishing the burn of the stretch.

the new position allows bianca to fuck him even deeper, hitting places inside him that matt didn't know could feel so good. he lets out a strangled moan, his face buried in the pillow to muffle the sound.

“more ... please, daddy... fuck me harder..." matt pleads shamelessly, completely lost to the pleasure consuming him. he clenches around bianca’s cock, urging her to move faster, deeper, anything to satisfy the aching need building within him once more.

matt’s moans start to grow louder. “shut the fuck up!” bianca hisses, spanking matt’s ass. “you don’t want nate to hear us, do you? don’t want your brothers to walk in and see you getting fucked like a slut? you gotta be quiet, matt.”

matt yelps at the sharp slap, his cheeks burning with a mix of pain and arousal. he immediately clamps his mouth shut, biting back a scream as bianca continues to pound into him relentlessly.

panting heavily, matt nods frantically, his mind racing with the taboo scenario bianca just painted. the thought of getting caught by nate or chris while being used so thoroughly sends a thrill straight to his core.

he struggles to contain himself, to stifle the noises bubbling up from deep within his throat. it’s a losing battle, however, as bianca’s merciless pace pushes him closer and closer to the brink once more.

“p-please... can't... hold it..." matt manages to choke out between gritted teeth, his entire body tensing as another climax approaches.

"that's right, you're gonna cum on my dick like a good little whore," bianca snarls, grabbing a fistful of matt's hair and yanking his head back. "and you're gonna do it quietly, got it?"

matt whimpers, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes from the pain in his scalp. but he nods vigorously, desperate to please.

tears stream down matt’s face as bianca holds him in place, her brutal grip on his hair sending jolts of pain through his skull. but even through the discomfort, he can feel the familiar tightening in his gut, the telltale signs that he's teetering on the edge once more.

"yes, daddy... please... i’ll be good, i promise..." matt whimpers, his voice choked with emotion. he squeezes his eyes shut, focusing every ounce of willpower on containing his screams as the pressure builds to a crescendo.

with a low, broken moan, matt’s orgasm rips through him, his inner walls clamping down around bianca’s pistoning cock. his whole body shakes with the force of it, every muscle locked rigid as pleasure floods his senses.

bianca shoots her cun right into him, and matt moans as she starts to fuck it into him. bianca pulls out, and before she can even register what’s happening, matt pushes her so he’s on top.

“my turn,” he smirks, reaching into the drawer to pull out some handcuffs and intensely moving to cuff them to bianca and her bed.

bianca’s eyes are wide. how the fuck did he even know they were there?

a triumphant grin spreads across matt’s face as he secures bianca’s wrists above her head, the metal cuffs cold against her skin. he steps back to admire their positions, a sense of dominance washing over him now that the tables have turned.

“what?” he asks, smirking as bianca gapes at him. “we said that you’d act like me and i’d act like you, and well, it’s my time to act like you, baby.”

bianca glares at matt, trying to look unimpressed despite her heart pounding in her chest. "oh really? and what exactly does that mean?" she sneers, trying to sound unaffected despite the way her cock is starting to harden.

she squirms slightly in the restraints, testing them. they hold firm. damn it.

matt chuckles darkly, enjoying the sight of bianca struggling futilely against her bonds. he saunters closer, running a finger along her jawline with a possessive touch.

"it means," he purrs, leaning in to whisper hotly in her ear, "you’re going to be a good boy for mommy hm?”

"fuck off, matt." bianca spits, trying to keep her voice steady despite the heat spreading through her body at his words and touch. she tries to jerk her hands free again but the cuffs dig into her wrists painfully, making her wince.

despite herself, a small part of her is curious where he's going with this. what game is he playing now?

matt ignores bianca’s heated retort, instead dropping to his knees beside the bed. he gazes up at her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, trailing a hand down her chest to fondle her growing erection.

“i think we both know you want to be a good boy for me," he coos, giving her cock a squeeze.

with a wicked smile, matt leans in to lick a stripe up the underside of bianca’s cock, making her shudder. he teases her slit with the tip of his tongue, savoring her unique taste before taking her into his mouth.

bianca gasps sharply as matt’s warm, wet mouth envelops her sensitive flesh. despite her best efforts to remain stoic, she can't help but arch into the sensation, a needy whimper escaping her lips.

“mhmm... f-fuck..." she grinds out through clenched teeth, her hips twitching involuntarily as matt begins to bob his head.

matt keeps sucking on bianca’s cock, his tongue swirling around the head. he reaches up and starts to play with her balls, squeezing them gently. he pops off her cock with a loud pop and looks up at her.

matt stands up and moves to straddle bianca’s waist, grinding his own erection against hers. he leans down to capture her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim her mouth thoroughly.

he reaches behind himself to grab bianca’s dripping cock, angling it towards his entrance. slowly, teasingly, he sinks down onto her length, throwing his head back with a guttural groan.

matt feels bianca's hard cock slide into him, filling him completely. the feeling is overwhelming and intense, unlike anything he's ever experienced before. his vision blurs as pleasure courses through him, causing his back to arch instinctively.

his hips begin to move in slow, agonizing circles as he adjusts to the size of her cock. every movement sends jolts of pleasure radiating throughout his body, making him gasp and moan uncontrollably.

bianca grips the cuffs tightly as she watches matt ride her cock, his movements graceful yet desperate. she can see the strain on his face, the way his breath comes in ragged gasps, and it only serves to fuel her arousal further.

“fuck matt.” bianca groans. “untie me please.”

matt slows his hips, gazing down at bianca with a smug, knowing smirk as he hears her pleas. he leans in close, his hot breath ghosting over her ear as he whispers, “not until you beg properly, baby."

with that, he resumes his sensual pace, riding bianca’s cock with renewed vigor. each deliberate thrust makes him cry out in ecstasy, his inner walls clenching rhythmically around her length.

bianca grits her teeth, refusing to give in to matt's demands despite the pleasure coursing through her body. she won't let him win this game between them.

"please..." she finally relents, hating how desperate she sounds. “i need to touch you,"

her hips buck upwards involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact. the metal cuffs rattle against the headboard with each frantic movement.

at bianca’s plea, a triumphant grin spreads across matt’s face. he continues to roll his hips sensually, relishing the feeling of her hard cock inside him. "there’s a good boy," he purrs approvingly.

with a flourish, he reaches up and uncuffs bianca’s wrists, tossing the restraints aside carelessly. he leans down, pressing his chest flush against hers as he captures her lips in another heated kiss. “touch me then," he challenges breathlessly against her mouth. “show me how much you need it."

without breaking the kiss, bianca runs her hands feverishly over matt’s body, caressing every inch of exposed skin she can reach.

bianca's fingers dance over matt's shoulders, tracing the contours of his muscles before slipping lower to grip his ass cheeks. she squeezes them firmly, pulling him harder against her as their tongues continue to duel.

breaking the kiss momentarily, she nips at his bottom lip before soothing the sting with her tongue. “like this?" she asks huskily, rocking her hips to meet his. “this what you wanted, matt?"

matt whimpers and groans at the intense pleasure of bianca’s touches, his hips stuttering in response to her assertive rocking motion.

“yes, just like that..." he breathes heavily, his eyes rolling back in bliss. “oh fuck yes, right there!"

“you’re so tight, baby," bianca moans. “you gonna let me fill you up hm?”

matt nods frantically, his gaze locked with Bianca's as he pants out, "y-yes, please...i want to feel you come inside me."

his words are punctuated by sharp gasps and whines of delight as bianca’s cock pulses and throbs within him, the sensation bordering on overwhelming.

bianca's grip on matt's ass tightens as she starts to thrust up into him with short, urgent strokes. her breathing grows ragged, each pump of her hips bringing her closer to the edge.

"fuck, matt...gonna cum soon..." she warns, her voice strained with effort. “you ready for it, slut?"

matt throws his head back too, wrapped up in all this pleasure to reply, and whimpers leave his mouth as suddenly he cums. matt moans loudly as bianca shoots her cum into him.

bianca’s orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, her vision blurring white as she cries out in ecstasy. she buries her face in the crook of matt’s neck, muffling her screams as her cock spasms wildly inside him, pumping load after load of hot cum deep into him.

matt gasps at the feeling, letting out a moan at how good it feels. they take a second to catch their breaths before matt suddenly pulls himself off of bianca. he avoids her eyes and quickly scrambles to grab her pyjamas. "that was alright; can tell why girls go crazy for my cock now."

bianca raises her eyebrows and scoffs. "don’t try and play it off like you weren't a needy bitch, matt. you called me daddy."

"so?" matt sasses. he tosses bianca his t-shirt and then climbs back into bed. not saying a single word to her, he snuggles up to her chest. she’s surprised, but matt looks really worn out right now.

“do you not want to get cleaned up?" she asks softly, moving a piece of hair out of his eye. which again is insane; she still can't believe she's in his body and he's in her, and they just fucked!

"nah," matt shakes his head, his voice coming out in a sleepy tone. "’m too tired; let's just sleep."

bianca nods her head, watching in amusement as matt buries himself into her neck. "alright, but we're figuring this shit out tomorrow."

matt nods his head, humming in agreement. "after i masturbate with your vibrator, though, that shit is whack."

bianca rolls her eyes and pulls the covers over them.

｡°✩

okayyyyy i know this is two days later than i promised but listen halloweekend was long and eventful

was this too much or bad i can’t tell if i like it

#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nims speaks!#sturniolo triplets #twitchmattenthusiast #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #kinktober

361 notes · View notes

storiesfromafan · 7 months ago

Text

Guilty As Sin

A/N: I know its been a while. Forgive me. Had/still have writers block, but have managed to pull this out of the black hole of my mind. Though not 100% sure how I feel about this haha...

Pairing: slight Matthe Riddle x Fem!Reader

Summary: thoughts of our favorite Slytherin and longing.

Guilty As Sin

We’re all guilty of imaging a moment with someone we couldn’t have. We’re all guilty of those fantasies being sweet and innocent or more passionate and intense. And you were no exception. The innocent nerdy sixth year, whom had her face in a book but a mind that would even make Snape blush, couldn’t escape such thoughts. Chalk it up to teenage hormones, shall we.

And you might be asking yourself just whom was the star of your desires? Why the Slytherin bad boy himself; Mattheo Riddle. The first time you saw him back in second year, with his delightful looks, luscious brown locks, and molten brown eyes. It was love at first sight for you, as well as just about every other female around you in that moment.

Currently you were making your way to potions class. Silently you and a few of your friends were walking behind none other than Mattheo, Lorenzo, and Theodore. They were deep in conversation, hardly noticing the eyes that watched their every move. Every female they passed caste their eyes to them, while whispering and giggling about the boys before you. They were like celebrities.

You had imagined what it would have been liked to walk next to Mattheo down the halls of Hogwarts, holding hands or his arm around you, with a confident smile on his lips. All the while every female you’d pass would look miserable, for you’d have what they wanted. Then when you would reach your classroom, Mattheo would step forward and open the door for you, a sweet smile upon his face with eyes only looking at you.

Two third year boys running by you and your friends brought you back from your thoughts, reality sinking in and making you curl into yourself. Like Mattheo would ever be like that with me, you thought with a sigh.

Looking back up to the boys a head of you, you watched Mattheo open the potions room door, his two friends clapping him on the shoulder before entering the room. His brown orbs lifted in the direction of you and your friends, a soft smile on his lips. All three of you came to the door, expecting him to slip in with a laugh, door closing on you all. But you were pleasantly surprised when he remained where he was.

“After you ladies” Mattheo said gesturing to enter the room.

Wearily your friends thanked him before entering. You on the other hand couldn’t muster any words but gave him a nod. Then regretting it right after. Feeling stupid, you made your way to your potion brewing station and started to unpack for the class. Any thing to distract you from the embarrassment you were feeling.

Not long after what you believed to be the last few students entering the classroom did Professor Slughorn enter the room. Crossing the room, he called out for everyone to settle and to gather by the caldrons by his desk. You smiled at your best friend (name), who returned your smile before you moved to where Slughorn requested everyone. The older man placed the various parchments in his arms on his desk, before searching for something on said messy desk.

Eventually finding what he was after he turned back to you all, he cast his eyes around the room and smiled. Just as Slughorn began to speak, the classroom door opened and in came none other then Harry Potter and his best friend, Ron Weasley. Both looked a little frazzled, probably from the rushing to get to class. With the two new comers addressed and off to get textbooks, Slughorn went back to teaching.

“Now as I was saying” Slughorn began, “I prepared some concoctions this morning. Anyone have any idea what these may be?” He asked, eyes roaming over the class.

As usual, before you could raise your hand, Hermione had raised hers. And of course she was chosen. She stepped up to the different cauldrons, identifying all three potions Slughorn had brewed.

“Such a know it all” (name) said, making you chuckle.

Movement next to you drew your attention before hearing their voice. “She really is” said the one person you hadn’t expected to be so close.

Turning your face slightly you were met with Mattheo, he wasn’t looking at you, but you knew he had taken upon himself to join you and your best friends dislike of the Gryffindor. (Name) chuckled at Mattheo’s response, all the while you felt lightheaded from being so close to the bad boy of Slytherin.

You were brought back to the lesson on hand when Hermoine spoke of the last potion; Amortentia. A love potion. With every word she spoke you could see the females in the room hanging on to her every word. There were some soft laughs when Hermoine spoke of what she could smell, but she stopped with slight embarrassment before stepping back to her place in the crowd. All the while a group of girls slinked their way toward the potion. But then Slughorn covered it, making you giggle.

“Amortentia doesn’t create actual love, that would be impossible. But it does cause powerful infatuation or obsession” the professor preached looking over the class. “And for that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room”.

Theodore and Lorenzo, who stood on the other side of Matther snickered. “Better be careful Mattheo, one of the girls here might spike you with that potion” Theodore jested knocking shoulders with his friend.

Mattheo laughed shaking his head. “Guess I better not accept any gifts for a while”.

All the while the three friends talked did Slughorn go on, to which you didn’t pay much attention too. The proximity to the boy of your desires over rid your logical side. You could feel how close his hand was to yours, one slight movement would surely have your hands touch. So close to knowing what it would feel like to touch his skin, to know how warm he was.

Before you could really get lost, you were brought back to Slughorn assigning you all to make an acceptable draught of Living Death. Everyone – but the boys to your left – moved to turn to page ten in the textbook, while the stragglers were a few seconds behind you all.

Once returning to your station, you and (name) began to work on your potion. But not too long after you both started did you have two new comers to the station in front of you. Looking up your (colour) eyes met warm chocolate ones. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Mattheo before you.

“Sorry ladies” Lorenzo said moving some instruments around on the table. “Our cauldron wasn’t working to its full potential. Slughorn sent us over here”.

Your best friend looked both boys over with a serious look. “That’s fine. Just stay to your side”.

They both nodded and agreed. So now not only did you have a tricky potion to make, but it had to be done with your living and breathing distraction so close to your personal space. To say it was hard to focus was an understatement. Hearing him talk to Lorenzo was the best sound to hit your ears, hearing the teasing or the frustration was addicting. Not to mention steeling glances at the boy, watching how his hands worked on the potion’s ingredients. Or the concentration on his face. The thoughts that crossed your mind were never to be repeated to a soul.

While working on autopilot, you found yourself thinking about Mattheo’s hands and where you would like to feel them touching. Staring at your hands, his larger hands locking with your own as he drew you close. The soft words he would whisper in your ear. His lips grazing the shell of said ear as he showered you in compliments. Slowly his hands would leave your own, moving to your wrists, thumbs caressing your pulse. Slowly moving up your arms, drawing goose bumps to your skin, while a pleasant chill roll downs your spine.

His hands would grasp your upper arms, holding you firmly as he kissed your cheek tenderly. Those sinful lips peppering your jawline before descending to your neck. You would roll your head to the side, eyes closing slightly and an airy sigh slipping from your lips as he kisses that one spot on your neck. While his lips worked on your neck his hands would move to your waist, soon moving around to your back and pulling you into his body completely. Your chests meeting, leaving no space between you both.

“(Y/N/N), can you pass me another Sopophorus bean” (name)’s voice came cutting through your daydream. “The little bugger got away from me”.

Feeling your face flush and not trusting your words, you nodded your head a few times before passing your friend what she asked for. All the while cursing yourself for letting Mattheo distract you and send you off to la-la land. Looking from under your eyelashes, you peaked in on the boy before you. From what you could tell, he was focused on his potion and possibly didn’t see you not paying attention.

Thank God, you thought rolling your shoulders.

Putting all thoughts of the temptation before you aside, you focused on your potion. And by the time you were done it was just passable. You felt annoyed with yourself, letting your schoolwork slip because of daydreaming. But you would make sure the next potion was the best. At a frustrated growl, a sound that hit you and made you flush, Mattheo was struggling with his potion. Lorenzo not really helping either.

In a bit of a daze, you moved around the station to the boy’s side. You watched them – or rather Mattheo – closely. Noting what was being done and how it wasn’t exactly how it should have been done.

“You’re stirring it wrong” you said moving to stand between to the two, taking the stirrer from Mattheo’s hand. The brief contact of 2 seconds was enough to tell you he was indeed warm to touch.

“Excuse me” Lorenzo said slightly flabbergasted.

“Look, it has to be stirred like this” you stated mixing the potion the correct way. “If you kept stirring like you were, it would have produced smoke”.

Both boys watched how the liquid seemed to start to change, resembling what their textbook described. Offering Mattheo the stirrer, the both of you sharing a look, he took the stirrer and that brief contact again. Looking back to the caldron, you stood there watching Mattheo’s progress with the potion. Taking a step closer, you felt his leg brush against yours.

You stiffened at the contact, your mind shutting down for a moment. When it finally came back online you abruptly stepped back from the boy. Sputtering words, you think it was something like; there you go. You quickly moved back around to your side of the station and finding the textbook on the table most interesting.

All the while your mind processed how close you had been to Mattheo. As much as brushing legs was, knowing the briefest contact of his hands, you were trying to imagine what it would feel like to be sitting next to each other. His larger hand running up your calf muscle and to a resting spot on your thigh. What the warmth of that hand would feel like on your skin. Would he firmly hold your thigh in his hand, a declaration that you were his? Yes, you think he would. You believe Mattheo would be territorial. Not to mention the jealous type.

Soon Slughorn began to go around and test everyone potions. Yours just passed Slughorn’s test, both you and (name) sighed in relief. Even Mattheo and Lorenzo’s just made it, both boys sheepishly thanking you once Slughorn was gone. You blushed and waved them off. Looking up and over at Mattheo, you were surprised he was looking at you. And when he gave you a small, thankful smile, you knew he was grateful. Oh, the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach from such a small gesture was amazing.

Class was coming to an end; you were packing up your bag while (name) talked about your next class. You were only half listening to her, instead you were watching Mattheo from under your lashes. Silently hoping those beautiful brown orbs would focus on you once more. Only they didn’t. Your heart falling.

Grabbing your bag, you and your friends headed from the classroom and from the dungeons for the day. You softly smiled at your friends as they talked while crossing the room, before walking out the doors. If you had taken a moment to turn back to your station, you would have seen how Mattheo had watch you leave the classroom. An unreadable look upon his gorgeous face.

Theodore clapped Mattheo on the back, bringing the boy from his thoughts. “Come on mate, lets get to our next class” Theodore laughed, walking with Lorenzo.

Mattheo nodded his head, before getting up and following his friends. Only for them to stop by the Amortentia potion. Both Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look, before daring the other to smell the potion. Neither caved in, resorting it calling each other chicken.

Mattheo sighed. “Your both chicken”. He lifted the lid on the caldron and took a deep breath.

“Well?” Both his friends asked, hanging for their friends answer.

“I smell a sweet citrus…” he inhaled again. “Fresh washed linen…and musky books…”

Theodore and Lorenzo shared a look before having a laugh. But then they both stepped up and found out what the potion would smell for them. After both his friends had a laugh at their own scents, they put the lid back on the cauldron before leaving the room. The three scents played over in Mattheo’s mind, one person coming to forth. And she had been in front of him the whole time…

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you

442 notes · View notes

strwbrychffncake · 7 days ago

Text

"and so i drank one ,it became four ,and when i fell on the floor i drank more,, 2.4k words synopsis: lads men taking care of you when you're drunk contains: lads (separate) x drunk!reader ,f!reader (use she/her pronouns around + femme petnames) ,fluff, some drunk comfort ,completely self-indulgent (based on me when i drink so keep in mind) ,reader is a lightweight (lol) ,some suggestive dialogue but nothing happens its mostly teasing ,that might be it note: unedited! wrote after drinking myself so beware of typos lolol, this was written in honor of the new yrs :x

zayne

(implied) established relationship, you're at his place, doctor zayne mode activates, reader is pretty clingy, zayne gets you water, you get carried, you sleep in his bed, he hides the alcohol from you (lol???)

"it looks like someone overindulged themselves tonight."

"huuuuuh?"

you tilt your head, innocent eyes finding zayne's hard gaze.

"whad'y mean?"

coming home to see various alcohol bottles sprawled out across the kitchen counter, and a couple of empty bottles of some sweet mixed drinks you had sitting in the fridge for who knows how long was not something he expected after another long shift at the hospital.

he only sighs in response to your question, walking towards you to check you over before you cling to him.

"zayyyyne, missed you soooo much," you mumble, arms encircling around one of his tugging him closer.

"you're drunk."

you burst into a fit of giggles before refuting.

"no im nottt."

"just how much did you drink this time?"

you think it over for a long moment before deciding on your answer.

"just a little," you emphasize by holding your index and thumb fingers up, a small distance in between them.

zayne leans towards you, hand rising to rest on your forehead.

"how do you feel?"

"my head feels like its going to fall off...." suddenly your expression morphs into one of worry, and your eyes water as you look up pleadingly at zayne.

"it won't fall off, will it doctor?? its so heavy, it feels like its going to fall off...."

"no, its not going to fall off," he reassures pointedly, drawing his hand back in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose.

"really????"

you look up at him, eyes wide and hopeful, and when he looks back down at you he can't help but to pat your head.

"really. now, let me examine you further."

you give a short nod, small giggles escaping your lips as he gives you a good once-over, dragging his index finger across your line of vision (noticing how you quickly lose focus and laugh instead) and taking note of your hazy, half-lidded eyes.

"my diagnosis is that you're drunk."

"i'm nooot," you whine.

"i'm going to get you some water, and then you'll get some rest."

you let out an involuntary yawn, proving his point before he stands up and turns towards the kitchen.

"i'll be right back," he says, but only manages a single step before you latch onto his hand with both of yours.

"don't leave," you whine, looking up at him again with those wide, tearful eyes.

seriously, how much did you drink????

"i'm only grabbing some water for you. i'll be back in a moment."

with that, he takes off, leaving you to giggle to yourself for a moment before calling out to him.

"zayne.... zayyyyne.... come baaaaack............ where did you gooooo?"

he's back in under a minute, and you're quick to cling to him once he's back in your sight.

"zaaaaaaayne!"

"let's get you to bed."

"carry me?" you ask, reaching your arms up as your lips curl up cutely.

he sighs before promptly reaching down for you.

"it seems this particular patient requires plenty of rest given the way she's acting."

with those words, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you bridal style towards your shared room, quickly noticing the way you almost seem to go limp in his arms by the time he gets to the bed.

you already managed to fall asleep?

after he tucks you in, he makes sure to hide every liquor bottle properly while making a mental note to tell him when you wanted to drink so that he could make sure to be with you when you did.

even if your drunk self was a handful, he thought you were still quite cute.

who knew you were such an easily amused drunk?

xavier

established relationship, out together before he takes you to his place, sleepy!reader (+ xav), he gives you water, affectionate!reader moment, he changes you (freak mode is not activated), cuddling

tonight, the hunter's association went out drinking to celebrate a particularly grueling mission that turned into a success.

while neither you or xavier drank much, you decided to indulge just a little given the nature of the mission.

though, despite xavier's warning for you to not overdo it, he watches as you down your second drink as he sips on his water, already preparing himself for the trouble you'll be causing later.

which leads to now, supporting you (almost like half-carrying you) as he unlocks and leads you through the entrance of his apartment.

"ah, im so.. sleepy...."

"yes, me too. the sooner we get you in, the sooner we can get to bed," he reassures.

you're led to his sofa, falling back into the cushions as he runs off to retrieve water from his fridge for you.

when he comes back, your eyes are closed.

he bends himself to your level, nudging your cheek with his finger.

"hey, don't fall asleep before drinking some water."

"head hurts.." you mumble.

"the water will help, come on."

he opens it for you, pushing it towards your lips.

they part, and he takes the opportunity to tilt the bottle slightly, hydrating you himself.

after ten seconds, he pulls it back, wiping a stray droplet from the corner of your lips before screwing the lid back on.

"why would you drink so much when you can't handle it at all?"

you chuckle at this, and he sighs.

"come on, let's get to bed, i'm tired too."

"sleepy time," you mumble as he grabs your hand and helps you to your feet, steadying you with both his hands.

"sleepy time indeed," he nods once, leading you to his bedroom.

right at the doorway, you suddenly wrap your arms around him, planting sleepy kisses across his cheek.

"oh?"

xavier is stunned for a moment but accepts the drunken affection, wry smile forming on his lips.

you pull away to look at him.

"you're so pretty," you sigh, gaze faraway yet almost enchanted by him.

he laughs at this.

"come on, lets get to bed already."

he helps you shed your outer clothes before ridding of his own, pulling one of his sweaters over your head as he pulls on sweatpants, tugging you to fall into the mattress with him.

he hugs you close, planting a kiss on your head, then your cheek, your nose, and then your lips as your breaths even out.

"sleep well, my lovely star."

rafayel

implied established relationship, whiny!reader, teasing!raf, he calls you "cutie," you're at his studio/home

truth be told, rafayel loved when you got like this.

since you didn't drink often, it was quite the treat for him to see you as clingy and needy as he felt for you on a daily basis.

"raaaaaaaaf," you whined.

"yes, cutie?"

you hugged him.

"'s so hot," you breathed out, slumping beside him.

he laughed.

"but i opened the window to let the sea breeze in awhile ago, isn't it working?"

you pout, shaking your head before quickly regretting it, laying it back down against his shoulder.

"not at all."

"you poor thing," he said half-teasing, reaching his free hand out to pat your head.

"raf."

"hm?"

"rafayel."

"yes?"

"ra-fa-yeeeeel."

he broke into a wide smile.

"need somethin', cutie?"

"jus' like your name," you mumbled.

"oh? really?"

"mhm."

"well, i like yours more."

"nope."

"mhm."

"no."

"do too."

suddenly, you reach for his hand.

you tug it towards you before beginning to trace his fingers.

"are you a fortune teller now or something?

he maneuvers his hand so that his fingers intertwine with yours.

"too bad, looks like you can't see it anymore."

you giggle at him.

"stay like this?" your words come out as a question.

"there's nothing i'd want more," he answers, heart full at the satisfied smile on your face before cuddling into him once more.

sylus

relationship can be seen as established or not tbh, he calls you "kitten" several times, incorrect use of evol? (but its to save reader from falling lol), you get carried, he comforts you

sylus walks into the kitchen as you step out, taking note of the various alcoholic beverage cans and bottles across the counter.

"having a party without me, kitten?"

you shake your head.

"no, no," you smile. "jus' needed t' grab som'ing" you manage to slur out, headed towards the stairs.

he watches you as you begin making your way up some stairs before you stumble.

before you can even register that you're falling, black and red tendrils wrap around your body, catching you with ease.

your airy laughs fill the room, uncaring of you almost falling down the stairs, the feeling of the tendrils circling your waist and thighs almost electrifying against your sensitive skin.

"s-s-sylus! aha! tickles, hahaha-!"

the man in question half grins at your reaction, none the wiser to the surge of panic you just caused him.

in no time at all, he's beside you, tendrils gently uncurling from you as he looks down at you.

"such a clumsy kitten," he shakes his head. "what will i do with you?"

you're still swaying slightly, blinking up at him, and he doesn't wait for an answer that you may or may not give before hauling you over his shoulder, causing a surprised sound and you erupting into another fit of giggles.

he holds you securely, making his way towards his room with you, the pleasant sound of your amused laughs his favorite melody.

he passes by luke and kieran, asking them to do away with the beverages that are still out on the counter.

"is she... alright?" luke asks out of concern.

"oh, she's just fine. it seems a little kitten can't hold her liquor very well," he shakes his head.

after they leave (you waving at them as they disappear into the distance) sylus feels you shiver against him.

"cold?"

"so cold..."

"don't worry, kitten," he begins, pushing the door to his room open. "you'll be warmed up in no time."

he wastes no time gently dropping you into bed, watching as you bounce slightly on the mattress, a pleased sound escaping you as you waste no time to get under the covers.

"are you alright?" he asks, head tilted and concern lacing his tone.

you nod before you frown.

"stomach hurts...."

"my poor kitten."

sylus quickly turns out the light, settling beside you as his large hand comes up to rub over your belly.

you curl into him, pleased grin stretching across your lips, and without realizing it, you've drifted off in sylus comfort and warmth.

he doesn't know how long he stays by your side, gaze fixed on your sleeping face as he continues soothing the spot of pain, but he knows that in this moment, there's nowhere he'd rather be.

caleb

implied established relationship, slight suggestive remarks, worried!caleb, caleb teasing you

when you stumble your way through the front entrance of your home, the first thing you're met with is caleb, hands crossed over his chest as he stares down at you, unamused.

before you can greet him, he speaks up.

"do you have any idea what time it is?"

your eyes slowly shift up to his, and you can't help but to burst into a fit of giggles.

"hiiii," you drag out once your laughing begins to subside.

caleb stares down at you for a moment, taking in your slightly disheveled state and your lack of comeback, hardened expression softening just slightly.

"are you.... drunk?"

you burst into giggles again as you deny his accusation.

"not at alllll," you deny, swaying side to side.

"ok, you're literally just lying."

you move to take another step but somehow stumble right into caleb, who quickly wraps his arms around you.

"what the hell did you drink, pipsqueak?"

"dunno..." you trail off, closing your eyes, feeling comforted by caleb's embrace.

"'m dizzy.. so sleepy...."

"ok, let me just get you to your room first, yeah?"

you nod, allowing yourself to be led by caleb to your bedroom.

you make it quickly, not without a few more stumbles, mostly leaning on caleb's large frame for support as you're led to sit down in your desk chair.

"ok, wait here, i'll be right back."

when he leaves your gaze lingers around your room, darting across the shelves and decorations as if its unfamiliar before you slump down in the chair.

you sway side to side for a bit before you allow yourself to slip down further, sinking down down down until you're splayed out on the soft carpet.

just as you make yourself comfortable, hurried footsteps get closer and enter through the doorway.

"ok, i'm back, i have-"

caleb pauses, staring down at you before his eyes crease in amusement.

"pipsqueak, what are you doing on the floor?"

"'s comfy," you answer, grabbing a nearby plushie (that caleb won for you) and hugging it to your chest. "wanna sleep here."

"well, you can't."

"why?"

"because your bed is right there."

"don' wanna get up..." you whine, eyes shut and curling up comfortably.

he sets down the water and medicine bottles he brought in on your bedside table before his attention is on you again.

"making me do the work like usual, huh?"

you don't have time to try and process the underlying meaning of his words before you feel yourself being lifted, erupting into laughs at the action before you're tossed onto your bed, bouncing against the mattress before you're settled, amusement still circulating the room.

"caleb!"

you're looking at him through your creased eyes, half closed as you slowly recover from your fit, watching as he shrugs, teasing smile playing at his lips.

"you said you couldn't get up, so i helped you."

when the giggles subside, you're both staring at each other for awhile before caleb breaks his gaze away.

"ok, you should really sleep now. do you need anything else before i go?"

"you?"

your answer comes out so simply, so honestly, that it catches him off guard, stuck in momentary shock when you speak up again.

"sleep with me," you pat the side of your bed.

he recovers from his shock at these words, smirk breaking out.

"oh? really, pipsqueak?"

"caleeeeb," you whine.

he puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"kidding, kidding," he closes the distance, standing right at the side of the bed.

"you sure you want me to sleep with you?"

"yes," you say, grabbing his hand.

"ok, ok, let me just get the light first."

he switches the light off, making his way back over before being tugged into bed by your eager pull.

even after he falls into the mattress with an oof, he quickly settles in before teasing you again.

"you sure you don't have any ulterior motives in pulling me into bed with you this time?"

when you don't pipe up again, he takes a look to see you having already dozed off.

he sighs, hand reaching up to cup and caress your cheek.

"sleep well, my pipsqueak. i'll be sure to punish you for worrying me so much tomorrow," he whispers his promise into the night, sealing with a kiss to the corner of your lips before slipping his eyes shut.

with you safe and secure in his arms, he could finally fall asleep peacefully tonight.

a/n: writing this after drinking hehe... i want to write more detailed (maybe full fics) of lads x drunk!reader but wrote these little imagines up for nowwww... i would like them all to dote on me but i think im quite funny in this state hehe -

174 notes · View notes

theresattrpgforthat · 4 months ago

Text

How To Find Cool Games: On Itch.io!

As I drift into a reduced posting schedule, I figured I’d give everyone a peek behind the screen for how I cultivate ttrpgs for recommendations! Some of these tips might even help you find your next favourite game.

This is a long read so let's put most of this beast under a read-more. Keep in mind that many of these strategies work best when you're checking itch.io a little bit every week, and when you're engaging with the platform as more than just a store page. There's a lot of features that you can choose to engage with if you want to find the game for you!

browsing physical game recent releases. This helps me see what’s new and happening, and it helps with a number of things. First of all, I get to see new games pretty much every time I browse recent releases. Secondly, I get a good sense of what’s currently popular in the design space. Thanks to my weekly browsing, I recognize Cy_Borg, Shadowdark and Mausritter as games whose content shows up rather regularly - if you see a lot of products attached to one game at once, that’s a good sign that there’s a related game jam going on (in this case, Shadowdark), or that a game is really resonating with its player base.

sorting games into collections. I personally organize by genre, system, player configuration and (in Games That Intrigue Me) games that I’m personally really hyped about. This works for me because of the nature of my work, but a few collections sorted according to level of interest or game style might work better for you.

Depending on the need, I might have a collection that works specifically for the request - Neon Lights & Cyber Nights is perfect for cyberpunk games, but I might also reference this folder for combat, inventory mechanics, resistance themes, or interesting tech rules. LUMEN is great for folks who want fast-paced games, folks who are looking for certain kinds of video games, or folks who want to feel powerful. If you follow other people on Itch, you'll probably also be able to see their collections, which is a great place to browse.

searching game tags. I don’t typically use the regular search feature, although recently the website did update the toggles to restrict your results to physical games, video games, etc. Instead what I usually do is type what I’m looking for into the url: so in this case, [deck-building]. I might use a couple different wordings, such as [deck-builder] and [deckbuilding] (no spaces). You’re not going to find everything that includes the thing you’re looking for, but you’ll definitely find places to start.

Game Jams! I find these either by looking at the “Jams” tab (although you'll have to wade through video games here) or by noticing that a number of games being published recently have the “for the _” jam in the description. Alternatively, I might be reading the page for a game and see the little “Submission” badge in interaction buttons. There’s game jams for specific systems, game jams for various themes, game jams with special restrictions, and game jams that are titled things like “finish your damn game jam.”

Bundles. I typically buy big-ass bundles and then sort through the games in my downtime. These games are sorted into collections for future reference, and if a game really pops out - into the Intrigue Me folder it goes! And the best part is that I already own it, so if I want to learn more, I can just download it and start reading.

following game designers that I like. This way I’ll get notifications if they release a new game, update an old game, rate someone else’s game, or sort games into their own collections. I also get to see what other folks in the space are excited about - on the day I was browsing, Plasmodics by Will Jobst was really hot.

If you follow me on Itch, you’ll get a notification every time I add a game to one of my non-private folders! Also - you can interact with designers on Itch by liking their updates, and even commenting on their posts, which is a great way to get involved in the design community - and also just make a designer’s day!

#how to #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #itch.io #mint speaks #I don't think I can over-emphasize how much you can contribute to the game scene #simply by leaving a comment on a game or an update post #interaction on an itch page indicates that there's interest #which motivates designers to design #it tells us that our game is resonating with someone

294 notes · View notes

no-road-home · 9 months ago

Text

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern on Backerkit now!

Stewpot: Tales from a Fantasy Tavern is a GMless one-to-three shot TTRPG based on games like MF0: Firebrands and The Sundered Land. It's a collection of 20 mini-games where former adventurers open a tavern together and reintegrate into society after a life on the road.

What happens after the adventure? What does daily life in a fantasy world look like? Stewpot draws inspiration from stories like Dungeon Meshi, Redwall, Frieren, and Bartender, as well as various aspects of D&D. It's a great way to wrap up a long-running fantasy TTRPG campaign.

Start a garden, cook monsters, run a festival booth, reforge old weapons, flirt with mysterious strangers, and more in a new version of the game with tons of art and new storybook-style layout!

(more info and full description of the mini-games in the read more!)

The structure of the game is based on characters having an Adventurer Job, with Adventurer Experiences that represent their abilities and powers, and a Town Job with Town Experiences. You can make new characters just for the game, or bring in old characters and recreate them with the existing Experiences or write your own.

As you play the game, you'll cross off Adventurer Experiences as you let go of them or let them fade into the background, and gain new Town Experiences that take their place. Along the way you'll upgrade your Tavern and give each other Keepsakes!

Games from the old Itch.io PDF version (0.41):

The First Step: Before you decided to put down roots here, before you found this group of friends, what were you doing? What was the first thing you learned about how to live in town?

NPC Sidequest: Your adventuring days may be over, but there are plenty of people in town that could use your help.

Wear and Tear: There’s always something to fix, or clean, or pay off.

Market Day: You never would have guessed how many things you need just to keep a tavern running.

Homegrown: There’s something special about using ingredients grown nearby. Why not give growing your own a try?

Sliced: Sometimes supply routes get disrupted. Or maybe you just want to stand out from the rest of the taverns. Whatever the reason, you’re playing this game because you want or need to do one thing: cook with monster parts.

Romancing a Stranger: Someone in the tavern makes eye contact with you, and their gaze lingers a little longer than you’d expect. Your co-workers urge you on, and make every excuse they can to send you over to talk to the lovely Stranger.

Off the Clock: Where do you go after the tables are wiped down? Who’s heard every story you have about the worst people who have walked in?

A Friendly Tavern Brawl: Every tavern has its rowdy patrons. You know they’re good at heart, but sometimes when the ale is flowing and spirits are high, things get a little out of hand. How do you handle the situation?

Festival Day: Your town has a few festival days a year, and they’re some of your busiest. How do you prepare? How do you handle the influx of people?

A Bard's Tale: During your time as an adventurer, you accomplished many daring deeds. In fact, some of those deeds are retold to this day by travelling bards.

A Glass of the Gods: Sometimes a troubled adventurer will come in, looking for answers, and letting them drink themselves into oblivion is the wrong answer. It's up to you to mix the perfect drink, something perfect for the situation that can push the adventurer to look inside and find the answer on their own.

A Distinguished Guest: Someone important is in town, and they’re already almost here. The tavern has to be at its best for this guest. After all, they might leave a generous tip.

In the Rhythm of Things: Time passes. Rough edges are sanded down. Before you know it, life in town has become like breathing. You gather in your favorite part of the tavern and wonder where the time has gone.

New games for this crowdfunding campaign:

Shields and Skillets: Enchantments are volatile things, especially when they sit unused for long periods of time. You have to let go of your old equipment before it’s too late.

Shelter from the Storm: Early one morning, you feel it. A familiar ache in your bones. Something is coming.

A Funeral: As an adventurer, you said farewell many times. Sometimes it was only temporary. Most of the time, it wasn't.

Retracing: You've left town for something: an errand, a vacation, an old favor. Suddenly, you recognize the route you're traveling. You've been this way before, during your adventuring days.

A Fleeting Memory: Something about the way the fire flickers lingers in your mind. The smell of hay and clover brings a tear to your eye. A fading memory resurfaces.

A Familiar Face: An old friend you haven't seen in a while has stopped by. Why not show them around the town and the tavern?

#ttrpg #my games #indie ttrpg #ttrpg design #ttrpgs #stewpot #stewpot: tales from a fantasy tavern #backerkit #crowdfunding #fantasy #story games

400 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 3 months ago

Text

ltye + sick days

authors note: oneshot inspired by this wonderful ask . this is purely canon and actually takes place a lil bit into the future. not too long after chapter 23, so let's say a couple weeks after solana has been home from the hospital.

might or might not have one or two things sprinkled in this here one......

gif by @romanreigns

warnings: none, really. just roman being roman.

words: 4.3k

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

It started with irritability. More so than usual. Not towards her, per se. Never towards her. Just in general.

An increase in snippy comments, harsher gazes, and more yelling that traveled from the confines of his office and soon made its way to the sanctuary of their kitchen, often fighting with the music Solana usually had playing.

And then there was the fatigue. Solana has always thought Roman doesn’t get enough sleep, for a variety of reasons. But, rarely does he lag. Does she visibly see the difficulty he’s having in seizing the day. And for the most part, he does a phenomenal job, making it, pushing through as he kisses her cheek and leaves for the day.

But, she sees it.

And finally, when she’s awoken by a set of hoarse, painful sounding coughs. Solana just knows. Not the specifics, just the general, overall consensus.

That Roman is sick.

Not that he wants to believe or acknowledge that anyway.

Hand to his forehead, she doesn’t need a thermometer to know that he’s burning up.

"What’s your doctor’s name and number?" Solana moves to grab her phone off the bathroom counter, unlocking it and looking up at Roman expectantly. "Well?"

Of course, he only rolls his eyes and slips into a state of avoidance. "Solana, I don’t need—"

"Roman, you’re sick. You’ve been sick the past couple days, and it’s not getting any better." She reaches for his hand, turning it over, feeling on his palm. She then moves her two fingers to his wrist, eyes closing for a good minute. She then places her hand over his heart and asks, "are you having any pain in your chest? Sharp pains? Shortness of breath? I’ve noticed the fatigue and obviously the cough and fever. Any chills?"

"Solana—"

"I’m trying to see if you have any symptoms of pneumonia. Could also be the flu."

"Or, a cold."

"Maybe, but I want to find out for sure." Her expression softens, lips moving downward into a small frown. "The doctor, Ro…….please."

And she’s certain it’s that last 'please', the way her voice dips into a different level of concern that wins him over. That gets him to give her the requested information, Solana arranging it so that his doctor is over at the house in a little under an hour.

Dr. Michaels examination is a matter of minutes before he’s sharing with both patient and patient’s wife. “Yup. It’s definitely the flu.”

Roman looks annoyed, meanwhile Solana is a combination of relieved and worried. She shifts into protective mode, asking, “so antiviral medications, right? Probably Xofluza? Less side effects. Single dose. Unless it counteracts with his high blood pressure medication?”

Solana’s unexpected medical expertise takes both Roman and Dr. Michaels by surprise, the latter cracking a small smile as he asks, genuinely curious, “you in the medical field?”

Her eyes widen a bit. “No. No. I–my mom was, and she taught me a lot, and I just—I’ve read a lot.” More than the average person. Solana would spend hours on end reading medical journals, watching online lectures, finding free online courses on various medical topics.

It also became a bit of a necessity when her father stopped taking her to the hospital, and she had to learn to tend to her own injuries.

But that.....that doesn't really need to be stated.

Shawn chuckles. “You should be.” Roman doesn’t say anything, but he agrees. “You know more than some of my students.” Solana’s cheeks redden as she looks down, clearly unsure of how to take such a compliment as Dr. Michaels returns his focus to Roman. “The Mrs. is right. I’m gonna call you in some medication, Xofluza, as she stated. And again, like she said, it’s a single dose, which means you only have to take it once, which with you, makes it more likely for you to actually follow through with taking it.”

“He’ll take it,” Solana chimes, nodding to both herself and the two men before. “I’ll—I’ll make sure.”

Again, the doctor looks impressed, smile widening. “I like her, Reigns. Don’t fuck it up.” Roman looks increasingly irritated, as Shawn hits Solana with an unexpected question, “you wouldn’t happen to have a guess as to what dosage I’m prescribing, do ya?”

Solana is obviously taken back for a second but doesn’t skip a beat as she thinks back onto all of her reading and research. “He’s an adult, and because of his weight, the 80mg?”

The doctor makes a sound, shaking his head as he types on his tablet. “Tell you what, you ever decide to enter the field, let me know. I will personally assist you with anything you need.” Solana doesn’t know what to make of that, doesn’t know how to take an actual medical professional, someone who has an abundance of accolades and degrees behind his name speaking so highly of her, someone with only a high school diploma. It’s flattering, to say the least.

“Thank you.” She clears her throat, shaking her head, getting back to the main issue at hand. “He needs to rest, right? Lots of liquids. Motrin or Tylenol, if he needs it.”

Dr. Michaels closes the cover over the screen of his laptop, directing his comment to Roman. “You’re definitely in great hands, Big Guy.”

The Tribal Chief doesn’t disagree with that. Doesn’t disagree with that at all.

—------

Roman has always noticed Solana has a caretaker type of personality. That she cares about others and likes to help when and how she can. Truthfully, it’s one of the many things he loves about her. Her heart. She’s the most empathetic person he’s ever met.

But, what’s new for him is being so deeply on the receiving end of that caretaking. He’s experienced it with her patching him up after War Games and the night he attacked her father and brother. Maybe even in the way she stays tops of him with his high blood pressure medication, but never to this extent.

Starting with her actually stipulating shit.

He’s in the room, dressing himself when she walks in having returned from the pharmacy with his medication.

She suddenly stops and asks, "what....what are you doing?"

“Getting ready for work,” he answers it so simply, so easily, like it’s the most basic thing he could ever say. “Just have to—”

“Roman, you can’t go to work.”

He turns to look at her, having just pulled his shirt over his head. With a chuckle, he gently replies, “baby, I have to.”

Solana places the bag on the bed, crossing her arms as she walks over to him. “Ro, you have the flu. Not only is it highly contagious, but you're in no position to work.”

“Sol, I’ve been working through sickness my whole life. I’ll be fine.” He always is. “And if it’s that contagious, I definitely don’t need to be around you. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I don’t care about that.” Her dismissal is quick and sharp. “I care about you and taking care of you until you feel better, which starts with you staying here, so I can watch you." Solana makes a face, something similar to indignation as she shakes her head. “You’re staying here.”

Roman sighs, loudly. “Baby—”

“No!” She raises her voice, quickly and rapidly saying something in Spanish that he can’t make out but doesn’t necessarily need to to know that she’s not happy. Taking a deep breath, she asks in a calmer manner, “please?” She steps toward him, grabbing onto his forearm. “I’ll just worry about you all day if you leave…..”

Roman’s gaze is knowing, as he asks, “you know I don’t like you worrying about me.”

She nods, eyes almost mischievous as she confirms, “so you’ll stay?”

He can’t help it. He has to laugh a little. It’s such a different side of her, seeing Solana almost be manipulative, playing upon the fact that she knows he hates when she spends her time worrying about him. “Today.”

“This week,” she counters.

That’s absolutely not going to happen, but he doesn’t want to argue with her. “Fine.” Solana looks relieved and a part of him feels bad lying to her. He knows she means well, that she only wants to help him, but the truth is that he can’t afford to be out of commission for a whole week.

Or maybe he can, and it’s just his naturally controlling personality that makes him feel like he needs to stay in the loop. Regardless of that fact, he’ll just let her have this for now.

Emphasis on for now.

Solana nods, clearly pleased with this win. “Here.” She moves to grab the bag of medicine, ripping it open and reaching it to him along with a water bottle. Where the fuck did she even grab that from? “Take your medicine. I’m going to make you some soup.”

Roman scowls at that. “Soup?” He loves Solana’s food. She truly can cook her ass off, and while no soup she’s made has ever been bad, it’s not his favorite thing. “What about—”

She lifts up a hand silencing him, at the same moment a nasty set of coughs leaves his mouth. Stupid fucking flu. “Only soup for the next few days.”

His eyes widen a bit at that. “Days?” How the fuck is he supposed to live off fucking soup for the next few days? “Solana—”

“Yes, soup.” She pouts, crossing her arms and waiting for him to swallow the pill before she continues, “we need to keep fluids in you, so that means lots of soup, water, and juice.”

This shit just keeps getting more annoying and stressful, as Roman tries to help her understand his side of things here. “Baby, I’m 6’3, almost 300lbs. I need more than just soup.”

“I’ll make it hearty.” She shrugs, but that doesn’t do him much good, cause she always does. And he always ends up wanting more, both because it’s good but also because he has a massive appetite. “Now take off those clothes and change into something comfortable, but keep your shirt off.” The last part definitely catches his attention, and Roman has to bite back a chuckle as her cheeks redden. “Not ... .not that. I picked up some Vicks Vaporub to rub on you.” Again, his eyebrow goes up and again, she gets even redder. “Roman, please. I’m trying to help you.”

“I think I need a different kind of help.” When he goes to grab her and pull her into him, she jumps back, lifting her hands to stop him.

“Get changed,” she redirects. “ I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

—------

Solana is a patient person, much more than most, but she’s also human. Compassion and empathy can have limitations. And in a twist she never saw coming, she feels that to a certain extent with her big, strong husband who’s not much different from the kids she reads to when they come in for reading time feeling not the best.

Roman is a horrible patient. He’s stubborn and borderline obstinate, Solana constantly having to remind him that he needs to rest and resting does not including cussing people out over the phone which has happened more often than not in the past three days since he’s been out sick.

Which was a whole other thing. She’s found it practically impossible to convince this man that he can afford to take a couple days off, that the Bloodline will not collapse and cease to exist if Roman Reigns takes a couple days off.

Except that seems to be exactly what he thinks.

Solana is in the kitchen, whipping up another pot of Caldo de pollo when Dulce comes sauntering in, stretching her short little body, tail wagging.

Placing the lid over the pot, Solana smiles and moves to pet her puppy when a thought crosses her mind. Dulce was in their bedroom sleeping, as was Roman. Dulce typically only gets up at movement.

Which means…..

Sighing heavily, Solana mumbles to herself, “este hombre.” Walking with purpose, Dulce right on her heel, following with naive excitement as Solana starts with his office. When that’s a dead end, she goes to the only other place he would sneak off to despite her orders for him to stay in bed and rest.

Sure enough, Solana finds him changed into workout shorts, no top, phone in his hand. She snatches a brief second to take him in. Roman doesn’t look bad—she’s not sure he could ever look bad even if he tried—-but he doesn’t look amazing either. It would be obvious to anyone looking at him, the paleness of his complexion, the ruddiness of his cheeks, the cough that’ll probably be the last to go, that he’s sick.

If only he could accept that.

“Man, R! I literally told you 789 Little Street!” Solana recognizes Jey’s exasperated voice on the other end of the call. “How is it every time you mess this up?”

“I thought you said 987 Little Street!” There’s another voice present, one Solana doesn’t recognize.

“I told you to stop letting his dyslexic ass handle shipments!” Jimmy’s annoyed voice sounds, and Solana watches Roman pinch the bridge of his nose.

“That’s—that’s on me. My—my bad. Imma make it right though!”

“No,” Roman’s baritone voice, even deeper with his sickness, cuts through. “Jey, have Jacob handle it. I don’t have time for these types of fuck ups.”

And at that, giving Roman enough time to issue a clear order, Solana makes her presence known, arms crossed, a scowl on her face.

Roman looks briefly surprised followed by a quiet, “fuck.”

“Roman, you are literally worse than a child. How many times do I have to tell you to rest?” She more or less rants in Spanish, well aware of the fact that he can’t understand her. It’s preferred. She doesn’t like fussing at anyone, let alone him. Marching over, Dulce right beside her, she extends her hand. “Give me your phone.”

He looks at her with disbelief. “What?”

“Aye, Soso, is that you?” Jimmy asks, clearly recognizing her voice. “Look, I know Big Dog sick and shit, but if you cooking, can you leave some food outside or something? I can swing by and pick—” The request is cut off by Roman’s finger jabbing the end button.

“I just need to get a workout in, Solana.” Roman explains, running his hand through his hair. “It’s been two days. I feel like shit because of it.”

“No, you feel like shit, Roman, because you have the flu and because you refuse to actually rest,” she counters, hand still extended.

“I can rest when I’m dead,” he deadpans.

Solana winces, scowl dropping into a frown. “Don’t say things like that.” She steps toward him, dropping her hand and instead placing it on his chest. His skin is warm to her touch, most likely to the fever that still hasn’t broken. “That—that’s why I’m trying to help you. Take care of you.”

Something flashes in his eyes, something akin to compassion. “And I appreciate that, baby. I do, but you’re too worried. You took off work this week, check on me every hour on the hour, cook even more than that—”

“And I’ll keep doing it, because it’s what you need and because I love you, and that’s what you do for the people you love.” She explains, taking full advantage of the way Roman seems briefly distracted and possibly moved by her kind words to snatch his phone away. It shocks the both of them. He’s definitely sick, because there’s no way a non-sick Roman would allow her, even with her speed, to get away with that. “Now come with me in the kitchen. Food’s almost ready.”

Roman goes to protest when Dulce jumps against his leg. One look down, and she’s essentially growling at him.

He starts to say some smart shit when Solana giggles. “See, she agrees with me. You need to rest.”

“Yeah, because that’s all her biased, lazy ass does.”

“Don’t be mean to her,” Solana scolds and moves to hold his hand, tugging slightly to get him in the right direction. The one opposite all the equipment that will cause him to expend energy he really doesn't have. “It’s almost time for your next Tylenol dosage.”

Roman doesn’t try to stop her from guiding him, but he does groan at her latest statement. “All this damn medicine.”

She shakes her head, Roman easily finding a much better thing to focus on in the sway of her ass in the short, little gray nightgown she has on. It’s mesmerizing and distracting in the best kind of way.

“It’s only going to help you feel better……” She says more, but again, his attention elsewhere. No workouts. No real food. No sex. This shit is fucking torture. Roman is so caught up in his overall dissatisfaction that he’s briefly taken back when they’re in the kitchen, and he’s sat down at the table while Solana moves over to the stove.

His gaze falls on her, not even her ass. Well, not entirely. Just her as a person. To be fair, he knows he hasn’t been the easiest person to deal with. He never is, really. And while he hasn’t done the best job showing Solana his appreciation, his gratitude is immense.

Years. He’s spent years feeling alone. Following that night, Fetu has only been present since he was 21, but that’s not consistent. He can’t see her as much as he’d like, can’t spend time with her to the extent he would prefer. He’s limited, and that limitation doesn’t do anything to quell loneliness.

For so long, he’s been on his own, taking care of himself, looking out for himself. It’s such a new experience to have Solana. To know she cares for him as much as she does. For her to love him like she does.

He’s not sure he could ever admit it aloud, but it can be overwhelming. Having someone like her love someone like him.

Undeserving, almost.

“Here ya go,” Solana announces, placing his tray in front of him, consisting of the soup, a spoon, napkins, and his drink. “Let me know if…...what’s wrong?” Before he can answer, she feels his forehead. “No chest pain, right?”

He shakes his head, not quite sure just what is the best thing to say or even how to say it but doing what he can. “I’m not…..I’m not used to anyone taking care of……taking care of me.” It’s usually the other way around, Roman having to handle everything for everyone around him. “I’m sorry for….making things harder on you.”

And, he is. He knows that he’s a dick. Beyond that at times. But, she’s the one person in his life he never wants to be on the receiving end of that kind of behavior. Especially when all she wants to do is help.

Solana’s smile is soft and gentle as she moves into his lap. That’s another thing he hates. Her being around him so much. He doesn’t want to get her sick, something she seems almost completely uncaring about.

She strokes his beard. “You don’t have to apologize, Ro.”

“Don’t do that shit.” His tone is firm, but the delivery is patient and truly apologetic. “I’ve been difficult, and you don’t deserve that. You deserve an apology, and you don’t have to dismiss it.”

Because one thing he’s always been and will always be adamant about is helping her know what she does and does not deserve. She’s been done so wrong by so many people in her life. He refuses to let anyone else be added to that list, including himself.

Solana chuckles, her gaze on him warm and loving. “You might be the only person in my life I don’t think I’d ever want an apology from, Roman.” He doesn’t necessarily agree with that. Not at all. She thinks so damn highly of him. Too highly, maybe. “I love you, and it’s like I’ve said before, I’d do anything for you.” She leans over and kisses his temple, teasing, “even put up with you being a big baby about being sick.”

He scowls a bit at that, unable to hold in his clarification. “I’m not being a baby. I just don’t like being sick.”

At that, Dulce barks, sitting down on the floor in front of them, watching the entire scene unfold.

Solana giggles. “No one does, baby.” She pouts for a minute before her expression switches to something more serious. “And I can help you get better, but that means you have to listen to me….okay?” He sighs, Solana adding, “even if you don’t necessarily like it.”

“I don’t like any of it.” Roman is many things, and brutally honest is near the top of that list. “Especially the not being able to fuck you part.”

As expected, she starts blushing at his raw admission, but it’s followed up with one of her own too. In her own Solana type of way. “I—I miss that too, but—” she shakes her head as his eyebrow goes up. “—your health comes first.”

It seems like everything comes first when it comes to him for her. Again, he’s torn on that, but another conversation for another day.

Climbing off his lap, she lightly squeezes his bicep. “Now get to eating.” Roman moves to slap her ass, Solana squealing and shoving his hand away. “Behave, Roman.”

Dulce barks again, Solana directing her to follow her out the back door. “I’ll be right back,” she informs, closing the door as soon as the puppy is outside.

Roman chuckles to himself, staring at the tray laid out for him so thoughtfully by his wife. His best friend.

His everything.

—------

It's a long week and a half, most of which is spent Roman doing his best to follow his wife’s orders but also struggling to not fall into his normal routine. He definitely earns a couple of Spanish scoldings as well as some low growling from her pocket pet, but when all is said and done, Roman comes out on the other end starting to feel more and more like himself.

Enough to where he’s ready to actually see beyond the inside of his home.

A necessity, as he was most definitely teetering on the verge of going stir crazy.

Roman is prepared to head out the door in a little under twenty minutes, already having a line of meetings awaiting him, all coordinated by his Wise Man.

But, he has to do something first.

She’s in the kitchen, washing up some dishes, humming to herself when he comes up behind her.

Solana jumps a little, a small smile falling on her face that morphs into confusion when he lowers his hands in front of her. He hears her gasp as he places the diamond necklace on her neck, moving her hair to the side to clasp the hook. “Roman…..” She reaches for a towel, drying her hands and looking down, fingers carefully grasping at the nearly 100k gift. “This is beautiful. You didn’t have to—”

“Of course, I did,” he dismisses, moving his hands around her waist, kissing the side of her neck. “You took care of me all last week, and you didn’t have to. I appreciate that. I appreciate you.” He watches her continue to admire just a small token of his gratitude for her and everything she does for him. “And you know, Michaels was right. You’re smart as hell, Solana. You ever thought of trying to go to school?”

At that, she turns to him, eyes set with slight confusion. “M–me?”

Roman chuckles, gently squeezing her cheek. “Yes, you, baby.” He continues, seeing she could use a bit of affirmation and encouragement. “The fact that you know and have self taught yourself so many things, even without a college degree just shows how smart you are. How good you’d be at that, whether nursing, a doctor—”

“A doctor?” She interrupts in a small voice, Roman enjoying the smile that’s gradually growing. “Do you really……” And there it goes, he can see it, the insecurity sweeping in as she shakes her head. “Roman, I’m almost 30. I’m too old for that now. I–I missed my oppurt—”

“Hey.” He cuts her off, firm but still patient. “You can do whatever the fuck you want to do, Solana.” He gently palms her face, making sure she understands he’s fully behind her. No matter what. “You want to go back to school? I’ll make it happen. You have my support in whatever you want, baby.” She’s visibly moved by this, and he’s grateful to at least see that spark return. “Just think about it……okay?”

She nods, agreeing in a quiet voice. “Okay.” Roman kisses her forehead, moving to step away when he catches the change in her expression. As she briefly covers her mouth. Like she's about to throw up.“What’s wrong?”

Solana looks up and shakes her head, explaining with a shrug after a few seconds of clearly gathering herself, “I've just been kind of tired the past few days. Nauseous too.”

At that, Roman tenses and curses. “Fuck, did I get you sick?” He knew that shit would happen. She was around him too much. Interactions and touches exceeding what was appropriate. “I’ll stay—”

“No,” she cuts him off, turning to face him as she places her hand on his chest. “I don’t think it’s that. I’ve—I’ve had the flu before. This feels different.” That doesn’t help him feel much better either, but she seems determined. “I’ll be fine. If I still don’t feel good at work, I’ll just come back home.” She shrugs guessing, “probably just a stomach bug or something.”

He’d rather her not leave at all, but a part of him also wants to see her out of the house as well. A change in environment. “Okay, but if you come home early, let me know, alright?” Cause there’s no way in hell he’s going to let her be sick all by herself. Not when she spent a week and a half off work tending to him.

“Okay,” she agrees, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

Roman doesn’t stiffen at the words, doesn’t feel torn or conflicted, just an intense amount of reciprocity.

“I love you too, baby.”

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns oneshot #arisnotebook

202 notes · View notes

captainuranium543 · 4 months ago

Text

Ft headcanons nobody wanted part 2

-natsu will occasionally get genuinely jealous over his friends owning appliances for heating. Why should they need those things when they have him, if they just call him over her do a way better job then any of those stupid gadgets. He finds out gray owns a hair dryer and immediately becomes a jealous ex girlfriend. He confronts Lucy in her apartment one night acting so serious he she doesn't even get mad that he broke in, then just goes "care to explain this?" And puts a lighter on the table.

- Wendy is very very quiet. Creepily so. Not elaborating but I think you can imagine the kinds of situations this leads to.

- Mira's eyes glow in the dark and it creeps everyone the fuck out

- erza has the worst hoarding problem. Her dorm room is entirely piled floor to ceiling with boxes of meticulously organized random items she refuses to throw out for some reason

young Mira: "alright this is ridiculous why do you even have this"

Young erza: "say what you want but when you need 746 packets of Mcnolias sweet and sour sauce and find your supply baron I'll be laughing"

- levy is one of the few members of the guild who actively sought it out to join. Before fairy tail she was an orphan and a student studying magic. She left to join fairy tail to learn more about magic in general from real world experience.

- laki will sometimes build creepily realistic wooden statues of her guild mates and leave them around in inconspicuous places so when you find them they scare the shit out of you. Sometimes she hides them too well and it takes years to discover them.

- Lucy has actually written several unpublished novels and the only other person who's ever seen them is levy. Lucy thinks their crap but levy carefully annotates every single one.

- laxus used to occasionally be forced to go on jobs with erza and Mira when they were young both to help and to make sure they didn't kill each other and he hated it.

- I think I might have said this before but I firmly believe levy, Lucy, freed and jellal later on all form a book club because they love reading, the problem is they all have vastly different tastes in book so they can never decide what to read each week and usually just end up playing Scrabble and talking shit about their various teammates

"please guys trust me this one's good"

"I am NOT reading Colleen Hoover Lucy and that's final"

- this one's based on city hero but I personally believe erza and Erik find a shocking common ground over motorcycles. Erza likes vehicles in general and Erik took up bike racing as a hobby, since discovering this is the longest they've been able to be in the same room together without someone throwing a punch.

- Wendy visits lamia scale regularly still to hang out with chelia. she usually brings romeo and they all go out to do whatever dumb kid stuff they want. (Tbh I just like her having friends her own age)

-lucy sometimes randomly lets her rich girl's heritage show in random conversation and it's always jarring. You'll be having a normal chill convo with her and then she'll look you dead in the eyes and ask you what colour your personal carriage was growing up.

- Natsu is genuinely a really good cook he just has a terrible taste so nobody wants to eat his food. For reference he only ever cooks his food because he enjoys doing it to him it tastes fine either way.

- if you had asked the fairy tail guild who the scariest guild member was in early season 1 the answers would have been erza, guildarts, laxus etc all the usual suspects. Once season 2 starts however the answer is unanimous. It's juvia. Juvia is fucking terrifying when she gets mad. You don't realize how scary water can be until it's filling your lungs and as your vision blurs until all you can see is her merciless stare.

- Mira and freed can drink blood for demon reasons. gray can too after getting devil slayer but he thinks its gross. Surprisingly so can gajeel because of the high iron content.

- gray the type of guy who's bed has only the smallest thinnest blanket on his bed and usually it's on the ground cuz he gets too hot

- meanwhile erza is the type of girl to have so many pillows, blankets and plushies on her bed you wonder how she fucking sleeps in it. Mf has a NEST.

- Lucy isn't even surprised anymore when she finds people in her house, she doesn't know how they keep getting in and honestly she doesn't care anymore she's to tired to deal with it.

- freed plays a lot of really fucking weird instruments. Idk it just seems like something he would do.

- bixlow can speak most languages and it's always really surprising when he randomly says smth like "oh yea I can speak ancient nirvid no prob" like that's totally normal

- if laxus and freed ever did get together (in my heart it's cannon) evergreen and bixlow would be their biggest haters. Yea they love them and they're happy for them but also EW. GROSS. GET A ROOM.

#fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #gray fullbuster #mirajane strauss #laxus dreyar #jellal fernandes #levy mcgarden #gajeel redfox #erza scarlet #wendy marvell #freed justine #erik/cobra #laki olietta #headcannons

325 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 1 year ago

Text

The Doll House - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic Part 1

Covered in scars and left totally numb by your abusive previous owner, you’re considered an “unsellable doll”. That is, until the Doll House takes you in and Sukuna becomes your trainer.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Gojo’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

On the outskirts of town, there stands a particular shop called the “Doll House”. Inside its walls you can find a “doll” to match any taste you might have. All your desires will be fulfilled, no matter how depraved. Satisfaction is guaranteed! The dolls are exceptionally high quality, thanks to the skillful trainers who work with them twenty-four hours a day, molding them into perfect toys for your enjoyment.

Each trainer has a specialty that they focus on, and they all take great pride in their work. Their methods differ greatly, their approaches vary, but they all follow one rule: never get attached to a doll. After the training is complete, they hand the dolls over to their new owners, and never see them again. However, just once over the course of their careers, trainers are allowed to pick a doll they’ve personally trained and keep her as their own.

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Sukuna’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored! I’m not keeping the same tag list as before, since this part deals with darker themes. I will resume the tag list after Sukuna’s part is finished! So if you want to be tagged in this one, please specify!

Note: Consider these parts AU’s within an AU. So you might see Geto with a different doll from the reader in his part, but just consider this an alternate timeline lol.

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. BDSM. Erotic Torture. Needles. Reader is covered in scars. Everything that happens between Sukuna and Reader is consensual but there is mention of abuse by a previous owner. Divider by @benkeibear!

“That’s all you’ll give me for her?”

“I think this is a generous offer, all things considered.”

You’re sitting in a plush leather chair in the office of the owner of the Doll House while your father argues with her about pricing. It’s been going on for thirty minutes now, your father growing more agitated while the owner remains calm and firm.

“Sir,” the owner begins, leaning forward slightly over her desk, “there are two major issues with your daughter. For one, she has a previous owner. Most of our clients consider that a deal breaker.”

“She was just with that guy a little over a year!” your father retorts, his face slightly red.

“I’m aware of that. But that leads us to the other issue.” The owner pauses and glances at you. “Your daughter’s scars are quite prominent. They’re very hard to ignore.”

There’s a hint of an apology in her eyes. It’s unnecessary. You know better than anyone that you’re disfigured. Scars of various types and sizes cover over half your body, including a sizable portion of your face.

Your father is sweating. “I‘ve heard some clients have weird tastes, that they actually want… people like her.”

The owner leans back in her chair. “It is true that we sometimes get unusual requests. But it doesn’t happen often. She would have to be given highly specialized training, to emphasize that unique aspect.”

Your father’s face lights up. “Then do that!”

The owner looks from him to you, then says, “I need to speak to her privately before finalizing the purchase.”

“What? Why?” your father asks.

“It’s a routine part of the interview, I assure you,” the owner replies smoothly.

Your father hesitates, but then stands up from his seat. He gives you a stern look, a warning look, and then he’s out the door.

The owner’s face seems to soften slightly. “How do you feel about this?”

You shrug. “I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long time.”

The owner looks at a laptop sitting open on her desk. “Let’s go over a few things in your file first. It says here you were sold on the direct market on your eighteenth birthday. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“You were with your previous owner for sixteen months before being removed, during which time he breached the contract by doing permanent harm. Hence the scars.”

“Yes,” you answer again.

“And I see that your father sued your previous owner, collecting quite the hefty sum for your suffering.”

You nod.

The owner closes the laptop and looks at you again. “And I’m guessing your father already blew through that money, despite only two years passing. So he’s selling you again. How many other doll shops has he taken you to so far?”

“Three.”

“Any offers?”

“None,” you say, eyes lowering toward the floor.

The owner sighs. “If I don’t take you, he’s going to sell you on the direct market again, isn’t he?”

“He already tried,” you tell her, “but he said the offers were too low. If no shop will take me, he’ll probably go back and take a low offer.”

The owner grimaces. “He’s a real sick fuck, your father.”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to take you on?”

You think for a moment, then say, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t feel anything anyway.”

“When you say that,” the owner says, “do you mean physically or emotionally?”

“Both. I’ve been numb for nearly three years now.”

The owner picks up a silk fan from her desk and lightly taps her chin with it as she regards you. After a few moments, she says, “Alright. I’ll take you. I’ll make a slightly higher offer to your father, one he would be foolish to refuse. And in light of your unique circumstances, I’m going to add two extra clauses to your contract. The first is that you will have the option to change trainers if the one I assign to you is too much for you.”

You nod. “And the second?”

“All dolls sold through the Doll House are allowed to come back within one week of being purchased by a client, if they provide sufficient reasoning. In your case, I’m extending that to two weeks, and you don’t have to provide a reason. I’ll take you back, no questions asked, if you feel like your owner isn’t right for you. However, I would advise you not to abuse this privilege.”

“I understand.”

“Alright then. Let’s get your father back in here and finalize the sale.”

******************

Sukuna grins when he sees the message on his phone: “I have a new doll for you to train.”

He’s at home, in his swanky, upscale apartment in the city. Though he enjoys his alone time, he very much enjoys his work at the Doll House as well. Unlike the other trainers, Sukuna doesn’t keep a near constant flow of new dolls. He understands why of course. His training produces a very specific sort of doll that only a specific sort of client wants. But he trains enough dolls to keep himself well paid, and the work is incredibly satisfying.

The standard training time is six weeks, which is exactly the right amount of time for Sukuna to thoroughly enjoy each doll without getting too bored with them before they’re handed over to their owners. He can’t imagine why anyone would want to keep the same doll for ten whole years. He knows he’s not alone in this thought, which is why doll rental services have been growing in popularity lately.

He packs a few things into a small duffel bag. He keeps plenty of clothes and personal items in his room at the Doll House, so he only has to pack lightly for the six week stay. He’s in a good mood as he turns off the lights and locks the door.

When he arrives at the Doll House, he finds a rather interesting young woman sitting in the welcome room. Interesting because half her pretty face is covered in scars, as well as what’s visible of her left arm. Just how far do they extend? He’s looking forward to finding out.

She glances up at him, but gives no reaction. Strange. Most new dolls look terrified, or at least nervous, when they see him for the first time. It’s probably the tattoos that frighten them. Sukuna is well aware that they make him look like a Yakuza member, or some criminal from a past era. But he so enjoys the way people instinctively shrink back away from them.

The owner meets him in the welcome room and ushers him into her office. All trainers are briefed on their new dolls, except in unusual circumstances. But the owner looks troubled today, meaning this doll has a story. But he supposes the scars made that obvious already.

Sitting in a chair across the desk from the owner, Sukuna places one elbow on the cushioned arm and props his face up with his hand. “So? What’s the deal with little Miss gloomy out there?”

The owner is tapping keys on her laptop, then he hears his phone chime from his pocket. “I’ve sent you her file. You really need to read over it. She has a complicated history.”

“Give me the short version,” he says, making a mental note to at least skim the file later.

“Previous owner who abused and tortured her, shitty father who’s sold her twice now, and… she can’t feel anything.”

That last part captures Sukuna’s attention. “What does that mean?”

“She’s completely numb, both physically and emotionally. I’ve read over her medical reports, and they’ve concluded that there’s no significant nerve damage. The scar tissue dulls her senses in those areas somewhat, but they don’t leave her totally numb like this. And she can’t feel anything in the unscarred areas either.”

“Meaning it’s psychological,” Sukuna says.

The owner nods. “It’s clearly a defense mechanism. Her body and mind simply shut off all sensation in order to cope. And that’s going to be her biggest issue as a doll. There are plenty of buyers who would find the scars exotic, but a doll who doesn’t react to anything? No one wants that. And if we don’t eventually find a buyer for her, she’s going to get passed around from one scumbag to another on the direct market for the rest of her life.”

Sukuna had little interest in the doll’s sob story, but he was intrigued by the fact that she couldn’t feel anything. “So you want me to fix her? Make her feel again?”

“Yes. I figured if anyone could, it would be you. But be careful. She’s already been shattered. I don’t need you grinding up the pieces.”

Sukuna stands up and heads for the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll reforge her,” he says with a smile, “in a way that pleases me.”

***************

The man covered in strange black tattoos introduces himself as your trainer. He’s handsome, well-built, and dressed like a man far too rich to be working here. A few years ago, you might have been attracted to him. Your heart might have fluttered at the thought of him touching you. But now? Now you feel nothing as he tells you to follow him to his room.

He opens the door and walks in first, turning on the lights as he goes. You follow behind him and look around. The room looks like someone converted a fancy hotel room into a dungeon.

The deep red carpets and expensive looking furniture contrast with the various… devices around the room. There’s an X shaped table, harnesses and chains hanging from the ceiling, and a wall of leashes, whips, rods, and other such items along the left side of the room.

Ah, so he’s this type.

You’re not surprised. Actually, it makes sense. Give the girl who can’t feel pain to the trainer who tortures his dolls.

The man, who said his name is Sukuna, is watching your face, looking for a reaction. He won’t find one. But instead of seeming disappointed, he’s grinning.

“My specialty is probably obvious,” he says, to which you nod. Then he goes over to the wall of tools and toys, taking something small and shiny from it. When he returns, there’s a silver, claw-like item on his right index finger. Without a word of warning, he approaches you and quickly swipes the claw over your exposed right forearm.

You look down, curious, to see a thin red line appear on your skin, small drops of blood beading along it before sliding down. You watch the blood with no expression for a moment before looking back up at Sukuna.

His grin is wider than before. “You really didn’t feel that,” he says, not a question but a statement. He’s standing in front of you, staring at you, when he says, “Let me ask you something, and think hard about your answer. It’s going to determine how the training proceeds.”

You nod.

“Do you prefer being this way to how you were before?”

You blink as the question settles into your mind. You’ve never really thought about it before, but do you prefer being numb? It’s helped you block out the hurt you felt upon being sold off by your father, being abused by your owner, but it also blocks out any joy.

“I… I don’t know.”

He’s looming over you, looking down with an expression you can’t quite place. Is it desire? Pity? Disgust? Or have you lost the ability to distinguish them?

“Do you want to feel again?” he asks, something about his deep tone telling you to answer honestly. The sheer intensity of his presence is overwhelming you.

You can still remember when you felt things. You can remember a poor but happy childhood when your mother was still alive. Even after, when things got worse, there were still moments of happiness. Watching movies with a friend, eating cheap snacks from the convenience store down the street. A kiss from the boy you had a crush on in high school. You miss these feelings. And once you realize that, your answer is clear.

“Yes, I want to feel again.”

“Even if what you feel is pain?” he asks.

An emotion you haven’t felt in years bubbles to the surface, startling you so much that your voice cracks slightly as you reply, “Yes! I’d love to feel pain again. I’d love to feel anything!”

A smile spreads across his features, and his hands move to your shirt. “I’ll make you feel again,” he says as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it aside. “But it will only work if you want it.”

“I… I want it,” you say, realizing with some measure of shock that you’re already feeling emotions you thought long dead.

He removes the rest of your clothes, leaving them strewn about the floor. Then he stands back to look at you. Completely bare before him, you don’t feel embarrassed. Shame is yet another emotion you can’t seem to feel anymore. But there is a strange prickling sensation on your skin as his eyes rake over you, taking in the scars that form a map of your suffering.

“It’s like a work of art,” he says, his gaze lingering on the left side of your torso. The words make you feel something else, but you’re not sure what that is. Your own emotions have become unfamiliar to you.

He leads you over to the X shaped table and lifts you onto it, then spreads you out on it like a meal. He slowly attaches the leather cuffs on each end to your ankles and wrists, still watching your face for any sign of fear.

There is none. You’re starting to feel things for the first time in three years, but fear isn’t one of them. If he can bring back the girl you once were, one who could laugh and smile and feel, then you’ll accept anything he wants to do to you.

Once you’re secured to the table, he stands back and unbuttons his shirt. When he slips it off his shoulders, you get a full view of the intricate tattoos on his body. They’re beautiful, the way they move and twist with his body’s motion.

He steps back to the table and runs one large hand over your arm, trailing it down toward your chest, where he squeezes your scarred breast. You can’t feel it, so you don’t know if he’s squeezing hard or not, but when his fingers lightly slide over your nipple, a tingling sensation blossoms there. What was that?

Did he notice that you felt something? You don’t think you visibly reacted in any way, but he’s smiling as if he knows. His fingers suddenly pinch your nipple, and you feel pressure, but little else. He maintains eye contact as he leans down and runs his tongue over that same nipple, then wraps his lips around it. You feel it again, that pleasant tingling. It reminds you of something, but you can’t remember what.

His hand moves to your other breast, where his fingers grope and pinch. You feel this a little more, and your breathing quickens slightly. That’s when he stops abruptly and goes over to the wall again. This time he returns with a rolled up velvet pouch, which he unrolls to reveal a group of very long, very thin, shiny silver needles.

He pulls one out and holds it up for you to see. “Let’s see how numb you really are,” he says. Then he grips your scarred nipple between his finger and thumb with one hand while using the other to bring the needle closer. He looks up at your face, perhaps still searching for a trace of fear. Finding none, he pushes the needle in, sliding it sideways through your flesh.

Your breath hitches as a new sensation hits you. This… this is pain! You haven’t felt it in so long, you’d almost forgotten it. When he grips the other nipple, the one with no scar tissue to dull your senses, you almost flinch. He grins up at you, as if he’s reading your mind. He leans down and licks the nipple slowly, awakening it to sensation, before plunging the needle in.

This time you gasp, your arms reflexively tugging on the restraints. You felt that! Not as keenly as a normal woman would, but far more than you’ve felt anything else in years. It hurt. It still hurts as his hand squeezes your breast, his tongue running over the needle imbedded in your skin. But you welcome the pain. It’s far more preferable to no feeling whatsoever.

Then he steps back again, and walks around the table to the bottom, where he moves in between your widely spread legs. His hand moves to your pussy, kneading it gently for a moment before his fingers slip inside your folds, finding you clit.

You draw in a sharp breath as he strokes it, feeling the pleasure so strongly that it’s almost as if you were never numb. Your previous owner had ignored your clit, having no interest in giving you pleasure, so these sensations were entirely new to you.

When Sukuna uses his fingers to spread you open and leans forward to lick your quivering clit, your body nearly jerks off the table. He rises up and looks at you. “Not so numb down here, are you?”

You can only gasp out shallow breaths.

His thumb begins stroking you again as he speaks. “I don’t care who your previous owner was.” He reaches over and pulls one more needle from the pouch, his tongue running over you again, making your nerves come alive. “I don’t care if you’ve had a thousand different owners before me.” His thumb and finger pinch your clit, holding it in position. Your heart races as you wait, now holding your breath. “Because now,” he says, gliding his tongue across the glimmering needle in his hand, “you belong to me.”

He pushes the needle into your clit from the bottom and out the top, so slowly that you feel every single bit of it. Your body bucks from the table, your arms and legs jerk against the cuffs, and a loud scream erupts from your mouth as you feel excruciating pain for the first time in three years.

It’s wonderful.

Tears spring to your eyes, and you cum on the spot, weeping and shuddering. You were certain you would never experience an orgasm again for the rest of your life, but here you were, riding out the insane pleasure while Sukuna’s tongue prodded your clit, licking over the needle stuck there.

**************

Sukuna watches his doll as she sleeps peacefully in his bed. She passed out not long after the “training session” was over, just as he was unfastening the cuffs on her wrists. He carried her to his bed and laid her there, and now he’s looking over her scarred form once more before covering her.

He’s surprised by the progress they’d already made, but he can’t get too comfortable.

Because he noticed it. When he pulled the needles out of her, which should have hurt, she didn’t even flinch. He’d squeezed one nipple afterwards, before beginning to uncuff her, just to test it. This should have made her scream, given how sore she should be, but she had no reaction at all.

Meaning she’s numb again. The awakening of her senses was only temporary, and wore off after she came down from the high of her orgasm.

Sukuna smiles. He certainly enjoys a challenge, and it’s clear to him that his job is far from over.

Tag List:

@akaotv

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut

542 notes · View notes

lets-try-some-writing · 4 months ago

Note

I woke up and chose angsty violence on everyone.

What if Optimus survived the events of Predacon Rising? Sometime after everyone left, he crawled up from the Well but was no longer the same person he was. Housing the Allspark inside himself had destroyed his mind than just the Matrix of Leadership and what's left is a very feral bot that looks like Optimus.

No one finds out until reports from refugees come in about a strange Cybertronian running amuck in the wastes that attacks anyone who gets too close. Optimus' former team would absolutely be split on what to do about him. Leave him alone in nature under protection, try to snap him out of it or put their once leader down?

They can't ignore the problem as someone will recognize Optimus at some point.

You. You my good individual are evil. I adore your twisted little mind (affectionate).

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

There were... reports. Quite a few of them in fact.

Each and every one of them claimed that there was a feral mech living out in the wastes, the land that was formerly Iacon's great forest before the war razed it to the ground. No one knew what to think of it, but then they saw the pictures. And those pictures changed everything.

"Ratchet, he can't seriously still be alive? Can he?" Bumblebee's voice was filled with disbelief as Ratchet looked over the image projected on the holodisk. The rest of the table seemed to share Bumblebee's thoughts as they watched. It was a quick series of pictures put on a slideshow. They were grainy, but the blue and red was unmistakable. The exposed Matrix even more so.

"It seems that we were wrong to label Prime as out for the count." Bulkhead added his two shanix, earning him a murmur of agreement from an equally uncertain Wheeljack.

"If he's feral, do you think we can bring back?" Arcee spoke up as well, earning a series of comments from the team. Bumblebee seemed hopeful, as did Smokescreen. Even Ultra Magnus seemed marginally interested in a potential plan to help Optimus if he really was out there.

Ratchet was not so optimistic.

"I will go and assess the situation personally. For all we know, it might not be him. We can't get our hopes up." Standing up, Ratchet collected the holodisk with a purposefully blank expression. The team regarded him with various expression of surprise, but they didn't stop him.

Good. They didn't need to see what was going to come next.

"Ratchet, if it is him, you'll let us know." Ultra Magnus put a servo on his shoulder, a knowing expression plastered all over the Commander's face. Ratchet gave no confirmation, instead tightening his grip on the holodisk as he made his way out.

Ratchet couldn't explain it, but when he saw the photo, he couldn't help the feeling of wrongness that filled his very spark. The team wouldn't understand. They hadn't known Orion. All they saw was their Prime's face. They didn't see the vacancy in his optics or the way he hunched in the picture like he was struggling just to stand. The mech they once knew was not himself. He was hardly alive.

Ratchet refused to let his friend's legacy be destroyed by a cruel twist of fate.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the early morning light as he gathered his things quietly, taking great care with his most important tool as he began the trip out into the wastes. It was not a long trip, not terribly so at any rate. A few joors into his journey, he found himself wandering the wastes in silence, his optics set on any crevice where the husk of his friend could have possibly been hiding. He didn't bother calling out. It was a useless endeavor.

One joor. Two joors. And then, he found what he was looking for.

"Hello, Orion. Its been a while, hasn't it?" A lanky figure pulled itself out of a small cave. Cycled down optics met his, curiosity registering somewhere in their empty stare. Ratchet didn't dare move as the husk pulled itself out of its hiding place, its helm tilted ever so slightly in confusion, or perhaps interest.

"I had hoped that you'd made it out alright. But I don't think that's the case." His words were faint as the husk finally stood. It was thin, gangly from what was likely months of less than sufficient energon. Its armor was cracked and broken, the jetpack that Optimus had once enjoyed now all but ripped off. The husk's face was covered in gashes and marks, the rest of its frame not much better. It looked... pitiful. But above all else, the shining Matrix in its chassis made Ratchet frown.

"No normal mech should be able to survive these wounds." He practically whispered as he took a step forward, holding out a servo in a friendly manner. The husk froze, almost looking ready to scuttle back into its hiding place. But Ratchet remained firm, standing still and speaking quietly.

"That thing... it won't let you die, will it?" He received no verbal answer, but the glowing white of the husk's optics told him everything he needed to know.

White was the color of divinity, but also of sickness. A mech with white optics was said to be doomed to die. Ratchet was not normally a mech to care about superstitions. But that one... he could get behind.

"It must hurt." He couldn't disguise the faint shakiness of his voice as the husk finally inched closer, looming over Ratchet with height that had once been comforting. The husk's optics cycled down and then went wide. A wide and almost sparkling like smile spread across its face as it dropped to all fours, crawling nearer on just about Ratchet's level.

It hesitated a moment, and then pressed its face up against Ratchet's servo like a hound would. Ratchet almost winced, but seeing the husk's genuine affection, he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than sigh and run his free servo along the crest of its helm. So similar to his Prime, and yet so very different.

"The others want to bring you home. They want to fix you." The husk's engine rumbled in delight, pleased as Ratchet caressed broken finials with light touches. The husk looked so very happy as it came closer, seating itself at Ratchet's pedes to lean into every place his digits touched. So unlike Optimus. This thing was a mere echo, a sad and painful echo.

"I don't think you want to be fixed, if that is even possible." His venting hitched as he cupped the husk's face, sensing the animalistic instinct in it. The husk didn't fight back as Ratchet pressed the crest of his helm to the husk's, enjoying the momentary interaction.

"I wanted to hope... I wanted to think that maybe you'd evaded death yet again." He could feel coolant threatening to gather in his optics as he quietly reached to his satchel, pulling out an injector. The yellow liquid within glowed faintly in the dying light of the evening, but Ratchet paid it little mind as he memorized the faint sounds of the husk's engine and the giddy smile upon its face. It hadn't even noticed Ratchet's tool.

"I prayed for your return. But I think that may have been a mistake." Blazing white optics gazed up at him, innocent and yet vacant. It hurt more than it should have.

Why? Why did it have to look so alive and yet so dead?

"Perhaps it would have been kinder if death had finally taken you." Pressing a kiss to the husk's helm crest, Ratchet enjoyed the warmth of a living, venting mech for a moment longer. His spark spun in agony, but now was not the time to stop. This... this was a mercy.

"Rest Orion. Return to Codexa, to Alpha Trion. Go to those who love you... and know that one cycle I will join you there." In one swift motion, Ratchet dug the injector into the husk's neck. Its optics blew wide, its vocalizer spitting static as it stared up at him in sheer terror.

"Shh... it's alright. It will be over soon." The husk went limp, falling into Ratchet's arms. He knelt quietly, letting it rest against his chassis as its frame began to seize. The Matrix flared, sending shocks through the husk to try and keep it active. The husk wailed in response, its shattered vocalizer producing pained cries that could have caused the dead to quake. Ratchet held firm, keeping the husk held against him as the Matrix's shocks ran their course, eventually ceasing.

"I'll tell the others you were dead upon my arrival. Don't worry. They won't see you like this... I promise." The husk spasmed a moment longer, its optics momentarily returning to a bright and healthy blue. For a half klik, Ratchet could have sworn he saw understanding in those optics.

And gratitude.

"I'm sorry, Old Friend." The term of endearment slipped past his derma before he could stop it. In response, Optimus smiled and then fell still, his optics going dark and his frame losing all life.

Ratchet held what remained of his oldest friend for a long while, not speaking or moving.

It was done.

Now Optimus could rest.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #alternate universe #optimus prime #ratchet #team prime #angst #the matrix of leadership #enjoy suckers #this was fun to conjure up

221 notes · View notes

mischievousmoony · 6 months ago

Text

𝚜𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜' ⟡ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟸

⟢ james potter x black!reader (fem)

⟢ summary: after your parents cross the line, you and your older brother sirius find sanctuary at the potters'. however, things don’t go so smoothly at first . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ 3.6k

⟢ warnings/tags: abusive parents, james’ clothes are described as baggy on the reader, siblings fighting, fluff then angst

⟢ part 1 ⟡ part 2 ⟡ part 3 ⟡ masterlist

note: my writing's so rustyyyy the dialogue is so off but im so done editing. and this is gonna need a few more parts, i keep getting carried away.

The Potters' house was very different from yours. It was the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Back home, it felt like Grimmauld Place existed under a perpetual storm cloud. Here, sunshine cannot be escaped. The curtains were drawn closed, but light still filtered in from both sides, almost pleading for them to be opened so that it might do its duty of brightening the house.

Another thing you noticed were birds, who sang pretty songs from right outside your window. You can't remember ever hearing any birds outside your home, and there were plenty of trees for them to nest in. In fact, you started to believe that the aura of your house scared all living things away. Realistically, it was probably all of the yelling and screaming.

As you lie in an unfamiliar room and think of all the reasons why you preferred it over your own, three gentle knocks beat on your door. They sounded different than James' quick staccato, and nerves bubbled in your stomach because you couldn't guess who was on the other side.

You took a deep breath, told yourself that you didn’t have to be so on edge here, and called for the person to come in as you sat up. The knock pattern automatically filed itself away in your brain as belonging to Mrs. Potter. She walked in, carrying a silver tea tray.

"Good morning, dear. Sleep well?" She greeted you as she made her way to your bedside.

"Yes, Ma'am." You said politely.

"Oh, please call me Effie," she insisted as she placed the tray on the bedside table and moved to draw open your curtains. You imagined the sunshine saying thank you for finally letting it in.

“I’ve brought up some tea for you. I wasn't sure how you liked it, alas..." Effie waved her hand over the tray.

The tray had the basics: a teapot, sugar, and a small milk pitcher. However, Effie had also laid out various tea bags for you to choose from, along with some warm biscuits.

“Thank you,” you said in awe as you stared at the display. It was a simple tea setting, really, but the thoughtfulness still had you feeling choked up.

"I spoke with James this morning. May I?" Effie gestured to the edge of your bed, and you welcomed her to sit. "He woke Monty and me up at the crack of dawn, insisting that we let you and your brother stay permanently. Even had tears in his eyes. I tell you, that boy has his father’s big heart."

"Anywho, I nearly tossed a pillow at him for waking me up so early, as if I’d even consider an alternative! But I got to thinking, if James felt like we needed convincing, then we better make sure you and Sirius don’t feel any unease either.”

Effie reached for your hands that lay folded in your lap. “So,” she paused a moment to allow you the chance to shoo her off before placing her hand over yours. “I felt it was important to tell you personally that you are welcomed in this home and this family, assuming you’ll have us, for as long as you need us. That sounds like a good deal to you?”

You bit back tears, “Yea- yes. I think that sounds lovely.”

Effie smiled and squeezed your hands, “Can I give you a hug, dear?”

“Yes, please.” you croaked.

Effie wrapped her arms around you, and you let a few tears loose while she couldn’t see you, wiping them away with your thumb as soon as they appeared. The hug felt warm and unfamiliar, and you wondered if there was a time that your parents ever hugged you like this. If they did, you didn’t remember it.

From behind Effie’s back, you watched James waltz over through your blurry vision. He became distracted by the surprise that the bedroom door was already opened, eyeing it before anything else in the room as he leaned against the doorframe.

“Good morning, sunsh- Mum! You’re in here!”

Effie pulled back from you and craned her neck to look over her shoulder at her son, who was standing up as straight as a board in the doorway. She raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his sudden weirdness.

“I was just welcoming Y/N to our home, like we discussed. Are you alright, dear?” Effie tilted her head.

“‘m splendid, Mum.” James said it with a goofy smile, rocking back and forth on his heels.

She drew her eyebrows together and said, "Lovely, James. What can we do for you?"

"Me? Do for me?" James' eyes widened.

Effie shook her head, perplexed by her son’s reaction.

"I'm wondering what brings you here, James?"

"Ah. I was just in the area," James said, doing a poor job at acting casual. "Y'know, the upstairs... area. Uh, so I thought I'd say good morning... Good morning!"

You thought that this must be the kind of thing people face palm over.

“Hm,” Effie squinted at her son, studying him for a moment before deciding to worry about whatever that was later. She turned back towards you, “Anywho, this is your room now, so I hope it's to your liking. We can see about changing these sheets and painting the walls however you’d like-”

“It’s perfect!” You interrupted, looking bashful for doing so, but Effie didn't seem to mind.

“Well, feel free to customize it any other way. Any posters?” Effie offered.

"I didn't have time to grab that sort of thing,” you admitted, and immediately felt stupid for doing so. Effie clearly just wanted you to feel at home, and you felt like you were being a downer.

But if it phased Effie, she didn’t show it.

"Well then, that means we get to go buy some new ones, yeah?"

She gave your hands a final squeeze before standing up, saying, “I better let you wake up and enjoy the tea,” and walking towards the hall.

Effie affectionately patted James on the cheek as she passed him.

“Have you had breakfast, dear?”

“Mum!” James shrank away from her, his face growing hot. “I will in a minute!”

She tsked at him, gave his cheek one last pinch, and made her way out of the room. James hung from the doorframe into the hall to watch her go. When she was out of sight, he dipped into your room and shut the door silently behind him.

James' back pressed against the closed door as he shot you a toothy grin.

"Good morning, sunshine," he repeated.

You can't help but giggle at him while saying, "Good morning, Jamie."

As he walked over you, his smile slightly faded as a hint of sadness crept onto his face when he noticed your teary eyes.

One thing you loved about James was that he never resorted to any of those hollow phrases like "don't cry" or "stay strong" when he tried to make you feel better. Instead, he always concocted the perfect cure for the situation. Today, it was goofiness and a lot of kisses.

James made a big show of acting innocent as he approached. He whistled some tune and looked anywhere but you before he suddenly dived at you, embracing your waist with a gentle yet decisive sweep of his arms. He flung his body into the mattress, dragging you down with him. You yelped and chided him through laughter.

When you landed, you were tangled awkwardly—your body twisted so that your torso was on top of his, but his legs were draped over yours. James' arms were still wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you trapped as he peppered kisses on your face. He kissed your cheeks and the corner of your eyes, then your eyelids, effectively kissing away any stray tears.

You were a fit of giggles by the time his lips reached the tip of your nose. Next up, he dipped his head to kiss each side of your mouth before finally capturing your lips with his. You giggled through the feathery kisses he pressed on your lips, and he couldn't help but follow in your footsteps as he smiled against you.

Soon, laughter overtook you both. Yet you remained close, with your noses brushing against each other and your foreheads pressed together, as your happy laughter filled the room.

Eventually, James' laughter began to die down. He removed one of his hands from your waist to help brush your hair back into place, it having gotten disheveled from his attack.

You settled down as well, letting the touch of his fingertips in your hair calm you. He took notice and continued running his fingers through your hair, even after it was all brushed out of your face.

For a peaceful moment, you gazed into his eyes, which were filled with admiration and mirrored your own. James watched as a glint of mischief suddenly sparkled in your eyes.

"So," you voiced.

"Mhm," he hummed.

"You've clearly never tried to hide something from your mum before."

"Why would I 'ave had to hide something from my mum before?" James pouted, briefly bringing your giggles back. "Only reason I haven't gushed to her about my beautiful girlfriend," James gave your waist a squeeze, "is 'coz she would have qualms with me lying to a friend."

"Oh, so I guess we better go tell Sirius then, yeah? I wouldn't want to make you lie to your dear mum, I like her." You teased, amused by James' eyes widening nervously.

You've talked about telling your brothers before, but it's something neither of you were quite ready for—you were too fond of the blissfulness you found in the privacy of your relationship.

"Er, I don't particularly feel like getting socked in the face today." James said.

"Oh, come on. You think he'd react that badly?" You carried on.

"I think Sirius punching me would be a mild reaction for him." James grimaced, "He'll probably hex me into the next century. And I get chills thinking about what would happen if Regulus were to find out. Oh, I'd be a dead man. Or he'd put an irreversible curse on my bloodline. It's a tossup, really."

Your smile faltered at the mention of your twin brother, suddenly remembering your situation. You let yourself get distracted by the warm welcome from Effie and James' affection. How could you lay here happily while Regulus is still stuck at that house?

Your expression suddenly grew very solemn as you began squirming out of James' grip. "Where's Sirius?" you asked.

James seemed to choke on his own spit. "Uh, pardon? You're not really planning on telling him today?” Despite his protest, James loosened his grip, not wanting to keep you somewhere you didn’t want to be. “At least let me put my Quidditch gear on, I might need the protective padding."

You had tunnel vision the moment Regulus’ name was mentioned, but you realized what James was saying by the time he mentioned protective padding.

“Not that, James. I need to find out about Reg.”

His mouth formed an O shape as you stood at the foot of the bed with your hands on your hips.

“So do you know where he is?”

“Uh, eating breakfast probably,” James guessed, “in the dining room.”

You stared at him expectantly and after a while of him not moving, you huffed, “I don’t know where that is, James!”

“Right!” James scrambled up from the bed so he could lead you through the house. You could’ve found it if you wandered long enough, but the Potters’ house was fairly large, and you wanted to talk to Sirius as soon as possible.

By the time James had led you to the kitchen, you could see Sirius in the next room over through the open archway. You pushed past James at once.

Sirius was alone at the head of the table, various platters of breakfast food surrounding him. The kitchen was hot when you passed through it, so one of James’ parents must have just been cooking, but they were nowhere to be seen now. Sirius was shoveling some sausage onto his plate when he saw you.

“Sirius,” you said sternly as your hands returned to your hips.

“Look who’s finally up!” Your brother cheered, “Just in time to eat.” He gestured at the seat next to him.

James appeared at your side, and said, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Maybe you should have some before you-”

“Where is Regulus?” You interrupted, ignoring James altogether.

James’ utterance of “Yeah, didn’t think so” was lost on your ears.

With a scowl on his face, Sirius turned his attention away from his meal. His eyes scanned over you, and his scowl twisted into an amused expression. “Nice outfit!” he snorted.

You looked down briefly to see yourself drowning in James’ clothes. Being much taller than you, James' sweats pooled at your ankles. You rolled your eyes.

“Stop it, Sirius. Where is our brother?”

Sirius squinted at you. You thought he was finally going to give you answers when he decisively opened his mouth, but instead, “You should sit and eat. James is right, breakfast is the most-”

“Sirius!” You raised your voice, your hands molding into fists as your arms dropped to your sides.

Sirius threw his fork down with a clatter, “What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why he’s not here with us.” Your pleading voice cracked as you begged your brother for answers, stepping closer to him.

Sirius had a stormy, faraway look in his eyes, as if recalling something poignant. “The only one who can answer that question is him, so you’re out of luck,” he said bitterly.

The simmering anger in your chest started to bubble, rising up to your throat until you were spitting words that you would later regret. “You left him there!” you accused.

“Excuse me?” Sirius sent a deadly stare your way as he slowly pushed his chair back and stood up.

“Woah,” James tried to interrupt, moving to stand between you two, “Maybe we wanna take a moment and-”

You stepped around James, and his remaining words were drowned out by your raised voice: “I said you left him there. He’s not here because of you.”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!” Sirius bellowed, growing more irritated with you.

“Then why not enlighten me, Sirius!?”

“He chose to stay!" he disclosed. "Alright? I know you think so highly of your favorite brother, but he chose that place!”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, crossing your arms and looking away.

You ignored Sirius' choice words of "favorite brother." You weren't going to let yourself get distracted by that conversation, which you've had a countless number of times already. Sirius was sensitive to the fact that Regulus was your twin brother, and Sirius would always just be your brother, no matter how many times you told him that you loved them the same.

“I told him to pack, just like you, and he said no. I told him he had to and he refused," Sirius said vindictively.

“Then you should’ve tried harder!" You snapped, spewing words you didn't mean, "Now he’s there alone. He would’ve come if you would've just tried harder, I know it. This is all your fault!”

Sirius reeled back as if you had punched him in the gut. For a moment, he looked hurt, but then anger overwhelmed him. “How could you say that? You weren’t even there!”

“Because you never let me be! I stayed in my room, like you said to, and was out of my mind with worry. Next thing I know, we’re leaving and Regulus isn’t, and that feeling hasn’t gone away because I have no idea how he is. You should’ve grabbed him and dragged him along! You should’ve-“

“Why is everything my fault!? Why is it what I should’ve done!? You don’t even know what he did!” Sirius' nostrils flared with rage.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your dear Reggie isn’t as good as you think he is," he sneered. "If you only saw him…”

“I don’t care what he did, he’s our brother!" You shouted, "He should be here. It doesn’t matter!”

Sirius slammed his hand on the table, “IT DOESN’T MATTER!?” he screamed, causing you to jump back. Tears immediately began welling in your eyes. No matter what you did, when you were being yelled at, you started crying. You weren't like your brothers, who could hold stone-cold, emotionless expressions despite whatever was swirling within. It was one of the reasons your brothers did what they could to keep your parents away from you—to Walburga and Orion, emotion was weakness.

Your tears didn't phase Sirius like they normally would have. He was too furious. “You want to know what he did?" he asked harshly. "He watched. He watched our parents torture me, and then he just walked away!"

“What did you want him to do?” you cried, “He- he was probably scared,” you hiccuped, “you- you should’ve-“

“I shouldn’t have done anything, goddammit! She crucio’d me! THAT’S what he watched our mother do. THAT’S what he let me deal with alone. I was on the ground unable to get up for damn near thirty minutes, and he knew it!"

Sirius nearly doubled over, grabbing the table in front of him for balance so hard that his knuckles blanched. All of the yelling gave him a head rush, but he wouldn't relent, "So don’t you tell me that I should’ve tried harder. That I should’ve grabbed him. He doesn’t care about me, so why should I care about him?”

Your hand clasped over your mouth as you sobbed. Your parents were cruel, but the Cruciatus Curse? You couldn’t fathom it. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and bile bubbled up in your throat as you recalled Sirius’ scream from the night before.

Neither of you seemed to have anything else to say. You both just stood before each other in your most vulnerable states. It was a miserable sight—you crying your eyes out and Sirius looking sick as a dog.

Neither of you had noticed James leave until he returned. His parents followed closely behind.

"Snitch," Sirius choked out, glaring at his best friend as a fit of coughs hit him, his throat strained from the yelling. He ducked his head down and screwed his eyes shut suddenly, like the light in the room was starting to bother his head.

James didn't seem to care what Sirius thought of him. He was too busy being concerned for you both. Besides, James didn't really snitch. You two were being so loud that his parents were already on their way. He happened to run into them in their pursuit.

"What's going on?" Effie's gentle voice rang through the room, "We could hear yelling from the other side of the house."

Even though James' mum was being stern, she didn't sound angry or upset. Her voice only carried notes of concern and motherly authority.

Neither you nor Sirius answered her, too busy crying and coughing. Both of you would've probably been too sheepish to answer, anyway.

James' parents shared a look with each other, deciding what to do about the situation through eye contact alone.

Fleamont spoke with a firm voice, "Alright, son, we ought to get you up to your room. I think it'd be best for you to lie down." Fleamont clasped a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Your brother let Fleamont assist him in the walk to his room.

Euphemia moved to comfort you, but James stopped her. "Wait, let me."

She raised her eyebrows at her son, skeptical of the idea that her young son was equipped to handle this situation. But James had already started reaching for you, and like a moth to a flame, you melted into his arms the moment you felt his fingertips graze your skin.

Effie's eyes darted between you and her son, settling on him when her features melded into a look of understanding. A million questions raced through her mind. How long had this been going on? Why didn't James tell her? Did James tell Sirius? But the one thing she knew for sure was that you found comfort in James, and comfort was the one thing you needed right now.

She took a deep breath and decided to trust her son. "We'll talk about this later. I'm going to check on Sirius."

"Thanks, Mum." James let out a relieved breath.

"Just... behave."

"Mum!" James blushed, his hands swiftly traveling up to cover your ears with his palms.

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that!" Effie waved a hand in the air as she followed in the direction of Fleamont and Sirius.

James noticed your shoulders had started shaking intensely.

“Lovey,” he cooed. He moved his hands to cup your face, tilting it up to look at him. He was surprised to find that the reason for your shuddering shoulders was not because you had started crying harder. You were still crying, but it was mixed with a bit of laughter.

"I guess neither of us are very good at hiding things,” you said, thinking of how you jumped into his arms right in front of his mother.

James shook his head, a single chuckle escaping from his lips.

“Guess not.”

Your moment of humor quickly passed, your eyes turning sad again as more tears spilled out.

James sighed, brushing away your tears with his thumb before pulling you close to his chest. He rubbed soothing circles on your back, pressed kisses to the top of your head, and whispered professions of love and sweet words in your ear while he let you cry. Sometimes, he knew you just needed to let it all out.

Eventually, you let James’ touch and loving words relax you. When your crying was reduced to a sniffle, James veered back so that you could see his face.

“Let’s go on a walk.”

319 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 5 months ago

Note

What about a sweet heart who has muti tongues? He's shy but in bed it's a whole new story.

A Co-worker. Definitely a co-worker.

You work on the same floor but in different departments, so your paths rarely cross. Despite this, you are always kind and polite to each other, exchanging small greetings and smiles. Over time, these brief interactions turn into taking breaks at the same time. He is usually the first to arrive in the kitchen, making sure there's fresh coffee ready by the time you walk in. He wears glasses and often pushes them up on the bridge of his nose when he's nervous. A habit you find endearing. His laugh is soft and quiet, and he always casts his eyes down, looking at you through his lashes. If you want to get to know him better, you have to take the lead in conversations. At the beginning, you talk about work, but soon your discussions drift to hobbies, family, and whatever else comes to mind. The kitchen where you meet for lunch every day is filled with the aroma of various foods, with a strong hint of coffee always lingering in the air. When you casually mention that you dislike the smell, he suggests heading to the nearby park instead. It’s just a few minutes’ walk away. You decline at first, not wanting to take up his time, but he insists, saying he’d love to get some fresh air. Especially with you. From then on, you spend your breaks on a park bench, eating and chatting. Sometimes, he surprises you with coffee, and you bring pastries. Before long, you’ve learned his favorite treats and your conversations become the highlight of your day.

It’s a slow process with him. He’s cautious, not wanting to misread your kindness and risk the friendship you’ve built. The thought of making things awkward, especially since you work at the same place, weighs on his mind.

The more you learn about him, the more you appreciate his subtle sense of humor and thoughtful nature. You start noticing the little things he does just for you: always making sure your favorite coffee is ready, sharing a silly joke to brighten your day, and the not-so-subtle way he begins waiting for you after work to walk you home.

But despite your obvious sympathy for each other, it takes a bit of alcohol to cross the line you both have been carefully avoiding for so long.

One evening, a co-worker invites you out for a few drinks with the others. It's nothing fancy, just a cozy pub at the corner with mismatched chairs, stained tables, and a bartender who somehow makes the best drinks you've ever had.

When you arrive, a few of the others are already there, and you spot him in the middle of the group. His face lights up the moment he sees you, and he immediately gets up from his chair to order you whatever you’d like. The others exchange knowing glances at his enthusiasm, but they wisely keep quiet. They’re well aware that if they say the wrong thing, he’ll retreat back into his shell.

Outside the office, he seems much more relaxed, though his soft-spoken nature remains unchanged. Before you know it, you find yourself pressed against his side, partly because there isn’t much space around the table and partly because it’s the only way you can hear him over the noises. Of course, you’re not complaining.

When the night comes to an end, he offers to walk you home, and you accept without a second thought. You might second-guess it later, but for now, all you want is to spend more time with him, away from the others' curious gazes.

As you walk side by side, the cool night air feels refreshing after the warmth of the pub. The city hums softly around you. Its sounds create a comforting backdrop to your quiet conversation.

As you reach your doorstep, there’s a moment of hesitation from both of you. He looks at you with those thoughtful eyes. His glasses catch the soft glow of the streetlights as he pushes them up on his nose—just like you’ve seen him do so many times before. The alcohol buzzes under your skin, mingling with the unspoken tension in the air between you.

You find yourself inviting him in, and to your relief and excitement, he accepts.

Surprise catches in your throat when the entrance door of your apartment barely clicks shut, and your back is pressed against the wooden surface. His lips on yours are overwhelming and searing. His body firmly pins you in place. You squeal in shock, but the sound is quickly swallowed by the intensity of his kiss. It’s then you realize that something strange—his tongue brushes against yours, but there’s not just one. There are two, working in tandem to take your breath away, leaving you dizzy and pliant in his arms. "Where’s your room?" He asks, breaking away from your lips, panting with a hint of urgency in his voice. "The last room," you manage to reply, your thoughts still swirling. "But what about…" You trail off, touching your lips in wonder, trying to grasp what just happened. He grins, a new expression on him, but one that suits him well. "Don’t tell me that’s the most unusual thing you’ve ever seen on a monster." "No," you admit with a small smile. "It isn’t." "Good," he says, scooping you up into his arms effortlessly. "Then let me show you what else I can do with it."

And he does.

He does.

The kind, quiet guy you've known for the past several months is gone. In his place is a man who takes charge and refuses to let it go for even a second. He manhandles you effortlessly, putting you on the bed within moments and leaving you powerless to do anything but moan and gasp. His name echoes off the walls of your room as the rough pads of his fingers explore every trembling inch of your body, followed by his lips. By the time he moves down between your legs, your nerves are ready to burst with anticipation and need. His claws dig into the soft meat of your thighs as he pulls them apart, pushing you wide open with his shoulders. When you look down at him, he grins, licking his lips with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The moment his tongues touch you, your back arches off the bed, and a loud moan escapes your lips. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you have to force yourself to bring your gaze back to the male between your legs. He feasts on you with abandon, lapping at your folds, slurping on your wetness, and sucking on your clit. His tongue rubs over your sopping pussy while you writhe underneath him, holding onto the sheets with a vice-like grip. His relentless attention drives you to the edge. Each stroke of his tongues pushes you closer and closer to an overwhelming climax. Your breathing becomes ragged, and you can feel the tension building in every fiber of your being. He seems to sense this, increasing his pace. His tongues work you with a precision that has you gasping for air. Your moans grow louder, filling the room as he brings you closer to the edge. His name spills from your lips in a desperate chant. A plea for more, for everything he’s giving you, and more. Your hands leave the sheets, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as your hips move instinctively against his mouth.

Just when you think you can't take more, he adds a finger, then another, stretching you and pushing you further toward the brink. The combination of his tongues and fingers working in perfect harmony is almost too much to bear. Your body tenses, your muscles coiling tight as a spring. With one final, powerful suck on your clit, he sends you over the edge. Your back arches off the bed, and you cry out. The sound is raw and high. Waves of pleasure crash over you, each one more intense than the last, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

As you come down from your high, he continues his gentle ministrations, easing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm until your breathing steadies and your body relaxes. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction and something deeper, something almost tender. He moves up your body, placing soft kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and finally capturing your lips in a kiss that is both passionate and sweet. You can taste yourself on his lips as his tongues play with yours.

#monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #sweet asks

286 notes · View notes