#( I hope you don't mind me throwing this at you. )

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: What starts off as a regular Spring Break attending Wrestlemania for Alana, takes an unexpected turn, landing her in a fantasy come to life. The Tribal Chief is in need of unwinding after his victory and he chose her.

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

Warnings: NSFW // Smut // Age gap // Profanity // Adultery

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

A/N: This took way longer than it should've, but I'm actually proud of myself for finishing. Y'all don't know how many times I've started writing something in the past and never finish. There's drafts of unfinished everything on my laptop.

This is my first time posting my writing on any platform. I hope y'all like it. I tried to proofread as much as I can, but I'm honestly tired of reading it lol. I feel like I'm going to realize its shit and delete it all.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

“Yeah, probably,” I respond to my roommate Demi, only half as concerned as she is. The Usos are the last thing on my mind. They’re her choice of poison. I’m here for one man and one man only.

I survey the crowd of strangers surrounding us. All in Bloodline gear waiting for the same thing. The Main Event. They all probably spent a fortune months ago just to be in the very same spot she and I stole tickets for.

It wasn’t on purpose. We originally had nosebleeds. We were lucky to even have those, seeing as we snagged them just days ago. The frail older man outside the doors waving a chunk of tickets in his hand, was an angel in disguise. He waved and waved until two tickets went flying into the thick crowd of people all pushing to just get into the main doors of the building. 

Demi and I searched on hands and feet for those tickets that no one else seemed to be looking for. Imagine our disbelief seeing them all dirtied and stepped on by the door and they read floor seats. Not just any floor seats. The ones located directly next to the entrance ramp with a clear shot of the ring. Fucking jackpot.

don’t be acting all fanned out when he walks by either

I smirk reading the text my brother sent. Yeah, right. Maybe three years ago, a young Alana would’ve woke up tomorrow morning with no voice from losing my shit, watching the Roman Reigns walk by me. But it's not five years ago. I’m not a teenager in my room waiting at the TV with my golden glove on, throwing my one’s up and giving an acknowledgment he couldn’t even see. 

Who am I fooling? That teenage girl, although buried deep, still lives within me. Otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. I wouldn’t have spent the two thousand my dad gave me to enjoy my spring break on a plane ticket to LA, a hotel and tickets to Wrestle-mania 39. I’d be like the rest of the Juniors at my university. Bar hopping in Mexico or in Miami half naked strutting down Collins Ave.

I go back and forth between scrolling on my phone, daydreaming, and loosely watching the matches that come. Before I know it, the moment I’ve been waiting for all night and damn near all my life rises to the forefront.

The lights dim and the first beats of the drums ring loud throughout the stadium, matching the acceleration of my heartbeat. This is really happening. He’s about to come out and walk right past me. Everyone around me pulls their phones out on the ready, accompanied by a roar of screams just as loud as the orchestra performing his music. 

Too concentred on the entry way anticipating his figure, I forget I even have a phone. No, I need to feel this thoroughly. No middle man between me and this unforgettable experience.

We all wait in collaborative angst until his tall figure emerges and my breath gets caught in my throat. The aura and the energy he carries is all consuming, demanding the attention of every person present, even his haters. Solo and Paul flank behind him following his slow and steady pace until he comes to a hard stop. 

The cameraman is dangerously close as he kneels to catch him from an angle down below. This is so surreal. On cue his pyro lights fire, upping the excitement from the crowd if even possible. Everyone is already losing their minds. Even Demi’s screams threatened to take out my right eardrum despite her main infatuation resting with the Usos.

His mesmerizing eyes scan the crowd with a slight nod of approval and then they land on…me? Time stills and I can’t hear the noise around me. Was he staring at me? 

As much as I want to look around for confirmation that his eyes are indeed locked on me, I’m hypnotized. The slight scrunch of his brows and his dark pupils paralyze me in place. Jesus, Lana. Move. Smile. Wave. Shit, do something.

He’s fucking beautiful. Carved from stone. Kissed by the sun. Hair wet and hanging. Ula Fala draping perfectly around his neck. Full beard with a hint of greying. And his chest. God, his chest. His abs rippled perfectly. I’m scared to even blink, at the risk that I’ll miss something.

A thick pink tongue slithers out over his lips and I heat up from the inside out. My god.

In a flash he looks onward to the ring on the move again and the world returns to its original state. 

I turn to face Demi whose eyes are wide like a saucer. “Biiiitch,” she drags out and we break into a fit of laughter.

“Okay, so I’m not bugging?” My brows dent. 

“No. No, I saw it too,” she assures me. “That man was definitely eye fucking you.” My face heats replaying the scene back in my head. “That was so surreal. He’s so much bigger in person…” Her voice trails off once I get lost in my thoughts watching him hold his titles up in the center of the ring. He moves like a king. Like everywhere he goes he expects everyone to bow gracefully and fall at his feet. It makes him even more attractive than just what the eyes can reach. Fuck me. This is going to be a long night.

Demi got her wish. The Usos came out but their stunt didn’t last too long due to an appearance from Sami and Kevin. Somehow, Roman still took home the win. Still the champion. Still on top. Still the man.

The whole match, I could only half way focus on him and his god-like figure moving about in the ring. The other half of me was still stuck in the moment we shared during his entrance. Was he really staring at me?

Call me delusional, but I swear he looked at me two more times. Once during the match, when he kicked out at the last second of Cody’s pin. He struggled to his knees and rested back on his heels to scan the crowd. He stumbled to his feet, but not before those eyes bore a hole into mine for a quick second. Then again, when he won. He held up his titles, chest heaving up and down, then he looked my way with a squint.

“I can’t believe he still won,” Demi practically has to yell as we ease our way through the crowd to leave. “I was sure it was game over when Sami gave him the boot.”

Simultaneously we push through the back entrance doors and let them slam behind us. The slightly chilly night air of April hitting. No more screams. No more crowds. But the rush and aura of the night still lingers on us.

“My man doesn’t take L’s,” I tell her matter-of-factly with my chin up.

“I see,” she laughs.

We were smart. We took an Uber and told him to let us out from almost three blocks away. We follow that same pattern now to avoid the rush and traffic of everybody trying to leave at once. Towards the opposite way of the parking lot, away from the crowds, we start our journey to a quiet block to call the Uber. 

“Wanna hit it?” Demi extends her hand that holds a lit blunt in between her fingers. I shake my head.

“How the hell did you even get that thing in?”

“Tampon,” she informs before pulling from it. Of course. She’s been sneaking weed into parties that way since we were freshmen.

“Excuse me! Ladies!” An authoritative calls from behind causing us both to stop in our tracks. I know that voice. “Excuse me!”

Demi and I lock eyes and at once we do a complete one-eighty to find him practically chasing us down.

“What the fuck?” I hear Demi murmur before he stops in front of us winded.

“Ladies,” he offers one firm nod. “My name is—’’

“Paul Heyman,” we finish for him in unison. 

A smug smile adorns his chubby face. “That’s right.” He holds a hand out and we both just stare at it for a while. After several seconds of an awkward and shocking silence, Demi abruptly shakes his hand and I follow her lead, still trying to make sense of this moment.

“I’ve been sent to relay a message. The Tribal Chief has requested your services for tonight.”

“Services?” The line between Demi’s thoughts and what comes out of her mouth has always been very blurred.

“Yes,” he confirms. In unison we turn just our heads to each other with equal expressions of confusion and disbelief. “You see, The Tribal Chief likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road from time to time.”

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

“Especially on nights like tonight. You know?” I raise a brow. “All the adrenaline, excitement, and energy from tonight’s match. It's good for him to uh… blow off some steam and unwind.”

I lose count of how many times Demi and I have to exchange looks tonight. Since I’ve met her we’ve always spoke a nonverbal language only we understand. A subtle head nod in the direction of a cute boy in the room, an eye roll when somebody says something problematic, or wide eyes when someone spills tea that we know we’ll have to debrief about later. Tonight, our eyes dance in a mutual agreement that can’t be any clearer. “Hell yeah,” I speak for the first time. 

Demi tosses the lit blunt and we both advance to follow him. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Just you.”

“Me?” I ask with a finger to my chest. He grins slyly nodding.

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

“I’ll need an answer now. Gotta get you to his bus before the real crowd emerges. There’s a few things you need to sign.” Sign? Oh god. This is getting serious.

“M—maybe this is a mix up. Are you sure he asked for me—”

“Bitch.” I’m interrupted by a firm push from Demi toward Paul. My eyes meet her wide ones that scream, “go.”

I look between the both of them. “You’ll be fine getting to the hotel?” I’m not all the way certain how tonight will go, but I have a feeling I won’t be seeing her until tomorrow.

“Girl, don’t worry about me. I’ll always get where I’m going. I should be the last thing on your mind.”

“We can wait until her Uber comes?” I eye Paul who eyes his watch briefly.

“Sure.”

So we wait in silence. The whole time, I bounce the idea of just saying never mind and pussying out, back and forth like tennis. Reading my mind, Demi would eye me and mouth “don’t you dare.” So many things can go wrong. I’m not even entirely sure I know what the hell Paul is talking about. Company? Services? It could mean so many things. Does he want to talk? A massage? Am I going to just sit there on his lap while he watches TV? What if he’s one of those foot guys? Is he going to touch himself while I sit there barefoot? Oh god, please don’t have a foot fetish.

With the exception of tonight, I’ve only ever seen him through a screen. Playing a character. I don’t know him. That’s the reality of it. Am I really about to follow a stranger, Paul Heyman, to accompany another strange man?

After checking that she has the right Uber and sensing she will be safe alone with him, I let her hand go. She gives me one final look before I let her shut the car door. “Make him remember you, bitch.”

Like a farmer leading its cattle to slaughter, I follow him as he leads me up the steep steps of the bus. A pit of something stirs in my stomach the deeper we walk. Equal parts angst and doom. Like the end of something and the beginning at the same time. We pass the driver’s seat. The floors are a shiny mahogany wood, matching the cabinets of the kitchen area we end up in. Although small, it feels grand. Definitely doesn’t seem like a space this chic belongs in a bus trailer. I guess only the best for the best.

In the midst of admiring the space, I look over to see Paul shuffling some papers around.

“Alright! So I’ll need you to sign this.” He separates one stack from the main one and slides a pen out for me. “Just something that says we’re not responsible for any items lost, damaged, or anything like that.” Everything in me screams to read the thick stack thoroughly before I dare sign my name on the dotted line. I do it anyway, because who even has time for that? Paul is already moving about like he has somewhere to be.

“And this here,” he pushes the signed paper out the way and slides another stack in its place. This one much thicker than the former. I raise a brow. “Don’t worry. It's just a non-disclosure. Nothing discussed, seen, or heard after you sign can be shared with any other persons.”

I look for the expiration date of the legal document and don’t find one. I search and my eyes land on the word indefinitely.

“Indefinitely, huh?” I think deeply about what I am about to agree to. I would only even want to tell Demi and a few other girls from our bookclub maybe that watch WWE. My eyes land on the seven figure lawsuit terms if the NDA is breached. I weigh my options. Spill tea and get fined or secretly get intimate with the man of my dreams…

The pen is smooth as it glides along the dotted line and I cap it before handing it back over to Paul. “Perfect.” He takes it and reorganizes the papers. I blow out a breath looking around again. There’s a grey curtain blocking off the rest of the bus, which I assume holds a bedroom of some sort and a bathroom.

“Is he already here?” I lean to try and get a peak of whats beyond the curtain.

“Nope. He’s doing a bit of press and wrapping some things up backstage. You’ll wait for him here. The driver is inside the building. Probably won’t be back until late tonight. Roman should be back soon.”

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

“Totally up to you. I’m sure you and him will figure it out. It’s not like him to spend the night alone though.”

In that moment it becomes clear what I am here to do. My heart lurches at the thought of just sharing a bed and possibly cuddling with him. His big muscular arms wrapped around me. The heat of his breath on the back of my neck and the hardness of his di—

“This wasn’t on the NDA you just signed, but,” he held his hand out between us. “I’m gonna need that phone before I leave.” Of course. I almost change my mind. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back as soon as it's all over. Definitely before you leave.”

Fuck it. I retrieve my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and he gladly takes it. I don’t need it anyhow. I can’t imagine being in the presence of him anyway and my phone stealing the show. I would forget I even had one.

It's not long before he’s packing everything up, preparing to leave me. A small part doesn’t want him to go. He served as sort of a comfort. Truth be told, my heart is in my ass.

He pulls the curtain back to reveal a chic bedroom set up. If I didn't know any better, I would think we are in a five star hotel and not a bus trailer. 

Everything is a sleek grey with undertones of black. Glossy black wood dresser chest and a matching nightstand. Black wood bed frame and headboard. I run my hand along the dark grey duvet thats just as soft as it looks. 

“I’ll be on my way. You’ll probably see me tomorrow or later tonight. If not someone else will give the phone back.” He waves my phone and turns, but not before pulling the curtain back to close.

I’m all alone now. Theres a flat screen mounted opposite the bed, but the noise won’t do anything but make me more anxious. I want to be able to hear everything going on.

I have the weird urge to go through his suitcase I see sitting upright by the wall. I shake the thought away knowing it's an invasion of privacy. I opt to go through the dresser chest instead. Its empty. I guess he didn’t get a chance to  unpack.

I turn and rest my butt on it, crossing my arms. Minutes go by, and what seems like an hour passes before I hear movement outside the bus. Deep voices talking and then I hear heavy steps heading my way. I straighten up. No, too formal. I sit on the bed legs crossed. No, what am I? An escort?

I stand again and take my original place leaning on the edge of the dresser, just in time for the curtain to pull back. The sight of his large stature so much closer to me than he was in the arena takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me and walks right by me to his suitcase. Then he’s in the bathroom. The sound of him peeing is loud followed by water running. 

Big, tan and burly, he emerges again. He moves with power just oozing off of him, with an authority that just screamed, “I’m in charge.” It's not just a ring persona. Thats just him.

My eyes never leave his tall frame maneuvering around the small space as if I’m not even standing here. He kicks the Jordans off his feet to slip into his slides. His Nike hoodie comes off next and he tosses it on the small loveseat in the corner. His big and cut arms now in full view.

He relieves himself of the contents in his pants pockets. Wallet, keys, some loose change, and a small folded paper all fall on the dresser. He stops for a moment holding out his left hand. He twists the black band off his ring finger and places it in the drawer instead of on top of the dresser with the rest of his things.

Our eyes snag and I immediately shift my attention to my fingers. Twisting and untwisting. Picking at the acrylic on my nails. Anything but looking him in the eye after witnessing that. It's not too late to change my mind. I can stop this. I should, but do I really want to?

The sound of his slides lets me know he’s on the move again. I find him by a minibar area I hadn’t noticed earlier. 

“Is it cold in here?” His deep voice cuts through the silence. It's then I notice I was holding and rubbing my arms as if I was cold. So, he is paying me some kind of attention. Truth is, I’m just trying to keep the goosebumps from a slight panic attack at bay.

“No, it's fine.”

“You feeling alright?” He twists slightly with a raised brow. Probably trying to figure out why I haven’t moved an inch since he walked in here. He’s so calm and cool. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the calmer he is, the more anxious I grow.

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

“Yeah—yes,” I correct myself and clear my throat. I don’t know when it became so damn dry.

I was speaking to his back. The muscles still making themselves known even through the fabric of his black tee. Hair sleeked back into his signature bun. My eyes trail down to his ass. For a man, he has a nice one. I image how he’d look with nothing. The intimacy of him walking around with absolutely nothing on. The afterglow of sex on him. Rock hard abs and tribal tattoo as his only decoration. His manhood swinging freely, semi-hard even after just laying serious wood—

“Then I assume you know why you’re here,” his deep voice cuts my nasty daydream short. 

I can hear him maneuvering glass, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing over his big frame. I was too shell shocked to move too much, afraid I might wake up from this fever dream.

“I do,” I answer him. 

If my father knew when he gave his only daughter, his princess, money to enjoy her spring break, that she’d end up alone in the bus of a man who was over ten years her senior, the money would’ve never made it into my hand in the first place. I’m sure this isn’t what he had in mind, but truly this was the best way a young girl could enjoy spring break. An unexpected encounter with an older and wealthier man. My idol. I watched him on TV for years. Gawked at the screen. Liked thousands of edits on Tiktok and Instagram. Dreams of this very moment knowing it couldn’t possibly ever come true. And now here he was. Big in stature and energy right here in front of me. Talking to me. 

Hell yeah, I know what I’m here to do. Even if he didn’t utter a single word and just stripped and nodded to the bed, I’d still get the job done with no shame. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t?

I can hear them now. But he’s married. He has a family. He’s old enough to be your father. They just won’t understand. Demi would. Demi would get it. She always gets it and she always gets me. Having lost her father and sister in a car crash just weeks before moving into the dorms for college, taught her that life was indeed too short. Live freely and take risk, because you don’t know when you won’t be able to. Shit, we’re all gonna die anyway. That’s the mantra she lives by. She’s different and that’s why I attached myself to her. She’s not like everybody else who lives like they’ve already walked the steps to heaven.

This was a more than seldom, once in a lifetime opportunity. I’d think about this night when I’m grey and depleting on my deathbed. I won’t let my head play tricks on me with the opinions of anyone who would do the same thing put in my position. 

It's silent again. I hear liquid being poured for a second. I wonder if Demi made it back to the hotel okay. She’s probably blowing up my phone with a thousand texts trying to figure out whats going on.

So deep in my thoughts I don’t realize he’s making his way to me until he’s right here already. I have to look up to meet his gaze as he stares down at me over the bridge of his nose. He’s so big. He smells divine. It's a masculine type of musk with a cleanliness to it. My breath gets caught in my throat, realizing exactly how close we are. Our shoes were just shy of an inch from touching. My chest rises and falls in anticipation of his next move. 

Without any words, he holds a glass filled with brown liquid out closer to me. I look down at it with just my eyes. I’ve only been twenty-one for two weeks. Didn’t even get the opportunity to sit at a bar so a man could offer me a drink before trying to sleep with me. Who would’ve thought the first offering would come from him. Roman Reigns. Just at that thought, something in me ignited.

I took it, with the intention meaning more than just accepting the drink. I’m accepting the situation. Drawing a line in the sand and disposing of any doubt if there even was any left. I’m doing this. All complications pushed to the back. Tonight he’s not Joe Anoa’i, the married man with five kids. He’s Roman Reigns, undisputed WWE Universal Champion, The Tribal Chief, Main Eventer, Head of the Table…And I’m his biggest fan.

I throw the contents of the glass back, trying my hardest not to make a face from the burning sensation. He gets it down in one big gulp, putting me to shame, as I can’t help watching his Adam’s apple bob up and then down. He’s still just inches from me. I can see every hair on his beard. The slight greying ones are my favorite.

It's so weird seeing him in this state. So lax in his own space. No ring gear. No mean scowl. No Ula Fala around his neck. No championship belt around his waist. Just him. Black tee and sweats to match.

He takes the glass back and places them both behind me on the dresser top. Without warning, he’s on me. His tongue shoves past my lips saying to hell with formalities. No warm up. Straight to business.

“Mm,” I groan from shock. My natural instinct from being so caught off guard is to create some space, but a firm hand gripping the base of my neck keeps me in place.

He immediately asserts dominance, caressing every part of my body his hands can reach like he owns it. My neck, my shoulders, my back, and all the way down to my ass with a firm squeeze that separates my pussy lips. All the while still assaulting my mouth with his warm tongue. The tang of the alcohol still lingering. I fight for some control in the kiss but it's no use. He’s too much for me.

Everywhere his strong hands make contact, it leaves a spark until my whole body feels like it's on fire. Damn, that drink was strong. He pulls away from the kiss completely after one last soft, open mouthed peck. Like a magnet, my eyes find the thick bulge in his black sweats and I grow even more excited. 

He drops to his knees in front of me and my breath hitches when his cold fingertips find their way up my shirt. A trail of kisses with a slight tickle from his beard follow up and up until I raise my arms for him to take the shirt off completely.

He’s back on his feet, turning me so my back is facing him. My breathing grows erratic. This is really happening. 

“Lights,” his voice rumbles behind me. The bright lights turn off but there's little lamps set up in the small space allowing a cast bright enough to see still.

The black lace bra I wear is unhooked in a matter of seconds. Who knew when I put it on this morning, that Roman Reigns himself would be taking it off come night. With a firm grip on my hips he turns me back to face him. 

Being well endowed up top from such a young age, my natural instinct is to cover myself. I always thought they were a bit big for my body. Standing at five foot seven, I was only one hundred and fifty pounds. A lot of my weight being carried up top from these double D’s. When all the girls in middle school were just filling in, I was a full D cup. I noticed how boys would stare. Older men too. It would make me uncomfortable. Always thinking of ways to cover them or make them appear smaller.

Avoiding eye contact is useless. His eyes are like magnets. Like the sun. Just beaming down on me, making them impossible to evade. So I stare back at him. We stay like this for a while. Just watching one another in silence. The air is smoky with lust and pure ecstasy. 

His hands cover mine and slowly drag them down to reveal my breast. Round, surprisingly perky, with fully erect chocolate nipples, creating a contrast to my caramel complexion. They steal the show as his eyes shoot to them immediately while he breathes deep from his nose. 

I can feel his energy shift from passionate to pure animalistic. When his entire mouth covers one nipple, I lose all my sense. My head rolls back and instinctively I bring a hand to the back of his head. A rough hand cups and caresses my breast while he’s still latched on. I watch in awe as his thick tongue sticks out to flick and play with it before sucking again.

He’s expertly unbuttoning my jeans with his other hand as I feel the snag of him trying to pull them down. I step out of my shoes to help him and reveal the black thong I am not even accustomed to wearing. I’m more of a a boy shorts or Walmart pack panties kind of girl. I just so happen to have forgotten to pack them and had to borrow a pair from Demi. 

Bending down must be uncomfortable, since he grips the back of my knees to hike me up like I  weigh absolutely nothing. He gives more attention to my chest, sucking until my nipples are sore, before his tongue is in my mouth exploring again. We’re moving now, I assume towards the bed. With every step, his erection rubs against me leaving me clenching and needy.

My back meets the unbelievably soft bed. I practically sink into it, watching him rear back to remove his shirt and show off that god-like body. Mountains and valleys of muscle in his abdomen placed perfectly like someone sculpted him with their bare hands. His bun hangs a little looser now.

His long fingers loop the waistband of my panties and we lock eyes. His stare is intense saying what his lips didn’t. I nod once. I’m doing this.

Almost in slow motion he pulls them down my legs, his eyes not leaving mine until the very last second. His attention is stolen by the sight of me down there.

“You’re soaking.” He uses the butt of his thumb to circle my clit. I jump slightly at the sudden contact. “That’s all for me?” He locks eyes with me again, expecting an answer and all I can do is nod frantically while biting down hard on my bottom lip. I can’t keep still. My body is on fire under his touch and his gaze. Eyes dark with passion, he squints watching me squirm every time he speeds the rhythm of his thumb up or down.

“Fuck,” I move my hips to the rhythm of his hand and grab one of my breast.

His thick tongue snakes out to lick his pink lips like he did earlier in the arena and I almost cum on sight. I look on in shock watching how he licks his thumb clean like he just ate Doritos and he’s discarding the remnants of them. A small groan of pleasure leaves his throat. I must be dreaming.

Climbing off the bed hastily, he tugs his pants and red briefs down at once and his dick pops up on recoil. My pussy clenches around nothing in anticipation for her next guest. Long, thick and tanned just like the rest of him. Mouthwatering. I never had the urge to taste something so bad in my life.

I can tell there’s no time for that though. He’s anxious now. I can feel the heat and need radiating off his body as if his stiff, vein-filled dick didn’t already tell on him.

With a tight grip on my ankle, he flips me over abruptly. Of course. Missionary would’ve been way too intimate for the circumstances.

On instinct I get up on all fours, deepening the arch to an almost painful degree so the view is nice for him. A smack so hard I jerk forward a bit, lets me know he’s satisfied with what he sees.

“All this ass,” he mumbles rubbing my behind in circles and even giving it a little shake. 

He runs his long fingers up and down the slickness with ease. A groan leaves my throat as I grow impatient. I know I should want this to last as long as humanly possible, but I can’t fight this storm inside of me. I’ve wondered too long about it, daydreamed about it, and even touched myself in imagination before at the thought of this man I only knew through a TV screen.

I sway back and forth slightly waiting and listening to the sound of a wrapper and a slight pop. I have no time to prepare. The bed dips with the weight of him back on it. His thick head is at my opening, rubbing from my clit to almost my asshole. He only does this three good times before I’m practically ripped apart.

“Ouu!” A mix of a moan and something I’ve never heard from myself fills the room. He roughly takes the hand I thought I would use to push him and pins it behind me.

My throat goes dry. God damn. He’s fucking huge and unforgiving. Even with the slow pace he’s pushing into me combined with my wetness, it still feels like he’s breaking me apart from the inside out. 

“Breathe,” he coaches. If possible a gush of wetness rushes out from the sound of his voice, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I have to make it work for him. 

I bite down on the expensive grey covers as he pulls completely out and then back in. “Mm!” 

He finds his rhythm, as he’s able to glide in and out. I try to match him once the pain subsides. I glance back to catch his full bottom lip caught between his teeth. The muscles in his chest working as a sheen of sweat starts to form.

I work harder now. The sight of him turning me on more than ever, opening me up like a wildflower. 

“Let me hear you. I wanna hear you,” he grunts out almost desperately. The vulnerability in his rough voice drawing more heat and wetness from my core. I moan louder than I intended and shock myself. I’m not usually verbal in bed. Maybe a little cry or whimper here and there. This shit feels too good to be demure and delicate about. 

I obey his order and release the moan that I didn’t even know I’m suppressing. It's not forced or fabricated. I genuinely feel so good in this moment I can only moan in response. 

His strokes are primal. Animalistic like a lion in the wild taking whats his. And he’s so fucking big. In aura and size. The ways his body envelopes mine makes me feel smaller than I really am. His thickness stretching me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

“Oh, fuck!” I yell out. His hand tangles in my hair and stretches my gaze up, giving him full view of my desperate face.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he demands. 

“Oh my god,” I pant. “It's so fucking good,” I struggle to get out. Every thrust steals my breath. He aims for the perfect spot every time and doesn’t miss. The smack of our bodies colliding ring loud in the silent space.

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

“I can feel you everywhere. You feel so good! Unh!”

“Atta girl.” The rumble of his voice sends a vibration straight to my core. My pussy clenches down from his words. To add insult to injury, a large and slightly calloused hand finds its way up my stomach to cup my breast. He pinches, twists and rolls my nipple around like he’s playing with a toy. As if my pussy isn’t becoming dangerously wetter already.

He removes the hold in my hair, trailing to my hip. His thumb presses down hard while guiding me back and forth on him. He gives me his all and I return the favor, using the unstable grip I have on the duvet to leverage me as I throw my ass back on him to catch.

The friction of his balls slapping sloppily against my clit built up enough pressure for a pending orgasm. With one strong hand still on my hip, he uses his free one to shove my face down to the bed making me lose any power I had in this fight.

His front collides with my ass, causing a consistent slapping. Anyone walking on the bus could easily tell whats going on now. His grunts, my pants, the consistent slapping. These were sounds of fucking. 

“Fuck me! Yesss!” I don’t recognize myself. He’s awakening something in me. A familiar tinging stirs in the pit of my stomach. If he keeps on, it won’t be long until I explode all over his thick dick.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

He goes harder than ever before, his strokes less uniform and more wild. My mouth falls wide open at the intensity and perfect mix of pain and pleasure.

His hips continue to snap against me and if possible I feel him grow harder inside me. His fingertips dig into me so hard I know there’ll be bruises tomorrow. 

“Urghh!” A guttural moan erupts from him, urging me to fuck him through his release even as his movements slow. I study his facial expressions and record them in my brain to take home with me as a souvenir. He stretches his neck with eyes shut tightly. That fucking tongue. Whisking out to flatten over his top lip before he bites down on his bottom one. Chest heaving up and down with the muscles in his abdomen flexing with every breath. 

“So fucking good,” he says more to himself. He delivers another hard spank to my ass before I feel him ease out of me, hissing slightly at the sudden disconnect and absence of him. The pit of my stomach heavy still with the lingering orgasm that was cut short. 

I’ve had sex with guys before and never got to finish. I’d leave unsatisfied and almost regretting the encounter completely. This is different. I’m here for him. I’d fulfill his needs and drain him even if it meant I left with nothing but a wet ass. 

The bed creaks a little, letting me know he got up completely. Just when I think the night is over, my mouth falls open at the sensation of his hot mouth covering my entire pussy. His tongue slithers out to graze my distended clit.

“Mm, shit,” I cry out, shaking. I’m so sensitive. Any little sensation sends my body into overdrive. Every lick draws a mini release. When I finally get to the edge I know I’ll fall completely apart. The hair from his beard tickles me, only heightening the sensations. I feel nothing but pure pleasure.

A strong hand comes down on my left ass cheek and I whimper on impact. He squeezes it in a firm gip to move me up and down in a steady rhythm on his flattened tongue.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” I cry. I let my head hang down unable to keep it up any longer. All I can do, feel, and think about in this moments is how good he feels to me. Guys my age always need a crash course on how to eat pussy. Always too much spit, they couldn’t find my clit, or the torturous shaking of the head like a rabid dog.

Roman is eating me like I’m his last meal. Touching spots I didn’t even know a tongue could reach. With the way he’s grabbing me and rocking me on his stiff tongue, he’s damn near fucking me with it. We’re two complete strangers. The power dynamic is completely off. He’s the billionaire WWE superstar and I’m the underpaid and overworked fan in college. Somehow he’s still taking the time to worship my body and give me his all as if he’s the one who has something to prove. 

The dick was mind-blowing. Oh, but the head will be the death of me. That same tongue he wags and flicks on live television, exploring me. Tonight is an absolute fairytale. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he could read my mind. He knows exactly what I want and how I want it.

In only a matter of seconds a tornado of heat swirls in my core. I rock back and forth on his mouth before he sucks relentlessly on my sensitive bud nonstop.

“Unnhh!” An uncontrollable shake erupts from me as I see stars. The world goes completely blank for a while as I relish in the ecstasy of my orgasm granted by the Tribal Chief himself. Tonight, I acknowledge him and his mouth.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in between pants coming to my senses. A small laugh leaves my throat at the way I just lost myself in front of him.

I turn to find him in the middle of snatching the cream covered condom off. His big dick bobs up and down from the snatch, fully erect again. 

We got one night only.

Like a lioness on the prowl in the jungle, I eye him, crawling to the edge of the king bed where he stands. I stop just in front where my mouth aligns to his thickness, still eyeing him, making sure it's okay. He nods giving me the green light and even holds the base in his strong hand to bring it closer to my lips.

I let a glob of spit form and fall freely on his thick mushroom tip. Before it can drip, I catch it on the underside and lick from tip to base, to the tip again. His hips push forward impatiently. 

“Open.” It's not a question so I don’t test him. His face is hard, but his eyes are desperate. As soon as my lips part he shoves himself all the way in like he owns my entire mouth. He draws out and I hallow my cheeks to keep it in as long as possible until I release him with a pop. 

“Stick your tongue out for me.” I oblige and he slides his heavy dick across it gathering spit before pushing back down my mouth. A pulse grows in my clit again. A revival from seeing the remains of the mess I made in his thick beard.

“It's so good,” I tell him while slapping it on my tongue for him, earning a groan. The skin of him is soft as he stretches my mouth. I can taste the salty precum and I cant wait for the rest of it. I never trusted a man to release his bodily fluids in me in any way. It kind of grossed me out. Oh, but not tonight. He can release wherever he chooses.

Using one hand to twist in tandem with sucking him, I study every change in his expression, every pattern of his breath to record what feels the best to him.

“Go ‘head,” he urges in a low guttural tone. “Just like that. Take it all the way down. Don’t stop, babygirl.” That’s all I need to hear. 

The eye contact is so deep it puts me in a trance. In a constant and fluid motion I take him in and out, making sure he reaches the back of my throat every time. In and out. In and out. In and out. The sounds of spit and his heavy breathing take charge of the room.

His body stiffens a bit and I can feel him get harder on my tongue. Deliberately I take him as far as possible and stay there until I make myself choke. The contracting of my throat around his thick head sends him completely off the rails. He breaks our bubble, throwing his head back to the ceiling.

“Mmm. Aw fuck!” A strong hand grabs a fistful of my hair, making it impossible for me to move.  Thick ropes of his warm cum shoot down my throat and all around my mouth. “Ahh,” he groans out with a hiss jerking his hips forward a few good times. “Oh my god,” he blows out a heavy breath and lets his hands rest on his hips. 

I’ve made dean’s list, honor roll all throughout high school, medals of all kind from track decorate the walls of my bedroom in my parents’ house. None of those accomplishments compare to the sight I just witnessed. The Roman Reign’s spent and sexually exhausted because of little ole me.

“Let me see,” he whispers while watching me suck the last of it out. I open wide and stick my tongue out so he can see his cum on it. His massive dick jumps at the sight. I feel the warmth of some of it seeping out and running down my chin.

“Don’t move,” he instructs. Like his obedient soldier I stay put, only looking around with one good eye. The other shut tight so none of his cum could invade it.

When he emerges again, he has a wet cloth in hand. Gently but still firm he wipes my face clean of him and my tears that slipped from the intensity of choking. Who knew the Tribal Chief is into aftercare?

A squeal escapes me from being lifted into the air and over his broad shoulder. I’m hanging as he moves us about. There’s no way that any of this is happening. 

The shower starts to run. Even upside down I can see the marble walls and waterfall shower head raining down.

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

“No,” I strain to get out with his shoulder digging into my stomach. He chuckles so softly, I would’ve missed it if I couldn’t feel it from being on him. 

He fucks me for hours in the shower. My back against the wall. In the air. Face against the tiles. On all fours again. I guess older men carry more stamina. The water cascaded from up top on us both while we locked tongues passionately, breathing in each other’s air. 

He was in control the whole time. He flipped me every way he wanted me to go. Told me what to do, never asking. I’m left a wet, quivering mess at the end of it all.

I don’t realize how exhausted I am until he asks if I want to stay the night. I think about getting dressed and leaving, but the bed is impossibly plush and the sight of him naked still is impossibly sexy. Even better than I imagined.

I threw cuddling out the window once I seen his stoic nature and how he moved about earlier like this was just a business deal. He lays in the bed, still naked on his back with muscular arms slightly stretched. I lay on my stomach beside him trying to get comfortable. My heart thumps out my chest knowing he’s still here with me and so accessible. We literally just violated each other in the nastiest way possible and now we lay in bed not even touching.

His heavy breaths and light snore fill the room in no time creating a sort of white noise for me descend to. 

Some time in the middle of the night, I don know how, but those light snores ended up right in my ear. His breath hot on top of my head, accompanied by a very heavy arm over my hip. 

My heart smiled and my face caught fire. It was so intimate. Undeniably my favorite part of the night. I shifted as quietly as I possibly could, inch by inch, until I was facing him. His bun fell completely apart, leaving his dried and fluffy curls cascading over his shoulders and the plush pillows. I make out what I can in the dark of his sharp features. I never seen him so relaxed. In the ring he’s always tense, always painted with tyranny and stress, but not right now. He almost looked like an angel.

I make a mental image of him. This is exactly how I want to remember him— how I want to remember this unpredictable night. This is the part that even if I could tell it, I don’t think anyone would even believe me. Burying my face into his chest, I breathe deep, trying to imprint his smell into my brain like ink on the skin. 

The loud voices of men I don’t recognize, serve as my alarm clock. Eyes still shut, flashes of the night before and the soreness of my body, warp me back to reality. Oh, shit.

I shoot up from the pillow to scan the room, keeping the covers close to my naked chest. His suitcase still stood in the corner, but there’s no trace of him. No water running. His slides are gone. The thick curtain shields me from the rest of the bus.

6:07 AM flashes on the digital clock of the now cleared nightstand. 

It's not like I was expecting this grand goodbye. The man didn’t even say hello to begin with. I thought I could at least see him one last good time before I leave LA for good.

I attempt to rise up, but something crinkling under my palm stops me. I grab the sheet of notepad paper and rub my eyes before reading the contents of it.

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

Short and simple. In the corner, two cursive R’s as a signature. I neatly fold the paper and drop it into the pocket of my jeans I find folded on the chest dresser. I want that paper with me everywhere I go. A small piece of the whole experience. A subtle reminder of the best night of my life.

Every part of me wants to feel bad. How could I let him just use me for his needs for a night and then discard me like it was nothing? I should feel low. Cheap. But thats not even the kind of girl I am. The glass is always half full to me. Last night was arguably the best night of my young life. I’ve never known such adventure. I never felt more free—more like a woman.

I flop down in my bed still in a daze from the events of last weekend. Demi had a million and one questions. The NDA kept me from spilling. Even if I could’ve given her a play by play of how the night went, I don’t think I would’ve. Demi and I have the kind of bond thats void of any secrets. But that night with him was so special to me, I want to keep it for myself. Something for just me and him. It makes it more magical when only we know what happened. I just want to soak and bathe in it all. 

Light as a feather I stare at my ceiling, letting the flashbacks corrupt me. The feel of his soft skin. The smell of him. His grunts and pants. His hands caressing and gripping my ass. The warmth of his tongue filling my mouth. I blow out a breath getting worked up again. I’ve touched myself countless times since that night to the memory of his voice and his energy. He was just so damn good. So much man and dominance, but still gentle and cautious. 

After we touched back down in New York, it was back to reality. But that didn’t stop me from walking on a cloud. You can’t tell me shit. I fucked the Roman Reigns. Drained him and swallowed the aftermath. How’s that for a spring break?

It's currently Thursday. Almost a week has passed since the greatest night of my young life. I just got back from the gym with Demi. She’s pressed me every single day since that night, but I won’t budge. The confines of the NDA keeping me stronger than I normally would be. 

Tomorrow is Smackdown at the Garden, but it's unclear if Roman will even be in attendance. He takes so many hiatuses it's really a hit or miss with him. Demi asked if we should go, but I declined not wanting to spend the money I didn’t have just for him not to even show.

A sudden dread came over me knowing that he couldn’t possibly be thinking of me even half as much as I’ve thought of him. He’s overridden my mind. I’ve obsessed over every little detail and played it back a thousand times, while he doesn’t even know my name. 

Paul said it himself. He likes the comfort of company while he’s on the road. All the times he has to travel for work, cameras in his face nonstop, and body aching from all the physical exhaustion, I’m sure he always has to release the tension somehow. I’m just one of many. 

I knew that going into it. I know I’m not special, but I tried my hardest to be. I did what I could to make him remember me. Constant eye contact, carrying out his every command, throwing this ass back as hard as I could and sucking the soul out of him.

A violent buzz of my phone snaps me out of my daze. I feel for it on the covers. My eyebrows dent at the message notification from a number I don’t recognize, causing me to unlock it.

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

Sorry for that long ass disclaimer lol. It’s a shame I even have to include that, but I literally watched a girl argue with an author on here about promoting adultery and cheating simply because a character was cheating. Like, it’s a story?? It’s a fictional character?? Don't read it??

If you read it or even just parts of it, I really am appreciative. Pls like or reblog. Feedback is greatly appreciated. Please remember I am an artist…and I’m sensitive about my shit lol 💋

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[genderqueerdykes]

coming out as a trans man saved my life.

i was so fucking depressed before i found out what the concept of transgenderism was. forced on to estrogen & progesterone as an intersex teenager to try to "fix" my intersex variation, i was the most miserable i had ever been in my life. changes were happening to my body that i didn't want. i was a miserable wreck who hated my body, hated how i sounded, hated how people saw and addressed me, hated the expectations people placed on my body... everything. i felt like a stranger in my own body. i felt like i was speaking with someone else's voice. everything felt wrong. i was constantly uncomfortable, ready to claw my skin off at any moment. a deep, agonizing, howling pain right in my fucking soul that i couldn't soothe no matter what i did.

finding out that i wasn't forced to stay trapped in my body the way it was, and that i wasn't obligated to continue being addressed by terms that made me feel like i was dying inside literally gave me a new lease on life. i went from hating literally everything to suddenly buzzing with energy, realizing that i could take my life into my hands and change it for the better. for the first time in my entire life, i had hope for the future. the prospect of starting testosterone HRT and stopping the estrogen/prog ... it gave me a rush of emotions unlike anything else i had ever felt. hormones i actually wanted. changes to my body i actually wanted. i felt ALIVE. i saw something i actually wanted deep in my heart and soul for the first time in my life and i reached out and i grabbed it as fast and as hard as i could. and i never let go.

i had something to look forward to. i could finally let my facial hair grow out without judgment. i could finally dress the way i wanted to. i could finally use names and pronouns that felt like mine. yes you can do these things as a cis woman- but that wasn't working for me. pretending that i was "cis"- a dubious concept for myself as an intersex person- no longer worked for me. i couldn't keep up the lie anymore. and not having to felt like throwing off a heavy blanket that was smothering me.

i finally saw light. i could finally breathe. i finally felt like i was in my own body. trans manhood is liberating. trans manhood is empowering. trans manhood is fulfilling. trans manhood is an act of creation, bringing your life and your body and your mind into your hands and doing what you know is right for you. i will never feel shame for this part of myself. it literally saved my life. and if you're a trans man, too, coming out or acknowledging it can save you too. trans manhood is a blessing. don't you ever let anyone tell you it is anything else but that.

i will never go back into the closet.

[suiana]

yandere! officer who holds a rather high rank in the military. he's proud of it too! i mean, it's the 1800s. how many men do you know that hold the rank of an an officer? and a high ranked one too at that! not many, that's for sure.

yandere! officer who's ALSO your childhood friend. how convenient is that, huh? you would hate it if he was also your fiancé, huh? 😂😂😂 i mean, what an absolute COINCIDENCE that would be... oh yeah, did i mention he was the one who proposed marriage? not your father, not his father. him.

"father, must i really get married to him? he's just my friend!" yet, your words fall on deaf ears as your father merely lets out a sigh and shakes his head. damn it, there's no getting through to him. it's like he's already made up his mind. "I've already told you, he's a good man to marry. you should be happy that such a noble man wants you." yeah, noble status. that's all there is, huh? it's not like you can say anything though. you're just the child of a small no name noble, who are you to reject someone who's highly respected in the military? but hey, at the very least it's your childhood friend that you're close with. you're sure that he just wants your friendship out of this. it's not like he's madly in love with you or anything...

yandere! officer who's definitely in love with you. you don't even have to be a genius to know that, just looking at him will tell anyone and everyone that he's madly enamoured. and as always, everyone but you knows it.

"you love me?" your breath hitches, eyes widening as you feel a warm flush creep up your cheeks. no way... he... likes you? your childhood best friend who's been showing obvious signs of a crush ever since the two of you were kids? "yes... i would think that was obvious by now." his words are flat, face deadpanning at you. despite the exasperation in his tone, his eyes are soft and the corner of his lips are upturned. "you are the only one in my heart, mein leibling."

yandere! officer that has a different side he shows to others and one reserved specifically for you. he only ever bears his heart and soul to you, his future spouse. he could care less for others, you come first and foremost. sure he might have pledged allegiance to the nation but you're his one and only. he'd betray the country if it's for you, throw away everything he's worked for just to make you happy.

yandere! officer who has discovered your... apreciation for his uniform. he finds it interesting to say the least. oh, so you think he looks attractive? he doesn't get what's so good looking about his uniform but he'll gladly wear it more often if you like it so much.

"schatz, i need to change out of my uniform-" "just give me a minute..." your fiancé could only look down in silence as you stared intensely at his attire. you're doing it again. he doesn't even know what you're doing, just staring at his uniform with your pretty eyes and serious expression. he thinks you're appreciating him but he's not quite sure. you never say anything after all. all you do is simply stare quietly. you don't even as much as touch him! "you can... touch, y'know? you don't need to just stare." he sure hopes you do. what he'd give to feel your hands on him... and he's pretty sure you want to touch him too. or maybe you want him to touch you? "can i?" "of course you can. we are to be married anyway." "nah... i think I'll just... look..." man. looks like he's going to be just standing here for a while, huh? oh well, as long as you're happy. it's not like he has anything better to do anyway.

[katsu2ji]

fool for you — m. fushiguro

a/n: i love writing megumi as a cheesy lovesick idiot fool because he IS a cheesy lovesick idiot fool. an oblivious one, at that.

megumi didn't even intend to make a joke. he was being completely serious, talking in that deadpan, monotone voice that everyone around him was all too familiar with. he was talking about gojo, of course—he'd done something stupid, yet again.

despite his intentions (or rather, lack thereof), you thought what he said was funny. he was surprised when he heard you laugh; it was a sound that made him turn his head to the source of the noise, his face a mixture of flustered and confused.

"what? what did i do?" he asked, his eyes wide. he looked over your facial features, committing them all to memory without him even consciously thinking about it. christ, you looked—

"no, it's nothing," you answered, smiling at the boy. "it's just the way you said that just now was funny. sorry, i hope you didn't think i was laughing at you."

he was silent for a few seconds before realizing you had spoken; he blinked, coming back to himself.

god, what was going on with him? he was fine two seconds ago, but now he couldn't even look you in the eye. his stomach was doing some odd thing; he felt like he was simultaneously going to throw up and some, strange, other feeling that he wasn't sure how to describe.

"oh—no, i didn't think you were laughing at me. i just..." he paused, looking for his train of thought, "i didn't think what i said was very funny but, um—"

he mentally cursed himself, feeling like an idiot. why the hell couldn't he speak? why couldn't he look at you?

this had been happening a lot recently—the stuttering over his words, being unable to make eye contact you at certain moments—and with the way it's making him act, he wasn't sure if this an avenue he wanted to keep going down.

he took a breath, feeling his cheeks get hot. he ignored the it as he finished his sentence, "i'm glad i was able to make you laugh, i guess?"

jesus, he probably looked like an moron.

later, as he closed his eyes for bed, he couldn't stop thinking about that exchange. never in his life had he felt like he'd made such a complete and utter fool of himself, but he couldn't figure out why it bothered him so much. and that bothered him even more.

he replayed your laugh in his head over and over, the sound turning over in his mind like a lullaby in a music box. he wasn't sure why the thought of your laughing, the look on your face as you did so, struck him as much as it did.

and that wasn't the first time that had happened when it came to you, either, he reminded himself; there had been other moments when you'd done something that stirred up mysterious feelings inside him, like that one time you grabbed his hand to pull him along somewhere, or when you had slumped over on the train and fallen asleep on his shoulder. his mind was spinning now, keeping him from sleep.

what was it about you? everytime you done something or said something that he had found particularly...endearing...he felt the same feelings that he felt today: the warming of his cheeks, his stomach feeling like it was doing somersaults, his words tripping over his tongue. what was happening? why was he acting so unlike himself? why was he acting so—

his eyes shot open as he pieced everything together.

"oh god," he whispered to himself in the dark, staring up at the ceiling wide eyed and awake. as it finally settled into him why he'd been acting like so stupid around you lately, so completely out of character, he threw his hand up over his face and took a deep, loud breath.

oh god, he thought, repeating himself. i'm fucked.

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

[dchuntress]

Subject: Re: Extension Request

Hi Madi,

I had your sister in my class two years ago. Samantha O'Reilly was sharp, determined, and never backed down when she knew she was right. She believed in Gotham and its ability to get better in a way that, frankly, inspired me. I remember helping her with her essay for college applications, and I knew then if anybody was going to revolutionize Gotham's healthcare, it was her.

It hurts to hear that she's gone missing. But I do not believe that Scarecrow has the power to change her, to take away who she really is. She may be manipulated, she may be roped into his schemes, but she isn't lost, my dear. She is in trouble. And those are not the same thing.

She needs us to believe in her more than ever. And I need you to have faith in yourself, too.

Take the extension. Take all the time you need to cope and focus. If doing schoolwork gives you something steady to hold onto, then do what you need to do. But by no means think that you need to prove something by burning yourself out, Madi. You are brilliant and dedicated, and you don't need me or my opinions to know that. Your well-being comes first.

If Scarecrow is recruiting, then he is expanding, and I need you and your family to stay far away from his radar at all times. Keep your routines unpredictable and your location private. Stay with people you trust and be wary of anybody new who take an interest in you. If anything ever feels off — strangers watching you, cryptic messages, odd delivers, friends going missing — let me know immediately.

Scarecrow preys on fear, but he cannot really destroy you, Sam, or anybody else in this city. Not in a way that matters, as long as we remain steadfast even in our nightmares and our uncertainty. I understand how helpless this feels, and I don't have the right to tell you not to feel that way. The trajectory of your lives may have changed irreversibly, and things might not be the same.

But what I will tell you is that the love you have for Samantha is far more powerful than whatever Scarecrow throws in her way. Don't give up on your sister, Madi.

And do not, even for one second, think you are alone in this: you are not. Sam has people looking out for her, you have people looking out for you. You have me in your corner, by your side, always.

So, do not hesitate to reach out for anything. I mean that, Madison. Take care of yourself.

All my love,

Helena

Huntress doesn't care that that by now Scarecrow is intimately familiar with what makes her tick, what makes her crack, what makes her falter. She doesn't care how fortified his lair is; numerous lackeys ready to launch into bloodshed in an instant, the air reeking with gases and chemicals threatening to send Huntress spiralling down, breaking down, hesitating. She doesn't hesitate. Helena's spent weeks tearing through Scarecrow's operations — destroying labs, cutting off supply chains, thinking she was making a dent. And still, here they are. Another name added to the list of Gotham's stolen, neglected, forgotten. Another bright mind warped into something ugly. All that Huntress cares about right now is getting Sam out of there and back home in one piece, alive and breathing. She doesn't care if Madison's sister is already brainwashed beyond recognition, if she might resist at every step of the way out. That's a problem for later — for Oracle, for Batman, for Zatanna, for anybody to undo. Huntress' job is extraction. Making sure there's someone still left to save. Huntress doesn't care how deep into the darkness Scarecrow has dragged Samantha. She's pulling her out.

—

Subject: Re: Interview With The CatWoman

Hi Ananya,

Well, of course, you would be the one to track down Catwoman and persuade her to do an interview. I'm not all surprised, and I am perhaps a teensy tiny bit impressed.

I must admit, this is not what I was expecting. And I do hope you're staying safe, young lady, I'm not thrilled that you got that close to such a volatile situation. But I understand how these things unfold.

That being said, you showed great initiative and quick thinking. You saw someone who made a real, tangible impact on your surroundings, and you found an unconventional yet necessary perspective into your work. That is the heart of analysis and good storytelling.

No signature? No problem. I'm obviously not going to ask you to chase down her just for an autograph and risk getting clawed. And let's be honest, Ms Catwoman doesn't strike me as someone who enjoys leaving paper trail behind. Some people let their actions speak for them.

And that’s the thing, isn't it? The point of this assignment isn't to necessarily scout out a well-known superhero, but to find someone who makes a difference, someone who helps out. You don't need a badge, a title, or anybody's permission to do the right thing — you just do it.

Your interview was solid, and I’ve given you a good grade. Take a look at my feedback in the attached scan when you get the chance, though — there are a few areas that could use some refining. You’ve got a great story here, kid. Let’s make sure it's told right.

Nice work. Stay safe.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

[ Attachment: I_Interview_Catwoman_scan.pdf ]

The fire escape isn't the most comfortable perch, but it gives her a decent vantage point. And it's a good enough spot to read Ananya's work thoroughly, annotate, and get a glimpse of a side of Selina Kyle that Huntress doesn't see much. The side that steps in, the side that doesn't let drug dealers get away with thinking they can take advantage of young minds, the side that answers a bubbly, young teenager's questions with warmth, charisma, and a signature flair that's uniquely, intriguingly hers. The side that gives a damn. Catwoman is nothing less of a wild card, but Selina has a good head on her shoulders — draws lines that she doesn't like to see get crossed. The Cat always lands on her feet, and tonight, Huntress wonders if she'll land on the right side. If she'll give another damn and show up. Catwoman isn't anybody's idea of a hero in the traditional sense. But again, neither is Huntress. Selina knows the darkness that prevails on the broken, vulnerable streets of this city; all-consuming and never forgiving. Helena knows that darkness too. The kind of darkness that chews up and spits out anybody into a hollow husk of their selves. The kind of darkness they both refuse to be caged by any longer. The kind of darkness they won't let engulf innocent kids anymore. Huntress hopes—prays for Sam's sake that Selina will hear her out. And extend that listening ear to Pamela, whose brilliance rivals that of Crane's. His brainwashing isn't impossible to tackle, but it spreads rapidly throughout the nervous system. Ivy might know how to reign those in before it's too late. And Catwoman might be able to convince her to step in. And maybe — just maybe, if Helena's prayers are heard, Selina might just know the darkness well enough to predict where Gotham's missing kids go when the rest of the city falls asleep. It's a long shot. But long shots are all Huntress has.

—

Subject: Re: pokodot man stole my shirts and i have nothing to wear for the trip :(

Hi Ken,

Are you and your mom safe? That's my main concern.

That being said — seriously, Ken? Polka-dot shirts?

I'll be honest, this is a first, even for Gotham. This city truly never runs out of weird. I have no issue excusing the class trip, but I will need more details before I write "Absence due to polka-dot-related crimes" in the attendance log. Please ask your mother to call me when she has a moment and we'll sort it out.

Best,

Miss Bertinelli

Seriously, the Polka-Dot Man? Scrounging the local laundromat and looting some kid's shirts that won't even fit him? The mental image alone should've made her laugh. Gotham's walking eyesore, some washed-up D-list villain, shifting through other people's laundry baskets — and possibly the bargain bins at joke shops for a suit upgrade. But Huntress didn't. Not a lot of jokes were really that funny in Gotham. They tended to die and rot out in your mouth before you could spit them out. There was the simple set-up:

Some ridiculously, mind-numbingly, garnish gimmicks and corny costumes that'd even make a two-year-old roll their eyes. And then there was the punchline:

The bloodbath that spilled all over for rogues to lap, the homes that were left in ruins. Or a laundromat, in this case. A flick of Abner’s wrist sent a cluster of neon dots whirling through the air, and Huntress barely dodged in time — one of them piercing straight into a dryer, causing it to blow up on impact. The polka dots weren't really just a bad fashion statement. They were weaponised — hot, colourful, searing disks flung at her with deadly precision, sizzling against the concrete like dying stars when they missed. The next one sliced through her thigh, drawing blood with a burning tenacity. Yeah, she wasn't laughing. And Huntress didn't think for even one second that Abner Krill was just dillydallying at laundromats, but she wasn't going to stroke his ego either. "The Suicide Squad kick you to the curb or something?" She taunted, as she dodged a buzzsaw dot and rolled behind a vending machine. "Didn't think you were shaking down dryers for spare quarters now!" A beat of silence after that — the dots have come to a halt. A pause long enough for her to peek out. For him to give her a smile. "You think this is about the laundry, Huntress?" Abner stood there, casually twirling a glowing dot between his fingers. "You think this is all I'm doing? You don't think I'm capable of anything greater?" Abner laughed a loud, joyless laugh. "You're just like my mom, Huntress." "Gross, dude," Helena shot back, swiftly placing a bolt in her crossbow. "Why? Mothers are like bridges, you know..." His smile broadened, but never reached his eyes. "People trust them without question." His smile fell. He flicked his wrist — And she fired, and — The dot and the bolt met in a thunderous crash. In the back of her head, she wondered if his quip was just some dumb, random, stupid inside joke she wasn't supposed to get, and — Huntress really wished she didn't.

—

Subject: Re: ...

Hello Malik,

I need you to listen to me very carefully. Thank you for trusting me. I know this is a scary situation to be in, but you did the right thing by letting me know.

I want you and your dad to stay safe. If you have family somewhere else, consider staying with them for a while. Otherwise, I can send you a list of trustworthy places you'll be safe — shelters, community centers, mosques.

Be selective in whom you trust at this time. Trust your judgement. Keep your head down, avoid drawing attention, and if you notice anything suspicious, don’t try to check it out on your own. Just leave, get somewhere safe, and call for help. You're doing the best you can already.

And listen, kid — whenever you feel like you’re out of options, whenever you want to shout into the void, whenever you think no one's listening? I'm here to hear you. You can always tell me anything. Everything you say will stay between us. If you're worried about your dad knowing, I won't say a word to him.

I'm very sorry the police aren't taking this seriously. But I believe you, Malik. And I know some people who will believe you too. We will figure something out together.

We will keep our city safe. And that starts by keeping ourselves safe.

Okay?

Stay in touch.

With love and prayers,

Miss Bertinelli

Her heart aches. God. Good God, why — why is she the only adult that Malik can trust? That's — that's not right! Malik doesn't know that his teacher wields a weapon uglier than a pen. Malik doesn't know that her face is slick with blood — blood that's not hers. Malik doesn't know the ugly things she does in the nighttime to secure a brighter morning for other people. But Malik has faith. He trusts that Miss Bertinelli with that information, he trusts her — a schoolteacher — to do something about a citywide threat. This isn't a fight she can win on her own. So, mirroring that trust, she casts the net wide, spreading his warning like wildfire and hoping it reaches the right people — enough people. Oracle's Birds, the Bat's brats, the few independents that don't answer to Batman, and hell, even a handful of rogues that hate Joker more than they hate Huntress. Anybody outside of Gotham willing to cross the distance just to get their punches in. Some of her allies are still en-route, others have already started petty brawls in proximity, few are monitoring the area, some are waiting for the right moment to strike. But her gaze is locked on the bridge: it's still in one place. Blood rings in her head and burns in her eyes. The bridge isn’t just that — it's a crucial artery of Gotham. One wrong move, one wrong incision, and — And it won’t just fall. It’ll crush. Families. Homes. Futures. A graveyard that symbolises their failure to protect Gotham's innocent, effectively punishing these people for not being able to afford to live elsewhere. That caked-faced bastard picked his target well. Damn him, damn him, damn— Tears sting her eyes. She doesn't know if she can do this. She doesn't know if her allies of the night can save the day in time. She doesn't know if the bridge will stay intact. She doesn't know if they'll prevent casualties. She doesn't know how it ends tonight, and what happens tomorrow. (But Huntress has faith.) Something cold and solid brushes against her boot, snaps her out. She looks down and picks it up. A crowbar. Her grip tightens. The last time one of these was in the wrong hand, a young child died screaming. As if life means nothing. He took an innocent life — as he always did, destroying lives beyond repair, beyond redemption, beyond reprieve. (Never again.) And tonight, he has set out to claim thousands of lives, millions more in collateral damage. But that won't happen. No. No more families torn apart. No more children left in despair. No more bodies will be piled up at his feet. Because it won't be the damn bridge that falls.

(Never again.) Because Huntress has faith. She touches the cross at her throat, and remembers she is here. (NEVER AGAIN.) She brings the crowbar down — breaking the metal and a lackey's bone simultaneously. Reloads her crossbow. Marches ahead. Beside her, movement. More figures joining the fight. Allies, reluctant or otherwise. Capes, good and bad alike, drawn to this fight like vultures, like wolves, like something holy. She doesn't stop to look back. "Let's finish this."

—

Subject: Re: Library Suggestions

Hi Eden,

You're smart to trust your gut. If something smells fishy, it's probably not for no reason.

Here are some safer options:

• Hemingway Community Library: Well-lit, quiet, good security. It's run by the volunteers in the neighborhood, so the staff actually care.

• Eastpoint Library: This one's near your aunt's workplace. Might make pickups easier. Oh, and Sol Azteca is close by — you two should stop there for the carnitas tacos. Best in Gotham.

• Gotham City Public Library: Not super close, but it’s just one bus stop away. A friend of mine works there, Dr Gordon. She’s nicer than she looks — if you need anything, you can always approach her.

• The Woolf & Austen Bookshop: My personal pick? This bookstore on 5th and Wilburn. Good coffee, quiet atmosphere. I drop by there a lot. A little farther out from the school, but it's near my apartment. I don't do any grading here, I promise.

• If none of those work for you, let me know. I’ll help you figure something out.

And don't apologize for reaching out. You deserve safe spaces. Always.

Take care,

Miss B

Huntress follows her own gut, too. She steps into the library and immediately smells it: Not old books, not dust, not coffee — chemical rot, dense in the air. It’s a lab. A drug operation. Of fucking course. The same bastards who occupied Miriam's apartment basement have moved their operations here. The same ones Selina stopped from selling drugs to kids. Gotham’s rogues aren’t criminal masterminds. They’re roaches. The kind that refuse to die, that scurry to a new corner when the light exposes them. The kind that don’t learn their lesson until their heads have been shoved into a bookshelf hard enough to make them beg for a third chance. Unfortunately — or otherwise — Miss B doesn't know how to quit either.

one of helena bertinelli's students emailing her at 12:59 am asking if it's too late to submit their assignment now since their house got burned down due to gotham incidents:

helena bertinelli responding at 1:07 am after grading their work and reassuring them it's fine even though she's literally yet to take care of the third degree burns on top of 500 other fatal injuries she just got from her other job:

[lovemyromance]

Anti-Elriel Excuse Translator

"We don't know who Elain wants because we don't have her POV" =

I am hoping Elain is just pretending not to want Lucien and her actions/words for some reason are contrary to her true thoughts that show she secretly does want her mate

"Elriel ended in the BC" =

I am hoping the misunderstanding between Elain & Azriel was enough to make Elain change her mind and finally give Lucien a chance. This will allow Azriel to finally be free to go after Gwyn

"Elain & Azriel are going to get together but then break up because they're not endgame"

All signs are currently pointing to Elriel and that scares me so I'm holding onto hope that SJM will throw us a curveball for no reason whatsoever

"Shadow dance/Spark/Ribbon/Sunshine"

There is no actual foreshadowing for this ship so I will latch onto this word/vague concept and force it down everyone's throat till they are just as delusional as we are

"Elain is a fictional character she has no wants but she needs growth"

I believe only Lucien can cure Elain with because <insert head canon>. It's not her book yet but I don't care. I am going to ignore canon evidence because it does not fit my ship. Don't you dare say Lucien is a fictional character too, though.

"Elriel is too predictable"

I also saw Elriel evidence in the books but decided to ignore it because it doesn't fit my ship. Instead, I will dismiss it and say that Elriel is both TOO obvious and nonexistent

"It's just lust for Azriel"

I can see Azriel clearly wants Elain. But this does not suit my ship so I will turn his attraction and desire into a bad thing

"Elain can't handle Azriel's darkness"

I don't know what Azriel's darkness is but Elain is too nice and sweet she can't handle Azriel but Gwyn can because I just made that up and decided it

"Elain needs to go travel/explore throw balls/ Cassian said she looks bad in black"

Her connections to the NC means she will stay with Azriel which doesn't support my ship so I will ignore all canon evidence and say she doesn't belong here and say she needs to go host a ball and travel

"Gwyn will heal Az"

Idk what this means exactly or how this would occur but it's vague enough that it sounds like a good thing

TLDR: every excuse is not based off canon fact but rather opinion and ignoring the text in favor of their own headcanons.

[vorchagirl]

ANGST PROMPT ❛ i don’t even recognize you anymore. ❜ for Rook x Ashur 👀

Thank you for the drabble request! I decided to write something for my Ashur x Rook x Lucanis fic The Dragon and the Crow. I hope you like it!

Demons

"Leave you with him? You can't be serious!" Ashur thundered angrily, his expression ferocious as glared at Lucanis. "Rook, he's possessed by a demon! Get out of the way so I can take care of him before he hurts you."

"What?! No!" Rook tried to shove them away from each other, but Ashur refused to move as he took hold of her arm. She shook him off, furious. "I'm not letting you attack each other. Stop this!"

The air between the two men was tense, and Ashur's magic seethed beneath his skin as Lucanis' hand tightened on the hilt of the dagger. One move was all it would take for him to throw up a shield and launch an attack at the other man. It would be fast. Instantaneous. The only question was who would be faster - The Viper or the Demon of Vyrantium. A crow or a snake.

The magic continued to build, burning along his nerve endings in a demand to be unleashed. He wouldn't let this Crow - this murderer - close to Rook. Lucanis watched him closely, as though reading his mind, and suddenly bared his teeth in a grin, his eyes flashing purple as he smirked, egging him on.

"Lucanis' condition is complicated," Rook snapped, refusing to move from between the two men. Ashur blinked as she shoved him back a step and then moved to stand with Lucanis. "Both of you need to back down, now!"

The Crow nodded his agreement, but didn't take his eyes off Ashur as he eased his hand away from his dagger and straightened, his body language still radiating aggression and potential violence as he allowed Rook to take his hands. He blinked, his eyes returning to normal as he dragged his gaze away from the other man and onto Rook. He let out a slow breath and the tension drained out of him.

"Thank you," he muttered quietly to her. "That could have become ... messy."

He has no idea how true that is, Ashur thought to himself.

"What are you doing here?" Rook made to step away as she spoke, but Lucanis kept hold of her hands.

The Crow drew in a slow breath, and Ashur saw him squeeze her hands. "I didn't like how we left things in Treviso. I know I said I needed time after what happened, but I was upset. Seeing my home blighted and so many people - friends - killed, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I lashed out. I don't want to lose you, mi corazon. You mean too much to me."

Jealousy twisted through Ashur as Rook - his Rook - made a small sobbing sound and threw herself into Lucanis' arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck while Lucanis opened his eyes and met Ashur's gaze, his expression smug as he tightened his arms around her as if to rub it in that she had chosen him.

It was too much.

"No!" Ashur strode forward, unwilling to let her throw her life away. Not now. Not when they had finally breached that gap between them. "Rook, get away from him! He's a monster."

She swore softly and pulled away from Lucanis, still keeping herself between them. "What is wrong with you, Ashur? I don't even recognise you anymore."

"Why? Because I don’t want to stand here and watch you throw your life away? Not this time. Not for a demon. Not when you were sobbing in my arms earlier because of him!"

Ashur saw Lucanis flinch at that, and he felt a primitive surge of pride. He hoped it hurt the bastard to know that Rook had run back to him the moment he hurt her. He hoped the knowledge stung and burned for him, just as it bothered Ashur to know that Rook was with another.

She paled slightly at the memory of their kiss but didn't back down. "Ashur, don't do this. Please."

Her soft little please hit him like a bucket of cold water, and he fell back a step, feeling like an absolute bastard as he realised how scared she was of losing the Crow. For better or worse, she loved him, and he was acting like a demon himself as he lashed out and tried to separate them. The surge of jealousy faded, replaced by shame.

No matter how much he wanted her back, this wasn’t the way to go about it.

"I'm sorry, Rook." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, something deep in his core aching with disappointment and loneliness. "You should go. Just ... be careful."

Ashur turned and strode from the room before she could reply. He didn't want to see the emotion in her eyes as he walked away. If she was relieved, it would break his heart, and if she were disappointed, he would falter ... and might not have the strength to walk away again.

[simeon-lovergirl]

"Reminder" Sylus x Reader/MC

TW: Kind of dub-con???, biting, making out, smut-ish, dry humping, a bit of a banter, fighting (mentioned briefly, not too explicit), toxicity, Sylus is obssesed with you hehe🤭

WC: 5308

A/N: I tried to write something. I always have my mind filled with ideas but rarely write them down, and if I do it's always a poorly written drabble that I almost never post; or if I do I always delete it, but today I wanted to work on it and leave laziness behind. I hope you enjoy it, have a nice day🥰

Sylus watches you closely, a smirk curling on his lips. He's ready to strike if you attack again, but for now, you're just trying to catch your breath, still recovering from his blows.

At this point, it's obvious he's a little obsessed with you– why else would he send those crows to follow you? He's been keeping an eye on you, waiting to see how much stronger you've gotten since the last time he saw you.

And, oddly enough, it pleases him. Seeing you grow stronger. Watching your pretty face twist in anger, your hands struggling to block his attacks, your breath coming out in ragged gasps– all because of him.

Just like right now.

Sylus pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering down to his hands. You dodged his last attack too easily. Oh, you've been training. He can tell. And, of course, that means you deserve a little reward.

His smirk widens as he catches the confusion on your face. "You..." he murmurs, stepping towards you. His slow, deliberate movements send a shiver down your spine. Adorable.

You instinctively take a step back, expecting another attack, but instead, his hands cup your face– firm, unyielding– and he pulls you in.

"You've gotten stronger," Sylus whispers against your lips. Then he kisses you.

Your breath hitches as he suddenly kisses you, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your hands press against his chest.

"What the fuck!?"

He chuckles against your lips, feeling your hands push against him in protest "Oh, come on, don't act like you don't like it," he teases, trailing kisses down your neck as he slowly presses you against the stone wall.

"Don't act like you didn't miss me," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding down to your hips, gripping them roughly– holding you in place.

You gasp as his lips continue their path, a shiver running up your spine at the coldness of the wall. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing you closer to him.

You and Sylus have always been caught in this cycle– intense, fleeting, a tug of war that never truly ends. It never lasted long, just a few days before you finally gave in to your desires. Then, he would disappear– almost– completely, and before you knew it, it would all start again.

It was toxic.

But, god, it felt so good.

Just as good as he was making you feel right now, driving you crazy with the way his hands started wandering up to cup your chest, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving marks in their path.

It was going to happen. Again.

You sigh, letting desire take over, throwing everything out the window and simply giving in, gripping his strong biceps to ground yourself. You let out a sharp whimper when he bites down on your neck, and he takes it as the signal that you want this just as much as he does.

He licks where he bit you, a low hum of satisfaction escaping him. The soft sounds you make– gasps, whimpers, needy little moans– only fuel his hunger for more.

"There we go.. good girl", he whispers against your ear, his hands massaging your chest before they slowly move down to your hips. He grips them tightly, pulling you towards him, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal, making you squeeze your thighs together in anticipation.

He moves with purpose, slowly lifting your top and tossing it aside, his gaze darkening as he realizes you opted out of wearing a bra today.

A smirk tugs at his lips. "What a pleasant surprise," he murmurs before leaning down, wrapping his lips around a sensitive peak, his expert tongue flicking against it while his hips press firmly into yours. The friction, with the layers of clothing between you; adds a rough friction that makes you gasp and squirm in his grasp.

His hands grip your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you harder against the wall, caging you in. The cold stone against your back contrasts with the burning heat of his body, making your nerves tingle. His lips find yours again, kissing you breathlessly, tongues tangling, teeth grazing, the heat between you both rising with every movement.

"Did you miss me?" you challenge between kisses, your voice breathy and teasing.

He hums, pulling back just enough to cup your chin, tilting your face up so he can drink in the sight of you– disheveled, flushed, beautifully marked by him. The dim lighting of his base only adds to the intimacy of the moment, shadows playing over his sharp features as he admires you.

"Of course I did," he murmurs before capturing your lips again, this time slower, deeper.

You tug at his shirt, craving skin-to-skin contact, and he chuckles at your eagerness. But he obliges, pulling away just long enough to yank it over his head before pressing his bare chest against yours. The heat of his skin against your own makes you gasp, but before you can even react, he steals your breath away with another fierce kiss.

One of his hands slides down, gripping your inner thigh, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. He groans lowly against your lips as he rolls his hips into yours, savoring the way your body reacts to him.

Sylus takes in the sight of you– trapped between him and the wall, breathless, flushed, completely at his mercy. His lips ghost over your jaw, down your throat, claiming you with each bite and kiss.

"Such a pretty thing," he murmurs against your skin, his voice laced with desire. "All mine. Let me remind you of that."

[fakeagatha]

Mrs Fletcher | Prof! Eve Fletcher x Fem!Reader | Chapter Five: Bill's on Me

Summary: Your impulsive thoughts win, and you find yourself "treating" your professor to coffee.

A/N: Yes, the professors' discussion about books, eggs and bottlecaps is based off of the things I'm currently witnessing in highschool.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1490

AAA Community

Divine Headcanon Generator

You and Steve finish your food, and you wiped yourself off with the napkin the waiters had left. Throughout your entire meal, you kept shooting glances towards Eve, who was sometimes already looking at you, making you have a small heart attack each time. Unbeknownst to you, Eve was mortified at having been caught, pretending to look out the window next to you.

She could see the determination and passion in your eyes every time you uttered a word, admiring your facial expressions and hand movements that you used to emphasize. She was knocked out of her trance when her mind warped back to the reality of her coworker complaining.

"And I told our excuse of a principal that these kids need to be expelled, but he won't listen to me!" She sighed, "I kick them out of every class but it isn't enough. One day, one of those bottle caps is going to take out one of my eyes." Mrs Davis crossed her arms, relaxing back into her seat. "It's exhausting."

"They used to throw books in my class, but after one of them was kicked out of my course none of them dared to do it again." Mr Butterfield added with a smirk.

"Teach me your ways, Carlos!" Mrs Davis groaned, making the rest of the group chuckle.

"I need to know how as well. I found pieces of boiled egg on my classroom floor once." Mr Rogers joined in, rolling his eyes."

Eve shook her head with a smile, and darted her eyes back to you for a moment, unaware that this whole time you had been talking about the interaction you had with her earlier that day.

"But yeah, I still feel pretty bad about how I kind of, shut the door in her face while sweating profusely..." You bit your lip, looking towards her and quickly looking away, pretending not to have seen her when she was already looking at you again.

"We talked about this already, she seemed fine just now, didn't she? I doubt she cares that much, she knew you were in distress." Steve reassured,  "You don't think she actually read the whole thing, right?" He grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

"No, she wouldn't. I know because she probably would've confronted me. Well I hope anyway, unless she was lying so I-"

"Hey you guys!" You were interrupted by the familiar voice of your professor, making your mouth hang open mid sentence. "I was just coming to say goodbye. The others already went outside, but I'm not as rude as them." She teased, almost letting her professional walls crumble.

Your eyes widened again, and you slowly looked up at her. "So soon?" You chuckled. "Why don't you... Let me treat you to another coffee?" You blurted out, making both Eve and Steve look at you in pure shock.

Eve cleared her throat, "It wouldn't be nice of me to deny your offer." She chuckled, being unable to refuse your offer, even though she was your professor. Steve quickly stood up. "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom for... A bit. It's an emergency!" He lied, smiling awkwardly as he quickly walked away.

You shot him a death glare as Eve sat down in the now empty chair. "You know, it's very kind of you to offer me a drink, Y/N." She smiled, and you blushed at her comment.

"It's my pleasure, take it as a way of me thanking you for that perfect score on my last essay." You smirked at her, and she shook her head. 

"That was all you, dear. It was tremendous work and I had to give you the credit you deserve, hm?"

Your cheeks reddened a bit more, looking at her thankfully. "Either way, thank you." You smiled quickly drawing your attention away as you flagged down the waiter walking past, ordering two more coffees for the pair of you.

Eve sighed, folding her arms and looking out of the window, before resorting to an attempt to break the silence.  "You grew up in New York, didn't you?"

'How does she even remember that?'

"I did, I'm surprised you remember that." You chuckled.

"Do you miss it there?"

You paused a little, biting your lip. You loved California, but at the same time, the life you lived in New York was nice too.

"Sometimes. I miss my parents occasionally, but..." You bit your lip, "I do enjoy the freedom here. I'm lucky enough that my best friend since highschool attended the same university as me." You stated, looking up at her understanding expression.

"I do understand that feeling, hon." Eve smiled, "I lived my childhood in New Jersey before I moved here in my late twenties to become a professor." She admitted, and you felt special knowing that she was beginning to open up to you, in a way. "Even though I've been here for twenty odd years already, and of course I love my friends here, but I think about my old life too." Eve added, twirling her fingers. She was very thankful for Amanda, Jane, and Julian, her closest friends who had stood by her through it all. "I have this friend around your age back in New Jersey, but we still keep in touch, so if you're worried about losing touch with anyone back home, remember that you will most likely-"

You couldn't help but smile as Eve kept rambling on about her life and her friends, as she kept trying to reassure you about your worries.

The pair of you were interrupted by the sound of Eve's obnoxiously loud ringtone. She picked up her phone from when she left it on the table, and stood up:

"Excuse me dear, but I need to take this. I won't be long!" She smiled, quickly getting up and stepping outside, pressing the "Accept Call" button on her screen.

You nodded to Eve, taking note of the empty cups in front of you. You raised your hand, signalling to a nearby waiter you gave you a look of acknowledgement. You looked at your phone, realizing that Steve had disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Was he actually hiding in the bathroom this whole time? You opened up his chat.

"Where tf are u???"

"I escaped through the bathroom window. I'll pay you back!"

You silently cursed, raising your head when you saw that the waiter was already heading over.  He approached you, smiling politely as you began to speak, "Hey, could I have the bill?" 

The waiter raised an eyebrow, checking through his phone on the system.

"It seems your bill has already been covered."

You looked at him, dumbfounded for a moment, and you suppressed a shocked smile when you realized, rolling your eyes a little. "Right, I see... Uh, thanks." You stammered as he walked away from your table.

Right at that moment, you saw Eve coming back from her phone call outside, tapping on her screen as if she had only just hung up.

"Mrs Fletcher!" You exclaimed, looking at her, and she simply smirked.

"What?" 

"You didn't have to pay for the bill, you know. I was supposed to be treating you, and you even paid for mine and Steve's orders!" You sighed, looking up at her in mock annoyance.

Eve chuckled and shook her head, "Please, don't worry so much about it. I don't often cover the bill for anyone, so really, it's no biggie."

Your expression turned to one of humor, crossing your arms. "So you're telling me that I'm an exception to your money?" You laughed, making Eve pause for a moment.

"For today, yes."

You stayed silent for a moment, before chuckling, stumbling over your words. "Ugh, I- fine. But I'll pay you back eventually!"

Eve went to protest, but eventually gave in after seeing the determination in your eyes, making her put her hands up in defense. "Alright, hon."

HON.

"I hate to cut this short, but I have somewhere to get to." She got up from her seat. "Are you okay walking back, or would you like me to take you?" She offered, and your heart swelled.

"It's a five minute walk, but I won't deny your offer." You shrugged, standing up next to her, "You don't have to walk me if you don't have the time," 

Eve shook her head, "I've got some time. I wouldn't have offered if I couldn't, eh?"

You agreed, stepping out of the cafe door behind her, quickly walking up next to her as you began to cross the street. The two of you took in the scenery, the sun making the grass beneath you glow in its rays.

"You know, as much as I love thunderstorms, this part of town looks so gorgeous in the sun." Eve broke the silence, putting her hands into her pockets as she looked up at the sky.

Eve looked back at you, only to redden when your eyes were already locked onto hers. You smiled awkwardly, looking back down at the grass beneath you. 

Entering the campus, she gave you a smile. "I will see you Monday morning, Y/N." 

"I'll see you on Monday, Mrs Fletcher."

[artemisadore]

🩸🐾 catcrow of course

This one got away from me! I hope you enjoy CatCrow pet names + patching up an injury, with a healthy dose of "I had no where else to go" 🩷

Rating: T

tw: mild blood, vague descriptions of injuries/first aid, references to abuse (physical and emotional)

x

Monty hisses through his teeth at the way throwing his body against the door of the cannery makes the pain in his side branch out like the gnarly limbs of a tree. He notes the pain, swallows it down, and braces himself accordingly when he does it again.

It's preternaturally quiet on the dock aside from Monty’s labored breathing, which would in theory be something good for Monty to note, if he weren't otherwise occupied with keeping himself upright.

“Come on,” he groans, beating uselessly against the door with his busted-up fist.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners, little bird?”

Monty whips around so quickly that the spinning in his head almost knocks him off balance. When his eyes finally focus in the darkness, he finds the Cat King watching him with glowing yellow eyes and a saccharine grin.

He continues easily, “Well, I suppose you were taken from your real mother as just a hatchling, hm? Plucked right from the nest by Esther dearest, caged before you even learned to fly.”

“God, you love to hear yourself talk,” Monty rasps, bitterness lacing his tone.

“I do indeed,” the Cat King preens, sauntering around Monty, who vaguely wonders if the monarch is only doing so to make him shift his weight if he wants to keep the predator in his sights. “And so must you, little bird, because I can't think of any other reason why you'd show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. Uninvited.” His expression falls to a mocking pout, one that makes Monty want to peck his stupid eyes out. “It's past the cats’ bedtime, you know.”

Monty takes in a steadying breath, again swallowing his pain and now also his frustration. “I—I need you,” he grits out.

The Cat King's eyebrows shoot up toward his slicked-back black hair. “My, my. I suppose I have to give you credit for your good taste. First Edwin, now—”

“Not like—fuck,” Monty groans between shallow breaths. “You're just—you’re the only one who—” Monty lets his eyes slip shut in resignation.

Submission, his prey-brain supplies.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

The admission feels acidic on his tongue.

He may have had somewhere to go, once. But now that place is an entire ocean away, full of people who either left him behind or forgot about him entirely, and he isn't sure which one hurts worse.

When Monty opens his eyes again, the Cat King is gone. But just as panic seizes his chest, he smells the familiar scent of incense he's grown to associate with the use of magic.

The Cat King has transported him somewhere — presumably in the cannery, though Monty has never been inside to know for sure — and left him perched on the edge of bed, awash in the glow of red and blue neon. In a quick flash of purple, the feline is back again, holding what appears to be a first aid kit.

Monty blanches at the sight. “Woah, hey, I just need a place to stay!” he says, hastening to make himself as small as possible.

The Cat King pays him no mind as he opens the kit on the bed. “Your knuckles are bruised, your ribs are broken, and you’re bleeding on my good furs from that gash on your side,” he snips cooly, picking his tools and materials with practiced ease.

The sight of it all makes Monty nauseous for reasons he'd rather not consider at the moment, so he pointedly looks away.

“For future reference, you don't get to be the idiot who gets the shit kicked out of him and the idiot who walks right into the lion's den with a broken wing. After tonight, you have to pick a struggle.” Monty’s skin prickles, which must mean the Cat King's eyes are back on him. “Shirt off.”

Monty winces, but he thinks better of arguing. It's a painful process, but he manages to rid himself of his blood-soaked t-shirt, which he discards with a small joy directly on the Cat King's floor.

The joy dissipates when the shirt disappears into thin air in a purple puff.

There's no preamble as the Cat King sets to work, manhandling Monty this way and that as he assesses his wounds. Monty stares past him through it all, unable to bring himself to meet his eyes. When the Cat King gets to the gash on his side, he hisses in what might be sympathy.

The sympathy, if it existed at all, is short-lived. The antiseptic applied to his side stings like a knife — a pain with which Monty is all-too familiar.

Monty expects the Cat King to chatter through it all, but the monarch works silently with a focused precision Monty didn't know he was capable of. It feels strange, being in such close proximity to a creature who could tear out his throat just as easily as he now mends his side.

But Monty has learned that it isn't always the animals that rip out your heart.

Sometimes it's a ghost.

When the Cat King is through, he steps back to examine his work. “Oh! How could I forget the most important part?” To Monty's surprise, the feline leans down into Monty's space once more, so close that he can see his pupils dilate in interest.

Monty isn't quite sure if they dilated before their first kiss, if you could even call it that — it happened so quickly.

But this isn't quick. The Cat King takes his time cupping Monty's cheek, sending a shiver down Monty's spine, one of both fear and intrigue. Monty lets his eyes flutter shut, anticipation taking root in his chest.

But instead of lips, it's the pad of a thumb that traces the space above his upper lip. Monty’s eyes blink open at the tingling sensation and, once again, the scent of incense.

“Wouldn't want a scar to mess up that pretty face, now would we?” the Cat King purrs, his smirk only growing as he pulls away triumphantly.

Monty touches his fingertips to his lip in awe, the skin as smooth as the day he was created. “You healed me,” he murmurs.

Esther healed him once or twice over the years, so it's not like he wasn't aware that it was possible.

Monty just wasn't aware that healing didn't have to hurt.

“It's a good thing you're cute, little bird,” the Cat King scoffs, “‘cause you sure ain't quick. It's sweet that you thought you'd get a repeat of our little forest ménage à trois, but I've done you enough favors tonight, wouldn't you agree?”

Monty wants to hate him — his stupid leather skirt and dumb combat boots, his infuriating smile and his cocky attitude, his chiseled jaw and his muscular arms and—and oh. Monty recognizes that feeling, the one that is so distinctly human, the one he swore he would never feel again.

Suddenly, something dawns on Monty. “Hold on. You have fucking healing magic. You could have just healed me!”

The Cat King's answering grin is Cheshire. “How would you ever learn to fly if I gave you all the shortcuts, birdie?”

Monty isn't sure whether he wants to kiss the Cat King or pummel him.

But the night is young — he may very well end up doing both.

[riverofjazzsims]

Winter Holiday 20 years old 4'11 Orientation: Heterosexual-ish Occupation: Creator of smiles Location: Where the snow first falls

Winter Holiday is an unique individual who over the last few months has started to show, shall we say some interesting characteristics. For the moment though she is mostly human. She knows that she will have an interesting road a head of her and as her parents have made her aware, a partner during this journey will be essential. Mainly because no-one knows what to expect. Her parents defied the rules and loved each other and if that wasn't bad enough did what was thought impossible, create new life. See Winter has some magical lineage, her fathers, yes fathers, are a touch legendary and her mother seemingly just human was found to be a bit more than anyone could guess.

But we are not here today to talk about them. Winter is very much a mystery and as such, details about her will become known as we progress.

Here are some fun Winter facts: ❄️she absolutely LOVES the cold and snow ❄️oddly almost anywhere Winter goes there's either a drop in temp / starts to snow ❄️The birthmarks on her cheeks slowly appeared over the years and are cool to the touch ❄️She loves the color blue ❄️Dancing is her religion

More info will be forthcoming as we lead up to the submission deadline

Contestant Entry Rules:

❄️YA males only, any ethnicity or size welcome ❄️No Occults - caveat- winner will become immortal/long lifespan as Winter will be walking this rock of a planet for a very long time. ❄️Bio/brief backstory ❄️1 negative trait/ no custom traits ❄️No in game jobs assigned please ( totally fine for them to have one listed in their bio) ❄️3 skills of your choosing, max level 5 ❄️Likes/Dislikes please - 10 max ❄️Turn-on/off optional ❄️light /med CC or Vanilla is OK ❄️NO ALPHA hair ❄️No body presets ❄️Attire: 2 everyday/ 1 cold weather. If you don't have seasons please add your sims cold weather outfit as their 3rd everyday and I will change it over to the appropriate slot in CAS. All other you can leave in underwear and I will supply outfit if/when needed. Please keep in mind we will be almost always in cold weather when outside.

Side note: I use default skin (Bare by Lamatisse) and eyes (jack eyes remastered - but i had to "fix" them to work after some patch so your simmies will be using those in game Sliders are ok as I have the most popular ones. Note I will not add any new ones in my game so small tweaks may be made to compensate

❄️ I own ALL packs ❄️

Quick Questions for the potential hopefuls What is your favorite color Tell us what makes you naughty and what makes you nice ( yes answer both) Sims height

Contestant Submissions

Submissions deadline: Saturday Feb 15th @10pm CST. If I end up with more than 7 candidates , 7 will be chosen from the submissions. More to come if this ends up being the case

Remember to tag me or use #HTDF or #KillerBC So I can see your entry and reblog

Friendly reminder this is an 18+ blog, there will be mature themes involved. So the watcher needs to be at least 18 to enter 🫡

Not everyone will make it out alive.👀☠️ Some may even disappear. There will be chaos and drama and what ever else these damn sims throw my way.

Gameplay: There will be various gameplay mods being used throughout this BC including and not limited to Wicked Whims, and several Sacrificial Mods including extreme violence There will be some storytelling component to this, As with most BC there will be some challenges, group activities/dates and solo opportunities. Interactions will predominately be autonomous and I will use that to help build the story and game play. Some scenes/interactions may be replayed out using poses/animations Winter is looking for love but keep in mind there is a story playing out along side this and its a little on the dark side and yes not everyone will make it out alive. The only ones immune to the Grimms kiss will be Winter and her parents.

[stiltsthegm]

Trace's Forum Post

By popular demand: the text version of Trace's forum rant that I recited on Eidolon EDM episode 0. I made this several months ago as a way to try and solidify her personality and voice in my head.

>If you want to go back to Earth so badly, why don't you just move in with a human? There's gotta be a bunch of 'em that'd love to have a dolphin roommate.

this post was written by a human. i have no idea what you get out of browsing a cetacean forum but whatever floats your boat i guess.

and before some asshole butts in goin 'why are you assuming theyre human they could be a manatee or something'

no. fuck no. only a human would be stupid enough to make that suggestion.

in the extremely unlikely event im wrong [which im not because im a genius], heres why thats a really bad idea and you should be embarrassed for even thinking it.

dolphin fans are maniacs. like we all make fun of horses here and their spindly-ass legs and how nothing about their body makes any sense and someone politely chuckling a mile away could startle them into throwing themselves off a cliff. but horse people have nothing on dolphin people. its a whole other fuckin level.

yeah sure lets play this scenario out, lets get all hypothetical. i move in with someone rich enough and weird enough to spend a completely absurd amount of money bringing me back from the moon and also constructing an aquarium for me inside their presumably giant apartment or mansion or whatever. do you know what happens to dolphins in this situation? like, historically? wild shit. dolphin people dont want to just be your friend. they want to make a spiritual connection, whatever the hell that means. theyll spend hours every day talking to you like youre a baby, assuming that if they do it enough, theyll one day wake up to you reciting a sonnet to them. theyll put drugs in your fish hoping to 'expand your mind' and form a 'psychic connection'. theyll do shit with electrodes. and if you somehow do not immediately try to get your smooth ass out of there, its fuckin over for you. youll become a shadow of your former self, doing flips on command and squeaking out the best approximation you can manage for 'i love you, janice' to get just one more treat.

ive seen that shit happen. its fucking bad.

so no, i will not be taking your advice. im gonna get rich and then ill use my own goddamn money to buy a ticket back and then create a sickass aquarium mansion with reefs. and if i really want some human companionship ill just dangle some grant money in front of some middle-aged marine biologists whose idea of a good day is proving that an abyssal sea cucumber hasnt gone extinct yet. they understand what im about more than any 'dolphin fan' and are just as depressed as me.

[itsjustrosee]

Let me take care of you Void Stiles x fem!reader

Context: Stiles and reader are in an established relationship, however reader doesn't know that Stiles got possessed by the nogistun (sorry I don't know how to spell it) and is now void.

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut, cursing, and a lil bit of somnophilia (everything is consensual tho dw👍)

this one is prolly my freakiest one yet. so I hope yall enjoy

Stiles layed next to you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder you slept soundly, your side pressed next to his. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed circles into the soft cotton material of the shirt he had lent you last night.

His bed covers were sprawled haphazardly over the bed, barely covering you, leaving your legs completely bare and exposed to him. The only other piece of clothing you had on other than his shirt were your panties.

Stiles couldn't help but take in your peaceful appearance, the soft noises you made as you slept, and how cute you looked next to him. He slowly swiped a loose piece of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he admired your features.

His hand eventually made its way down to your thigh, his fingers barely ghosting the surface as he caressed your soft skin. He didn't want to risk the possibility of waking you up, but the urge, the need to touch you was too powerful. The desire to feel you took over his mind, clouding his better judgment as his fingers made their way to your inner thigh.

He watched your face, making sure to not wake you as his fingers continued to trace into your skin, his touch getting dangerously close to your panties. He tried his hardest to not wake you up as he slowly opened your thighs for better access.

Eventually, he made his way to your core and he began rubbing you over your panties. His touch was gentle and soft enough to where he didn't wake you up, yet your body still subconsciously reacted to him.

You couldn't help but let out a small hum, the action making Stiles turn his head back to face you. You were still asleep but now your eyebrows furrowed slightly and your lips were parted. Seeing the slight pleasure on your face despite still being asleep ignited more hunger within Stiles.

The pressure of his middle and ring finger slowly increased against you, causing your arousal to grow. Stiles kept his other arm still slung around your shoulder, making sure that you were as close to him as possible as you gasped out occasionally.

Stiles could no longer resist the urge to feel your skin on him, he craved you and so that meant he was going to have you.

He slowly slid his fingers under the soft and thin material of your panties, putting slight pleasure on your clit, the pleasure of it making your eyes flutter open.

"S-Stiles..." You breathe out, your heart rate already beginning to quicken.

"Shh baby... just relax," He cooed, leaning his head to your ear, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he spoke. His words were soothing and tender, creating a stark contrast between his desire and lust-filled strokes on your core.

He ran his long slender fingers through your folds, allowing a soft moan to escape your mouth as pleasure consumed you. He felt as you arched your back, your need for more friction only causing Stiles to increase his pressure on you.

As he continued rubbing circles into your wetness, he removed his hand from off your shoulder but kept it wrapped around your back as he moved it down your side. Once he found the hem of your shirt, he slid his hand under it, his fingers snaking up your bare skin and to your breast.

He cupped his hand over it, squeezing it gently as he suddenly slid a finger inside of you. You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a moan before you throw your head back, Stiles took this opportunity to latch his mouth onto the crook of your neck.

He bit down on you before sucking and biting the skin, the quick feeling of pain turning into pleasure that soon gets doubled as he shoves two of his fingers inside you.

Stiles sent all of your senses into overdrive as he thrust his fingers in and out of you, curling at just the right part inside of you to make you moan out in ecstasy. He put his thumb on your clit and slowly messaged it as he quickened his pace and began kissing his way up your neck, making his way up to your ear.

"You're doing so good, princess," He whispered into your ear as he continued to grope the soft, warm flesh of your breast.

You feel heat stirring in your stomach that threatens to pool over as he continues to push his fingers in and out of you, his speed increasing at a rate that has you writhing beneath him.

He moves his hand from under your shirt to your face, taking your chin in his fingers as he tilts your head to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. He kisses you with a hunger and desire that you've never felt from anyone else.

You part your lips for him, allowing his tongue to plunge into your mouth and taste every bit of you. The kiss is sloppy yet filled with passion as he continues to fuck you with his fingers, adding more pressure to your clit with his thumb, making you moan into his mouth.

You finally pull away, catching your breath as his actions draw out soft moans and whimpers from your mouth.

"Stiles I-I'm close," You can barely whimper out as stars flood your vision.

"Cum for me baby," He said breathlessly, his pace relentless as he drives deeper into you.

With one final thrust, your walls tighten around his fingers as you finally let out your release. Waves of ecstasy come crashing over you, Stiles' pace slowly inside of you as he helps you ride out your high. The pleasure is overwhelming as you lie next to him, your chest rising up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Stiles plants one last kiss on your lips before he pulls his fingers away from your throbbing entrance. Bringing them up to his mouth, he parts his lips and sucks them clean, tasting your juices with a satisfied hum.

"Fuck, you taste so good," He mutters under his breath before he pulls your panties back on and tugs you closer to him. "You're always so good for me, aren't you?"

You let out a weak hum in agreement as you melt into him once more, completely surrendering yourself to him. His strong arms wrap around you tightly, and his lips brush against the skin of your forehead as he kisses there once more.

"That's it, baby, just relax," Stiles says, his voice low and husky, looking at you with darkened eyes. "I'll take care of you,"

[madhatterbri]

Professional Tension | T.T.

Summary: After breaking up with Tama for cheating on you, the two of you end up working for the same company. Lingering feelings for the other get in the way one night in a club.

Tama Tonga Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @miss-kuki-nz @magicalbuttertarts

It had been months since the breakup. Months since that night, you last laid eyes on him with someone who wasn't you in his bed. There was a look of shock and horror on his face when he saw your early arrival back in the house that the two of you shared. Years of memories of the past and hopes of a future together dashed before your very eyes. The harsh words that spilled out of your mouths as the details of his betrayal came out. None of that mattered now. Any hope to forget the man who was once your everything was dashed the moment you two locked eyes in catering as new employees of WWE.

You forced yourself to focus on work. Lingering emotions and the thoughts of what if there was no breakup wasn't going to cost you something that you worked so hard for. Except it wasn't that easy.

His presence lingered even when he was in another part of a building. The familiar scent of his cologne made you long for the Tama you thought you knew. His laugh still tugged at the corners of your lips. No matter how hard you tried to ignore him it wasn't possible. An invite to join for an outing after Smackdown made things even harder.

The VIP portion was loud. The music blared throughout the speakers in the club. Wrestlers yelled over the music to try and talk to one another. Bottles and glasses were passed around to try and get the other to try their favorite drink. You made sure to stay with your friends and away from Tama. A couple of times the two of you locked eyes and quickly looked away. The usual professional demeanor that you liked to portray was thrown out the window.

A brief glance at your phone made you realize it was time to cut the party short. You had an early wake-up to catch a flight home in the morning. You said your goodbyes and left to get your coat from the hook by the door. The hairs on your neck raised as you felt a pair of eyes watching you. A familiar feeling that made your cheeks flush, your stomach flop, and annoyingly enough your heart flutter. You scolded yourself for the temporary weakness. Too much was riding on this. Your feelings could not get in the way of this.

The moment you put on your coat and turned around, you knew you were in trouble. The man who broke your heart into pieces, the man who shared so much history with you, the man who you could see yourself throw all this away for was standing right in front of you. His dark brown eyes stared into yours as if trying to read your mind. Trying to read your feelings on the situation that you two are currently in.

He spoke your name. His voice was soft and light. The air was thick. You were sure that the oxygen was sucked out of the room. The heat from his body pulled you closer to him like a magnet. "I feel it too. I never stopped wanting you."

You opened your mouth yet nothing came out. This couldn't be happening. Not with the majority of your coworkers only a mere few feet away from the two of you. He stepped closer, something that you had previously deemed wasn't possible. "Tama, we can't."

"I can't walk away from you. Every time I try something inside of me still think there is something there worth fighting for," he paused to collect his thoughts. "I don't want to keep playing these games with you if you tell me right here and right now that there is nothing left to fight over then I will walk away."

Your mind was telling you to run, but your heart skipped a beat in your chest. The very man who sent you on a downward spiral thinks that there is a chance for redemption. The idea would have made you laugh at the mere thought. Not now, not when the man is standing in the flesh telling you that he thinks there is something worth fighting for.

"Tama, I-" you started yet stopped the moment his thumb rubbed your cheek gently. The rest of his hand cupped your chin. The very thing he used to do when you had a bad day. The small act of comfort that would immediately brighten your day. You were so confused, and in your confusion, you did the unthinkable. Your lips brushed against his.

When you pulled away, you shook your head in disbelief. All the months of building up walls against him fell after one night of drinking.

"I have to go. Don't follow me," you ordered. He stepped back with his hands up in defeat. You muttered a thank you and paced towards the door. Your once foggy mind became sharper the further you pulled yourself away from him. Your fingers touched yourups as you walked out the door.

[milkamel]

Another crk art cause I can't seem to get it out of my head rn lol Turns out I'm actually good at drawing cookies!! (my attempts a few months ago weren't so good lol)

[andi-o-geyser]

“cody only has under an hour of screen time in all of star wars” maybe to you he does. to me he's the main character