#still p damn relevant

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

Summary: Immediately after his devastating loss to his cousins Jimmy and Jey at Money In The Bank, Roman finds you in the back as he looks for an outlet for all of this newfound pent-up energy…but this may lead to something else as well.

Word Count: 14,197 (jfc that's more than I expected)

Warnings: degradation, choking/throat squeezing, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), edging (for both parties involved), unprotected P in V action (please be safe and wrap it before you tap it irl tho), Roman being his Tribal Chief self (because that’s a warning all on its own), a bit of manhandling here and there as well….y’know, the works :3

A/N: All of this comes from three connecting factors: 1) Roman being the sexy ass WHORE that he is, 2) my own brain finally starting to work in tandem with my damn writing fingers, and 3) an all-caps DM from @stargazerofgoldenwords demanding that I write this so full partial blame goes to her. So here y’all go…for the bitches and the bros and for all the non-binary hoes ^3^ (I also haven’t written a full-fledged smut in I believe over three years so….I hope I did good lol)

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

How is this even possible? What’s going to happen now?

These thoughts and more rush through your mind as you stand board stiff in the back, your eyes seeming to be permanently glued to the large monitor in front of you while gasps and cheers from the remainder of the locker room fill your ears alongside the blaring bass of The Usos’ theme.

Roman told you to stay in the back for a reason, to only come out after he’d won and embarrassed the hell out of his cousins for ever turning their backs on him, so he could make examples out of them as a reason to never and not turn your back on the Tribal Chief.

He wanted them to remember this night, to remember the ache in their bones, the wear and tear of their joints as he slammed them against the mat over and over again, the blood and sweat staining their skin as he and Solo dug into the twins with everything they had left within them.

They would learn their lesson tonight, and they would learn it well: you do not mess with the Tribal Chief because if you do, you will feel a pain that you have never known before.

He was going to show everyone why he and he alone was the head of the table, why he was unstoppable, and why only those who followed him and his lead would prosper in the end.

But, none of that actually mattered in the end, not as you stand staring at the monitor, hands covering your mouth in shock.

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

Jey pinned Roman, pinned him for the first time in over three fucking years.

Blow after blow to the foundation of The Bloodline, week after week from the cracks being exposed to Sami’s turn at the Royal Rumble that set everything in motion to the goddamn explosion that occurred during Roman and Solo’s Night of Champions match.

After all this time, The Usos finally got one over on the Tribal Chief, they won the Bloodline civil war.

They beat the Tribal Chief, destroyed his so-called “Island of Relevancy”, showed the world that he is still just a man and can be beaten just like the rest of them. Roman Reigns is not as invincible as he claims to be!...

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

You can see it all processing in his eyes in real time, all of the noise around you fading into the background along with the roaring cheers from the London crowd: his loss, being pinned, the fact that despite being a champion he has lost his stance, his placement at the head of the table.

Because what use is there of an Island of Relevancy if you’re the only one standing on it?

Your hands drop from your mouth and fall to your sides; how the hell…? What the hell is happening? Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as those around you celebrate his demise, hands clapping shoulders and drinks beginning to be passed around as the show draws to a close.

You can practically see the floor falling out beneath Roman’s feet as he slides out of the ring, dejected and defeated with a raging inferno blazing bright and hot behind those fierce eyes of his; his entire world, perfectly constructed with seemingly no flaws whatsoever, has shattered in front of his very eyes.

Rage twisted and contorted Roman’s facial features into something unrecognizable as he sat on the floor ringside, kicking his feet and screaming his anger out into the universe like a temperamental child. Baring his teeth, hissing and gnashing his jaw like an uncaged animal…

Frankly, it scared the shit out of you to see live.

He’s shaking, actually shaking with all of the hate and virtiol that courses through his very veins. The bright lights of the arena, hot and beaming down on his skin? The way his hair sticks to the sides of his face and the heavy furrow in his brow? The way his entire body aches from the brutal punishment of the match?

None of that matters now. None of it will ever matter now.

His anger, his regret, his disappointment with himself as he comes to terms with the true loss of yet another faction of his, people who he loved and cared for turning their backs on him again…his mind was a maelstrom as he gripped his face and pulled at his temple, and not even the pain from that could distract him from the truth in front of his very eyes.

His own family, his own blood, has betrayed him, the image of Jimmy and Jey standing above him displaying on every and all of the large screens inside the arena. His heart pounds in his chest and hs blood boils; they can’t just get away with this. They will pay for their crimes against him, against their family, against their Bloodline!

The blood, the sweat, the tears and the pain he had poured into their family, all the work that he had put in to make sure that they all ate, that they all got opportunity after opportunity after opportunity….all for nothing.

You watch as Solo picks himself up from the floor and stumbles his way over to Roman, Paul’s face a complete mess and whirlwind of emotions as he rushes over with Roman’s smorgasbord of titles cradled like infants within his arms. You can barely hear what the latter is saying to the Tribal Chief over the cheers of The Usos’ celebrating and their theme blaring through the speakers, but it’s most likely some sort of consolation and a promise of revenge due to the bright red of the shorter man’s face.

Even after all of this, after everything that these men have just gone through, Jimmy still attempts to reach out to comfort Roman as he sits ringside on the floor, you watching as Jey pulls him back to his own side; Roman is a lost cause to them now. In their eyes, they’ve destroyed his corrupted faction, they’ve cut off the hydra’s heads, and now?

Now, they’re done with him, with all things Bloodline-related as the descend back into being “the ones”.

They are the new Tribal Chiefs around these parts, not Roman.

Not anymore.

After what feels like an eternity of the fallen party sitting in stasis outside of the ring, they all stand, Roman wrapping an arm around his midsection and another hand around his shoulder as they all walk backwards back up the long runway.

His eyes stay locked onto his cousins as the camera pans from him to them and back again, Solo’s eyes filled with an incoming storm and Paul’s lips seeming to move at a mile a minute with how quickly he seems to throw insults the way of The Usos.

But the two in the ring just smile.

They smile and embrace each other after a hard won victory as the entire WWE Universe embraces them as well, and all that does is piss Roman off even more.

Your body somehow finds the will to move, your feet ungluing themselves from the floor beheath them before you begin to move your way through the small crowd of those watching from the back.

You tear your eyes away from the monitor you were watching and beeline it straight to the guerilla position where they’re set to return, and you can still hear the thunderous cheers coming from the fans as Jimmy and Jey continue to celebrate the fall of the Tribal Chief. Maneuvering your way through throngs of people, past production, past *everything*...you have to find him.

You have to find him, and fast.

It’s like your feet barely even graze the ground with how fast you walk, the light tapping of your heels echoing off the walls around you as you make your way closer and closer to Roman and…oh.

You can just barely see him over the heads and past the shoulders of the cameramen, the interviewers waving their mics in their faces, over the glinting bald heads of Pearce and Hunter that’re shining with sweat as they attempt to get a word in with Roman before they try to rush him in the direction of where the press conference is being held…but it’s as though he doesn’t see any of them, his eyes dark and filled to the brim with something nasty.

You’re not even the prime target of his glare, steel-cut and piercing all that come across it, and even you feel the brunt of it, shivering where you stand behind the cloud of people vying for his attention as he moves his way through them. For the reporters and the interviewers, their mics in shaking hands as cameras flash in his face, all of their questions die on their tongues the second his eyes sweep over them.

“Roman. Roman!” you hear Pearce call out to him, Hunter, Solo, and Heyman in tow close to his heels. “Damn it, Roman, listen to me!”

“We need to get you out there, Reigns. Just give a quick statement about the match, about The Usos, and then-”

Pearce and Hunter’s requests fall on deaf ears as you move to the side, the crowd of people following Roman’s path as he walks down one of the arena’s large halls.

“Excuse you, Hunter? Did you not just see the utter and complete farce that was the match our Tribal Chief just had?! There will be no statement to be made, and no appearance at any press conference shall be had unless it involves the absolute dismissal of what was clearly a farce of a loss!”

Paul’s demands make his face grow a bright red as he follows Roman, clutching his titles as his head seems to grow three sizes from the fury written across his face. “Jimmy and Jey, they’re cheaters! Conmen who have embarrassed your Tribal Chief in front of millions of people time and time again! We demand retribution! A rematch to set things right again! Do you know how much Roman Reigns has brought to this company? How much prestige he’s brought to these titles, to these championships?”

Paul jostles the titles in question in his arms, brows furrowed and steam practically pouring out of his ears. “This is an outrage! This is a scam! You two should be ashamed of yourselves for even allowing this to happen to a force like Roman Reigns-”

His incessant, constant stream of words and potential curses are paused by Solo’s hand slamming into his chest, Heyman’s eyes going wide as his mouth falls open before quickly closing it and stepping back to Roman’s side.

Roman pauses his stride, eyeing Hunter and Pearce so viciously that you yourself are shrinking into your own skin; he very clearly doesn’t want to be bothered right now, so why even try to ask him of anything at all?

The look he gives both men, the silent communications that occur between them seems to be more than enough for them to back off in their pursuits, stepping out of his way as their phones begin to ring constantly.

“We have to get some sort of response out of him, right? I mean, he’s the champion right now, we can’t just let him leave-”

“Let him cool off for a second, Pearce,” Hunter tells him, running a hand over his own stressed face. “He’s in no mood for any of that right about now.”

Roman continues to shove past and maneuver around those in his way, his steps as loud and threatening as his demeanor. Through and through, seconds by seconds that seem to stretch on forever until his eyes finally, finally gloss over your figure leaning on a nearby wall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your mind begins to turn.

And the very second that his gaze locks onto yours, time slows to a screeching halt.

There’s something in there that you rarely saw in him before, but that you’ve been seeing a lot more of recently.

That anger, that frustration, all of that adrenaline mixed all that hate and vitriol coursing through his veins…he needed to get all of it out, every last drop before he makes another misstep.

He needs you.

Shouldering his way past various sports reporters and camera people, he quickly makes his way across the hallway to you, his large figure towering over you as you begin to shrink further and further against the wall. He’s panting, partly from the resulting emotions following his match and partly from how rough the match in question ran his body.

His hand finds your wrist, gripping it tightly and without a single word from him, he pulls you from the wall and begins to walk away again, Solo and Heyman striding behind him while the media frenzy behind you all follows along.

“Roman, wait-”

He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with you again, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know.

Not now.

All the words you were going to say fall right back down your throat and you gulp, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak as you try your best to keep up with his pace. It doesn’t take long for your group to head back to his larger-than-anyone-else’s locker room, Solo being the last one inside as he shuts everyone else out besides himself, Heyman, you and Roman.

Paul quickly sets the championship belts aside on a nearby table while Roman runs a hand through his hair, running a hand over his face before taking a seat on one of the benches.

It’s quiet in here, all too quiet albeit for the clamoring noise outside…and this silence does not make you feel hopeful at all.

You all just…sit in that silence for a few minutes, stewing in it as the reality of what had just occurred mere moments ago finally sinks in for all parties involved.

“Wise man…”

All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.

“Leave us.”

That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”

“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”

His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.

“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.

“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief in due time. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”

Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…

…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.

Being in a space with Roman Reigns, you can feel how much of himself fills it: his aura, his stance, his voice, his demeanor…no matter how big or small a room, you can damn well tell that Roman’s in there. You could practically sense it in the air when he arrives, hairs rising on your firearms as all around you grow silent. However, as long as you are not his prime target, you will most likely walk out of that room unscathed - emphasis on most likely.

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

All of those feelings? All of those senses get hiked up to an eleven, the very room that the person is in feeling as though it’s shrinking around them as it seemingly pushes them closer and closer together.

And you, right now, are that poor soul in question.

Your hands grip the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, the one that he gave to you and told you to wear once you were supposed to come out after the match was over…after he was supposed to win - nervously, your eyes falling to the floor and sticking to the shoes that you wear.

You see Roman’s feet walking towards you before they pause, then moving in the opposite direction as they head towards the locker room door as well…only this time, your heart rate rockets straight to the moon once you hear the sharp clicking of the door’s lock turning, that noise bouncing off the walls of your mind like an echoing cavern.

The silence in the room is unbearable with a tension so thick, you can cut right through it with Roman’s steely gaze. It’s all too warm, too stuffy, too suffocating while you stand there, your teeth making a home in your bottom lip as you shift from foot to foot.

What do you say to him? What do you say at all? Do you commend him on a match well performed? Do you take Heyman’s route and curse Jimmy and Jey’s names until the breath runs clean from your lungs and you’re all hot in the face as well? Do you take Solo’s approach to things and just say…nothing? Nothing at all?

What can you possibly do to even try to rectify things for him? Make things any better than they are at this moment in time?

All of these questions and more surround your brain and hold it hostage, unable to think of anything else. Is there anything that you can do to make him feel better? You’re supposed to be his, his girl…but with something as monumentally damaging to him as tonight was, so is there anything that you can do?

You don’t even notice him making his way towards you until he’s almost directly in front of you, watching your every movement like an unbound predator stalking its oblivious prey. The room around you grows way too hot way too fast as he continues to move your way, his footsteps soft yet booming as loudly in your ears as your own heartbeat.

As he takes one step forward towards you, you take an equal one back. One step forward, one step back.

One forward, one back, and this little game of yours goes on and on and on until you’re cornered up against the furthest wall, Roman’s hands pressing against the wall at the sides of your face. His chest nearly touches yours in the process and its rise and fall nearly matches the way your own does but you hold your breath and pray to the gods.

For what, you wonder?

For solace? For comfort? For a way out from his grasp, or a way to sink further beneath it? Space to breathe or to suffocate in all that is Roman Reigns? Entirely everything from him and absolutely nothing of him all at once? You don’t even know for sure but unfortunately, those prayers are left unheard and unanswered.

You hear him call your name, the syllables he speaks wrapped in a depth that twists and turns your very core. He doesn’t have to say much to grab your attention, after all.

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

You can’t even bring yourself to do that, lest you wish to crumble beneath his unwavering gaze.

However, Roman is not one to take no for an answer; he never really has, especially nowadays. So when he speaks to you again, the very atmosphere of the locker room seems to shift and change under his words, underneath the dominance that is just solely and utterly him.

“I said, look at me.”

His fingers are suddenly underneath your chin, thumb and forefinger gripping it with just enough force to pull a strained noise from the back of your throat as he forcefully tilts your chin up so that you have to look up at him.

The soft gasp that you let out when you finally look up at him, into those dangerous eyes of his…you can see what it does to him by the roll of his shoulders as he stands to his full height, towering above you so much so that the too-bright lights that illuminate the locker room get blocked out.

You didn’t really get the chance to truly look at him through the monitor you were watching the match from and not even as he stampeded his way through the throngs of people all vying for his attention…but now?

Right here, in this moment, any and all words you could have possibly said to him evaporate on your tongue as your feet remain glued to the floor, your pulse thrumming through your entire body.

The wide panes of his chest stretch with each and every deep breath that he takes, his heart beating so damn loud that it fills the room and suffocates all other noise besides it. You feel the leather of his glove brushing against your chin where it wraps around his fingers, the force behind his grip being just strong enough to let you know not to mess with him.

Roman’s entire form from the waist up glistens with sweat and you can already see the soon-to-be bruises on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen already begin to show.

His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been before as he towers above you, slightly panting while his aura threatens to swallow you whole. There’s an obvious anger lingering within them, the deep-set betrayal and agony over losing his family and his undefeated streak finally sinking in along with the newfound uncertainty of the future to come…but there’s something else there in those eyes of him, something that makes sweat bead out along your brow and has your thighs clenching together as you dig your teeth into your lip so hair that it nearly bleeds.

Something more.

Roman sees this, what he does to you, and has to resist the urge to crack a smirk; you’re so easy to toy with. He can barely say a word to you, can just look at you only to have you a trembling, whimpering mess before him.

It’s reasons like these that drives his need for you so through the roof, and tonight means no different to him at all.

Just as he thought, you let out a whimper when you meet his eyes, your body threatening to go limp in his hold. His presence is just so much and it does so much more to you than you’re ever willing to say, but you absolutely love it either way.

You don’t notice him beginning to lean in closer to your own face, too stunned to even think of moving before he’s all that you can possibly see, his hair almost framing your own face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as it fans out over your face, spicy and hot and smelling of the cinnamon gum you saw him chewing earlier in the day. He tilts your face in the opposite direction, sighing as his eyes leave yours before he leans forward to press his face against the crook of your neck, burying his nose against the skin while the hand that remains on the wall curls into a fist.

Another gasp leaves your throat when he steps forward again, your hands unchelching themselves from where they rest at the hem of your - his - shirt as his chest presses against yours, warm and built and smothering in all the right places. When you raise your arms up from your sides to run your fingertips up his chest, over his shoulders, over his forearms, you can feel him just barely shiver beneath your touch.

His body calls out for you just as yours does him, and you can feel the buzz of all the energy still coursing through him, driving him up the wall as he leans further into your touch. And when you flatten your hands against his skin, the groan that he lets out rolls through our entire body, his chest vibrating against yours.

You feel him moving against your neck and you stretch further to the side to give him room, his lips forming into words that he wouldn’t dare say aloud with others nearby as his gloved hand moves from your chin to grip the base of your neck.

You know what this is, you know what this means; you’ve been here in this position before with him, especially much more recently with all of this newfound familial drama that’s dropped itself at the other end of his table.

With the seemingly endless amounts of adrenaline crawling beneath his skin, the cinching, tight feeling of his skin and the burning sensation that bubbles deep within his core, it’s no wonder why he’s cornered you like this, why he’s closing in on you, why he’s so bent on draping you in him.

I need you, baby, please.

Those spoken yet unspoken words he uttered into your skin make your eyes widen as a similar heat begins to spark within your own core, Roman trapping your leg between his own and pressing his cock against your thigh. It makes your skin crawl in the best ways possible, what he does to you, the anticipation mixed with everything that he just is making your mind hazy.

Your hands rise from his shoulders up the base of his neck, curving further up towards his hair before wrapping your fingers through it and gently pulling his head back up to face you, your eyes meeting his once more (how the hell did they manage to get even darker?).

Despite the fear that runs through your veins, despite your hands being in his hair and on his skin as you lead him towards you, he’s still the boss around here.

Roman still calls all the shots, no matter who or what stands before him - including you.

And even despite that as well, your body still wants him just as much as he wants yours.

It’s not even a want anymore; your body needs him, it desires him.

As for Roman, your body, your comfort calls out to him like a siren’s song, wanting him to pull you deeper and deeper into whatever’s going on within his own head until your entire body knows nothing but him, nothing but your Tribal Chief.

The fatigue that you know he feels is beginning to set into his bones, into his soul, but he doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care because he needs you, more so than he ever has in the past.

The sparks are beginning to show between the two of you; there’s nothing in this world like spending a night with someone like Roman Reigns, and you’re about to experience that firsthand once again.

You see the slight raise of his brow as he scans your face, that miniscule action asking you for permission, for your go-ahead, for you to allow him to lose himself within you and to use you as he sees fit for the time being…

…and the nod that you give him right back is all that he needs to see.

It’s the only thing that he needs to see before surging forward to plant a searing kiss to your lips, the fist that’s curled against the wall, moving down to grip your waist as tightly as the hold he has on your neck, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt that adorns your figure.

You only get about half a second of realization before you notice that he’s on you, completely covering you with his body as he presses you up against the wall even more. Your hands move from his hair down his neck, grazing his jaw lightly before your nails begin to dig into the exposed meat of his shoulders.

He’s actively stoking the fire that’s now beginning to blaze within you, and you absolutely love it.

The leg that’s not actively trapped between his now finds itself wrapped around his waist right as Roman’s tongue slides between your lips, curling with and against your own before quickly taking over the kiss. And you let him, of course; he needs this, he needs you, and you’re willing to give him whatever’s necessary to satiate his incessant energy.

The way he knows how to pluck your body like a finely tuned instrument with the way he pulls moans and gasps from you, the drag of fabric on skin, the way his body seems to move perfectly in-sync with your own, pushing and pulling until the two of you radiate more hear than the core of the sun…there’s just something about kissing Roman that makes your toes curl and your cheeks ripe with heat just by thinking about it, let alone actually doing the deed.

It’s all fiery passion and full of the aggression he shows in the ring, the possessive nature he has over you to keep you close and a part of him always, the need to show you exactly who you belong to as he pulls you in so damn close that all you can even think to experience is just him and him alone…it’s a conglomerate mixture of beauty and pain and pleasure and you're drinking in every single drop of it.

You feel his teeth begin to sink into your bottom lip, the contact against the already red and raw flesh making you jump in his arms as he tugs on it harshly before letting go. Your eyes, hooded and blown out, meet his again, and you can practically read the words in his mind as his thumb reaches up to lightly brush over it.

You don’t get to do that, anymore. Only I can do that to you.

You watch as he thumbs over your lip again before coming back in for another kiss, your teeth nearly clashing against each other from how harsh the two of you collide. It’s messy, a battle of tongue and teeth that turns in his favor so damn fast, and you can’t resist the urge to just crumble beneath it.

Your arms loop around his neck and hold him as close to you as possible, not wanting to part from him for even a second until your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen so you’re practically forced to. But even that isn’t enough to stop the contact between the two of you, your nails digging into any piece of his exposed skin that you can possibly reach.

The smell of him fills your brain and flows through your very veins, hands holding onto you for dear life while his kiss steals all sense from your mind. Roman has always been able to do this but tonight, you lower your guards and have him take the reins (no pun intended), have him lead the way, follow his motions.

And his motions lead him to start moving backwards, pulling you away from the wall as your leg falls from his waist. Lips still furiously locked with yours, he effortlessly maneuvers the two of you away from the corner and towards a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.

You thought you could feel him before while he captured you in his stare against the wall, helpless to anything but exactly what he wanted to do with you?

Well, think again.

Your pelvis presses right up against his and the two of you let out a combined moan, your breaths mixing together before he shifts you over his thighs to press you against him even more. You start rocking yourself back and forth on his cock through the dark cargo pants that he wears, feeling it throb and jump with every pass. And your desire for his grows as well, the space between your thighs growing more damp by the second with your juices beginning to now stain your inner thighs.

The small shorts that you wear underneath Roman’s large shirt soon grow more uncomfortable than you’re willing to bear and Roman seemingly notices this as well, running his thumbs over the skin above your ass before not so gently pulling them down your legs. The second you feel the hit your ankles you kick them to the floor below, not giving a damn where they land as your lips remain slotted with his own.

Your hands run down the planes of his chest and circle your fingertip over the space above Roman’s heart, feeling the thrum of energy coursing through his being. His own hands run over your thighs, over the curve of your ass and up your spine as you shift even closer to him, the feeling of your soaked panties as they rub against the bulge in his pants making you pant against his mouth.

You feel his hands drift under the hem of your shirt, the mix of his skin and the leather of the glove he still wears making sparks fly. His lips move from your own down your jaw, the force behind the action making you gasp. Across your skin and over the curve of your ear, down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbone; there’s nowhere that’s left untouched by his eager mouth while his hands roam the heated skin beneath your top.

His teeth graze your skin lightly, causing your entire body to tremble with anticipation right before you feel the sharp stinging of his teeth digging into your flesh, a moan much louder than you should have let out escaping you. Roman’s tongue joins the fray as well, soothing the sting of his bite with each one that he gives you.

One by one, one after another he lays claim to your skin, a reminder to the entire world that despite everything, that despite everyone in his life…he still has you.

He still has you and you’ve let him have you.

The need to feel him, to feel his body even more so consumes your entire mind, your soul, your being, so you take the initiative and grip the hem of your shirt and raise it up your body, pulling it over your head and tossing that to the floor alongside your discarded shorts.

The bra that covers your chest is a lacy one, the same shade of bright red that adorns the glove on his right hand that matches right along with the panties that just barely cover your ass. ‘Figured that you might need a distraction in hindsight. I hope you like it…”

Your voice is small in volume but loud in its tone as you speak, quickly glancing down at his chest where your nails dig into the meat of his pectorals as he raises his head from the crook of your neck, your skin alight and buzzing from him marking it.

Oh, he likes it, alright. He fucking loves it.

Roman’s hands reach up to trace the details in the fabric, his thumb brushing over your nipple and making you arch into his touch. His brows slightly raise with intrigue; this was probably a surprise for him later, for when he won his match…well, not anymore.

Now, the sight of you in this number, one that you had put on just for him, mixed with the need lacing your voice and the lust swimming within your vision…it’s all so much, damn near too much for him to bear, his cock now actively throbbing and throbbing in the confines of his pants.

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

His low tone shakes you right out of your lust-fueled haze, your eyes snapping open as you pant on his lap.The darkness swirling around within his eyes shows he means business and what Roman wants, Roman gets in spades.

You try your best to move from him, to escape the warmth and desire he’s so graciously provided for you in his own time of need but your methods of moving prove too slow for his tastes, Roman’s non-gloved hand reaching up to yank your head back by your roots, you yelping at the sudden pain.

“What is with you all not fucking listening to me today? I said, I want you on your goddamn knees, now.”

You try your best to nod with his hand in your hair, swallowing down the pathetic noise that threatens to break free before scrambling off his lap and sinking to your knees on the locker room floor, never once breaking eye contact with him as you begin to watch him tear his glove off. The sharp ripping of the velcro cuts through the thick fog that’s filled the air , leather being pulled between his teeth until finally, the damned thing is off and is tossed aside as well, his hand returning to the back of your neck.

Spreading his legs for you as slowly as he possibly can, he keeps your head solely directed at the intimidating bulge that lies within his pants, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his own eyes and what lies ahead for your future.

Roman’s nothing if not a beast, both in and out of the ring, and you can’t help but shudder when you gently plant your palms on the outsides of his thighs, looking up at him with the widest eyes you can possibly muster up.

You lick your lips nervously, your heart beating even faster in your chest as he literally talks down to you, your hands beginning to nervously run up his covered thighs as they make their way to his zipper.

And with each notch of its teeth that come undone, with every second that passes that turns into a minute and then to an hour, you manage to push past the nerves that run wild through your veins and undo his pants, slipping your fingers beneath the dark boxer briefs he has on and tugging them down along with his pants to reveal the true monster that lies before you.

Roman’s cock falls from its confines with a dull thud as the head connects with his stomach, leaving a clear splotch of pre-cum where it lands. 

The shape of his cock, thick as a tree trunk and just as heavy and absolutely perfect as it is…the space between your thighs aches with the countless memories you have of him fucking you senseless with it,pounding into you and making you see stars over and over again-

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do here, princess. Or, are you too much of a dumb whore to even think for yourself now?”

You blink once, twice, three times as heat rises to your face, wiping the spit that threatens to fall from the corner of your mouth before you move forward, dragging your nails along the smooth skin of his upper thigh.

And as much as he loves to mark you and lay his claim to you, you love doing the exact same thing to him as well.

You live for the hiss he lets out from the pain of your nails, your teeth on his skin and grazing his pelvis as you move closer to his cock.

Such a man, such a being before your very eyes, and he’s all yours tonight, just as you are all his.

You let your nails and the tips of your fingers drag up the sides of his shaft, the length almost as long as your entire forearm. It’s a beautiful thing to see first hand as you admire him, your touches light and fleeting as your wide eyes continue to pierce his. You watch his abdomen clench and ripple when you catch his more sensitive spots, his hips bucking when you run your hand over the large vein that runs up the side.

A smile begins to grow along your lips as you watch him, his other hand running over his face and jaw. You can’t help but to admire him like this, slowly but surely as though you have all the time in the world to do so.

But, based on the absolute storm lingering within Roman’s eyes, you can tell that he’s in no teasing mood, the hand at the back of your neck squeezing threateningly before you finally get the hint to keep fucking going.

So, you do, tightening your grip around the base of his cock and stretching your lips around the head, letting the warmth of your breath wash over it before slowly beginning to sink your mouth down on him.

And, oh, what a sight he becomes before you.

“Fuck, that’s it…” he moans, watching through hooded eyes as you manage to slide the first few inches down your throat. With your smaller hands, you can barely wrap one of them around him fully - let alone two - but you try your best anyway, making sure to jerk the parts you can’t quite reach yet.

The ache between your legs becomes too much to bear as you begin to bob your head up and down, lustily taking him in while your eyes begin to close. With skin sensitive and hot to the touch, you take one hand off of him and begin to run it down your body. Over the curves of your breasts and as they threaten to spill from your bra, down the line of your abdomen, over your pubic bone and thumbing the lining of your panties, you let out another moan when you start to grind your clit against your fingers.

You don’t think that Roman notices it, the shift in your demeanor and the way your shoulders tighten up when you slip your fingers beneath your panties, the way your breath catches and your hips jump as you tease yourself…but he does.

He always does.

“Aww, are you that desperate, baby? You couldn’t help but touch that needy little pussy of yours? I can hear it all the way up here, you’re so wet for me.”

You can practically hear his smirk while he talks, but it still makes you hot all over. Spreading your wetness over your lower lips, you spread them and rub the pad of your finger over your bare clit, your body jolting at the pleasure it spikes through you.

“You want to touch yourself, fuck yourself with those tiny fingers of yours?” he asks, seething at the feeling of your teeth grazing the vein along his shaft. “Then, go ahead. Get yourself nice and ready for me…”

“..and don’t forget about me either, sweetheart,” Roman chides, briefly pulling you from the head with a soft pop before thumbing your lower lip. “Don’t make your Tribal Chief play second best to your needy fucking cunt.”

Your thighs clench and close in around your hand, a soft “yes” falling from your open lips before he presses your face right back against his cock as you begin to take more than you did before. You try to make your mouth as slick with your own saliva as possible, stroking his shaft in tandem with the swirling of your tongue around the head.

His hand lightly connects with your cheek. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my-”

“And don’t speak with your mouth full, baby. You’re better than that.”

He glares at you as you rise from his cock again, panting softly. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he tells you, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Now, get back to work.”

The copious amounts of spit from your mouth mix with his pre-cum as your hand glides along the warm skin, the sound just as loud and slick as the ones coming from between your legs. It doesn’t take long for him to take back control, roughly guiding your lips back to his cock before letting you do what you do best.

As your throat grows accustomed to his girth, you shift yourself on your knees and slip a finger between your folds, circling your hole with it and gingerly slide it in, choking around Roman’s length in the process.

A bright flush begins to run wild under his skin as he tilts his head back, the soft sounds of his huffs and groans making the space between your thighs almost uncomfortably wet as you continue to touch yourself. His other hand runs through his hair, pulling at the roots while his face scrunches up in pleasure when you twist your fist around the head just right.

It fills you with a feeling that you can’t describe, seeing what you do to him in moments like these.

“Shit, princess, keep going…” Roman’s near breathless now, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his hips buck into your eager mouth. Eyes hooded, his attention stays on you while your own remain closed, focusing all of your energy on making sure your Tribal Chief is as primed and ready to go as you are.

You ease another finger in between your folds along with the first one and curl them as they drag along your inner walls; it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s just you because your fingers aren't his, your touch isn’t the same as his. Roman’s fingers fill you twice as much as your own do, the phantom feeling of them stretching you to the brim as they graze along that one spot wracking your body with shivers.

The room is brimming with the wet sounds of your motions, your juices dripping down the hand that remains at your core while your eager lips and tongue schlick up and down his throbbing cock, the noises coming from the both of you getting swamped in the mess of it.

The sight and sound of you struggling to take his length seems to light a fire under his ass and his grip at the back of your neck grows tighter, Roman starting to force the visible stretch of him taking over your mouth and throat even more so, bucking his hips against your face and making sure that you take what you’re given.

“Oh, you wanna please your Tribal Chief, baby? Well, then, take all of it.”

With that, you feel him wrench your head further down his shaft, your throat closing in around him and squeezing as you choke on him. The hand in your hair tightens the further down his shaft you go, your throat tightening with each and every inch you take, your gag reflex fighting for dear life as you struggle to take him fully.

The few inches you have left to go get wrapped in your fist, your fingers shiny with your spit and noisily stroking him until he presses down on the back of your head just that much more for you to 

He needs this, he needs you, and you’re going to take everything he has to give you, just like he asked.

So you brave through it, tears in your eyes with your lungs burning and begging for air, you bare through it for Roman, and the loud moan that you get from him in response makes the fire licking within your core burn all the more brighter.

You try to speak with his cock in your mouth, your garbled attempts at calling his name making him shove you further down. “Do that again, princess. Moan for me again while you get that pussy nice and ready for me.”

And moan for him you do, hearing your blood rushing through your ears as the sensing the heavy press of his hand on your neck squeeze tighter and tighter, Roman intently watching and feeling the length of his cock stretch against the walls of your throat.

It’s not long at all before you feel the telltale signs of your own orgasm approaching: the tightness coiling within your core, the curling of your toes and the pulsing in your abdomen, the sweat beginning to bead on your brow, the way that the pace of your hand around his cock and the hand between your legs seems to uptick bit by bit as the seconds go by…

You’re not at all shocked that Roman catches whiff of this too, hearing the now sped-up sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over again as you soak your panties clean through. “Don’t you dare cum, don’t you dare fucking cum. Only I can make you do that, you got that? Me, not those pathetic fucking fingers of yours.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice is muffled and your throat strains while you attempt to speak as you try your best to breathe through your nose, feeling lightheaded the more you try.

But his words make you feel not and sensitive all over, the hairs on your arms raising as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, gasping when he lifts your head from the base to tightly wrap his fist around it.

“Fuck!” you hear Roman yell before his hand tightens around your hair again, yanking your mouth clean off his cock, drops of spit and his pre-cum dripping down his shaft and catching the too-bright lights of the locker room. You sit before him panting and wheezing, taking in precious breaths of air as you cough and open your now tear-filled and blurry eyes for him.

Your throat and your chest burn from the abuse they’ve taken, the back of your head and neck sore from all of his manhandling while your knees ache from the carpet on the floor of the locker room digging into your skin…but you know that he still needs you, because he’s not done with you yet.

You try to wipe your mouth clean of the mess, your makeup now completely smudged and running down your face as the mix of your saliva and his cum drips from your chin and stains the bra you wear but he doesn’t allow it, taking your chin in his hands and leaning forward off the bench to steal your precious breath away once more with a kiss so fiery that it ignites a fire within you from the inside out.

“Get on your back,” he growls, hand creeping up the sides of your neck and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need to see how ready for me you are.”

Slowly, you pull your hand from your ruined panties and tug them off your legs, kicking the damp scrap of fabric to the side where the remainder of your clothes lie just as he stands from the bench, towering over you and staring down at you menacingly. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and shimmy it down over your arms, the nearly ruined item soon following all of the other clothes you’ve discarded until you’re finally exposed to his wandering, hungry eyes.

That’s the push that he needs to trail after you as you spread your legs for him, the sounds of him languidly stroking his cock to the sight of you teasing yourself with the wetness that stains your hand.

And what lies in front of you is just as godly, the sight of him shuffling his pants down his thighs and exposing the beautiful tanned skin that you just had your palms running over, stroking himself to the sight and sound of you pleasing yourself with flushed cheeks and the marks from your nails covering his chest and shoulders…the whine you let out cuts through the air and you can’t resist the urge to reach out to him, to call to him and bring him to you-

“You get what I give you, baby, when I want to give it to you and how I want to give it to you. Not when and how you want.”

Roman kneels to your height, his knees hitting the locker room floor with a dull thud and begins to stalk towards you, sirens wailing off inside your mind right as he crawls over your body looking every inch the beast that he claims to be.

“Roman,” you mewl, feeling him run his palms up the flushed skin of your legs. His hand latches onto your wrist and pulls it from between your thighs, holding it up to the light and watching your juices drip from your fingers before slipping them into his own mouth.

You watch as his lips close in over them, his tongue swirling around them to catch every last drop of your essence before slipping them from his mouth with a dark grin. Your aroma, now more potent than ever, fills his lungs with every single breath he takes, even more now with the taste of your arousal staining his tongue.

Every nerve and thought in his body roars at him, screams and demands for him to bend you over and fill you with his cum, to take you over and over again until everyone in this entire goddamn arena knows exactly who the hell you’re with, you’re spending your time with and who’s dealing with you.

Paul, Solo, Jimmy, Jey…they’ll all know exactly who the fuck runs things in this little circle of theirs, this fight for true and utter control.

And it will happen, you just have to wait a tad bit longer for it.

You’re so warm as you lie beneath him, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs as you wait in ample anticipation for his next move. Brushing his hair back with one hand, he slowly runs them up your body, over your plush thighs and past your dripping core that beckons him in closer.

Over your waist and up your chest until he takes your breasts in his hands and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on them and twisting them until you cry out his name.  The pain makes sparks ignite in your core and Roman refuses to let up on his hold despite the noise, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting down on it as he plays with the other one.

Those hands of his, the same ones that bring you pleasure are the  same ones that have brought his own family pain, and that thought is not lost on Roman as he continues to play with you, reveling in the litany of pitiful noises leaking from your trembling lips.

He will not show you the same pain that his cousins brought onto him, nor that he had brought to them.

For you, things are…different.

You’ll never leave his side at the head of the table, never abandon him for some other, higher purpose; you’ve said so yourself before tonight many a time.

Your legs wrap around his waist and lock him in as you dig your nails into the carpet you lay on, it already starting to dig into your skin. But you need more from him; more of him on you, around you, more of his touch and his mouth and his cock, just more.

With your feet, you try your best to shove his pants down further over his ass and down his legs, only managing to get so far before he stops you with a firm yet quick slap to your ass.

He doesn’t even have to remove his mouth from your breast to tell you anything, glaring up at you while his tongue laves away at your nipple before moving away from it and suctioning his mouth onto the other.

Your entire body trembles; what does he have planned next for you? What more could he possibly pull from you as he manhandles your body, squeezing and grasping at you like you’re going to somehow sink into the floor if he removes himself from you?

And then all of your questions are answered when you see him rise from your chest, his lips plush and a shade of bright red as a thin line of his saliva connects them to your breast before it snaps. You feel him press down on your waist, making you relax further against the floor until he wraps his hands around your ankles and begins to fold your legs into your chest, your knees grazing your face just so.

“Hold them,” you hear Roman say damn near under his breath, the depth in his voice making you whine as you wrap your hands under your knees to keep your legs raised. The trembling of your body increases as your anticipation grows and everything in your body tells you to close your eyes and look away from him, but you just can’t.

He’s beautiful in the way he gazes down at you, zeroing in on the way the walls of your cunt clench around nothing and shine with your arousal under the light, licking his lips like a caged animal. He might as well be one anyway with the possessive nature that consumes him when he has you, when he’s with you.

A hitch in your breath comes and goes when he moves even closer, gripping his cock firmly with one hand before using the other to spread your lower lips, the sound of him spitting on them reaching your ears before you feel it. It’s slick, it’s obscenely nasty as he swipes his cock head through the glistening mess, spreading the wetness around even more so as to get you as well as possible before you feel the hefty warmth of the head slapping against your folds.

The weights of it, and the thought of what’s to come have you arching your back into the sensation, desperate to reach your hands up to grip him and pull him into you, to have them just get it over with already and to make you see stars. And you do flex your fingers in his direction, squeezing the space beneath your knees and spreading your legs further for him to tease and prod at you while he just stares on with a smirk slowly beginning to grow along his face.

“Patience, baby, patience,“ Roman murmurs, sliding the head of his cock through your folds and nudging your button with it. The action sends a bolt of lightning jolting up your spine, causing you to dig your fingers into the flush of your lower thighs, and toss your head to the side with a small whine.

“Please, Roman, I need it. I need you, just fuck me, please –“

He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips before slipping his thumb between them. You instinctively wrap them around the digit and pull it in deeper with your tongue, swirling the muscle around it before he slowly but surely post it out. “I said to have patience, baby girl, so don’t be greedy. Just lay back, be a good girl, and take what your Tribal Chief gives you.“

He ends his sentence by dragging that wet thumb over your lips, down your chin, and rests harshly against your clit, grinding his shaft against your folds as he plays with you. You feel like your heart is about to fly out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, watching as he moves even closer to you and presses himself even harder against you.

“Nice and wet for me, princess…you did good for me back there.” You revel in the small bit of praise, a ghost of a smile floating over your lips until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing up against your entrance. “You still ready for me?”

You can’t nod your head fast enough. “Yes, please. Roman, I’m ready for you, I’m ready-”

At the feeling of him finally stuffing you full of his cock, his chest keeping pressure on the backs of your legs and folding further into yourself, tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes at the newfound pressure.

The familiar burn of Roman pushing into you but by bit, inch by gloriously thick inch, has you itching to latch onto him in any way that you possibly can - and you eventually do, removing your hands from holding your legs to placing them on Roman’s shoulders as soon as he gets close enough.

That fire he had stoked inside of you now grows to an inferno the more of himself he bullies into you, stretching you out to fit his cock just right is making your mind hazy. The quick and constant fluttering of your walls around him makes him groan, dropping his head to your knee.

Your nerves fry and your eyes cross as he continues to move, every single wall within you absolutely crumbling because of it. And It feels like forever and a day has passed before he eventually bottoms out inside you for the first time tonight as you nearly lose your mind on his cock, your toes starting to curl and your thighs flexing.

The guttural moan that leaves Roman’s chest rocks you to your very core, the sound of the wetness between your legs and the pressing of him against your ass turning your insides to mush. One of his hands rests at your waist and keeps you close, his body leaning on your own so much that his nose just barely brushes against yours.

You whine his name, the shrill noise and the desperate look in your eyes turning all dials up to eleven. The huffs and small moans leaving your throat, your body already run ragged before he’s really gotten the chance to fuck you senseless yet…it all just makes him want to ruin you even more.

He can’t figure out where to keep his eyes; he wants to look at all of you, from the way your chest heaves and your breasts move from your breaths to the way your pulse jumps at the vein in your neck to the apex of your thighs where your arousal stains and sticks to the skin of his pelvis, there’s almost too many options for him.

But when you squeeze down his shoulders and bring his attention back to the feeble look in your eyes, he can’t help but toss his head back and sigh because look at you, with your lip quivering just as much as your cunt is and the way you gently thump your head against the carpeted floor as his hand runs over your abdomen and presses against the outline his cock made inside you.

His ears fill with the sounds of your sex, your legs seemingly permanently glued to his chest while he wraps an arm around them, keeping you right where he wants you as his hips begin to move.

And the slide of him moving back and forth along your walls, his hips pulling back from your ass and dragging the head of his cock back towards your clit before moving back in just as slowly causes your entire lower body to twitch.

“Roman…Roman, please,” you beg him. You don’t even know what you’re even begging him for anymore: for more? For him to pick up his achingly slow pace? For him to close the distance between his mouth and yours so you can taste him all over again?

But he doesn’t appeal to your cries nor does he break when you seem to grow even wetter for him as he begins to thrust in and out, back and forth, dragging your hips higher into the air and folding you even further into yourself.

He still, however, refuses to look anywhere else other than at your face, in your eyes as he rolls his hips into you, dead set on ever single noise and jerking movement your body gives him.

His brow furrows; how could he not look at you when you’re like this, mouth wide open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth, pointed in the air as it tries to lick at his lips while you fan the flames of the fire you’re sparked inside of him?

You try your best to rock your hips in tandem with his own, bucking them as best you can whenever his pelvis meets your own and he bottoms out inside you. You can feel the head of his cock grazing that sweet spot along your walls, almost kissing your cervix every single time he bears down on you. His weight strains the muscles at the back of your legs when he pulls forward every time but you don’t care, you don’t care because all that matters is him and how well he fills you.

Roman doesn’t speak a word to you, only letting out groans and grunts with the occasional low-toned moan for your ears only, but everything that you hear makes your entire body vibrate with a deeper need. 

Eventually, his pace does begin to increase, the erotic melody of his hips tap, tap, tapping against yours growing into him beginning to use his true power to make you cry out. And cry out you do, your brain now clouded with innsense waves of pleasure as your screams for more grow in volume.

You don’t even attempt to lower your volume and neither does he, not caring about whoever may be listening in from outside the no-that-far-away locker room door - and in the back of your mind, your last shred of sentience thanks Roman for preemptively locking it when everyone else had left.

The force behind his thrusts leaves you absolutely breathless as you stare helplessly into his eyes, moans and huffs flowing from your lips like a waterfall while the pleasure in your core ticks up bit by bit.

The faster he pounds into you and the longer he goes on, the more your walls close in around him like a warm, silken vice, your cunt tightening in around him and not letting him go at all. Your pleasure spikes when he moves his hand down slightly to pinch your clit, making you jolt as you arch your back as best you can.

The rug beneath you scratches against your skin as he runs you ragged on top of it, your shoulder blades and the top of your back taking the brunt of the burn. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you squeeze them closed, but the sharp sting of Roman’s hand coming down on your clit snaps them right back open again.

You hiss at the pain but it all just melts right back into pleasure all over again and it doesn’t escape his keen eyes, his flat of his hand coming down on the button over and over again. And you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down his arms as your nerves flare all through your body.

The telltale signs of your impending orgasm are clear to you both: the dilation in your eyes, the way your thighs stretch and quake as he presses down on them and how quickly you begin to pant.

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

The feeling of Roman’s hand sliding up your chest and around your neck cuts you off, your breath hitching and your eyes widening. “You need what, baby? Don’t go all shy on me now? Or have I fucked all the sense out of you already?”

He sneers and squeezes the sides of your throat, making you gasp. “You get to cum when I say that you can, when I give you the go ahead…you understand me? Hmm? Nod your head for me, baby girl.”

You follow his orders to a tee, staving off your looming orgasm by trying to focus on something, anything that’s not the pulsating feeling between your legs or the way he drives his cock into you, the build-up in his pace doing absolutely nothing to stop it.

“R-Roman…” Your voice is weak behind the grip of his hand, his thumb brushing along the front of your throat and pressing down.

“Not yet, baby girl. I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Each word he speaks is enunciated by a powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each one. “Don’t you want to be good for me? Don’t you want to please your Tribal Chief?”

Your voice is soft when you attempt to answer him, crying out “yes, yes I do” as he plows into you harder than before, your back now actively rubbing against the coarse carpet every time Roman’s pelvis connects with yours.

He groans when he looks into your watery eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears and spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your face is a mess, your entire body is flushed right with heat, you look a mess, and it’s all because of him.

Your blubbering and the tears that flow from your eyes do something fierce to him as his own orgasm begins to crest, the way your walls grip his shaft driving him absolutely mad with desire. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting go, the sharp pain making him curse as his hips begin to stutter.

“Shit!” he yells, abruptly tearing his cock from you with a wet squelch, your arousal dripping from the head and staining the carpet. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he grips the base of his cock in his fist again before leaning in to plant a furious kiss to his lips, stealing what little breath you have left away once more.

It’s all teeth and tongue and fiery passion that stokes the already blazing inferno within your soul and when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs on it, it hurts so good that you whine against his lips and arch into his touch when he pulls away.

Your voice is weak and slightly hoarse when you ask, “Roman?”

“Over the bench, baby. I want you on your hands and knees when I cum inside you.”

That steely gaze from before makes its return and you visibly cower beneath it, standing on shaky legs as you make your way over to one of the nearby benches before draping your weary and sensitive body over it. You feel exposed in this position - even more so due to the fact that you can’t even see him when he pulls the globes of your ass apart to gaze at how slick and messy you’ve become due to his actions.

His hand comes down on the skin and you jolt, scrambling to grab the cold wood of the bench before he does it again…and again.

And again and again as the sharp, stinging pain rings proud and true all over the meat of your ass, heat blooming beneath the skin and radiating off of it. Roman’s hand comes down on one, then the other, and then spreads them with one hand to deliver another blow right to your sensitive folds, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream that has you nearly bolting off the bench.

“Stay still,” he tells you, his chest rumbling as he lays a more firm slap on your ass, another whimper slipping from you. “You only move when I tell you to move, baby girl.”

Roman continues to lay blow after blow to your ass and now to your achingly wet folds, rutting his cock against you as you grind back against him, More tears leak from your eyes as the stinging pain begins to melt into aching pleasure, a litany of broken moans and sobs passing through your lips right before he slides his cock right back inside you.

He meets no resistance and his hips meet yours damn near instantly, picking up his brutal pace right where he left off while you gasp for air. It’s like you can feel his cock all the way in your lungs with how deep he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting sticky skin bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Your chest presses firmly against the bench, your breasts aching from how firmly he holds your hips against it while his pace goes into overtime. Everyone outside be damned, the noises leaving your mouth couldn’t be silenced even if the damn door was broken down.

The sounds of his name and cries for more fill his ears and he drifts a hand up your back, trailing his fingers up your spine before wrapping his hand in your hair and yanking your head back against his chest.

“That’s it, scream for me,” you hear him say in your ear, the drop in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You feel his lips trace the shell of your ear, biting down on it and then moving down to your jaw. His other hand grasps your chin and pulls your head to the side, his teeth grazing the side of your neck before he sinks his teeth into it.

And the yell that you let out because of it almost rattles the very walls that surround you as you weakly reach your arms back behind your head and wrap them around his own neck, keeping his head there as he plows into you. Your hips ache, your ass fucking burns from his pelvis colliding against it, everything on your body stings and aches and hurts but you love it, you love it all.

You can feel the marks and bruises that his hands,his lips, his teeth leave on your body already begin to bruise, and you can already tell that the ones staining your ass are going to make it hard to sit down or even walk for days to come…

But you’ll wear those marks, those bruises, you’ll wear everything with your head held high and with pride in your eyes because despite all that Roman’s faced these past few months, he still has you willingly and wholly and wholeheartedly.

The sweet kiss of your orgasm comes to fruition again and you can feel that wave begin to crest over; you won’t be able to last much longer if he keeps going at the pace he’s at right now, your toes curling as you dig your own nails into his scalp to pull his head from your neck. You instinctively squeeze around his cock, feeling his balls slap against your clit over and over again and making you jump and jolt around.

“R-Roman, please, ’m gonna…, I need to, please-”

He can’t help but groan as he roughly kisses the side of your head, holding your beginning-to-go-limp upper body close to his chest. “Fuck me, baby, you’re gonna cum? You’re gonna soak my cock and stain the floor?”

You feel him smile against your cheek when you nod. “I feel you clenching around me, princess, so why don’t you be a good girl for your Tribal Chief and cum for me? I want this pussy sloppy fucking wet by the time I’m done with you.”

The weight of him against your back side, the way he slips a hand between your legs and begins to play with your clit again, furiously rubbing the bud between his fingers as he pumps his hips even faster…it has your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you pant like a bitch in heat, Roman playing you like a finely tuned instrument and pushing all of the right buttons.

It all comes to a head when he starts to murmur in your ear,words and wishes of how he’s going to fill you up just like how you want and leave you dripping full of his cum all over the floor by the time the night ends, firmly grasping your breast with his other hand and twisting your nipple fiercely.

Blood rushes to your ears so damn fast that you can just barely hear the words that leave his lips but once you do…oh, the reaction that he gets has him cheesing something fierce, those sharp teeth of his bared for the whole world to see.

Your entire body shakes, completely vibrates with the need to cum as you fly closer and closer to that edge, clinging to Roman for dear life - but not before he tilts your head to the side and kisses you so passionately that you fall limp in his hold, his tongue meshing together with yours.

“Don’t hold yourself back anymore, baby girl. Cum for me, cum for me now-”

He speaks against your lips and your inner walls give way to your orgasm, that wave cresting and your body bending along with it as you soak his cock with a cry so loud that it rings louder in your ears than your bloodrush does. Your heart feels as though it’s about to leap through your chest and out of your mouth, your hands drifting from his hair and your arms wrapping around his neck behind you.

You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as it presses against your back and it’s just as fast as yours, and a final high pitched moan escapes your mouth as you soak his cock completely, his hips stuttering against yours while his thrusts begin to slow.

You audibly moan at the warmth that fills your core when you feel him jut his hips against yours and stays there, fully inserted within you as his own climax takes the reins.

It feels like a punch square to his gut when his cock throbs against that sweet spot that lines your walls, his resolve crumbling and his mind going blank for a few seconds. “Fuck,” Roman groans, the sound rumbling through your whole body as you feel him paint your walls with his cum, the head of his cock pressing snugly against your cervix while he grips your flesh and digs his fingers in wherever he can put them.

Your thighs, your chest, your waist, your neck, it doesn’t matter; at the end of the night, your entire body is going to be covered in his marks, whether you like it or not.

Your brain is scrambled and he rests his head on top of yours, massaging your clit to get the final jitters of your orgasm out of you before he finally lets you breathe. Your vision remains blurry from a mix of how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and from the tears that still linger within it, your face remains a stained mess from your destroyed makeup, and you don’t even want to talk about the state that your hair resides in…but in this moment, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

For now, he simply cradles your trembling body to his chest, his cock still snug along your inner walls as he rocks his body against yours; over and over again, calming the rocky waves of your climaxes - both yours and him - as he begins to take his own breath and takes the first seconds of the night to finally think about the events that have occurred.

His blood, his closest family has betrayed him, left him in the dirt and dust and tossed him aside…and now all that he has left is you.

You and the strength, the stability, the everything that’s left of his Bloodline reside within you, and he can’t let you go.

He just can’t.

He won’t let you go, not now and not ever…not after everything tonight.

As time passes and when he doesn’t speak, you take the first steps. “...Roman? Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse and your throat dry from all of your screaming.

“Please…” you hear him whisper against your back, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he pants, still coming down from the force of his orgasm. “Please…don’t leave.”

Please don’t leave me.

And hearing that, hearing his voice crack slightly as his lips move from the nape of your neck upwards, curving up towards your jawline and around the shell of your ear…it breaks you, it utterly breaks something within your soul.

As you think back to the previous weeks, you could already see the threads of dissension within the eyes of Solo, the traps being laid by The Usos to bring the young man closer to their side and away from Roman’s.

The true and final nail in the coffin of the Bloodline, the removal of the Samoan Enforcer, the last shred of foundation that holds this entire empire of Roman’s together…you can feel it in his every motion, every single press of his fingers against your skin, every pull of his arms as he brings you in further and further to his own body: he’s terrified of losing everything, everything that he has left, everything that he is.

“I won’t, Roman,” you tell him, curling your body against his, allowing him to surround you with everything that he has and everything that he’s willing to give you. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave, I promise.”

A few moments pass, and what precious moments they are. No words are spoken, barely any movements are made aside from the slight rocking of his hips against your own and the heaving of your chests as you both breathe, just…nothing.

A good nothing.

A good nothing that allows you both to just be in touch with yourselves and with each other.

After those few moments pass, you speak to him again, gently running your fingertips over his forearms. “Look, we’ll forge a new Bloodline, okay? Together. You and me and Paul and Solo-”

Roman buries his face in your hair at the mention of Solo’s name, taking a deep breath in of a scent that’s just entirely you mixed with tinges of him…a perfect combination, the perfect combination.

“If we can’t rely on your family to maintain this faction, this dynasty…then we’ll make a new one of our own. Bigger and better and more powerful than Jimmy and Jey could ever comprehend.”

A tense silence follows your words before Roman finds his own to respond.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your head, another kiss being pressed to your hair as he thinks. You’re right, after all.

If his own family won’t stand at his side, if he can’t rely on his own bloodline…then you two will create your own dynasty…together.

And together, the two of you will take down and dismantle whatever is left of Jimmy and Jey, for all of the new hell that they’ve now brought upon themselves.

And that’s not a threat, Roman thinks to himself as he curls his body around yours against the cool floor of the locker room, not wanting to get up nor remove himself from the comfort and relief that you provide him.

That’s a fucking promise.

“So..can I get my clothes now? And, are we gonna get up and unlock the door, or…?”

You feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, his smile against your skin growing just that bit wider. “Nah, they can all wait a few more minutes. Besides…”

“...I’m not finished with you just yet.”

Oh, fuck…

Tag List:

@auraravenora77 @stargazerofgoldenwords @writinglionqueen @axelwolf8109 @adampage @doctorbrittbaker @neversatisfiedgirl @atiny-angel @reci24 @brownblackbeautiful @glowingz @lemonjvicey @moxxieswitchblade @beardedbarba @annoyedkayah2395 @theworldofotps @gold--gucciempress @shanie-is-komania @jazzy-tzw @colesterstrudel @claymorexpunisher @dori-the-rwby-addict @thephoenixreaper @thepalaceofmelanie @mistress-to-the-moon @sassymox @jeffhardyenigmawwefan @lynsrosegarden @thatpanpal @new-zealand-chic @auburnwrites @deepdisireslonging @bigpsychicbagelauthor @shortyiceheart @demonslunacy @snarkandsarcasmftw @thatnerdwriter @scuzmunkie @taryn-dibiase @luciddrreamss @xfirespritex @itsreigns @officialbroski10-blog @new-zealand-chic @rowinathequeenofpersia @roofgeese @p0is0nl0ve @flawlessglamazon @dreamlesswonder86

please please please lmk if i missed anyone (on the tag list) and lmk if you wanna be added to it/removed from it! tysm and have a blessed one 😘✌🏾

#rezz writes some bullshit #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x reader smut #roman reigns x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader #wwe x reader fanfiction #wwe x reader smut #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #oh my god...rezzy actually posting a fic??? with ACTUAL smut in it???? color me gooped and gagged and shocked to shit lmao #but please enjoy this y'all i spent way too much time overthinking this XD

[velvetyvoyage]

Hey there li'l fella!

sypnosis: how some of the bsd charecters react to you (their lover or s/o or spouse or whateva) gifting them a silly lil pet.

includes: fyodor, nikolai, dazai, kunikida

a/n: i honestly should have stopped after fyodor and nikolai but oh well.

the following convo happens through text

->"Fedyaaaaaaaaa when r u coming home???"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be back late tonight. Why? Is there something wrong? or something you need me to get?"

"no no, i don need anything rn" "i just got you a lil something"

"oh? And what might that be?"

"no spoilers!"

"alright alright. I'll try come home as soon as i can"

"okieeeee" "get me ice cream on the way!"

"[insert ur fav ice cream/s]?"

"yep!"

the following happens in real time

-> you're kneeling down on the floor to admire the lil dark-grey furry friend with a white cotton hat in front of you when you hear someone opening the front door downstairs [don't ask me how ur able to hear a door opening downstairs, u just can. ok?]. assuming it's fyodor, you rush down the staircase.

"why are you awake at this hour?" he says, closing the freezer door.

"i was simply waiting for you" "come! i wanna show you something"

"alright, lead the way."

*Insert Time Skip*

"..." "soooooo, what do ya think?"

"Love, why'd you bring a rat into the house?" "says you" *insert a v big side eye from you to him*

"what's that supposed to mean?" "ohh nothing!"

"well... is this your pet now?" "our pet* " "guess what i named it?"

"what?" " i named him... Phyodor. p-h-y-o-d-o-r"

"Dear, doesn't that name ring a bell?" "oh what ever do you mean?" you say, very dramatically.

-> just stares at you like 🤨😐😑

-> "And what if i don't want to keep it?" "well, then I'll simply "donate" phyodor to a near by orphanage or something"

the both of you were on a stroll outside and decided to sit down on a bench in a near by park

-> "y/nnnnnnnnnnn watcha got there?"

"a dove" "it's so... pretty" you say. as you were feeding a flock of doves, one of them perched up on your lap.

"i wanna take it home"

"QUIZZZ TIMEEEE" he shrieks twirling around. "QUESTION 1: why do you, y/n l/n wanna take it home!?"

"because it's pretty and i wanna admire it every day? but... i can't take it home"

"interesting answer!" "QUESTION TWOOO: why can't you take it home? what is stopping you?"

"you." "HUHHHHH!?!?" "even if i want a pet bird, i know damn well that you will set it free and also i don't want to confine it between bars." you say with a perseptive look on your face. "besides i don't really need a pet"

"ohh? why so" "cuz i have you to take care of?" *dramatic gasp* *flabbergasted*

"I! am not a pet!" "but i still have to take care of you" "hmp!" he says as he puffs his cheeks, shuts his eyes and turns his head the other side. (ur looking north (at the birdies), he's facing east)

"why would i admire a mere bird when i could admire you instead" you murmured, a pleasant smile playing on your face.

"what was that?" "oh nothing"

-> why? just why would you give him a pet to take care of? he's one himself and you know it.

-> the poor thing... :(((

-> whatever the animal is, it'd probably take care of him instead.

*cough* @🍣 *cough*

-> does he really need a pet? like cmon?

-> also if you're in a relationship with him, no matter how responsible or independent you are, he'd have to take care of you too.

-> goldfish. he'd have a goldfish

-> it's the most fitting tbh

-> it'd just be minding it's own business in its lil fish tank unlike a certain mackerel.

the pics at the start were only for aesthetic (which failed but oh well) and is not at all relevant to the post.

#bungou gay dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #f dostoevsky #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #fyolai #fyozai #kunizai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #dazai #dazai x fyodor #fyodor x nikolai #bsd fyodor #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem reader #kunikida doppo #bsd kunikida #kunikida #bsd nikolai #fyolai x reader #fyozai x reader #nikolai x y/n

[teyamsatan]

Illicit Affairs | Chapter II: Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Neteyam x Human!Reader (later Avatar!Reader)

Chapter I Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: You were one of two kids stuck on Pandora after the war took all the Sky People back to Earth. After a series of events left deep scars behind, you are now forced to deal with your trauma - and your lingering resentment towards Neteyam - head-on.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, injury

Word Count: 4,7k words

A/N: So I didn't expect the last chapter to do so well, but I am happy so many people enjoyed it. I have really enjoyed writing this and I am happy to say I am almost done with Chapter III, as well. I am feeling all the feels doing this, and I hope you do, too.

“I cause no harm, mind my business If our love died young, I can't bear witness And it's been so long But if you ever think you got it wrong … I'm right where you left me”

The next couple of weeks were uneventful. You haven’t seen Lo’ak since that afternoon, although Kiri’s dropped by a couple of times to keep you company while you worked. Getting her to put on a lab coat and goggles was an adventure in itself, but she eventually relents and does as she’s told. 

She’s shooting you a sly smirk as you are busy pipetting a reagent on your samples under an aseptic hood. “Your birthday’s coming up soon, do you have any plans?” You could hear the smile in her voice, which you found odd. You pushed the feeling aside. Kiri’s odd, and the things that bring her amusement sometimes elude you, and you love her for it. 

“Oh yeah, big party planned, I was thinking pres in the gym, then main party in the dining area and a wild after party in the lab.” You roll your eyes. Birthdays seem fun in movies and TV shows, but it really isn’t the same stuck in a tiny confined space with nothing to do. You were turning 18. Not of much significance to you, although this birthday does seem to hold some relevance back on Earth. 18 is the age you become an “adult”, where you become legally allowed to do all sorts of human things, like drink, smoke, vote, be held liable for your actions (this one still confuses you), get married, drive and so much more. It seemed strange to you that so much weight was placed on this day, and you wondered if when the clock struck midnight a few days from now, you will feel different, like something in your brain will click and you will have answers to all the questions you have been silently asking yourself at night. 

“Thought so. Well, we do have a surprise for you.” She says, still smiling from ear to ear.

Has everyone you loved collectively decided to forget that you hate surprises? With a groan, you got up from your chair, removed the samples that you quickly placed back in an incubator, shut the hood and motioned for Kiri to follow you out of the lab. 

It was later than you expected when you finished, and you knew Kiri would have to leave soon so she can make it back home in time for curfew. 

“Anywayyy…” she says, refusing to let your sour mood damper her own, “I was thinking you could join us at the home tree for your birthday party. The family prepared something for you and you haven’t visited in so long, everyone misses you, especially Tuk.” 

“Kiri…” You wanted to go, and were touched that it seems that the family actually wanted you around, but you were scared. You knew it was stupid, but deep down the guilt of what your species did, what your own dad might have done, eats at you every night. You knew that whilst the Sullys and maybe other Na’vi as well were more than welcoming, others regarded you as a curse, an alien with demon blood that should have been sent to her dying world long ago. You couldn’t deal with knowing your very existence was a reminder of their lost family, their destroyed home, their battle scars. 

“Come onnn, girl, you can’t spend every damn day of your short human life in this place. I mean, I like this place, don’t get me wrong, but if I had to spend every minute of the day here, I’d kill myself. I mean the foooood, the artificial lightinnggg, the stuffy aiiiiir…” she dramatically dragged every word to make her point, and despite everything, you couldn’t really argue with her. 

“I’m not leaving ’til you agree.” 

“I mean I just have to wait long enough that curfew begins, and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna see you run out of this place leaving a Kiri-shaped hole in the wall of the lab.” you said, laughing at the frown that settled on her face at your stubborness. “Fine, Kiri, my God, I will be there.” 

“Yay! Thank you, you won’t regret it, I promise!” You couldn’t help crack a smile at her enthusiasm, and you hugged your friend that was sitting on a chair, short enough this way to enable you to do so. 

“Do you want to see Grace before you go?” 

You forget sometimes Kiri isn’t Jake and Neytiri’s biological daughter. I wonder if they forget, too. Kiri is a miracle child, of sorts. Born out of Grace’s avatar, she was like a gift from Eywa herself. She always visits her Ma when she comes to see you.

Kiri shifts uncomfortably in the chair, prompting you to raise an eyebrow. Strange, you think to yourself. 

“No, I should really go, I don’t want to be late getting home and I want to pick some herbs I saw on the path on the way here. I think they’ll be good for the illness going around.” 

You wanted to push, but decided to let it go. You couldn’t blame the girl for maybe not wanting to be reminded that as well as Spider and yourself, she, too, was an outsider. 

You said your goodbyes, and deciding against dinner with everyone in the lab, you made your way back to your room. You picked a book from the shelf of your mum’s old book collection; another thing that apparently became obsolete on Earth with time, your mum revelled in collecting them. She said the only way to properly experience a story is with a physical copy of it in your hands. You agreed. There were a lot of electronic copies of books in the directory, and while you spent so much of your life dedicating yourself to them, nothing compared to the feeling of holding a book, that you know has been held and experienced by another human. You found notes and dried up tears on the pages of these books even to this day, and every time, it brings you closer to your mum, to your grandparents, to a home you’ll never know for yourself. You fell asleep with one of the poems you read that night still fresh in your mind. 

“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,

And Mourners to and fro

Kept treading - treading - till it seemed

That Sense was breaking through -“

You woke up in the forest. You recognised the place immediately. Secluded from the village and near enough to the lab that even a child could find their way back, it was the perfect hiding spot for little Y/N. You didn’t go there anymore, you’ve barely allowed yourself to even think about it these days, but your dreams spoke to something deep inside you, a yearning you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You looked towards the clearing, where the riverbank was almost unrecognisable past the foliage and rocks and allowed yourself a moment of respite. You were startled by a high pitched laugh, and turned your head towards its origin. A little girl, no older than 10, was running towards the bank holding on to an oxygen mask pack, giggling as she looked behind her to an emerging second figure. She was so happy, so…alive. 

Her eyes were glossy from unshed tears, happiness so loud it expressed itself physically. A second child emerged from the shadows, just behind where you stood. A boy, tall and blue, with the same innocence behind his eyes, quickly caught up to where the girl now lay on a rock by the river. 

“I won, Neteyam! I beat you!” The girl says, panting, laughing and crying all at once. The boy’s expression softened, and as he took his place next to the girl on the rock, gave her a small smile.

“You did! I didn’t try that hard, though. I want a rematch.” 

“You’re on!” 

The two kids sat in silence for awhile, enjoying the peace and quiet, the hushed whisper of the water and the bustling chirping of insects and birds hidden from view. 

“I have something for you.” The boy suddenly said with a gummy smile. 

From behind his back, he retrieves a bracelet. It was green, made up of numerous beads and tiny rocks that complemented each other so well, it seemed they were put on this planet for the very purpose of adorning a Na’vi’s body. 

You recognised the bracelet and the sight of it tugged at your heart. You felt your eyes tear up and cursed your mind for putting you through this again. 

“This is like your bracelet!” The tiny girl says, with a wide smile. 

“Yes, I told ma I lost mine and asked her very nicely to make me another and she did! I want you to have it. This way I have one and you have one. Just you and me.” 

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

You woke up in tears, eyes locked on the bracelet in question that was still residing on your nightstand. You didn’t wear it anymore, but couldn’t find it in your heart to part with it fully. It now lay next to your head, a bitter reminder of yet another road not taken. You cursed Neteyam for coming back into your life, if only briefly, just to resurface hurt you are yet to deal with or even acknowledge fully. You curse him for the bracelet, and the memories and yet another pain you have to deal with on your own. Always on your own.

The next few days went by in a blur. You spent the days buried in work, and the nights exercising and field stripping weapons. You refused to think, or sleep, or read or play music or really anything to would give your heart the opportunity to take over again. You passed out last night in the gym, but it was a dreamless slumber, which you were grateful for. This night was your last night at 17. You were waiting patiently for the clock to strike midnight as you were finishing up your last experiment for the day. You glanced at the clock, once, then twice, then three times. Eventually, it happened. And then nothing. No answers, no epiphanies, no nothing. Disappointed, but not entirely shocked, you chuckled at yourself for thinking life would give you an easy way out. After all, it never did. A little after 1AM, you made your way to your bed. You took one last look at your empty nightstand, then passed out. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAAAAAAY!!!” 

Your entire body snapped in an upright position at the sudden auditory onslaught. Your face settled in a deep frown as you were trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. At the edge of your bed on all sides were people. Kiri, Lo’ak, Norm, Max and Spider. They all had big smiles on their faces, a big contrast to your own. You actively tried to remove the frown from your features, and found it easy enough when you realised these people, these people you loved were here, for you. 

“Thanks guys. Anyway, could I get some privacy so I can put some clothes and thank you properly??” 

With a grunt that definitely came from Lo’ak, they all left you to get ready for the day. When you appeared in the dining room, you found a big basket filled with incredible Pandoran food, and you were happy to see your favourites as the most prominent. 

“Oh my GOD, Banana fruitsss!! How did you guys find these??” 

“Lo’ak may or may not have spent an inordinate amount of hours waiting for a couple to drop out of the push fruit tree that grows a few clicks from the village.” Kiri said, laughing and poking Lo’ak sides with her fingers.

You felt a lump in your throat form at the admission. God, you were so grateful for this boy. You could live a thousand lives and still not deserve him. Feeling you getting emotional, he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. You made your way to him and hugged him, as tightly as you could. You were not great with words, but you put all of your unspoken thoughts in that hug. Your size difference made both of you snicker, and with one last tug, you let go.

“Thank you, guys. You are great, really, I couldn’t ask for better people to be around today.”

“Come on, let’s eat. We have big plans awaiting.” 

“Sing!!” 

You spent the morning eating and talking, Lo’ak complaining about the training and the ass kicking he got from his dad after your last meeting. You were laughing at his exaggerated manner of speaking, excited to finally have him around to get you out of your funk. 

“You guys always want me to sing, you need to pay me if you’re gonna treat me like a jukebox, you know?” 

You picked up the guitar that Norm brought for you out of the recreation room. You took it in your arms and strummed the chords, making sure they were tuned correctly. You thought long and hard about a song, and you found it eventually, buried in your brain, along with the memory of your mum singing it to you as a child with tears streaming down her face. 

“… Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

How it was supposed to be"

You felt the tears coming, but you willed them away. Your heart was strong, but it couldn’t contend with your mind. You continued, pouring all of your frustrations with Neteyam, with yourself, with this life in the song.

Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy

Did you hear about the girl who lives in delusion?

Break-ups happen every day, you don't have to lose it

She's still 23 inside her fantasy and you're sitting in front of me"

You looked across the room and felt weird, sick ecstasy at the faces of the people around you, all of which looked sad and glossy-eyed. You didn’t want to make anyone sad, but you loved the power that music held. You loved that it brought people together, no matter the species, the language, the tone, the mood, you could always rely on music to provide unison.

If our love died young, I can't bear witness, and it's been so long

But if you ever think you got it wrong, I'm right where you left me

As you played the last chord of the song, you looked up and froze at the sight of Neteyam sitting by the door of the room, an unreadable expression marking his features. You registered people talking in your direction, but couldn’t decipher the words as you lay there, on the ground, guitar in hand, staring at the beautiful boy who did not allow your eyes to leave his own. You swear you saw a flicker of sadness in his big, yellow eyes you used to know so well, but as you were trying to decipher them, Spider’s oh-so-human face flooded your line of sight. 

“Hello!! Earth to Y/N”

“It’s concerning how many times this happens”, Lo’ak intercepts.

You finally focus on the people who have come here for you, and put the guitar down with a small laugh.

“Sorry, guess I got way too into the song.”

“Yeah, what the hell’s up with that? It’s your birthday, it’s supposed to be a celebration and you’re making us depressed, instead.” Spider says, frowning. 

“Sorry!” You whine, hoping the childish tone would earn a quicker forgiveness. 

They all somehow roll their eyes simultaneously, which you find amusing.

“Mum and dad say it’s time.” It takes a second for your brain to register the Na’vi sentence. The deep voice breaks through the chatter and everyone turns their heads towards the oldest Sully sibling. 

“Right!” Lo’ak says, patting his knees and getting up suddenly. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!’

You knew it was dumb, but you were nervous, too nervous, to make your way to the Home Tree after so much time. It’s been years since you have been there, maybe since you’ve been anywhere, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit to yourself, or to anyone around you. Nevertheless, you put on your mask and secured your oxygen cartridge behind your back. 

You bid a swift goodbye to Norm and Max, who said they will try to make it to the celebration later in the evening. You then stepped outside, eyes finding it hard to adjust to the natural brightness of Pandora. You found the mask uncomfortable, having been so long since you needed it last, and took a deep breath in your attempt to calm down and take it one step at a time. 

Lo’ak was, as always, Neteyam thought, leading the pack. Spider followed suit and you and Kiri maintained a steady pace behind the two boys. Neteyam was quietly walking behind you. He was deep in thought, not being able to shake the image of you playing guitar and singing that song he had never heard before. He hasn’t heard you sing in so long and hearing it again opened a hole in his chest that he thought was long closed. His eyes followed you closely, taking in all the details about you he hoped he wouldn’t notice. Your hair was lighter than he remembered, not by much, but enough that it was there, present for him to see. You were tall, taller than you used to be, and taller than most human women he’s seen. You were wearing a skirt, he thinks it’s called, that flows every time the wind touches it. It’s black and it looks soft, and Neteyam can’t help but want to feel it for himself. Your top is braided and beaded, and it seems like a mix between human clothes and Na’vi wear. You back is completely bare short of a string that ties the top together and the man feels his heart picking up pace at the sight. Cursing under his breath, he moves his gaze on a piece of jewellery adorning your arm. A intricate bracelet, green and red, definitely Na’vi make. He remembers briefly Kiri making it for one of your previous birthdays and smiles sadly at the thought. Finally, his eyes settle on a deep scar on the back on your left leg. Before he can help himself, the memories flood his being…

Neteyam found himself once again, waiting outside the big metal building for you to come out. He was excited for today, too excited to put into words. It always took convincing for you to come out, especially recently, but he loved that you said yes to him, and not to Lo’ak or Kiri, for once. He knew you have been sad for a while, and was happy to do anything in his power to help. He jumped out of his skin when the door opened, and you laughed at him for being what you called a “scaredy cat”. 

“I’m happy to see you, Neteyam”, you said, in Na’vi. He smiled to himself at your accent, but loved how hard you tried to speak to him in his own tongue. “Not happy you’re dragging me out, but if it means spending some time with you, I guess I will let it slide” You continued in English.

“I think you will be happy to be out for this”, Neteyam interjected. You walked together in comfortable silence, only speaking when you found a plant or animal you didn’t know the name of. 

“Oh my God, this is so pretty, what’s it called?” You ask, enthusiastically.

“A’o” Neteyam answers you, smiling softly, never getting bored of your incessant line of questioning. Like with the language, he was just happy you cared. 

“What are you wearing?” Neteyam asks, unable to stop himself. 

“Oh, this?” You say, looking down at your choice of attire. “It’s just an old T-shirt I found in one of the drawers of the living quarters. I’m not sure whose it is, but I assume a big old man’s, cause it’s more a dress than a t-shirt at this point.” 

“A T-shirt…” Neteyam said, contemplatively. He looked at it closer and saw an image he couldn’t quite understand on it and the word “Metallica” written on it. He didn’t know what it meant, so he dropped it. At least he learnt a new word today. 

You walked like this for over an hour, but eventually reached the end of a cliff, that overlooked a beautiful waterfall. Neteyam thought this sight alone will make you feel better, but he had bigger plans in mind. 

“Wow, this is beautiful! This was almost worth the fresh hell I felt when that bug went in my nose like 20 minutes ago.” 

Neteyam laughed, and he revelled in the way only you seemed to be able to make him feel like this. Free and alive. 

Standing on the edge of the cliff, Neteyam let out a high pitched yell, then turned around to look at you with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He smiled as he heard the trees on the other side of the cliff ruffle, and watched with pride as a big bundle of green, yellow, red and blue emerged from the foliage and landed in front of him. He turned to you and let out a big laugh when he saw your face, jaw dropped in horror and amazement, eyes wide with the glint of curiosity he’s come to love so much. 

“You did it!! I’m so so so proud of you, Neteyam!” You screamed, running at him and launching yourself as high as you could, knowing he would catch you in his arms. “And at 13, too! This has to be some sort of record, right?” 

“I doubt it, but it still felt good doing it. I was shocked Mum and Dad even let me try it. Anyway, I wanted you to meet her.” 

He swung you in his arms with ease, not weighing a lot more than his baby sister, who was just around 3 years old. He finally placed you back on the ground with care, right in front of the Ikran. He made tsaheylu and waited patiently as you were building it up the courage to approach the mighty being that was lowly cooing and nudging its head against Neteyam’s. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your beautiful face, and said a silent prayer, thanking Eywa for still being able to bring that expression to your otherwise crestfallen figure. 

Once it seemed you became comfortable enough around her to pet, he clicked his tongue and motioned for you to get on. You let out an incredulous laugh and shook you head.

“No way in Hell, are you insane??” 

“Come on, Y/N. I never pegged you for a coward.”

After this many years, he knew how to push you buttons. He saw your smile drop and your eyes take on that expression that almost frightened him. Thank the Great Mother you were human, cause you would be a force to behold as a Na’vi. 

“Damn you, Neteyam.” You said, slowly getting up on the banshee and making yourself comfortable in front of the boy. He felt your back flushed against his bare chest, and suppressed a shudder that threatened his body. 

“It will be fun, you will see. Here, hold on here, and don’t let go. I will have my arms around you at all times, and I promise to make her go slowly.” You refused to acknowledge him, and he found himself laughing, again. 

Without any other words, he willed the ikran to take off. You let out an involuntary yelp, but otherwise you were brave and strong, just like he knew you to be. Once you were above the forest, he found you staring in awe beneath you, his gaze locked on the side of your face and on the smile that made him happy to be alive at the same time as you, just so he can experience it over and over. You flew like this for a long time, just taking in the beauty of this world that you both called home. A beauty that he knew you never got to experience, not the way you should have, not the way you deserved. He saw a tear escape your eyes and make its way down your cheeks and settle in between your lips, and cursed himself for not being able to take it away, the pain he knew clawed at you every waking moment since your mum died. You have never been the same since. 

“Thank you for this, Neteyam.” You said, softly. “I wish there was a way to show this to her, a way to share this experience. I know she would have loved it as much as I do, maybe more.” You settled comfortably on his chest and sighed. 

He didn’t get a chance to formulate a response, though, as a loud shriek came from his Ikran and he felt the panic overtake him as the tsaheylu made the feeling echo in between them. Looking up, he saw what no man wants to see: Toruk, his dad’s former pet, launching itself at the two teenagers and their ikran. Clearing his mind, Neteyam removed a hand from the reigns for balance and banked left abrubtly, diving straight for the trees, that were fortunately not too far below them. As if life suddenly stopped to a halt, he was able to experience the next harrowing moments in slow-motion - the diving, the terror of watching your frame slowly disappear from his line of sight, your voice screaming his name as you dropped towards the ground, his own voice getting caught in his throat trying to call for you, willing his Ikran to go faster than he thought was possible in an attempt to catch you, the pool of red liquid spilling from your frame as you impaled your leg on a broken Pxiut hitting the ground. He quickly removed himself from the Ikran and ran to you, picking you up in his arms, trying to ignore the way the blood was spilling down his torso and dripping on the ground. He looked at your unconscious body in his arms and felt the first crack in his heart form, a crack yet to be healed to this day. He pushed back the tears that were starting to pool and got back on the Ikran, flying as fast as he could through the foliage. As soon as he could see the outline of the metal building, he stopped the animal and got off, running with you in his arms. It’s all a blur afterwards. He remembers going home, your now-dried blood still marking his skin like a tattoo, he remembers crying in his mum’s arms, he remembers the guilt that poisoned his mind and heart and he remembers sitting on a cold floor next to what humans called an operating room, waiting to hear if the damage he has caused you will plague you for the rest of your life.

His eyes never left the scar on your leg, and, as he forced himself out of the torturous memory, couldn’t help noticing the slight limp with which you walked towards the village.

Crack. 

Tag list :-): @mashiromochi

#neteyam #neteyam fanfic #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam x human!reader #neteyam x avatar!reader #avatar #avatar fanfic #avatar twow #atwow #atwow fanfic #avatar loak #loak #loak fanfiction

[fredwkong]

Virgo Season: Harold

There was no way in hell that Harold was going to do his presentations on the lawn. This conference was supposed to be prestigious, and all that he had seen so far was every so-called “real man” in the Astra Hotel running in terror from a group of deviants.

Harold had been a police officer in Detroit for decades, and even retired he knew he cut an imposing figure. Where the inimitable Pastor Blanco had failed, Harold had succeeded, forcing the staff to clean up the conference hall in the early hours of the morning, after the nightly freak party ended. The day’s discussions and meetings had been held in their rightful place again, and now it was Harold’s turn.

If only he could get the damn projector working properly.

While Harold had been on the force, everything had been microfilm and slides, even into the 2000s. The Astra’s conference hall contained such newfangled gadgets as an “HDMI port,” an “audio jack,” and the horrifically misnamed “Smart Board” that Harold had no hope of interacting with. Harold had been expecting that some of the young professionals attending the conference would be able to help him with setting up.

Alas, all the young cowards seemed to have fled the conference over the last few weeks, and so Harold had spent 15 minutes struggling with the technology before he turned to Blanco, his face purple with rage. “Get… me… the concierge,” Harold gritted out.

Blanco seemed about to protest at being ordered around like one of his lackeys, but then clearly thought better of it. Without a word, he fled the hall.

The door closed with an echoing bang. Without meaning to, Harold jumped as if he had been touched by a small electric shock. The small audience—not more than twenty, and yet more than half the people still at the conference—all jumped too.

Harold turned back to the podium where the mess of wires surrounded his ancient brick of a laptop, only to see that one cable was neatly plugged into a port on his device. Behind him, the large screen flickered to life, displaying his desktop background.

“Ah, that’s fine then,” Harold said gruffly. “Let’s begin, we’re behind enough as it is.” He launched PowerPoint exactly as the man at the tech support desk had shown him once and began the slideshow.

The screen went black, then flashed bright before the first slide came up. Harold could have sworn it had shown a picture of a smooth-skinned man in a rubber bodysuit, lying at the foot of someone in high heels. But there was no such image on his device, so he must have imagined it.

“The police and their policies are an important part of America and make ordinary life possible,” Harold began, following the notes he had written in his notebook. He went through the first few slides, on the glorious history of the American police force and how essential they were to the protection of real Americans, like him and the other attendees.

As he did, Harold felt himself beginning to get warm in his suit. He wasn’t the type for nervous sweating, but he found himself tugging at his collar, feeling beads of sweat run down his grey, buzzed temples. After the third slide, he took a moment to take a drink of water, and saw several of the conference attendees doing the same, or fanning themselves with paper and notebooks. Maybe it had been a mistake to close the doors.

“Please pay close attention,” Harold said, clicking to the next slide.

The slide was meant to show an image of Harold during his glory days on the force. Instead, for an instant, Harold was sure the picture was of some deviant in a rubber bodysuit, long socks, aviators, and a leather cap. Like a horrible fetishistic parody of his younger self.

He blinked, horrified, and the picture he was was as it was supposed to be, a younger Harold in his perfect police uniform. Somehow, he had imagined such a horrific image. Harold coughed awkwardly. “In my time on the force, my district…” he continued, rattled.

The statistics and policy changes relevant to Harold’s presentation seemed to swim before his eyes. He was sweating like a pig in this suit. It felt like there was something under the cotton and silk, something pliant and sticky against his skin. The audience seemed to be moving uncomfortably. Some were tugging on their dress shirts, trying to force air into the humid interiors.

Harold continued reading his notes. “Police put great attention on stepping on—I mean, stamping out—less desirable elements in the city,” he said, stumbling over his words. “Employee satisfaction reached an all time high when police were given free rein to fu—no, that’s pluck—potential criminals from their hiding places preemptively.” Why had he written that word?

But the idea was somehow enticing. That would have changed things in Detroit, Harold thought, as he kept on reading and clicking through slides. Walking into a raid lubed up and hard in a rubber—rubber? Yes, rubber—jockstrap, fucking sense into those deviant criminals’ asses… He tried to resist getting hard in his dress pants.

When he clicked to the next slide, it showed an example of exactly the kind of criminal Harold was thinking of. Tight rubber pants, his chest bare, giving fuck-me eyes to the camera.

“The criminal element—” Harold’s voice was hoarse for some reason. He coughed and continued talking about the inherent criminality of non-white men in America.

The men in the audience were leaning forward in their seats as Harold went through the next few slides. He knew that look. The attractiveness of the hedonistic lifestyle of a deviant criminal was getting to them. It was getting to him, too. He could barely remember where his discussion was leading.

No one in the hall heard the main doors stick as someone attempted to open them from the outside, but found them held fast by some force other than the lock.

The atmosphere had become close and humid. Harold could see some of the men palming their bulging groins through their pants. He wanted a taste of that. Pictures of men in rubber continued to flash on the screen, even though Harold wasn’t clicking on it to continue. Harold couldn’t tell if they were criminals or civilians anymore. Maybe they were just ordinary people. The images came faster and faster until the screen was a blur of rubber men.

Suddenly, the onslaught stopped. A video started to play. Two men, of very different skin tones, furiously kissing. Harold heard moaning from the audience as they started to imitate what they were seeing on screen.

Harold felt overwhelmingly warm, and started to unbutton his shirt. Had his hands always been so tan? As he worked, he tried to continue speaking. “In-in short, the police force… Oh god, the police force should totally fuck more, can you imagine? In uniform?” The pitch of his voice rose as his grey hair darkened to black. Graceful hands stripped away his shirt to reveal a translucent rubber tank top underneath. “Can you imagine if they put on some rubber booty shorts instead of those boring pants?” he continued.

The audience started to strip each other, following Harold’s example. The squeak of rubber on rubber sang out in harmony with smooth moans and gasps. Skin darkened and youthened everywhere as everyone let go of everything that had been holding them back for decades all at once.

Harold clicked to the next slide, knowing what was coming now. A man in boots and a rubber shirt, sniffing a black sneaker. “You gotta show your partner you appreciate all that sweat he’s been building up under his rubber!” Harold told the audience, hearing the licks and snuffles begin as men enthusiastically dove into each others’ armpits, groins, and abandoned shoes.

Hadn’t Harold had a water bottle? No, just the spare sneaker his husband had sent with him to the Astra Hotel this year. Giving the audience a moment to put his command into action, Harold gave the shoe a sniff, feeling as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders as his body tightened up into a tan, muscular physique.

He wanted to stretch out his long tongue into the shoe’s interior, but Harold knew that would spoil the musk, plus he needed to keep focussed on his presentation. Instead, he imagined giving his husband’s feet a nice tongue bath once he got home, giving his cock a squeeze through his sweat-soaked pants. Still sniffing, he wriggled out of the pants, revealing his black rubber shorts, rivulets of sweat still running down his sturdy legs.

Harold clicked to the next slide, the final moment of his presentation. A guy in a full bodysuit, his rubber toes extended to the camera. “Remember, it’s all about playing with power,” Harold called out, feeling his mouth slip around the English consonants. His mixed heritage, raised in a house where he spoke Lebanese, left him with a faint accent that came out specifically when he was horny. “You do what another man says because you trust him, and it feels so fucking good, right?”

There was a roar of assent from the crowd, drunk on their own lust. “Good boys,” Harold said firmly, and drank in the responding chorus of submissive groans. Leaving the slide up, Harold stepped down from the presenter’s dais back into the seating. He pulled his long rubber gloves back on as he went. Best to be prepared in case someone wanted to feel his arm up inside them.

One couple, a Chinese man and his little Black boy, had actually started fucking, the Black guy’s rubber pantseat unzipped so his tight ass could take his dom’s cock. An older Arabic man had his hands tied behind his back as he sat on the floor in a circle of men, all taking turns using his mouth. As he walked past, Harold tugged on the long ponytail of a Brazilian in a rubber shirt, enjoying the man’s groan as he kept bouncing on what must be a plug on the inside of his pants. They were all gonna have a good time until the non-rubber guys joined them for the night’s party.

The conference hall door burst open, and Harold turned to see some old white man standing there, surrounded by terrified hotel staff. Harold raised himself to his full height and crossed his gloved arms, showing off the bulge in his rubber shorts and the muscles in his translucent shirt. This was his place, and he was gonna protect it.

The hotel staff fled, and the old prude wasn’t far behind. Harold rolled his eyes and turned back to his fun.

Click here to see all of Virgo Season.

If you feel inspired, write a story set at the Astra Hotel and post it @ me to join in. Help me celebrate my birthday by turning more conference attendees into geared up gay kinksters.

#male transformation #mental change #muscle tf #reality change #male tf #race change #musk tf #feet kink tf #shoes tf #rubber tf #virgo season #all fwkong

[tommysversion]

Joel dream? 👀

( Tbh, anon, I figured it would be easier to just turn it into a short fic... Also the gif is 100% relevant because I have a feeling the dream came from both this and the very nsfw vid going around that is reminding a few of us of a certain internet daddy. Anyway...)

CW: age gap, unprotected sex, language, etc.

----

He's staring at you, gaze piercing you from across the room. You suppose it's somewhat your fault; the skirt you're wearing is far too short to be practical, but it's the middle of summer and there's no air conditioning. Your shirt - or what passes for a shirt - clings to you, giving him a nice view of your midriff. If you planned on leaving the apartment, it wouldn’t be practical at all. But it’s not designed to be.

"If you're trying to get my attention, there's probably easier ways." Joel always sounds pissed off, it's just his tone, but in this case, he sounds more amused than anything.

You're not going to lie; you definitely chose the skirt with him in mind. Or rather, his reaction in mind.

"I don't know what you mean." You're lying through your teeth, and he knows it, a half smirk forming on his lips at your denial.

"No?" He's sitting on the couch, wearing that denim shirt that clings to him, dark jeans, legs spread in a way that should, frankly, be obscene.

"Nope." You pop the 'p' sound, watching the way his eyes darken before he taps his thigh.

"Come sit." The way he says it makes it clear it’s not a request, not really. More of a demand. And here’s the thing; you’re so damn weak for this man that you’ll do exactly as he asks, without question.

You cross to him, obedient even in spite of your backtalk. He doesn’t say a word as he pulls you onto his lap, forces you to straddle his thigh. It doesn’t count as force if you do it willingly, but still.

Big, rough hands hold you in place, but his touch is gentle.

“Gonna lie to me again?” He’s holding you, but not keeping you still, instead making you rock back and forth on the rough fabric of his jeans. Bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

You can’t even argue, not really, because the friction you’re getting just from rubbing yourself against him is delicious. So you shake your head. Another mistake; his hands tighten on your waist, stopping your movements. You whimper pathetically, because frankly you were starting to enjoy yourself, soaking your panties and leaving a damp patch on his jeans.

“Words.”

You’ve brought this on yourself, but it’s entirely his fault. He’s too demanding, too dominant, even without meaning to be.

“No, I’m not going to lie to you again.” You pout as you say it, but he rewards you by relaxing his grip, letting you resume your rubbing against him.

“Good girl.” One hand leaves your waist, slides down your thigh, up under your skirt to slip into your panties. They’re thin and lacy and entirely soaked, just from sitting like this, and he knows it.

He teases his fingers around you, his entire palm covering your sex, thumb and index finger teasing at your clit until you whimper, biting your lip to try and keep silent. Fixing you with that dark gaze, he slides his middle finger inside you, then his ring finger, curling them.

You can see how hard he is, slide your hand down his chest to stroke the bulge in his jeans, go to pop the button, but he catches your wrist with his free hand, not stopping his stroking of your soaked cunt.

“You’re not getting what you want. Not until you admit you want it.”

Fucker. You hate how he’s always so damn controlled, even with his gaze blown wide with lust, with his cock aching. You also know you’re going to give him exactly what he wants to hear, half because it’s true, and half because those thick fingers buried to the knuckle inside you are driving you fucking insane.

“You already know I do.” You admit it, a little put out by being made to verbalise what he should already know. Why else would you wear such a scandalously short outfit?

He doesn’t stop rubbing at your clit, palm open as he keeps working his fingers inside you, uncaring that you’re soaking him, dripping down his fingers and onto his jeans.

“Now try that again. Nicely this time. Use your words.” Honestly you’re taking all of the patience he has, but he’s not giving in that easily. He can’t help but be this way with you. You’re such a goddamn brat.

“Fine. I wanted your attention.” You wriggle on his fingers, lips parted in a soft moan. “Wanted to see how long it would take you to want me.”

Joel sighs, amused. “About two seconds after you walked in.”

He slides his fingers out of you, cups your soaked pussy in his palm for a moment before he lets you unzip his jeans, wrap your hand around his thick, hard cock and free him.

“C’mon then, baby. Come take what you want.”

He helps lift you, lower you down onto his considerable size. You exhale softly as you slide down his length, rocking your hips until you’re fully seated on him.

“This is what you wanted, huh?” One hand settles on your waist, holding you steady. The other slides up your shirt, gently squeezing your breast, teasing your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“Mmhmm.” You can’t actually answer him, already overstimulated from his fingers, his touch, the feeling of being so full of him.

He lets you take charge, lifting yourself up and dropping back down onto him, riding him while he bucks up against you almost lazily, one rough hand playing with your tits until he slides his hand round to your back, drags you into a deep, hungry kiss, muffling the sounds you make as you fall apart, cunt fluttering and tightening around him.

He holds you then, holds you in place as he bucks up into you, hard and fast, kisses muffling your screams as he pulls you down onto him, holding you so still you can’t move as he grinds into you, filling you with hot, thick ropes of his spend.

He holds you close, still grinding into you, keeping you right where you are, lets you catch your breath before he shakes his head, touches the fabric of your too-short skirt.

“Don’t let me catch you wearing this outside. Only I get to look at you like this.”

You manage a soft giggle, press a kiss to his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

#answered #my writing #joel miller #Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us

[llovelyclouds]

notes on pyrrha dve

heres all the relevant info i took note of on pyrrha during my tlt reread, in one place!

(you can find all the other posts from this project here!)

PYRRHA DVE

titles:

Gideon’s cavalier, first gen, founded the second

greek mythological orgin of the name pyrrha

also, pyrrhic victory

notes from gideon the ninth:

G1deon & Pyrrha's room in Canaan house includes a drawing of a chimaera that Gideon describes as "familiar" and a picture on the wall of John and his pals (presumably) with everyone's faces scribbled out with a thick black marker. Also guns (gtn. pg. 205)

notes from harrow the ninth:

presumably lead the development of her and G1dieon's trial at Canaan house, as Mercy refers to it as "Pyrrha's trial" (htn. pg. 97)

 The reason G1deon is named the Saint of Duty (htn. pg. 177)

Asked Wake to kill G1deon quickly (htn. pg. 205)

Was most likely the one conscious in G1dieon’s body when Harrow caught her fucking Wake in Cytherea’s body????? (htn. pg. 216)

"I will remember the first time you kissed me- you apologised- you said, I am sorry, destroy me as I am, but I want to kiss you before I am killed, and I said to you why, and you said, because I have only once met someone so utterly willing to burn for what they believed in, and I loved him on sight, and the first time I died I asked of him what I now ask of you / I kissed you and later I would kiss him too before I understood what you were, and all three of us lived to regret it- but when I am in heaven I will remember your mouth, and when you roast down in hell I think you will remember mine" -Wake's note (htn. pg. 252)

All the lyctors and John loved her (and also thought she was super hot) (htn. pg. 274)

Augustine developed his smoking habit to impress her (htn. pg. 275)

Was ten years older than Augustine (htn. Pg. 278)

G1deon & Pyrrha liked Alecto despite the fact that the other lyctors (at least Mercy and Augustine) didn't (htn. pg. 479)

Mattaius Nonius fought G1deon, and seems to owe Pyrrha a debt (htn. pg. 455)

"We compartmentalised from the Eightfold Word, just like you and your girl- though I'm an accident, and he took more from me than got taken from you. I was able to go underground, even from him."- Pyrrha (htn. pg. 494)

notes from nona the ninth:

Used to be a cop, made detective, knew Gideon from "way back" (ntn. pg. 74)

"'You should be draining and replacing her fucking brain fluid,' said Pyrrha. 'When Gideon and I designed that trial, I used to crack his skull and sieve it myself, just as a control variable. It's aggregative. I doubt you're testing her white blood cell count either. The only other people I put through that damn trial were Mercy and Cris, because only Cris didn't mind being trepanned on the regular. Fucking around with souls is the problem, Sextus… you can't ever get data on souls.'" - Pyrrha, discussing when Cam & Pal "overlap" (ntn. pg. 84)

"I visited her hometown back before Anastasia got settled, and it was grim as fuck then. Just spooky caves all the way down…" -Pyrrha (ntn. pg. 86)

"'Do they still do gravid carry where you come from?' 'On the Sixth, only for research,' said Palamedes. 'I helped at a birth once. Theres a lot of noise and run-up before the real thing happens.'" -Pyrrha and Palamedes (ntn. pg. 121)

"P- was great, but like, Ministry ties or no Ministry ties, a big part of her career was going around to the local high schools and telling the drugs kids that they shouldn't be doing drugs. She'd won medals for competition shooting back north in Hamilton, but we're not talking Jesse James. We're talking Hamilton."- john (ntn. pg. 191)

"She chose us that day, not her career. I always loved her for that. She'd adored being a cop." -john (ntn. pg. 191)

"and it was P- of all people who said, First things first. If they're going to let us fix the world, you've got to make them take us seriously. Get some leverage. If they want to make you into a bad wizard, be a bad wizard. We can write the history books to say you were a good wizard. Or at least an okay wizard. They're not going to listen because we talk nicely, they're going to listen because we scare the shit out of them. He said, Which goes to show you that only getting to NCEA Level 2 isnt going to stop you making waves in life, right." (ntn. pg. 271)

"Nona had thrown exactly two tantrums in her entire life. She couldn't remember anything about the first one, but Pyrrha had told her about it. Pyrrha had been laughing with her mouth, but not with her eyes: her eyes had been very brown and distant and uneasy, as though this tantrum had reminded Pyrrha of something her brain didn't want to bring back." (ntn. pg. 275)

She mentions disco?? how does she know what disco is??? (ntn. pg. 362)

"Gideon… G-, you died for nothing." -Pyrrha (ntn. pg. 390)

“I remember P- behind a barricade… not dead yet… telling me, John, run.” (ntn. pg. 406)

Died pretty immediately after Mercy and Augustine, but before G1deon (ntn. Pg. 407)

“Who are you, foreigner, that you know the mysteries of the Anastasian?” “I was here before it was the Anastasian,” said Pyrrha absently. “Painted a nursery. Mint green.” (ntn. pg. 453)

“Cass and Mercy and I worked on cell thanergy- we need thanergy, fresh thanergy, to activate…” - Pyrrha (ntn. pg. 471)

“And Alecto said, Pyrrha, he laid me down as an appeasement to them; he fed you to them as an appeasement to them; but he has never appeased me, and now all he has done was teach me how to die.“ (ntn. Pg. 476)

#junos silly little locked tomb thoughts #tlt #the locked tomb #tlt meta #tlt analysis #gtn #htn #ntn #atn #ntn spoilers #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #alecto the ninth #pyrrha #pyrrha dve

[nardos-primetime]

You know the casey jr. post makes me wonder again about what was happening with these four in the doomed timeline, if they even made it very far (most of my OCs did not big Fs in chat for them), but maybe that's something you plan to cover at some point.

TW// Suicidal Ideation (kind of), Abuse Between Turtles, Turtle Death

MOST UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE IT'S A LONG POST AND I KINDA WENT OFF. I LOWKEY COOKED ON ACCIDENT I THINK.

I was thinking about that as I was drawing too, because together they'd definitely hold more of a chance like the originals. The main thing I wanted for them was villain turtles that still genuinely loved each other after all. But then I realized. I already had an answer to this question. Because they would have to have died at least before Casey's birth and have it be long enough that the og turtles probably wouldn't have brought them up, either out of trauma (because they end up doing some wack shit and causing some wack shit) or because it was so long ago and not relevant. Since my plan is that Casey would not know about the clones at all.

See, I haven't revealed it yet, but the clones do something really conflicting a while before the events of the movie would take place in this universe. In the main timeline this ironically is be the start of their potential to change into more of a Grey area morally, as the main focus of their overall story is that they can't really change until they want to themselves. And even then, they never really become good guys.

But there's already concepts I've had where the result of this action actually splits them apart instead. Donno would be even more engaged in his more violent work, almost happier with it than ever before as they get more and more impractical and violent, or at least he tries to convince himself that he's happier, maybe a part of him is. Rage would become useless as a direct hitman or guard anymore, more likely to just have to oversee those beneath him since he's so oddly incapable of proper violence after things. Lee would become a workaholic to the max, along with his drinking getting a lot worse (somehow possible), he'd get shorter with his brothers, dropping any pretense of care when they need to get something done, "Hey, it's alright, we can do this, we'll get it done together." Becomes "Just fucking DO it! We have shit to do, and I can't be seen with yokai who refuse to prove their own God damn worth!"

Rage would be overall more resigned while somehow the increase in work ethic between Donno and Lee makes their old rivalry come back, just a lot worse now. Donno openly threatens Lee, and when for whatever reason that doesn't work he'll threaten the others. Rage has had a blade put to his throat mid conversation once because Lee wanted Donno to at the very least update the other workers on how to deal with machines when they break. Donno wanted more workers for experimentation in return. Rage was the only bargaining chip that worked, and even then, it took Lee a while to agree to terms.

Mic would take this all the hardest. He'd be desperate to keep everyone together. Time and time again, he's lost family, and they're the only family he's kept through all of it. He'd try and act like everything's fine. His habit of upping his energy and joy for others hits full swing, he pulls the others into hugs, makes little events, nothing works. Until he starts lashing out finally, and Rage is the only one that takes it seriously.

Lee just looks at him how Draxum used to.

Donno laughs in his face and mocks him.

Family, even if it never was the healthiest, is the only constant the clones have. Normally, it would be the only thing keeping some level of humanity and logic between them. So that breaking would be bad. I think this would be where they would stand in the doomed timeline. As soon as the apocalypse does start for them, they'd probably all die separately after officially leaving each other.

I think Mic would've attacked Lee after he realized Lee wasn't planning on doing much to survive. Not deadly, but lashing out until Rage can stop him and afterwards just leaving. Donno also leaves, mentally unwell as ever, insisting that "There's so many new variables and I'm sure Draxum would want me to look into all of it, even if it kills me!" Just to dig a knife into Lee's chest before he goes.

Rage would stay with Lee, and for once, Lee would be the silent one. Rage may be talking but it's quiet, he asks him how he's doing as he carries him around to safety, he gets them food, water, and finally gets violent again when he has to defend the two of them from the krang.

He even asks if they can go to get help when he sees the original turtles in the distance and Lee's wound from Mic is starting to get infected. He even locks eyes with Mikey.

It's the first time Lee speaks in ages, and it's "No." With a swing of his katana to portal them further away than ever before.

After that Lee starts wandering on purpose. He tries to get away while Rage sleeps. Rage starts to not sleep to stop Lee.

But sometimes you pass out after days of pushing yourself.

And sometimes you have to realize your brothers are dead. The world is dead. And at the end of the day, not a single thing you did actually mattered. All you did was cause pain to those you loved.

And you'll wake up. And he won't be there.

And you'll cry like a baby for the first time in years. Calling out for your dad. Your mom. Your brothers. Your voice is so hoarse and you ramble out all the words you never could, "I love you" "I wanna go home" "Please don't do this" "Please no" "I just wanted a family" "Where's my family" "Please don't leave me again" "I can protect you, I just wanted to protect you" "Let me care for you for once"

They each die alone.

Some fighting for nothing.

Some laughing in the face of reality.

Some silently wishing he knew what the whole point was.

Some sobbing for the chances he never had.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt au #rise raph #rise mikey #rise donnie #rise leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt raph #Draxum's Side of The Family AU #Writings

[karoochui]

I just wanted to say I am so enamoured with Binary Insurgence! I eat up everything, every little crumb, you drop about it and the entire idea is so interesting to me! I'm so in love with stories and worlds like this! I'm also curious to know about the relationship between Sun and Moon, if it's alright to ask. How was it before the fire compared to after? Does their relationship begin to mend (because I'm certain over the years it deteriorated) when y/n comes back into the picture? If any of this is too spoilery or you just haven't fleshed it out yet then you don't have to answer! I'm just super curious about the boys and how you see their dynamic/relationship. I just look forward to seeing how their bond has grown and/or broken and how it may be mended over time.

AHH im glad you like it so much!! Im happy to talk about what i've got, but you are right not everything is fully fleshed out. I have points i wanna get to but while im brainstorming and planning i make up a lot of stuff as i go and then go over it again later to see if i like it or can connect stuff in any way. I have 3 chapters for Arc 1 fully summarized as of now! (Which probably doesn't seem like a lot but i like my chapters long, so it's quite a bit actually).

I wanna say, too, that i'm planning for the first story to be more in the perspective of the reader, so most things about Sun and Moon's personal thoughts and feelings are gonna be more implied than said. I might have some switching points of view, i'm not sure, but i haven't found a place i'd do it or think it's relevant. The sequel is gonna be more from their perspective since it'll mostly be about them.

NOW! I see Sun and Moon as brothers, so they really treat each other in a way that's like that. Before the fire they get along pretty well. Most instances of issue would be when Moon blocks out Sun when he fronts, or just mutual panic over the fact Moon lost his shit w/ the virus. They'll have their disagreements about things (i havent planned specifics yet) but generally they're chill. Sun just worries about Moon hurting people, but Moon worries too. With the way the virus functions in this AU it's hard for Sun to fully fault Moon for what he does, especially because he's also affected by it but not nearly as bad. (I'm gonna explain this more in another ask i have).

Plus, even before the virus they were always glitch/bug-ridden because technicians fucked up their programming continuously after removing them from the theater to work in the daycare. So they had to kinda navigate through that together, glitches and errors on both ends (though not deadly). They hate P&S bc of this, obviously. Hardware fixes suck but they fucking HATE software examinations.

Later on though some issues come into play whenever Sun starts getting worse by being further exposed to the virus (it gets worse for him when they eclipse) because it presents itself in Sun differently than it does Moon. He gets snappier and angrier at times (that comic i made that's captioned "well someones snappy") and while they both understand he doesnt mean the shit he does it's still not great. And nobody's gonna just let themselves be talked to like a dog even if the reason it's happening is because of something the other person can't really help. They're still relatively fine at this point, though.

It's at the end when shit goes really bad, because this part of the story does end badly. I won't spoil specifics but after the fire Sun loses his shit. He starts trying to put the blame on Moon for everything (the virus enhancing his already bad habits/fucking with his line of thinking) out of grief and anger. That carries over into the apocalypse and he just gets worse in general. He gets irrational.

It's a long period of time though, so he eventually also manages it, in his own way. But! I did say before in an ask that in the sequel he's "not evil, persay, but he's a fucking nut". He damns Moon to an hourglass to just fucking get rid of him about 100~ years before they meet you again (he fully thinks he's in the right for this (and he also just hates him) and the only reason he really even stayed around after that was to make sure Moon didn't get out again). He's not a bad-intentioned individual, but he's off the fucking wall at many times bc of the virus having made him worse. He's stubborn as all hell to an infuriating degree, he's irrational, hard-headed, reckless, and while a good bit of his old, kinder self is still pretty prevalent he can be downright fucking mean if provoked. Again, worse than before, and it doesn't take much these days! I always imagined him to have more dramatic, snappy, diva aspects to his personality (even before Help Wanted 2 came out) bc hes so theatrical and intense, so basically take a Sun that's like that, crank it up to 100 and put him in a Bad Situation. That's what Round 2 Sun is like at his worst. He's not a complete lost cause though, and he's far from dumb when he does stuff, just clouded by his own judgement. He doesn't think anything's wrong with him (or does he?).

Moon doesn't really hate him like Sun hates Moon, because although he knows that what happened (the ending of the first story) is technically both of their faults he just feels guilt. They do fight a lot, though. Most of it is Moon trying his best to tell Sun that he's basically full of shit and not seeing things right after Sun starts something, but Sun's at the point where he's gotta learn by consequence. Part of the reason he's so bad is bc 1: hes been infected by the virus for so long now and 2: in his grief, anger, and resentment he's learned to live with it rather than fighting it.

But the sequel is gonna be a feel-good story! Falling in love w/ the reader all over again, i want things to get cleared up - or at least some kind of middle ground between Sun and Moon - the whole sha-bang.

#my asks #binary resurgence: round 2 au #binary resurgence

[rougepancake]

LOSERS (chapter 1)

Ft. Yoshikage Kira x Serial Killer!F!Reader

LOSERS masterlist

WARNINGS: mentions of killing, soulmate au

SUMMARY: You hate your so called soulmate because the two of you are far from similar. Well- that’s what you originally thought.

The red string of fate is commonly known as a myth that is told to hopeless romantics and small children. It is a myth that not very many people believe, simply because they are too selfish, or because they’d rather live life without a soulmate.

Soulmates. That is what two lovers who are destined to be together are often referred to as. Each and every person has a soulmate, but most never find them.

It is fate that brings them together. Every single time it is fate. And many people don’t believe in that either.

Now- the red string is said to connect lovers by their fingers, with it tied to the woman’s pinky finger and the man’s thumb. Your red string is only visible to you and your soulmate, and grows shorter the closer you are to them. No, it does not tighten and no, it will not cause you any form of injury if you ignore it.

Simply put, the red string of fate is a suggestion. One that says ‘you’ve got a potential lover out there, wanna look?’

There is no sure way to tell if it actually works, but one is allowed to dream, no?

The world sure does work in mysterious ways. One moment you’re getting wasted at frat parties and the next you’re working at Kame Yu in Morioh. It seems like a cruel joke, in a way. Not that you can fight it, but you definitely would if you could.

Your job was a humble one, and you weren’t really anything but a simple office worker who dreamed big.

Everything about you was average, which was how you liked it. If people thought of you as their normal coworker, then they wouldn’t suspect that you were up to no good. You maintained healthy (but not too healthy) relationships with your fellow employees, and never showed up late to work. You run your day run based off of a strict schedule that you wouldn’t ever dream of diverting from, even if for a second. It’s perfect, and peaceful.

Simply ideal.

“Y/n.”

God damn that voice.

“Y/n. You’re spacing out again.” Your coworker, Yoshikage Kira, passed by, lightly tapping your shoulder with a file he was holding. The mere sound of his voice was enough to enrage you. That damn killjoy of a man. He’s simply insufferable, a result of his lack of social skills, you’ve concluded.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was like you.

“My apologies, Mister Kira.” You bit your tongue and shot him a glare as he turned his back to you. There was nothing in the world that you hated more than a rich man with a stick up his ass. He never socialized with anyone, and when he did happen to go out with his coworkers, you could never tell if he was having fun or not. He never smiles, never laughs, hell he never even acknowledges when the interns hit on him.

It was as if he was trying to erase his existence, like trying to become a nobody before totally vanishing. But he was probably just trying to live out his life in peace, which you couldn’t hate him for. He was a mystery that you’d like to remain unsolved.

Mystery…

“Y/n another man went missing this weekend!” Your office-mate rushed in, her eyes wide as she pushed aside the door and ran over to you like a bat out of hell. “I can’t believe that it happened so soon!”

Her voice rang in your ears. Another? So soon? How interesting. You cleared your throat and put on your best look of concern, your tone matching hers.

“Oh my! Do you know if it has any sort of relevance to the other disappearances that have been happening around here?” You cocked your head to the side, your eyes wide in a display that you knew made you look repulsive. You hated it, but you figured you’d play along… for now, that is.

“That’s the thing.” She walked over and leaned against your desk. “The police still don’t know if any of them are remotely connected. But it seems to happen in some form of pattern.”

“A pattern?” You chuckle at the idea. “Now now, I think you’ve been reading too many true crime novels.” You tease her, and she huffs in response.

“Maybe. But don’t you think it’s odd? It’s just like those women who keep disappearing without a trace.” She sighed and you swear you heard something fall in the next room over. “Oh well. It’s time for my lunch break.” She waved and left the office, leaving you to your thoughts.

Great. If your officemate was able to notice the pattern, then you’d have to come up with something new. It didn’t matter how you did it, so long as you were able to continue your quaint lifestyle.

You felt a gentle tug from your pinky finger, and frowned when you saw the red string dangling off of it as your soulmate worked in his office. You had totally forgotten that your soulmate was working in the same building as you. Which wasn’t a bad thing, since you couldn’t stand him and all.

You remembered when you first found one another. It was right after you moved back to Morioh, and you had just been employed at Kame Yu. You had been delivering files to your coworkers when you ran into him.

Tall, blonde, and a total prick.

His eyes were glued to your hands, which you played off as ‘oh wow my soulmate works with me’, but he ignored it and continued on with his day like nothing happened.

Yoshikage Kira.

“Gross.” You scoffed and got up from your seat. You weren’t one for romance, but it always annoyed you that your literal soulmate had brushed you off so easily. In a way, it made you curious. Why didn’t he like you? Was he just as opposed to romance as you were? Or- and this was the big question- did he happen to have a similar hobby as you?

“Mister Kira.” You knocked on his office door, fighting the urge to cringe at the way his name rolled off your tongue.

He jumped, looking over his shoulder at you with wide eyes. He looked genuinely surprised, which was out of character for him. You saw him hide something in the pocket of his suit jacket before he fully turned around to meet your gaze.

“What do you want?” The question was laced with malice. It made you truly question what he was doing before you walked in. You thought about using your ability to get a better look at it, but you knew it was unwise. What if he was like you? Then you’d have to go through the trouble of getting your soulmate to keep your secret.

“I was wondering if you could help me out with the file you gave me yesterday, but it appears that you are quite busy.” Your tone showed off your suspicion like it was a trophy, and you could tell it made him nervous. “I apologize for the intrusion.” You bowed and left.

What was it with him? Was he plotting something??? Surely not. You were overthinking it. He was probably just a regular office worker who had gotten caught doing something other than work. It sounded reasonable, since he was doing his best to seem like a nobody.

You’ve got a lot of questions about why fate has set you up with someone as uninteresting as him, but there’s a few that stand out amongst the rest.

What was he hiding? And why was he going through such troubles to keep it hidden?

#basing this off of a dream I had but making it better #jojo’s bizarre adventure #x reader #kira yoshikage #yoshikage kira #yoshikage kira x reader #yoshikage kira smut #jjba smut #jjba x you #slow burn #red string of fate #red string au #soulmate au #jjba au

[velvetwyrme]

odd problems and arbitrary excuses.

(idle chatter under the cut because it's too long for tags)

does anyone else have this problem? of just... not posting things and then going "well damn!!! time to leave them to rot forever i guess!!" because i have so much art i havent posted here abfncbdmfhfk,, this is only a fraction >>"

(i am asking rhetorically, but if you have any thoughts, id love to hear them lol)

some of it i'm planning on posting soon-ish anyway (or eventually, since they have some plot relevance to FF) but others are just... kinda sitting in my drafts :[

i think some of the drawings have been there for....... uhhh- nearly a YEAR??? FHFKCNFKBFM??? OH. OKAY. I DIDN'T REALISE IT HAD BEEN THAT LONG... that was back when I was still updating EOVD!!!! AUAUIAHH... (also how on earth did i write/post all of EOVD in a MONTH??? HELLO?)

on one hand i really should just bite the bullet and post the art now/soon, but also i kind of want to rework some of the older stuff >:P maybe i'll see if i can redo them in time for EOVD's 1 year anniversary (!?) that could be fun :0?? ... i've got a lot on my plate this july but i think that's something i want to aim for maybe?

anyway!! im scheduling this to post while im hopefully asleep so i can't chicken out of posting this very post!!!!!! LMAO

#chatter

[pesterloglog]

Arquiusprite, Jane Crocker, Roxy Lalonde, John Egbert, Rose Lalonde, Rosesprite, Jaspersprite

Act 6, page 7583-7588

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Abra cafiddling dabra you silly shootnerds

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> My e%ceedingly STRONG work as the party's premier bodybuilding hacker is done

ARQUIUSPRITE: 🕶️--> Off I go

JANE: ...

ROXY: JANE!!!!!

ROXY: ur wake!

JANE: Roxy?????

JANE: U'r alive!

JANE: Er, you're!

ROXY: so are you!

ROXY: you were dead last time i saw you and also before i found u sleepin here but now ur awake and also alive!

JANE: Yeah!

JANE: You were dead too, because I...

JANE: But now you're??

JANE: Oh god, Roxy, I'm so sorry I,

JANE: I wasn't thinking straight when...

JANE: Please forgive me. :(

ROXY: aw janey you dont gotta worry about whatever sad incident that frowns about

ROXY: thats all water under a bridge from a reality i got no recollection of and therefore dont matter at all

ROXY: by which i mean......

ROXY: this reality here, so ok the reality is still KIND of relevant because we are literally inside of it atm

ROXY: but im new here!

ROXY: i came over to keep being roxy since the old one died or whatever thru hecka debacles

JANE: That... is quite an explanation!

JANE: Jeez, I missed you.

ROXY: cmere u extravagant bitch!!!

JANE: Hahah!

JANE: (Wait... what?)

JOHN: the hug pile doesn't stop from getting taller.

ROSE: ?

JOHN: the hug pile! there are more hugs, rose.

ROSE: I can see the hugs. I don't understand the pile thing.

JOHN: oh. don't you remember?

JOHN: a funny quote from one of dave's old comics!

ROSE: Ah. Yes, vaguely.

ROSE: It's been a long journey, John.

ROSE: I believe one of the most valuable lessons that comes with growing up is gaining the wisdom that gently informs you when it's time to retire a meme.

JOHN: heh...

JOHN: i guess i never earned that handy badge, or whatever.

JOHN: i like this, though. every time someone wakes up, or pops out of nowhere, it's fun times all over again.

JOHN: i feel like i should be playing reunion bingo.

JOHN: who will be next??

JOHN: my money is on the long awaited and insanely poignant reunion between me and casey the salamander.

ROSE: Surely you mean the dear Viceroy Bubbles Von Salamancer, right?

ROSE: And instead of you, you mean me.

ROSE: That's when the real tears will flow.

JOHN: what do you think she's up to?

ROSE: He.

JOHN: no, she is my beautiful daughter. :p

ROSESPRITE: Something tells me the good Viceroy has been busy.

ROSE: Oh?

ROSESPRITE: I sense he's been... scheming.

ROSESPRITE: Plotting.

ROSESPRITE: Biding his time.

ROSESPRITE: Accruing dark legions.

ROSE: That sure is a thing that would be dumb, if true.

ROSESPRITE: Yeah.

JOHN: hi nanna!

JOHN: jane, i mean.

JOHN: sorry, it's an easy mistake to make, because you're my nanna!

ROXY: lol

ROXY: real smooth shit john

JANE: Hello!

JANE: A pleasure to meet you, John. Or, poppop, as I used to know you.

JOHN: hehe, yeah so i heard!

JANE: You look so...

JANE: Young.

JOHN: thanks!

JOHN: so do you.

JOHN: my nanna, who used to be ashes on my fireplace, regained her old womanly visage when i turned her into a sprite, and she helped me along the way.

JOHN: so nanna is a sprite! did you know that?

JANE: Um... no?

JOHN: i thought you should know that. she's probably around somewhere. i hope you can meet her.

JOHN: oh, also, i'm your son technically. did you know that??

JANE: Yes.

JANE: It is... a pretty strange fact!

JANE: But also pretty cool.

JOHN: yup!

ROXY: ooh jane thats my daughter there say hi to her!!!

JANE: Hi!

ROSE: Hi, John's hot mom.

ROSE: (Aw shit.)

JANE: Haha...?

ROXY: also thats umm ANOTHER version of rose who died and then i buried and a stupid cat unburied her for some reason and prototyped her

ROXY: so say hello to my cool floaty double daughter!

JANE: Hi, Roxy's hot double daughter.

ROSESPRITE: :D

ROSESPRITE: (Rose Prime, I believe you may have just been owned.)

ROSE: (God damn Dave's contagious-ass Freudian boners.)

JANE: Wow, I feel so out of the loop! Sorry if I still seem disoriented from my... nap, I suppose it was?

JANE: Or impromptu troll-coma.

JANE: Roxy, you have to clue me in on what happened here! Where are Dirk and Jake?

JANE: And for that matter, John, where are your other friends? Oh, Jade! Where is she? Is she still asleep?

ROXY: hey janey that is all like a lot of stuff to say and everything goin on here is faaairly complicated and heavily peopled

ROXY: dont worry ill ease you into comprehending shit again ;)

ROXY: well ok cliff notes are: jake fucked off somewhere and dirk recently fucked off BACK here through a window but he left again pretty quick...

ROXY: dave went with dirk at wherever their fucking off too now, i think to get ready for some swords fightin, and yeah jade is still asleep but a coupla trolls lugged her off somewhere safe for now

ROXY: the REST of the junk im still sorting out myself bcs like i said im new to this exact plane of shenanigans

JANE: Yes, you mentioned that.

JANE: I still don't know what you meant by...

JANE: Wait!

JANE: You and John came from another reality, where everything went horribly, right?

ROXY: m-hmmm!

JANE: I just remembered. Really, it's been such a rollercoaster ride for my memory, since I fell asleep.

JANE: Your and John's travels were a critical part of the illustrated story we reconstructed through our memories with Callie.

ROXY: wat!

ROXY: you saw callie in your dreams????

JANE: I did!

ROXY: hoh man

ROXY: how is she!

ROXY: i saw her in a dream a little while ago and we talked about lots of stuff

ROXY: she looked like a troll then

JANE: Yes, her trollsona! She had hers on when I saw her.

JANE: And we had ours on too!

ROXY: :O FUCK

JANE: She seemed to be doing well.

JANE: Nervous, of course, since she was hiding. But we passed the time with our stories.

JANE: It was a lot of fun! I'm so happy I got to meet her.

JANE: I wonder if I'll ever get the chance again?

ROXY: wellll...

ROXY: now that u mention it

ROXY: it IS one of my chief objectives to go lookin for her asap

ROXY: aaand not to be THAT ROGUE n brag all heavy but i MAY be in better touch with my void powers now

ROXY: soo maybe i stand a p good chance of trackin her down?

ROXY: cus i GOT somethin for her

JANE: You do?? What? :B

ROXY: just a lil presie, nbd

JANE: ...

JANE: I see.

ROXY: JK IT IS CRUCIAL FUKKIN BLING JANEY

ROXY: ONE (1) PRICELESS DIGIT DONUT!!!

ROXY: W/ MORE KARATS THAN A RABBIT TOO FAT FOR A HOLE

ROXY: (s'magic to)

JANE: WOW!!!!!!!!!!

JANE: Ahem, so,

JANE: You mean a ring, then.

JOHN: yeah!

JOHN: oh man, that's a great idea roxy.

JOHN: you should try and give it to her as soon as you can!

JOHN: then maybe we can all meet her before we ramp up for this battle?

ROXY: hmm yeh!

ROXY: u think i can do it?

JOHN: sure!

ROSE: I like your chances too.

ROSESPRITE: Same!

JASPERSPRITE: Me too roxy! :3

ROSE: I also have some experience helping people along in the right direction, when it comes to navigating the abyss.

ROSE: Maybe I could assist?

ROXY: yeah maybe!

ROSESPRITE: I'm pretty sure I have experience performing literally the exact same task, in a slightly different context.

ROSESPRITE: So maybe I can double assist?

JOHN: see roxy? everyone thinks you should do it, because they all believe in you.

JANE: That's right!

ROXY: shucks fuckers ._.

ROXY: yall killin me here <3

JASPERSPRITE: Meow im so happy!

ROXY: frigglish u silly bastard whats up?

JASPERSPRITE: Purr purr purr...

JASPERSPRITE: All the humans being so close together and happy and friendly purr purr.

JASPERSPRITE: Its making me really excited and happy too and making me feel like i want to be a part of everything!

JASPERSPRITE: Purr purr and get close to a nearby person and be happy at them with my body purrrr...

ROSESPRITE: Jaspers, what are you...

JASPERSPRITE: I cant help it rose i want to cuddle im feeling so pleased and friendly! :3 :3 :3

ROSESPRITE: Jaspers, no,

ROSESPRITE: No, don't!

ROSESPRITE: JASPERS, NOOOOO!

JASPERSPRITE: :3 purrrrrrr

#homestuck #arquiusprite #jane crocker #roxy lalonde #john egbert #rose lalonde #rosesprite #jaspersprite #homestuck act 6 #page 7583 #page 7584 #page 7585 #page 7586 #page 7587 #page 7588 #homestuck act 6 act 6 #homestuck act 6 act 6 intermission 5

[oplopy1234]

WAP? more like, WASP (insect) lmao because yknow, vespids!! wait that song isnt relevant anymore? it just came out what. three years?? three fucking years ago????

damn uhh ok i can fix this i can fix this its ok i can save the post uhhhh *looks at top 40* uhhhhhhh. *quietly to themself* these are songs people actually listen to? these are real songs? i don,t know any of these this has to be an op uhghghhh ummmmm

Flowers? uhh more like. flowers that give yum nectar for, wasp ? no thats no good

Die For You? more like. wait no its bees that die when they sting uhh more like,, thats what i would do if wasp (?) if was p in danger save them give my life thats worse. i can do this i can make a relevant joke i swear

Chemical? thats like, bugs have those. fuck

Last Night? i was thinking about wasp s then i can prove it i have evidence see

see im not a fuckin liar this still sucks. next one

Thank God? yeah, thank god for. wasps. icant do this

Waffloe House. This isnt a real song. theres no way, top 40 charting billboard hits Unised State is a liar. i thought the jonas broterhs like. died or something. they still exist ?w ho listens to this. I. these are real songs???? im living in a baby nightmare fantasy land like famous pyro te ef to. fuck everything

wasp house. i give up. fuck you

#rambling #wasps #ive literally never heard of any of these songs are they even real #do people actually listen to them or are they just put on a list by billionaire investors who put their money into ressurecting dead people #what the fuck man

[fox-mulder-gets-pegged]

Pls tell us more about ur house foster ducklings au. Literally anything bc I'll eat up anything about this au

🥺🥺🥺 anon I'd die for you.

(here's the foster ducklings au post for reference)

So this au starts around season one-ish and the background plot is p much the same except it's not rly relevant since it's about the foster ducklings and not medicine and it's sped up a bit so it's not over the course of years. Except the season two finale, when that guy shoots House.

This is where the timeline starts to diverge, bc Chase, Thirteen, and Kutner are visiting in the office when the gunman shows up. Somehow (still working on it) they manage to get the gun away from the guy before House is shot. And bc House is never shot, his leg never gets temporarily better, and his addiction doesn't get as bad as it did in season 3 since he isn't afraid of the pain coming back bc it never left.

And then in season three, Tritter comes sniffing around and he's still a major asshole and Wilson doesn't make his deal with the devil bc House isn't spiralling like he was in the canon timeline and also Wilson doesn't want House to lose his kids, but House and Wilson still fight about the faking prescriptions part. This does all culminate in House still having his overdose except, you guessed it, the kids find House choking on his own vomit instead of Wilson finding him.

So House ends up in the hospital, and has this like. Hopeless realization that he's not good for the kids and he should let them go. So he agrees to let them be removed and it's fuckin devastating bc the kids loved and trusted him and he overdosed on his drugs and sent them away and now they're being split up and it's all super emotional.

And House is his bitter self for awhile until Cuddy talks some sense into him about fixing his own damn problems for once. So House basically speedruns his sobriety arc from the later seasons and petitions and fights and bitches until he gets the chance to get his kids back. But only if they want to come back.

And House is like well I'm fucked they're not gonna want anything to do with me. And he's right that they're pissed at him. Chase watched his mother drink herself to death, Thirteen's dad put her in foster care and she lost contact with her brother, and Kutner of course saw his parents die in front of him. So the incident was super triggering for all of them. And worse than that, he left them. He sent them away with no warning and barely a goodbye.

But they love the cranky old fuck. And that doesn't just go away. And they somehow believe him when he says he's sorry and wants to try again. So they agree to come home, even Chase who's 18 now and a legal adult with his trust fund his parents left and could tell House to fuck off. They all move back in and it isn't always smooth sailing, but they're family and that's what matters the most.

#house md #foster ducklings au #ooough thank u anon for letting me dump about my au #hand in marriage #anonymous

[manonamora-if]

Project Status and Plans

All projects and their relevant links are listed here or here.

2023 Resolutions:

Get things off my desk and shelf it for good.

Avoid starting new ones, or at least starting new WIPs

Continue to do Word Crimes (and maybe Code Crimes)

Under the break:

Project Status and Current To-Do's

Future Projects

/ . /

Project Status and Current To-Do's:

Meeting the Parents

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

Crimson Rose & White Lily

Hiatus - Correct bugs - Redesign the Codexes - Complete Scene 5 (and Scene 2 variations?)

Exquisite Cadaver

Hiatus - Fix UI - QoL update of textbox and translated text - Add missing scenes and Endings - Fix Endless Mode - Look into French localization (unlikely) - Fix the blog

SPS Iron Hammer

Complete Future: remaster with complete story and gameplay

The Thick Table Tavern

Complete - Update Planned - Fix UI (look into mobile scaling) - Fix coding bugs (esp. Arcade Mode) - Re-writes of current text - Add missing storylets - Include recurring characters

The Trials and Tribulations of Edward Harcourt

Work In Progress - dependent on writer - Complete next round of edit and code - Package as a completed product

La Petite Mort

Completed - Update in the Works - Fix UI - Add missing rooms, content and endings - Correct the Inventory Mechanic - Fix display of elements - Translate into English

Goncharov Escapes!

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

P-Rix - Space Trucker

Hiatus - Fix animations (esp text) and autoscrolling - Add the missing content - Look into French localization

DOL-OS

Remaster Completed - Maintenance when needed

The Rye in the Dark City

Hiatus - Fix UI - Double check Act 1 and fix errors - Add Act 2 and 3

The Roads not Taken

Complete - Update Planned - Iron-out the UI + display element - Fix parser gameplay (esp direction) - Add missing element/actions - Look into French localization

Entre-d’œufs coquilles An Eggscellent Preparation

Complete - Update Planned - Fix current bugs and issues (wrong text display and main puzzle) - Retranslate to French - Repackage into one page - Upload to IF Archive + GitHub

The Dinner

Complete - Update Planned - Complete missing courses and Final Beat - Add alternative options + rewind endings - Look into French localization

Templates and Guides

Work In Progress - unlikely to be complete - SugarCube Guide: add missing APIs, commonly used blocks of code, functionality, UI changes, JavaScript code; fix some small errors, add SGDocu theme - Templates: make more for fun; planned: title page. Also add the missing pictures of the templates on itch.

Complete - nothing will change here - Tweego Guide - CScript to SugarCube Guide

Tiny Games

Le Jeu de la Dévotion: fix the typos + English translation

À La Campagne

Collision

Intersigne

Clarence Street, 14

Other To-Do's

Prompts: put them in separate collection

Empty Inbox

Re-design itch pages: consistent style between main games

Re-format Tumblr intro posts: consistent style between posts

Continue to Host Jams

Continue to Play and Review Games

Take care of those damn wrists and hands.

Future Projects

Those projects are TBD in everything. They would probably start then the above To-Do has decreased. The titles are WIP titles. This is not the complete list I have hidden in a drawer or other desk bunnies. They might not be Twine games, or IF games either...

Quest Town

A RPG-style adventure, where you play as a beginner adventurer on the road to greatness and treasure. Along the way, you encounter people needing your help, with promise of rewards in return.

This would include a leveling system, inventory system, combat gameplay, travelling back and forth between location, storylets...

Project Status: Not Started

IFComp/SpringThing 2024-5?

A puzzle-focus escape-room, in hypertext/visually interactive form. Multiple rooms with different puzzle and interconnectedness. Story with mystery.

I technically have a title for it, and the pun is still making me giggle. But keeping this in my sleeve.

Project Status: Mock-up, some puzzles coded.

CRWL Side-quel

A Razac-focused story, either as a prequel, during the event of the games, sequel, or plain alternate universe. Mainly because I've been playing him in a TTRPG session and he's a fun character I want to explore further.

Project Status: Not Started

Sword Vigilante F/F Rivalry

Because there are not enough of those, and I can just go all in with the humour, camp, gushing, innuendos and puns, and of course... betraaaaayyyaals. Think Zorro but with more sword ladies.

Project Status: Not Started

TTTT Sequel - Bron(m?)'s Quest

Essentially a similar gameplay from TTTT but with food instead of drinks. Help Brom(n?) prepare food for the customers.

Project Status: Not Started

#this is replacing the old Project Status post #and will be updated once in a while #project status #so many of them #I don't think there are enough tags for all of them now... #manonamora

[fatherentropy]

Entropy's guide to Final Fantasy XIV

Just a handy dandy little guide for no reason because you literally don't need a guide to play the game and be happy but I keep seeing misconceptions about it and they're driving me UP THE GODS BE DAMNED WALL so here we ARE

FINAL FANTASY XIV WAS ORIGINALLY RELEASED IN 2010

AND IT SUCKED

There's a ton of different series based on the absolute shenanigry that was involved in FFXIV 1.x but the important part is that most of the development team were either fired or moved to other departments and were replaced by the current Producer; Yoshi-P and his team. They tried rehabilitating the game as is but it became increasingly apparent they were going to have to do something drastic so they shut the game down and completely redid it. Keeping in mind that Square Enix was not doing well financially at the time, this means their budget was not very big and it shows from time to time.

2.x otherwise known as A Realm Reborn, is a completely redone base game. Over the past couple of years the devs have done a lot to improve the base game for longevity reasons but it's still kind of awkward and a bit of a slog. Be patient, dick around, honestly I do recommend playing around on the Free Trial unless you know you're going to be playing awhile because it isn't time gated so you can go at your own pace (You just can't exceed a certain level or quest at the end of the first expac; Heavensward, and you have a TON of content you can access despite being a trial.)

Still a lot of people just do not like ARR (or subsequently the expac Stormblood) and this brings me to my next point

2. THERE ARE "JUMP BOOSTS" SOLD IN THE STORE TO SKIP STORY AND CLASS LEVELS

If you're new to the game dO 👏 NOT 👏 FUCKING 👏 USE 👏THESE 👏!!! Even if you aren't interested in the story, the game is training you for the mechanics that come in later in the game.

You'll see it time and again where a WoW streamer or someone will come in and try FFXIV but they'll treat it like their old mmo and say it's a terrible game but you'll watch their streams and they're standing in twelve AOEs and refusing to do mechanics shouting about the healers being terrible. The game is SPECIFICALLY DESIGNED so that you have to do mechanics and not stand in shit. If you get one hit by a AoE Marker in end game every other person was trained to avoid from the beginning of the game, idk what you want them to do tbqh!!!

3. AT THE END OF THE DAY FFXIV IS A FINAL FANTASY GAME

The focus of this game is story and will always be story. Unlike western games that all decided cutscenes were bad for some reason, you will literally be inundated with them. Not all of them are voiced. That is a lot of reading. Pace yourself.

There are different story arcs (expansions) but the story of Final Fantasy XIV is one continuous story from beginning to end and it references past events all the time because it's still relevant. The devs try really hard to make sure old unexplained questions get addressed and their attention to detail is pretty great. We literally just had one of our mysteries of base game explained but also maybe with a tie in for future content.

FFXIV has been described as being one of the best single player MMO experiences and that's getting truer all the time. Devs are only a couple dungeons away from having made every single dungeon you are required to do for story available to complete using NPC teammates instead of real people.*

Our Raids have story and cutscenes. Our non required dungeons got story and cutscenes. If you're not interested in story you probably shouldn't be playing this game. We do have a raiding scene and FFXIV has probably one of the lowest entries into raiding so it's easy to get into but it's not going to be the WoW Raiding scene other people are used to.

Also stop complaining about the unskippable cutscenes that show up in very select dungeons. They are Like That™ because old players used to kick new players for trying to watch them because they're trying to speedrun. It's a thing we all gotta struggle through because of people without empathy.

If you don't have time for things to go bad, don't run that content.

*this doesn't include Trials which are big boss fights but when you realize NPCs can't do more than one (1) mechanic at a time you begin to realize why there's exactly one trial they can do in the entire goddamn game.

4. WESTERN AND ASIAN FANTASY ARE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS

I keep seeing people scoff at Asian fantasy because it's not what they're used to in fantasy like GoT or tES but idek why they're compared?? Final Fantasy is inspired by dungeons & dragons, sure, but it's also inspired by shit like

S T A R W A R S

I'm not even remotely joking about that. Once you realize that it becomes more apparent the more you look. 80s Star Wars was HUGE in Japan. As my sibling says, it's not really a Final Fantasy game unless you end up in space for some reason.

This is ofc not even mentioning that the values and cultural infuences of different European countries tend to be different from one another let alone fucking JAPAN at the other end of the world.

Some weird and wild shit happens in the game that you wouldn't see in your typical Western fantasy stories but to be quite honest some of the complaints I see against Asian anything is quite frankly Racist. (If you have had the notion that Asian things are just worse than Western stuff then I may have news for you!) I would just try and come at it thinking it's an entirely different genre than try and force it to be something it just isn't nor should be.

I might add more to this as the salt takes me but!! I've said my piece... for now.

#this might just be an excuse to rant about some stupid shit I've seen #but also like y'know... I am passionate about one (1) game #it's probably the undiagnosed adhd or whatever I got going on

[klonoadreams]

Is scarnoa gonna do all 3 paths? Of so which ones does she prioritize?

Oooh, that's actually an interesting question -let me go on a long ass rambling because this is all relevant (I'm honest i'm totally normal about this lmao)

So the thing about this, is that the most OPTIMAL path, is to go in a specific order based on levels.

Katy is the first one you should typically start with, before trekking over yonder to the east.

Scarnoa doesn't have any specific priority beyond the Gym Badges (though do keep in mind that she DOES get distracted often, so oops), but uhh, I will be tweaking things so that she ends up having more reason why she keeps going all over the place. She went first with Katy after taking a detour and ending up in the marsh that Arven found her at (because she was looking for FLAMIGO), because he was looking for a Pokemon to take down Klawf - he can't fight them with a Skwovet, lmao, but then got a call for Arven afterwards (since he was training up that Shellder he caught), and decided "OKAY!!!" and boom, Titan down. Checks map "Oh, gym is near, let's go!!"

by the by, in case anyone needs a confirmation of where you can catch Shellder:

You can find some in the area by that marsh where Flamigo like to pop up. How did Scarnoa end up there so early???

girlbossed (backwards jump LETS GOO jk jk) too hard and ended up someplace she wasn't supposed to be so early (Arven isn't supposed to be there, but obviously, we have to admit that he has SOME badges to ensure that the Pokemon he catches don't start disobeying him - some of them DO give him issues, but it's not so bad as it WOULD"VE been WITHOUT the badges. I like to think of these things as being strength checks that make POkemon go "yeah, I'm down following you, let's go kick ass")

Wins another badge, gets a call from Arven AGAIN, who is most likely far too eager by now, because something changed with his Mabosstiff, so Scarnoa is ON THE WAY (forgetting that she can mcfucking call a taxi vhfelkjbvklfb), anyways Arven's just "what the fuck, that was like five days ago, WHERE WERE YOU I THOUGHT YOU DIED"

(an exaggeration, but it's concerning that she wasn't answering his texts. First thinks its his rotom being a brat - no, Scarnoa just spoils her Rotom too much)

(but also, Arven has LITERALLY had to fish her out of the mud when their paths crossed in that marsh - literally just saw her fall face first like SPLAT, while her Koraidon watches with a guilty look on their face - he now questions her self preservation skills)

because her Rotom kept leaving her phone to eat food - they got distracted by Mesagoza food on the way back to the west gate. Also Scarnoa keeps forgetting she has a dorm, so it's the outdoors life for most of them (They OBVIOUSLY have rest stops scattered throughout the place, around the Pokemon Centers, where you can shower and just wash clothes vhejkvhf jSHHHH)

anyways after ghosting Arven for five days straight, BOOM, big birdy down and then Cassiopeia, getting impatient because every so often, they check on Scarnoa, and she's like...either eating dirt because she SUCKS at stopping on Koraidon or just GETTING DISTRACTED BY FOOD, GOD DAMN HOW MUCH DO YOU EAT.

And just, "You're by this Team Star Base, if you want access to your social media accounts to continue shitposting your misadventures, you got a week to kick that boss's ass"

Scarnoa: Lmao, okay.

She goes over a week anyways because she kept getting distracted and sleeping in. But she still makes it to the base. Cassiopeia has to try harder after that, because now that she KNOWS Scarnoa's Rotom Phone is like SUPER casual after getting spoiled to all hell, she needs to try different tactics. Like "no more wifi for you if you don't make it here - don't make me do it"

and while Scarnoa WOULD forget, her Rotom Phone won't and will start picking up the pace lmaooo.

Anyways Cassiopeia has to literally REMIND Scarnoa that there is a Team Star base by one of the fly points she has registered to her phone, and tells her to use it "PLEASE, for your own sake too."

Anyways that's Scarnoa's first experience with the Squawkabilly Taxi and while unpleasant, she got to pet the birds :V

And while going straight to Mela WOULD be her top priority, Scarnoa got distracted, lost (literally cannot read a fucking map) and ended up in Levincia, where she's all "oh hey, a gym."

Cassiopeia (*cough*Penny*cough) eating ramen in her room, just catching up on anime, when she gets notifications that Iono is streaming another Gym Battle and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

anyways badge get, Scarnoa's getting popular, with Cassiopeia immediately seeing some red flags and QUICKLY moderating her followers on SIGHT. (SHE NEEDS SCARNOA DAMMIT)

Anyways Clive's the one who drags Scarnoa to Mela that time. Which is hilarious. But also, "Please, I beg of you - TAKE HER TO THIS BASE. She keeps getting LOST."

And oops, Cassiopeia's a little late there, because Clavell was out and about, and after seeing Scarnoa get her third gym badge, after taking down Giacomo, he's like "alright you, that's enough hooky for you. Time to go back to school."

Cassiopeia wondering why they don't just give Scarnoa the equivalent of zoom classes that she's taking. Anyways, as soon as Scarnoa is mcfucking done with her remedial classes, and stuff, her ass is back to Mela and that is REALLY when Arven calls up again, so TIME TO TAKE DOWN A WORM.

And the hilarious thing is, Scarnoa was going to book it IMMEDIATELY to Atticus, but Cassiopeia went "HELL NO, GET ANOTEHR BADGE - idk, Kofu or some shit. Atticus will literally kick your teeth in."

meanwhile Nemona's just dropping by every so often for a battle, somewhat intrigued that Scarnoa is taking the recommended path instead of doing what she did, and strong arming her way through everything and that's how Kofu was her second badge right after Katy...and how Larry ended up as her third badge. :V (she got Brassius and Iono afterwards, and somehow, by chance, she corrected her path with Ryme, Tulip, and Grusha after getting a tip from Geeta, seeing as she has HEARD from Larry about his unconventional challenger)

Nemona: You sure do know your stuff about the recommended path!!

Scarnoa: The what.

(fun fact, I ended up in Tulip's area completely by chance after I was on a fucking around and collecting items spree and oop)

Anyways, again - Scarnoa's priority is badges, but she keeps getting yanked from one place to the next. Eventually, she does start prioritizing Titans at some point, but she then uses her badges to ensure she's strong enough to go into areas that were giving her difficulty...after some "gentle persuasion" from Cassiopeia too, helping her out in that sense because Scarnoa is NOWHERE near ready to take on any of the bosses after Atticus.

(keep in mind, Scarnoa rarely loses, and when she loses, she usually gets her shit kicked in if it's against Wild Pokemon, like Koraidon HAS had to pick her up and GTFO out of there)

(even Arven has to convince her otherwise, since they got their shit kicked in by Tatsugiri and Dondozo)

(he is still very touched that she wants to help him, but his heart honestly can't take anymore risks after one of them NEARLY drowned - Tatsugiri/Dondozo is a deadly duo :V)

#ask #pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet spoilers #pokemon scarlet and violet #arven #penny #nemona #no manches (fanfic) #scarnoa (oc) #headcanons abound #scarnoa is literally the benny hill theme and spanish fly #just nyooming around on her shenanigans #feel free to ask me about scarnoa