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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago

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Rough Sex w/ MW2

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Smut, Rough Sex, Restraining, Stomach Bulging, Unprotected Sex, Sexual Punishment, Use of a Strap-On, Implied Blow Job, Possessive Sex, Dehumanisation, Slut Shaming, Reader Blaming, Hair Pulling, Slight Dumbification, Blood, Dirty Talk, Profanity, Pet Names, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Just a stupid little whore, aren’t ya,” Simon growled as he pounded you from behind, fingers gripping your hips so tightly that phantom bruises descended upon your skin. The slickness of your abused hole did little to numb the pain of Simon’s rapid, unrelenting pace, of his engorged tip slipping deeper and deeper inside you, plugging you, making any form of escape from your impending unravelment impossible.

You could feel his cock, hot, heavy and ravenous, pulsating inside you, bringing you to the edge of electric euphoria with every thrust.

“Good for nothin’ except takin’ my cock.” He spat, his hand sliding up your spine and rooting itself in your hair. He gripped at the base and pulled your head back, hissing in your ear.

“Isn’t that right, Darlin’?”

You wanted to speak. Wanted to tell him you were his, only his, but the words wouldn’t come out quick enough.

When you didn’t answer in time, he stopped. Pulled out, only the swollen tip remaining lodged inside.

Without warning, he pushed. Hard.

You’d felt full before, but this sudden influx of skin and muscle and heat was too much. It knocked the air out of you, made you cry out as Simon sank balls-deep inside you, impaling your shuttering, wanting body on his dick. He grunted, his grip on your hair tightening.

“That’s it,” he said as you whimpered, cried out. “Take it — take it like the slag you are.”

König

“You wanted this – you wanted me to take you. Fucking attention whore,”

König’s voice reached depths you didn’t think possible as he bounced you on his cock, his stomach coated in your juices as he lay beneath you, thrusting up to plant as much of his member in the tight cavern of your hole as possible.

Even from where he lay, he could see the outline of himself within you. He twitched. Tried to stave off from painting your insides white for just a little longer.

You had no choice but to take it – your wrists bound behind your back with König’s belt – to take every inch of König’s cock.

He stretched you out to lengths you didn’t think possible as he pulled you down onto the base of his member, causing tears to stream down your face as he hit a sliver of you you didn’t think existed.

“God, you’re nothing without me,” he asserted, teeth gritted and restraint pushed to the very limit. “Nothing but a rag doll on the end of my dick – only made for me to use as I please.”

You knew it was true, especially with the coil within you verging on snapping, sending you over the precipice of ruin. König gave you a sly, thin grin.

“Nobody else can fuck you like this, can make you cry like this.” His grip on your waist proved he wasn’t lying, shortened nails leaving crescent indents in your skin.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

Soap

“Don’t tell me you’re cryin’ on me now, Darlin’,” Johnny said, not an ounce of sympathy or empathy in his voice. If anything, the realisation that you were just about holding on as he railed you from behind seemed to make him go faster, push harder, knocking his thick, meaty cock into you at a pace that could only be savage.

“C’mon, show me you can take it. I know you can,” he goaded — or perhaps encouraged. You couldn’t be so sure, especially as you could barely string a thought together, never mind the inclination to ask. He watched you, made dead eye contact with you through the mirror that put your undoing on display for him, his eyes piercing and ice.

At your silence, Johnny slapped your backside. Harsh. You yelped at the sting and jolted forwards, only for Johnny to wrap a hand around your throat and pull him back. His balls were flush against your backside, the tightness of your bodies together making him grunt.

“C’mon, mo ghaol — tell me how much you need this dick — show me how much you deserve it.” He squeezed your throat.

Valeria

“You were begging to be used by me — wearing those tight shorts like I wouldn’t notice.” Valeria punctuated her point with a harsh thrust, sending you banging against her desk, ribs aching, pressed against sleek wood. Everything hurt.

The strap-on she’d chosen was one she reserved only for correcting your most egregious behaviour. Apparently, this extended to your fashion choices, too.

“Trying to make my men lose focus, huh? Is that it?” The sound and sensation of your body welcoming the cruel length of her weapon made your cheeks flush and your hole clench, trying to pull it deeper, begging for punishment.

“Have I not given you enough attention? Or are you just hungry for anyone who lays eyes on you,”

You whimpered, trying to keep your head level as your girlfriend battered your insides with nothing less than animalistic fervour and rage.

“You wanna dress like a cheap whore,” she said, voice deep and husking as she lowered her lips to your ear. “Then I get to fuck you like one — my whore.”

Price

“I love you,” he panted. “I love you, I love you, I love you–”

He couldn’t stop – these last few hours with you would be all he had before he had to go on deployment again. And he was determined to make them count.

He’d stuffed himself into you, made light work of grinding your sanity down to its bare foundations as your body shook with the onset of another orgasm.

You were already so sensitive, every knock of his tip against your sensitive spot sending equal euphoria and pain through you.

“Gonna cum in you again,” he said, voice lethargic, words slurred like the blurring edges of watercolours. “Gonna get it as deep as possible. Want it still in you by the time I reach Base.”

The many loads of cum he’d already pumped into you weighed heavy in your belly, almost creating its own centre of gravity as you fought to keep your swollen stomach off the mattress. Anytime you failed, the sensitivity of your skin, the feeling of his load stagnant inside you, made you wince.

You could feel John’s cum leaking out of you as he plunged deep, deeper still, forcing his seed out of the small spaces which weren’t suffocated by his almost impossible girth.

Horangi

“Been stretching you out for hours and you’re still- ngh— fuckin’ tight.” Hong-Jin said, almost as if chiding you. He grunted, balls-deep yet nowhere near satisfied, his resolve being milked from him.

“Gonna need to–” he grunted, “break you in,”

Without warning, he pulled out – only halfway – and plunged back inside you with an almighty push. One that, despite not having the power of his whole length behind it, forced a strangled moan from you.

His breath caught as he felt himself slip into a deeper, darker part of you, one which seemed to try and reject him as your hole pulsed uselessly around him, as if to push him out.

He persisted. Hissing.

When he pulled out, he spotted something.

A small streak of blood along his shaft.

“Doing so well for me, Love,” he groaned, slipping back in and re-establishing a rhythm. You mewled beneath him.

“God, you’re so good — just lying down and taking it – like my own personal fleshlight.”

Alejandro

“So this is why you’ve been acting so strange recently, hm?” Alejandro spoke between pants, arms at either side of your head, blocking off everything that wasn’t him. He gritted his teeth, grunted at the feeling of you tightening around him as he brutalised you with his savage pace, stretching you out and making your hole spasm around his cock.

“Just needed a good fuck, didn’t you?”

You were all but drooling as Alejandro quite literally fucked you dumb, no thoughts in your head save for the desperate electricity between your legs.

When you didn’t answer — or rather couldn’t, for your mind was scarcely able to keep itself intact for the feeling of ruin rapidly descending upon you — Alejandro took your chin between his fingers and forced you to focus on him.

“Didn’t you.” He repeated. To that, the fire in his eyes, you managed a sloppy ‘yes’. Alejandro hummed, pressed himself closer, chest-to-chest.

“Don’t worry, Cariño — we’ve got all night to fuck that pretty little mouth back into working order.”

Rudy

Years of toil, training and discipline have shaped Rudy into the unsuspecting behemoth he is today; as was evident in the way you cried out when his dick skewered you, stretching you out and making your back arch against the mattress. He felt himself pressed to the wall of your abdomen as your stomach met his. He shivered.

“He can’t fuck you like this,” he said, voice low and seething, the intonation of a snake. His usual puppy-eyes were sharp, as if of a feline disposition. He watched you as your eyes, almost having rolled back into your skull, refused to meet his.

“Nobody can have you. You’re mine — only mine.” He slammed into you faster, giving you no preparation and only using the wetness already dripping from between your thighs there to slip in.

“Now, tell me who you belong to.”

Your mouth, agape with silent pain, released nothing. Rudy raised his hand, slapped you. You yelped, the sting sending a shock between your legs. You clenched around him. He growled, head dipping to your collarbone, where you could feel his breath, scorching and unrelenting.

“Let’s try this one more time,” he rasped. When he looked up, his eyes were black. Gone was the man you loved.

“Or I won’t be so forgiving.”

Graves

“You like bein’ used by me, don’t ya,” Graves panted, struggling to keep up with the pace of his own euphoria. He could tell you were close, too, from the way tears streamed down your cheeks and how you suctioned around him, pulling him deeper, pleading with him for more.

“Love bein’ my favourite little cum dump — so well-behaved, just for me.”

Nothing could be truer as you felt him thrusting into you at a speed that suggested anger.

“Never be good for anything except taking my cock like a good slut.”

Your tongue lolled out from the corner of your mouth, drool dripping onto the sheets as Phillip allowed you your silence, especially considering how you’d earned it. Your obedience, your willingness to take everything he gave you. You scratched just the right part of Graves’ ego that had sustained him for this long.

His eyes glinted as he looked down at you.

“Ain’t that right, Doll.”

Gaz

Gaz’s change in personality, admittedly, frightened you. Especially as he stood over you now, having bound your hands together tied them over your head to the bed frame.

You’d tried encouraging him to just touch you already, to take you now as you were bound and helpless. Hell, you’d even ground yourself against his boot, working yourself up into a frenzy all in an effort to make him crack.

He didn’t.

“Oh no,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “You don’t get my dick yet.”

Already having used his belt to immobilise you, he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs along with his boxers. Half-hard and beading at the tip, he eyed you, a cruel smile at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck your face so hard,” he continued, taking you by the hair and forcing your lips to his pulsing member, watching your eyes widen. “That you’ll be eating through a tube for the rest of the week.”

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holyblonded · 1 month ago

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estrella takes on england | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: you finesse you way onto a trip with jana and ona to visit bruna

notes: finally shortening the request list. but keep them coming!

“Estrellita, do you realize how much homework you have?” Alexia asked, raising a brow as she stared at you with a mix of disbelief and tired amusement. “Like, have you looked at your assignment list at all?”

You blinked at her innocently, then turned to Olga who sat beside her on the couch, heavily pregnant and already giggling at your expression. “Umm… no?” you offered, voice high and hopeful.

Alexia sighed dramatically and pinched the bridge of her nose. “If you had, you would’ve seen the eighteen missing assignments you currently have.”

You tilted your head thoughtfully and glanced up at the ceiling like the answers might be written in the plaster. “You know,” you said after a beat, “I’ve never really thought about it that way. That’s some great insight, Mami. Eye-opening, really.”

Alexia’s face flattened into a look of unimpressed exhaustion. “You are not going to England.”

And just like that, you dropped to your knees with a gasp. “No! Please! Please have mercy on a poor, overwhelmed soul! I haven’t seen my sister Bruna in—God knows—how many years—”

“It’s been eight months,” Alexia interrupted, arms crossed as she tried to hold her ground.

“My heart aches for her! My twin flame, my rock, my soulmate!” you cried, hands clasped dramatically in front of your chest. “She’s the yin to my yang, the ketchup to my fries, the—”

“Keep aching,” Alexia said, rising from her seat with a shake of her head. “Because you’re not going. End of discussion.”

She turned and walked away toward the kitchen, leaving you collapsed on the floor in despair, reaching after her like you were in the final scene of a tragic telenovela.

Your eyes shifted to Olga, who was clutching her bump and laughing so hard tears had begun to spill down her cheeks. “You couldn’t help me?” you said, utterly betrayed. “You knew I was getting cooked out there and you just let it happen?”

“I’m sorry,” she wheezed between giggles. “But I am so miserable these days. My feet hurt, my back hurts, I can’t even see my toes anymore, bebita. If I get a laugh, I take it. So, thank you.”

You huffed, defeated, and crawled over to rest your head against her legs. She immediately began running her fingers gently through your hair, soothing in that way only she knew how.

“So glad my suffering brings you joy, Mama,” you muttered, already feeling your pout soften at her touch.

“Oh, mi nena,” she said with a fond sigh, “she’ll come around. You know, something similar happened to me when I was your age and I just snuck out.”

Your head snapped up slowly, eyes widening with curiosity. “You what?”

Olga smiled a little too smugly and leaned back. “I was a teenager once too, you know. I wasn’t always a boring grown-up with swollen ankles. I snuck out, caught the train to Valencia. My mom didn’t even realize I was gone until the next morning.”

You sat there, gears turning wildly in your brain, eyes now sparkling with possibility.

Olga narrowed her gaze. “You are not seriously—”

“I didn’t say anything,” you said, all too quickly. “Just… absorbing your wisdom.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m just saying… if one day I did happen to be in England… it would be a beautiful full-circle moment. Me, Bruna, Ona, Jana—family reunion.”

“You’re going to get us both killed,” Olga mumbled through a smile, and yet she didn’t stop stroking your hair. “Just don’t forget to clear your browser history this time, genius.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

You stood on the doormat of Jana’s apartment, bouncing on your toes with barely restrained excitement. You knocked three times, fast and eager, and when the door finally opened, you were met with a very unimpressed Ona Batlle.

Her gaze dropped to your duffel bag and roller suitcase, then back up to your far-too-innocent smile. “No.”

Before she could shut the door, you wedged your foot in the gap. “Ona, come on! Don’t be like that.”

Ona groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “Why? Why? Why?” she muttered under her breath as you shoved your way inside.

“Such hostility,” you said with mock offense, hauling your bags behind you. “Where’s the love?”

Jana appeared from the kitchen, eyes narrowing the moment she spotted your luggage. “What are you doing?”

“Joining you!” you chirped.

Jana folded her arms. “Don’t you have homework?”

“…I mean yeah,” you admitted with a shrug. “But homework I can do on the flight?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “Oh no. No, no. Alexia gave us very strict instructions—”

“Pleaseee!” You launched into a full dramatic performance, dropping your bags and flinging yourself toward her. “I haven’t seen Bruna in ages! You can’t leave me here! I’ll wither away!”

“She’s going to kill us,” Ona said, but it was half-hearted, her tone already slipping toward resignation.

“Please!” you begged, clinging to Jana’s arm. “Pleasepleaseplease! I’ll be so good. I won’t even talk the whole flight.”

“That’s a lie,” Ona muttered.

“I’ll try not to talk the whole flight,” you amended, batting your lashes.

Jana sighed. “This is a terrible idea.”

“But also… a little fun?” you grinned.

She looked at Ona, who gave her the same deadpan stare she always did when things were about to spiral. But then she broke.

“Fine,” Ona said with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “But hurry before we regret this.”

“Too late,” Jana muttered, watching you fist-pump the air.

You were a whirlwind the entire way to the airport— talking, laughing, bouncing in your seat. By the time you reached the boarding area, both Jana and Ona were on their phones, catching up on messages and barely keeping up with your commentary about airport snacks and airplane legroom.

Then you saw it. A little crepe stand tucked between two gates. Your eyes lit up.

You didn’t want to interrupt their texting, Ona was probably talking to Lucy, and Jana was probably updating Bruna, so you slipped off quietly. You’d only be a minute. Just enough to grab some crepes and surprise them. It took them a few minutes to notice.

Jana looked up first and immediately straightened. “Where is she?”

Ona looked up too, eyes scanning the row of chairs. “You’re joking.”

“She was right there!” Jana hissed.

“She has the worst sense of direction—why did we let her out of our sight?!”

“Because she was sitting! She was literally sitting right there!” Jana stood up, looking around in every direction.

“She probably walked straight into a wall thinking it was the bathroom,” Ona muttered, already panicking as they started scanning the terminal.

They wandered past shops, peeked into waiting areas, earned more than a few strange looks as they frantically muttered your name and tried to remain inconspicuous while definitely failing.

Then they turned a corner and saw you at the crepe stand, grinning like a child on Christmas morning, carefully balancing three crepes in your hands.

“I got us all Nutella with strawberries,” you beamed, holding one out proudly as you spotted them.

Jana groaned and sank onto the bench beside the stall. “You’re going to be the death of us.”

Ona took her crepe with a sigh, shaking her head. “Next time, we’re zip-tying you to the seat.”

You just giggled, already halfway through your first bite. “Worth it.”

The wheels touched down on the tarmac and before the seatbelt light even dinged off, you were halfway out of your seat, vibrating with excitement. You barely made it through customs before breaking into a full sprint through the arrivals area like a sugar-high toddler, nearly knocking over an elderly couple and someone’s luggage.

“Bruna!” you shouted at the top of your lungs, spotting her near the barrier with a coffee in hand, very much not expecting a hurricane to barrel straight at her.

Her eyes widened. “What the—”

And then you collided with her like a wrecking ball, arms wrapped around her waist, bouncing up and down like a kid on Christmas morning. “You didn’t think I was coming! Surprise! It’s me! Your favorite little chaos goblin!”

Bruna let out a startled laugh, stumbling back a step. “I thought you weren’t allowed to come!”

Jana, trailing behind with two rolling suitcases and a severely unimpressed expression, grunted. “We didn’t have a choice. She snuck into our Uber with a bag and a plane ticket like it was a prison break.”

“I told you!” you grinned, still clinging to Bruna like a koala. “I belong in England.”

“You haven’t even left the airport yet,” Ona muttered, hauling your duffel with the aura of a very tired single mother of three. “Can you just stand still for five seconds?”

“Nope!” you declared, spinning in a full circle and nearly tripping over someone’s rolling carry-on.

“Estrella!” Ona snapped. “I swear to God, if you don’t stop—”

“I’m gonna buy one of those kid leashes,” she said to Jana, exasperated, pointing at you like you were an unruly Pomeranian.

“She’ll chew through it,” Jana said flatly.

Bruna, clearly realizing your chaos energy wasn’t going to subside, grabbed your arm and refused to let go. “That’s it. You’re mine now. I’m holding you hostage.”

“You say that like it’s a punishment,” you grinned, letting her drag you all the way to baggage claim and then to the car. She didn’t release you even when she had to unlock the trunk, just maneuvered with one arm like a pro while you clung to her like a barnacle.

The moment you got into the car, you slid into the seat beside Bruna and immediately launched into a verbal monologue with no breathing breaks. “Oh my God, I missed you so much, like so much. Spain is weird without you and Alexia yells more now and Olga makes me eat vegetables. Also, I stubbed my toe yesterday and thought of you for some reason—OH and Soleil says hi, she was like, ‘Tell Bruna hi’ and I was like ‘I will if she answers my texts’—”

Bruna blinked. “I do answer your texts.”

“Three business days later!”

Meanwhile, Ona and Jana, trapped in the back seats, had both slumped against their respective windows. At some point, maybe around your detailed story about how you got into a heated debate with a pigeon outside your favorite café, they gave up entirely and fell asleep. You kept going.

“—and then I told Olga that I wanted to dye my hair like yours and she said no because ‘Bruna’s hair doesn’t count as a stable color reference’ which I think was super rude, honestly, because I think your hair is iconic—”

Bruna just looked at you, both baffled and amused. “You breathe through your ears or something?”

You grinned. “Only when I’m excited. Which I am. Because you’re here. And I’m here. And I missed you so much, like seriously. It’s not the same without you. You might act like you’re too cool for me, but you’re not. You’re my sister and I missed my sister.”

Bruna finally smiled, that warm, soft one she doesn’t give often. “I missed you too, little devil. Even if you drive me absolutely insane. You’re still my pain-in-the-ass baby sister at the end of the day.”

You beamed at her, totally unfazed by the insult wrapped in love.

When you finally got to the hotel, you didn’t even help unload the car. You burst into the living room like you were running a marathon, dropped your bag, and dramatically flopped onto the couch with a groan of fake exhaustion.

“I think I belong in England,” you declared, sprawled out like a dead fish.

Bruna rolled her eyes. “Hell no.”

The next morning, just as the sky began to lighten with a soft pink hue, you were already wide awake and brimming with energy. You threw the curtains open with dramatic flair, letting the sun pour into the hotel room.

“Get up, get up, get up!” you sang at the top of your lungs, bouncing between the beds like an overly caffeinated squirrel. “London isn’t going to explore itself!”

Ona groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. “It’s six in the morning.”

Jana blindly reached for your ankle from where she lay sprawled across the bed. “Estrella, I swear to God—”

“I made an itinerary!” you chirped, ducking away before Jana could grab you. “Big Ben, Tower Bridge, Abbey Road, and the Harry Potter platform thingy!”

“You didn’t even say the name right,” Ona muttered into her pillow, but you were already skipping to the bathroom, humming a song of your own invention.

Three hours later, after much groaning, dragging, and you bribing them with pastries, the four of you were finally out and about, navigating the busy streets of London. You were a blur of motion, bouncing between sights and posing in front of every single one like you were the star of your own travel documentary.

“Picture!” you shouted, grabbing Jana and Ona by the sleeves and dragging them in front of Buckingham Palace.

“Another one!” you yelled ten minutes later in front of Tower Bridge.

“You’re going to have 100 photos of the back of my head,” Jana grumbled, squinting at the glare of the sun.

“That’s okay,” you said, already framing a selfie. “Your hair looks great!”

Bruna had joined you mid-morning, stylishly dressed and sipping coffee like she wasn’t babysitting a human firecracker. She watched you literally walk straight into a pole while staring in awe at a double-decker bus.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” she said flatly, taking another sip of her drink.

Ona and Jana didn’t even flinch. “Yep,” they said in perfect unison.

Later that afternoon, the four of you were huddled around a small stall at the farmers market, arguing over which jam sample tasted the best.

“The strawberry has personality,” you insisted, already elbow-deep in a second helping.

“The apricot is more refined,” Bruna replied, raising an eyebrow at you.

While they debated the intricacies of fruit preserves, your eyes caught something in the distance. A churro stand. Not just any churro stand— this one had the silkiest, most luxurious chocolate sauce you had ever seen. It shimmered like a dream under the sun. Your mouth watered. Your sweet tooth roared to life.

Without saying a word, you slipped away. Two minutes passed.

“Where’s Estrella?” Ona asked, looking around.

Jana squinted. “She was just here.”

Bruna, calm as ever, sighed and pulled out her phone. “It’s fine. I dropped an AirTag in her bag.”

They tracked your location and, sure enough, the blinking dot led them straight to—you guessed it—the churro stand.

They stood there, watching as you happily devoured a churro, chocolate smeared on your cheek like war paint.

“Really?” Jana said, deadpan.

“Are we even surprised at this point?” Ona added.

“I should’ve dropped two AirTags,” Bruna muttered.

Eventually, the four of you made your way to lunch at a cozy little café tucked down a quiet alleyway. You were munching happily on your second helping of fries when Bruna suddenly reached over and squeezed your hand gently.

“I missed you, Estrella,” she said, her voice soft now. “You’re all grown up. But next time, I will come to Spain. You in another country is too stressful.”

You beamed at her, chocolate still faintly visible at the corner of your mouth. “Deal.”

Then you leaned your head on her shoulder and immediately began pestering her to let you order dessert. Again.

#woso community #woso x platonic!reader #woso fic #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #woso x teen!reader #barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca x reader #barcelona x reader #barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #bruna vilamala x reader #⋆｡˚ stargirl

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monalisahyperdrive · 6 months ago

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Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

400 notes · View notes

msbigredmachine · 9 months ago

Text

Kitty Kat (Roman Reigns)

After a lifetime of searching, the Tribal Chief may have finally found the woman of his dreams. Post Summerslam 2024.

Warnings: SMUT (yes i know its excessive im sorry 😭)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: This got way too long bc I talk too much. I tried to shorten it I promise but I just couldn't. I do hope you like it either way...

Song inspiration: Again - Lenny Kravitz

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs

-------------------

He could get used to this.

As he stepped off the plane, Joe discreetly adjusted the bulge in his pants and exhaled deeply, allowing himself a giddy smile in anticipation for what was to come.

He couldn’t wait to see her again. His Kitty Kat. The interesting part was that this time, she’d flown him out to come spend the week with her, in First Class, no less. “It’s a five-hour flight from Cleveland to L.A., so I want you to be as comfortable as possible, Daddy,” she’d told him. Never in his wildest dreams did he envision being ‘flewed out’. He’d been the one flying her out in his private jet, chartering luxury vehicles to bring her to him. The reverse felt strange and would take some getting used to, but it did feel nice to be pampered and taken care of for once.

Seated comfortably in the back of the Cadillac Escalade driving him through the City of Angels, he reminisced about last night in Cleveland. It was fun to hear the crowd again, the adrenaline rush of his entrance music blaring all around the Browns Stadium. It was a long absence from wrestling for him, darkened by the passing of his father, followed by the whirlwind preparation and execution of his funeral, grand, exhausting and emotional. Kat being by his side for all of it was a precious elixir he could never repay her for, but perhaps he could start tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. It was an unknown number, but against his better judgment, he answered and hoped it wasn’t some weirdo fan. “Hello?”

“You left town without telling me? I saw you all over Summerslam last night!” the shrill, familiar voice responded.

Scratch that. Now he wished it was a fan. “I know I blocked your ass. This is stalking,” was his cold greeting.

“I just want us to talk, Joe! We can’t just end things the way we did!”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, Ebony. I got the DNA test I wanted. Go find your baby daddy and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Are you ever gonna forgive me? I made a mistake!” Ebony pleaded. “You didn’t even invite me to Sika’s funeral. That hurt my feelings, Joe.”

“Bitch, don’t piss me off!” Joe countered angrily. “Blurting out that I’m not Josiah’s daddy was not a mistake! I also found the messages in your phone, remember? You and your little group chat laughed at me, laughed about me raising a kid that ain't mine!”

“That’s a female ass trait, y’know, lookin’ through my phone and invading my privacy!” Ebony complained.

“You can invade these nuts,” Joe dismissed, “You cheated on me and lied about the paternity of your son! That’s enough for me to wash my hands off of you and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

For a second, Ebony was quiet. Then, “Let me guess. You’re with that uppity rich bitch. She was at your dad’s funeral, both of y'all looked so cozy in the videos. She's the reason you don’t wanna work things out, right? Weren’t you seeing her before we broke up? Who’s the cheater now, huh?”

Joe scoffed in disbelief. After all she’d done to make his life a living hell, she was still gaslighting him. “We were over long before I started seeing her. I only hung around cuz I thought the kid you were carrying was mine. Don’t act like your whorish toxic ways didn’t drive me into her arms in the first place! You broke us up, so I’ve moved on from your evil ass. Simple.”

Ebony kissed her teeth. “You are so disrespectful to me, always have been. You never cared about me. It was all about your fucking wrestling. You were always gone! I was lonely! I needed you and you didn't give a shit!”

“So that’s why you opened your legs for some bum, got knocked up, and lied that I was the father? You disrespected yourself!” He felt himself getting riled up and had to compose himself. He would not let his ex ruin his day. “Imma make this clear so even you can understand. We. Are. Done. Call me again and it’s my attorney you’ll be talking to.” Cutting off the call, he then blocked the number and deleted it for added measure.

Fuck that ho.

Anyway, back to his girl, Kat. It had been an amazing few months so far with her. Of course, he’d googled her in the beginning, asked Heyman to run a background check to make sure she was legit and not a psychopath like his ex. Katrina Sullivan was one of the most famous music producers in the world and the top executive at her renowned publishing label. She was a big time player in her industry just like he was, a star in her own right, and it was a match made in Heaven.

Not only was she incredibly beautiful, but sex with her was a wild ride. She gave him a run for his money whenever they fucked. She was all about new experiences and wasn’t too prissy to fuck inside a car or suck him off outside a dive bar. He blushed every time he remembered the freaky shit they got up to after his loss at Wrestlemania. Long story short, she made him feel much better about dropping the belt. He loved that she loved sex as much as he did, and if he wasn’t hooked on her before, he was completely addicted after that night.

And it wasn’t all about the physical. There was an emotional bond they shared, a connection that he’d never felt with anyone else before her. Talking with her felt like talking with a friend. He would unload his good days and bad days on her and she would listen to all of it without passing judgment. He did the same for her and was proud to be the one she learned to trust after her own past heartbreaks. Joe wished he’d had the courage to leave Ebony earlier. Perhaps he would have found the woman who had become his peace, his safe haven, and closed the hole in his heart much, much sooner.

A Google Map search helped him find the best florist in town. The ladies in the shop ooh'ed and ahh'ed over the beautiful bouquet of roses he bought and how lucky his lady was. But he thought he was the lucky one. As he took a deep breath and inhaled the flowers, he felt his stomach flutter at the thought of her beautiful face, her smile, her warm embrace. Joe knew he was in love, but he didn’t quite know how to tell her yet. It was weird enough that he lowkey felt like a thot being flown out. He really didn’t mind, though. All he wanted was to be with her and just be in her presence, in her aura. He would tell her when he was ready.

-----------------

Kat’s mansion was the stuff of dreams. Isolated on the hills of the Pacific Palisades overlooking lush Californian greenery, it was one of her rewards as the most in-demand producer in music today. The living room segued into the kitchen, which welcomed him with the smell of freshly cooked food. Pasted to her stainless steel refrigerator by a small circular ‘Acknowledge Me’ magnet, was a note from her saying that she’d just headed out for a last-minute meeting and directed him to the oven where a warm skillet of sirloin steak and seasoned roasted potatoes waited for him. She had also stocked her fridge with his Megafit meals along with C4 Energy drinks and a few bottles of her own branded tequila. His baby was spoiling him rotten and he was digging it.

He first put the fresh flowers in a vase he filled with water before settling down to eat. He wished she was here with him, but he understood more than anyone how busy things could be when you were at the top of your game. He was proud of her and wanted her to get all the coins she deserved. Halfway through his meal, he pulled out his phone and checked on her.

After dinner, he embarked on a little tour around her breathtaking abode which ended up taking several minutes to complete. Joe had some nice homes of his own around the globe, but this floored them all. The edifice dripped with luxury and was crafted to perfection, just like his Kitty Kat was. He enjoyed the gorgeous city view from her balcony as he sipped on some tequila. Her bathroom was spacious and had a waterfall shower that he luxuriated in when he stepped inside. One side of her walk-in wardrobe was lined with an assortment of brand new t-shirts, pants and dress shirts all for him. Of course she knew his size; she’d ripped his clothing off of him on many occasions. His stomach was doing flips as the time continued to tick by. It was hilarious that the big bad Tribal Chief was acting all giddy at the mere thought of a woman, but here he was, entangled in her expensive satin sheets, counting down the minutes until she was back in his arms.

----------------

The sound of running water jerked him awake. The plane ride must have worn him out more than he thought; he didn’t even realize when he fell asleep. The sky outside was now pitch black but the bathroom lights were switched on. As he sat upright in the bed, something rolled down his bare chest and onto his lap. He looked down and his breath hitched. A sheer, baby pink-colored thong, just removed. Unable to resist, he held it up to his nose and shivered as her sensual aroma filled his nostrils and sent all his blood rushing south. With newfound enthusiasm, he climbed out of the bed and padded over to the bathroom.

Katrina’s back was turned to him, standing over the tub as she drained the bath. Draped in a fluffy lilac bathrobe that barely covered her backside as she bent over, Joe chose to stand there and admire her, letting his eyes follow the rivulets of water that trickled down her long shapely legs. He trailed his gaze along the backs of her knees and her oh-so-sexy thighs, stopping at her luscious derrière where he found her pussy lips, slick and glistening, winking at him. He groaned out loud at the sight, feeling his bulge stir in his drawstring shorts.

Alerted by the noise he made, Kat spun around and sighed. "Oh, damn," she frowned and bounced her fist against her thigh.

Joe raised an eyebrow at her reaction. “Did I frighten you?”

“Not really. I wanted to wake you up by sucking your dick.”

Chuckling heartily, he stepped closer. "You still can, baby. Don’t let me stop you,” he said, sealing their lips together in a kiss he’d been thinking about for weeks. He held her tight, molding their bodies together as time seemed to stop all around them. The anticipation had been building all day and just this moment alone was worth the long wait.

Joe sighed happily against her lips, his fingers massaging the back of her neck. “Mmm, I can tell you missed me. Did you miss me, baby?”

“You know I did, Daddy,” she whispered back. It had been months in the making, but Kat was thrilled that he was finally here in her humble abode. She pulled back to regard him, marveling at the sheer height and width of him, his bare, broad chest showcasing that beautiful tattoo and all those muscles. Fuck, he was so hot. “I saw the roses in the kitchen, they’re beautiful,” she said.

“Not as beautiful as you are, baby,” Joe answered, brushing his thumb along her bottom lip. “How was your meeting?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “Waste of my time. Don’t really wanna talk about it,” she added, changing the topic to a more exciting one. “You looked so good last night, babe. I could see how happy you were to be back.”

“I was,” he admitted, his light brown eyes lighting up. “Bro, hearing the fans go bananas when my music hit was insane. And all those fingers in the air, too. Four years of bustin' my ass finally paying off.”

“Huh. I had one finger out too, but it wasn’t in the air, and I was layin’ in bed. Naked,” Kat teased, fluttering her long eyelashes at him.

The thought of her writhing around in bed aroused by his show of violence caused another tightening in his shorts. With a growl in his voice, he responded, "Show me."

“Wait.” She put up one hand before he could grab her. “Before we get started…I never got to ask you because we were so busy with the funeral…But did you take the DNA test?” she asked, watching with dismay as his face fell. He looked away with a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, something she learned he did when he was reeling in his emotions.

“Yeah. Josiah’s not mine,” he replied sadly.

Two distinct emotions of her own rushed through Kat at this news. Relief, that he was no longer tied to Ebony and he could now, finally, move on with his life. Move on with her. Disappointment, on his behalf, knowing that he had enjoyed getting to know the baby boy he’d thought was his child. “I’m so sorry,” was all she could muster.

“Don’t be. At least I know the truth now. I care about the kid, but he’s not my responsibility any more,” he choked out, the sting of losing that sweet little boy still raw and painful.

“Oh, baby.” Kat rubbed her hands up and down his broad back to soothe him. She regretted downing the mood and sought to fix it. “What can I do?”

Joe shook his head and sank into her embrace. “Just be with me, like this. I wanna be with you. Thank you for bringing me out here, it’s exactly what I needed.”

“Of course. You know I gotchu,” she assured him, butterflies sprouting inside her belly as he dropped feather-light kisses on her neck, trailing along her shoulder which was soon bare as he slipped off her robe and dropped it to the floor. She tugged down his shorts and her hungry gaze zeroed in on that other part of him that she missed. All those FaceTime calls and selfies did very little justice to the real thing. This was his first time on her turf, and she was determined to use this week wisely, especially as this extended period didn’t quite exist before.

In the beginning, their meetings were brief and eventful, a couple of hours’ escape from the madness going on in their individual lives. Meet up, scorch the sheets, and wake to the sound of the rustle of clothes pulled from the floor, the sharp zipping of bags, quick kisses goodbye followed by the front door quietly clicking open and shut. At each other’s mercy at sunset then disappearing before dawn to resume reality. It was a thrill at first but as time passed, Kat realized she wanted more with him. She wanted to begin and end her days in his sturdy arms. Wanted them to shower together, to eat together and spend much more time together. Simply put, she wanted to be a real couple, and she was ecstatic when he confessed that he wanted the same. Coming to L.A. was a great start and it excited Kat to no end.

Hand in hand, they walked together, naked, out of the bathroom. She giggled as he followed closely behind her, kissing her neck and touching her body along the way. As they reached the bed, Joe noticed the bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket full of ice on the nightstand. Kat read his mind. “Just a lil’ sumn to celebrate your arrival,” she clarified, as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her to stand between his legs. His gaze was soft, yet beautifully intense as he ran his hands up her thighs and her hips, cupping her backside and bringing her even closer to him. He pressed his lips to her stomach, adorning her belly with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that felt so good she moaned pleasurably in approval.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered against her brown skin, his voice clear yet filled with a vulnerability he’d never felt before.

Kat smiled down at him. “Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“For real?” His heart pounding so hard in his chest he was sure she could hear it.

Her smile widened as she loosened his ponytail, letting the long dark locks fall and frame his breathtaking features like the angel he was. Her angel. “Yeah. I mean…After everything we’ve shared, after getting to know the beautiful person that you are, of course I’m in love with you too.”

They were words he’d been hoping to hear from her for a while now, and now that he had, he was robbed of every sensation other than joy and peace and the burning need to make love to her nonstop for the rest of his stay in the West Coast. “You’re beautiful too, baby girl,” he rasped, drawing her back in, “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

They clung to each other, making out with increasing passion, both of them extremely aroused and more desperate than ever in the wake of this wonderful revelation. As they kissed, he slipped one hand over her breast, kneading gently, eliciting from her those purring sounds that earned her sexy little nickname. He missed his Kitty Kat so much. The last time they were together was at his father’s funeral, and he couldn't be with her the way he wanted to be. Now that they were all alone there was nothing stopping him from having his way with her.

But apparently, she had other plans.

She pushed him hard in the chest, smirking at his surprised grunt as he hit the mattress rather unceremoniously. “Get in,” she instructed him.

He frowned petulantly at her, but did as he was told, dragging himself backwards up the bed with his eyes on her at all times. He felt his mouth go dry as she crawled towards him on all fours like the sexy ass kitten she was. As she reached the space between his open legs, she surprised him by picking up her thong and winding it around his wrists, securing it tight before pushing his arms over his head.

“Baby…” he pouted.

“Shhhh,” Kat shushed him quietly, thrilled by the submission in his eyes, the surrender in his soft moan, his dick hard and erect in anticipation. Having control over a man like him felt so empowering. Though sexually submissive to him, Kat always enjoyed it when the roles were switched. It never lasted long though, so she planned to make the most of it.

Climbing back down his body, she rubbed her hands on the expanse of his thighs, his caramel skin warm beneath her fingers. She moved higher, coming dangerously close to the pleasure between his legs but avoiding it, for now. She wanted to touch it but the wait was more exciting. Her hands disappeared to squeeze his ass cheeks, and then reappeared over his hips, traveling along the sharpened ridges of his six-pack abs and up to his broad chest. Her body followed suit, sliding up until her thighs bracketed his sides. The little hiss that escaped him as she sat on his torso thrilled her; she knew right away that he could feel her warm moistness against his skin. Her fingers found his nipples next, toying with them before leaning in to lick them, and giggled with amusement when his dick sprang high enough to smack against her backside.

“Fuck, baby, feel what you do to me?” Joe hissed, his cock jumping again as her mouth warmed his neck, nibbling on the shell of his ear as she whispered to him in the softest, deadliest timbre:

"I’m just getting started, big guy."

Sitting upright on top of him, she reached for the ice bucket, scooping out an ice cube in the shape of an exquisite diamond. The ravenous look in Joe’s eyes matched hers as she sipped on the cube, letting the cold melt on her tongue and travel down her throat. Then, she bent down and kissed him, her cold tongue quickly warming up from the heat of his mouth. The wet muscles moved together in a sweet dance, delightedly intertwining, obsessed with the taste of each other. Kat pressed the ice cube to his chest, giggling when he jerked from the cold, and drew figure eights with it, watching rivulets of water trickle down the sides of his body. She put the ice cube on his right nipple and watched it harden. Then she replaced the ice with her warm mouth on his cold nipple.

“Shit, baby you killin’ me,” he moaned, looking on with hooded eyelids as she kissed down his body. She stopped between his legs, bowing her body in front of his erection, long and thick and hard, precum glistening on his slit. Her tongue darted out to taste it, licking her lips with pleasure. Giving him a sly wink, she took the tip of his dick in her mouth and sucked, winding her tongue around the head like a hungry snake. The moan that escaped his lips was needy and borderline painful, causing her eyes to light up in triumph.

“When I get my hands on you…” he growled, his expression almost pissed, but Kat knew better. His frustration mingled with his lack of control, control she’d taken from him all day by calling the shots from his travel to the food he ate. The sensual power play continued as she massaged his dick, the thick velvety flesh twitching in her hands as his hands twitched in his makeshift binds. Using the flat of her tongue, she licked up and down his shaft, making slurping sounds that were drowned out by his groans as she spread her saliva all over his dick. She was addicted. He tasted so good and she craved to have her fill.

Putting a smaller ice cube in her mouth, she chewed it, crushing the ice with her teeth. From there, she hugged his dick with her lips, dousing the heat of his flesh with the coldness of her throat. Tiny bits of ice melted against his shaft as she sucked and tongued every inch of him. She could feel his chest heaving and his abs crunching, could hear his strangled moans as he got warmer and got harder in her mouth. He was right where she wanted him. Resting her weight on his burly thighs, she moaned to him to let go, and smiled when seconds later a shout burst from him, his hips arching off the bed as he unloaded down her throat. She drank her fill of him, glancing up to watch the pleasure ravage his huge body, giving a little smile as he floated down back to earth.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his body jerking when she pulled away, letting his dick, slick with her spit and his cum, plop down on his thigh. With one more long, soft kiss to his length, she slithered back up his body, pressing her lips to his for a sweet, delicate kiss which heavily contrasted with the heaviness of his dick brushing along her now-wet opening. Pleasing him turned her on in a way her notoriously composed self could never comprehend.

“You came so hard for me, baby. The look on your face was everything,” Kat gifted him a teasing lash of her tongue against his as she ran her hands up his arms to toy with the sheer material holding him hostage. Lifting her body up, she slowly sank down on his dick, a gasp slipping from her when the smooth tip pierced through her soft, slick folds, enabling her to wind her hips to take him all the way in. They both moaned as the thickness of him nudged her sweet spot, coaxing a whine out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting him close, making out with him while slowly rocking her body back and forth, grinding her clit on him. It stunned her to this day, how she was able to take him all, his length and girth filling her and hitting her most sensitive spot right away. The power that coursed through her at making him succumb to her will, no different from any pinning combination or submission move, was intoxicating. Her moans and his groans reverberated through the bedroom, the air thick with the scent of sex as she loved on him.

“Untie me. Now,” Joe commanded out of nowhere, the roughness of his tone surprising Kat. One look at the power and pleasure on his beautiful face told her he was not taking no for an answer. Obediently, she reached up and unraveled the underwear from around his wrists, and she had barely tossed it aside when his hands came around her, finding her backside and thrusting deeper into her. Finally, he could touch her the way he wanted. He loved her ass, enjoyed the feel of it gyrating against his palms. He landed a heavy-handed slap on it, making her burrow her face in his neck with a soft cry, the sound growing more desperate as his fingers caressed the supple flesh of her ass while grinding up into her, making her feel so good.

“Such a badass bitch, yet so weak for me. Weak for this dick,” he purred to her with a kiss to her shoulder. The wicked gleam in his eyes had Kat both frustrated and aroused, but the unmistakable glimpse of lust clouding those eyes showed he was just as weak for her. With every downward motion of her hips, she could see him become more mesmerized, his breaths huskier, his face contorting with unbridled bliss as her pussy squeezed his length in deep, throbbing pulls. Sensing him trying to regain control, she beat him to it, pushing up and steadying herself on top of him. With both hands planted on his strong chest, she adjusted her legs in a squat and began bouncing on his dick, up and down, fucking him, taking from him what she wanted, giving him what he needed.

“Fuck, that’s it, kitten, ride the shit outta my dick,” Joe groaned, his huge hands now clamped around her waist. “I’m here now, baby. I gotchu. Take it out on me, take all that stress out on me.” It was a wonder to watch her, her knees up and wide apart, treating him to the sight of her moist flesh gliding all the way down his turgid flesh and back up, leaving the base of his dick a wet, slippery mess. It looked incredible and felt even better. “You so wet for me, baby girl,” he rasped, reaching up to massage her bouncing breasts. “I love it when you use me. You love using Daddy’s big dick, huh?”

"Yes, Daddy I love it...Shiiit, oh my goddd!" Kat threw her head back, her moans shaky, her body trembling on top of him as waves of ecstasy washed over her thanks to the orgasm wracking her from head to toe.

“Unnhh yeah, come for Daddy, come on my dick,” he moaned back to her, his full lips parted and panting, his eyes boring into hers as he watched her come undone. Overcome with passion, he sat upright and tugged her flush against him, his breath hitching as the action sank him even deeper into her. He needed to hold her to him, needed to make her all his. “I ain’t pullin’ out,” he announced, moving her on him again, “I'ma come all up inside you, baby.”

His words sank in, but any coherent answer she had disappeared with another rake of his dick against her g-spot. Wordlessly, Kat snuggled into his warm embrace, locking her arms and legs around him as she continued to grind on him in a deliciously erotic rhythm. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Joe planted a big kiss upon her throat, her jaw, then her lips, enjoying the taste of her moans as his hips rolled along with hers like a choreographed dance. Emotions were high as they joined as one, surrounded by the sounds of the newfound love they were finally expressing to each other. The mattress bounced beneath them, the legless bed rocking in tune with their heated bodies rocking on top of it. Every worry they had was gone and replaced with a hunger and need for the other that they both knew they would never be able to satiate.

"I love you," Joe whispered, pushing her hair out of her eyes to gaze into them.

“I love you too, baby...oh fuck,” Kat panted, burying her face in his shoulder, her hands sliding down to grip his ass as she bucked her hips like a mad woman. Joe moved with her, not missing a single beat. His own release was building fast within him, too fast. The blood was pounding in his head and tightening his balls as her pussy squeezed his cock so tight he was having a hard time catching his breath. They soon realized they were climaxing together, both shaking from the intense, throbbing waves of pleasure. Kat’s toes curled into the sheets as she felt his warm fluid gushing into her pussy just like he wanted, felt his body pulse as hard as his dick pulsing deep inside of her. No piece of music, no music video she created could ever compare to the magic she made with this incredible man, ever be as beautiful as the sight of his face scrunching up helplessly as his orgasm consumed him. So she kept her eyes on him for as long as she could, watching all the emotions sweep his gorgeous visage like an unforgettable movie.

An eternity later, their movements slowed, their breathing calmed, their hearts racing as one as the world returned to normal. Joe felt light as air as he fell back onto the bed, Kat melting into him with her head on his chest, where his heart beat for her. He was still inside her and she kept him there, wanted to be filled with all his love in the very best way.

“Welcome home, my love,” she giggled, soothed by his own throaty chuckle vibrating against her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed her forehead. She wished she could bottle the sound of his laugh, the feeling of his soft lips, bottle this very moment forever.

“Glad to be home, my love,” he answered, his fingers caressing her back as he kissed her mouth. “I can tell my time in L.A. is gonna be fun.”

"Mm-hmm. We got all week, Daddy," Kat eyed him with a sly smile, tracing her manicured index finger along his tattooed pectoral, "Like I said, we're just getting started."

THE END.

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A/N: This is the only story I've had the energy to complete. I'd love to know your thoughts!

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#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagines #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x oc #the bloodline #the tribal chief #the otc

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elysiality · 22 days ago

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TRICK OR TREAT —

natalie scatorccio and shauna shipman. (PT.2 to W.I.T.H.)

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, grinning widely as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' "

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-⋆˚꩜｡ synopsis — ever since the knife incident, Shauna's been latched onto you like a leech hungry for blood. as annoying as this is, an opportunity for escape presents itself in the form of your girlfriend, Nat. you let yourself indulge in malicious compliance with what 'It' wills. (requested part 2 to Wolf In the Headlights)

-⋆˚꩜｡ content contains — fem! reader, yellowjackets typical antics, yellowjackets season 3 spoilers, shauna shipman being shauna shipman, marriage blood rituals (no, you're not reading this wrong), infidelity but not really??? blood, blah blah blah, you know the drill, I am not a botanist chat, consensual (ish) drugging, clap if you're surprised, blood drinking, suggestive-ish?? wow this is long—

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ever since the knife incident™, you were under the, quite frankly, delusional impression that maybe Shauna would leave you alone now. maybe, just maybe, you and Nat could now live out the rest of your miserable, definitely shortened lifespan without the imposing influence of America's First Female Dictator (trademark pending).

as you might've guessed, that was not the case. if anything, she's just gotten even more annoyingly clingy and paranoid now— you didn't even know that was possible.

the whole 'good dog' comment was a spur of the moment thing. the most condescending, degrading insult you could think of at the moment (granted, not a very creative one). she took it to heart, as luck would have it.

she goes everywhere you go.

you're trying to do your chores? she's right next to you— not helping, but watching you do your work, sharpening that darn knife of hers like it wouldn't cut through diamond at this point.

try to sneak off with Nat for a secret, much needed makeout session? she pops out of seemingly nowhere, her footsteps blending in with the rustling of the trees, and completely ruins the vibe by scaring the living daylights out of the two of you.

it'd gotten to the point where you considered joining Lottie's weird wilderness cult to escape her— the one thing Shauna refuses to touch with a ten-foot pole.

unfortunately, Nat was on Shauna's side with that one, so that idea was completely vetoed. in her words, 'joining a cult is all fun and games until you realise that you can't leave'. you can't help but agree.

Shauna's 'affection' (heavy air quotes on that) isn't just limited to stalking either. she's been trying to show off for you— and by that, I mean that she's been showing off. plain and simple.

if she walked around like she had a stick up her ass before, there's an entire tree up there now. her favourite pastimes (since she was freed from butcher duty once she became queen) now include (but aren't limited to):

poking fun at Nat every chance she gets (expected, but disappointing nonetheless),

alternating between sneering at the will of the wilderness and fully supporting whatever It wills as long as it involves violence,

hitting on you like it's her full time job instead of actually trying to lead the group,

turning down Melissa's advances, thoroughly confusing the poor girl who she made out with less than a week ago, and finally—

running a full blown dictatorship with hut searches, body patdowns every morning (and she does yours personally), etc and relishing in the fact that no one can tell her to stop.

you're actually not quite sure why none of you have tried to impeach your 'queen' yet. you've brought up the topic with Nat in your hut before lights out almost every day, and every day she gives you the same answer— "She sees through our bullshit. We need a foolproof plan before we try to pull anything on her."

even worse, Hannah killed the guide dude. y'know, your pathway back home? yeah. so now she's in with the group and besties with Shauna, apparently. typical. homicidal murderers stay together, as you had remarked to Nat. you both chose to ignore the hypocrisy in that sentence.

so that's been your life now for the past couple of weeks. the days have been getting colder, and with it, everyone has been getting antsier.

Akilah has started frantically trying to breed out the animals as quickly as possible. small groups of two or three go out deeper and deeper into the woods every day to try to salvage whatever herbs and fruits they can find and possibly bring back their seeds. the animals have started retreating deeper. you've managed to skin and gut enough of them to get a decent supply of meat and warm fur, but it's not enough. it's still not enough.

inevitably, what you've been dreading will happen. winter will come and pass. your numbers will grow smaller and the pile of corpses will grow larger. who knows, maybe yours will be among them?

these were the wonderful thoughts that have been floating around in your head for the past week or so.

then came your salvation. Nat dragged you into your hut one night, claiming that she wanted to hit the hay early— odd, considering that she usually stayed up for hours on end after the sun went down (which signalled lights off, given that not one of you apparently thought to bring a watch with you to nationals), but you went with it. the days have been draining you of whatever little energy you did have.

to your surprise, what you expected to be an hour long cuddle session before falling asleep turned out to be a surreptitious strategy meeting. Gen, Robin, Melissa, Mari, Akilah, Van, Tai and even Misty piled into your tiny, cramped hut one by one.

"We needed to get you away from Shauna." Gen explains in a low voice, setting the torch down in its makeshift torch holder. Nat's jaw clenches. "She follows you everywhere. She has this nasty habit of sticking around our hut every night to make sure we aren't plotting against her."

your eyebrows raise just slightly. "Well I can't really say I'm surprised. So what changed tonight?"

Gen nods to Akilah. "Lottie tired her out today", Akilah tells you, her voice hushed as she glances around nervously. "I told her that I had a vision that Shauna would be our salvation. She basically forced Shauna out of her hut and took her to the woods to spend some quality time with her."

"Probably exchanging notes on how to piss us all off with tales of the wilderness and it's hunger for violence." Mari remarks to some nervous giggles.

"And you're sure she's asleep?" you ask, shifting backwards so that you're leaning against Nat, folding your legs in to make room for everyone else.

"We drugged her." Tai holds up a bunch of leaves you can't put a name to. you frown. you've seen some patches of these around your usual snare areas. "Akilah recognised these from her time with the Girl Scouts. We mixed it into her share of the berry juice. They made her sleepier. Van and I had to carry her to her hut. She was out like a light before we even set her down."

"She actually trusted you enough to drink it?", you ask, aghast. this was the same Shauna who had once threatened Robin at knife point to the point of tears because her stew was slightly off-colour. turns out, Mari had put in some natural laxatives in hers, just out of pettiness. they turned the stew a darker colour. she served a week on latrine duty for pulling that one.

"Well, yes, under normal circumstances she would've probably forced it down my throat, can, juice and all—", Van admits, her head drooping onto Tai's shoulder, "but I drank some of it in front of her to convince her. I don't think we fully got there but she was too tired to protest."

"And Lottie?", you persist. usually she's more on neutral territory, but she seems to have joined the Shauna Shipman hype train when she got the chance.

"Already taken care of." Tai replies, tucking Van's now sleeping head under her chin. "She accepted the juice without giving us any problems." "She likes sleeping early at night anyway." Akilah adds. "She likes the clarity the dreamless sleep gives her."

"Course she does." Nat snorts.

you're filled in on the plan, the girls enthusiastically rapid-firing their strategy at you. you're surprised to hear about the satellite cell thing from a suspiciously quiet, red-in-the-face Misty. Nat keeps glaring at her every now and then. you're not sure why.

with each word that leaves their lips, your heart becomes lighter and lighter. a way to get home. away from the wilderness. away from It. away from this rag-tag village made by teenage girls with not a single complete high school education between them and a body count that grows with each passing day.

"So...you in?" Nat asks finally, when all the girls have extinguished their frenetic explanations.

It's a no-brainer— you're getting good at those.

"Yes.", you reply immediately. "Hell yes. I'm so tired of this. I'm so tired of her." you get sympathetic nods. "I just— need to get away from her."

Misty holds up a finger. "But- wait. There is...a crucial role for you to play in the plan..", she explains nervously, looking around for support. everyone else determinedly avoids eye contact. she sighs dejectedly.

you're grateful that Shauna sleeps deeply when she does. you would've given the game away with the explosive reaction you had to the role you were assigned.

the next morning, you tramp out of your hut, steaming mad. Nat follows behind you, yelling after you and cussing loudly. you make as loud a ruckus as you can. sure enough, Shauna is stomping out of her own hut in half a minute, gun slung over her shoulder, hair tousled from sleep, her face twisted in annoyance and just the slightest hint of intrigue.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" Nat snarls as you stomp off towards the animal pen. she grabs your arm roughly, spinning you around to face her dark eyes.. "— hey! I'm talking to you."

sure enough, Shauna storms up to Nat like a knight in blood stained flannel, shoving her off of you by the collar of her shirt. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Shauna hisses, advancing on Nat threateningly. one finger strokes the strap of her gun menacingly and Nat backs up a bit.

Nat eyes her gun for a bit and decides she wants nothing to do with that. "I'm gonna go check on the snares." she announces loudly. then, she shoots you a withering glare. "If there's any left."

she storms off towards the forest bordering the village, leaving a trail of literal dust fuming behind her. you cough as you wave it out of your face.

Shauna turns to you. "The hell was that about?", she asks. her tone is even enough, but you can glean the excitement in her eyes, the vehement tapping of her fingers against her chest.

you roll your eyes. "Nothing. It's nothing." Shauna groans in frustration. you start to imitate Nat, storming towards your hut, but she catches your wrist, spinning you around to face her again. her face is set in annoyance.

"It's not fucking nothing. Your beloved girlfriend, who was being a complete doormat for you like two days ago, is now starting fights with you at— like, the asscrack of dawn.", she snarls, her tone holding just the slightest hint of jealousy. "Now you're gonna tell me what's going on. Or so help me god, you're gonna pay for it."

god. she sounds like a corny stuckup villain from one of those archaic movies your parents used to watch. you think. you might just be making that up. you can't remember the last time you watched a movie.

you huff, kicking around the pebbles on the ground with the tip of your boot, muttering incomprehensible curses before giving in. "Yesterday, Nat couldn't sleep at night. She decided to break curfew and go check on some of the nets we strung up around those berry patches Gen found. They were completely ripped to shreds."

you pause for dramatic effect, looking at Shauna, who's hanging onto every word that leaves your mouth. like a moth drawn to a flame.

"She thinks I did it because Gen had an 'alibi' as she says." "Couldn't it have been an animal?" Shauna asks, slightly confused. "That's what I said!" you say impatiently. "But she shut me down which lead to the catfight you just saw."

you plop down on one of the chopped logs glumly, picking at your dirty nails. the perfect bait. she falls for it, hook, line and sinker. Shauna stands over you for a quiet second, stock still, then— "Come to the lake with me."

you look up, surprised at the suggestion. "The lake?" she nods, her pale cheeks flushing an unusual shade of vermillion. she shuffles on the spot, rubbing the back of her neck. "I drew the four today. I'm going to take the bucket downstream, but I need help. We need water for the animal pen too."

you eye her suspiciously. "And how do I know you're not just trying to take me out and shoot me or try to drown me or something?"

she laughs at that, a low, raspy sound that sends tingles down your spine. you're unsure of whether it's in a good way or a 'i should run way'. knowing Shauna for as long as you have, probably the latter.

she leans down your eye level, cupping your face, stroking your cheek. the calloused pad of her thumb traces the scar at the corner of your lip, the one you got from the plane crash.

"Don't worry about that, kitty-cat. You're too interesting to kill just yet."

you snort derisively at the nickname but you don't look away from her, maintaining fierce eye contact. she grins approvingly.

for the next couple of weeks, the cycle continues. Nat pisses you off more and more, pussies out on any dates you planned with her in front of the others, you go running to Shauna's arms, who smugly accepts your clingy affection. this seems to grate on Nat's nerves extraordinarily well, and she drifts apart from you further and further each day, much to Shauna's satisfaction.

you wake up one morning after a particularly explosive argument with Nat, surveyed by an incredibly tired Shauna. she'd stormed off to the woods at sunrise and you'd promptly fallen back asleep, completely unbothered. Shauna stayed with you until you did, stroking your hair. it's too early to ruminate in the miseries of your failing relationship.

as luck would have it, your beauty nap is rudely interrupted by a loud clanging coming from outside. your stick hut is unfortunately not a very good sun filter so you have to blink rapidly a couple of times as you sit up to clear your vision.

you frown as you see that the entire community is already awake and moving about outside, seemingly hard at work. you throw off your drab blanket, quickly changing into something subjectively presentable before trudging outside at a slothish pace.

your jaw drops the second you step out. your previously drab village now looks like the Halloween isle at Target just threw up over it. or well, it would, if all the decorations didn't look like they were made by three year olds. your friends aren't artists, clearly.

streamers, fake cobwebs, orange and purple spiders (did they use berry juice for dye??) are mounted on every hut. at the dinner table, a couple of the girls and Travis are using textbook paper (you had ample of those on hand, given that your school insisted that all students carry their study material to nationals— you thank your lucky stars) to make more spiders, paper pumpkins and just about every other decoration you can think off.

your eyebrows furrow in utter disbelief. Tai shoots you a grimace from where she's making bloodred berry wine, talking in hushed voices with an annoyed Mari, who looks like someone just pissed in her stew.

you scan the site for Shauna and see her out of the corner of your eye— putting fucking devil horns made of her own notebook pages and meticulously coloured in red onto the decapitated head of the necrotic guide.

you make your way to her, weaving through the chattering girls, wondering if you're stuck in a dream. you crash into several people several times which only confirms the reality of your situation.

Shauna looks up as she hears you approaching. she's looking quite pleased with herself, taking a step back, admiring the rather lopsided horns with pride. “Check it out.”, she says eagerly. “I used some of the cellulose from the plants to make glue. Smart, right?”

you cut to the chase immediately. “Shauna, what the fuck is going on?”, you ask. “Why does it look like we're trying to put on a Wilderness rendition of ‘Friday the 13th’?”

she stares at you, as if a bit confused. like you've just asked her why you weren't back home right now. “Halloween.” she says in a tone that clearly has an undercurrent of a sassy ‘duh’ to it.

“Okay, assuming it was even remotely around Halloween time, which it isn't, what's with all the decorations?” you press impatiently. “We're wasting resources.”

she squints her eyes at you, slight concern on her face. “Do you not know what Halloween is? Have you forgotten that much about civiliziation?”

"I know what Halloween is, Shauna." you grumble, rolling your eyes.

"You sure?", she asks, face stretching into a grin as she adjusts the paper horns on the guide's decapitated head. "I could make you a presentation— but no promises that it won't just be several pages of 'The terribly drawn adventures of Count Chocula and Franken Berry.' “

“No, my point is— why now? We've never celebrated— I don't know, Easter or Valentine's day—”

“We celebrated Easter.”

“With berries. And I'm pretty sure they were the poisoned ones. And we only found like— two.”

"It's the thought that counts."

she shrugs. then she turns to look at you. “If you really want to know, I'm doing this because Halloween is your favourite holiday.”

you're taken aback by that statement. you'd expected a ‘just because’ or maybe ‘i decided to join Lottie’s cult and this is a ritual to show our appreciation for the gifts of the wilderness’ (although that theory is quite the stretch). not this surprising display of thoughtfulness from Shauna.

“You're actually thinking about someone that's not yourself?” you say in disbelief, concern leaking into your tone. “Are you gonna sacrifice yourself to the voodoo forest gods or something?”

she huffs, wiping her juice-caked hands on a nearby rag that could've been a handkerchief or animal skin— you've stopped being choosy about two cannibalistic instances back. “Well you don't have to sound so surprised about it.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture, I really do—” you start off, but she cuts you off impatiently as she chucks the rag onto a passing by Gen. “Trick or treat?”

you stare at her, miffed. “What?”

“Trick or treat?”, she repeats, stepping closer to you.

“Is this a trick question?”

“I don't know. Pick one.”

“Well- well treat, obviously. I don't fancy being jumped or something.” you stammer out, surprised at the abrupt question.

she smirks, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. you jerk back, heat rushing to your cheeks despite your best efforts to control the reactions of your face.

“Good choice.” she says approvingly, starting to walk away.

“Wait! What's my treat?”, you call after her, confused at the mixed signals she's sending you— the mixed signals being wondering whether she was flirting with you or severely plotting to murder you in your sleep. knowing her, the latter is quite likely.

she turns back and grins at you. “Wait till winter comes!” with that, she struts off, presumably to lord over Mari for fun.

the rest of the evening is…surprisingly cheerful? you feast on Coach’s remains (rest in pieces) as well as some of the last fruits of the season, talking and laughing.

everyone had a makeshift costume. it was fun to get resourceful, for them, at least. you weren't feeling very creative (when are you ever, really?) so you just put some paper horns on one of Gen’s headbands and passed it off as the devil. Shauna matched you, guiding you far far away from Nat, who had ironically dressed as your opposite— an angel.

you go to sleep hungover and curled up in Shauna's arms, your now official residence. Nat gets her own hut again. just like she always wanted.

the rest of the week counting down to winter pass by in a blur of prepping, piling on clothes and reevaluating your plan, over and over again. you wake up on winter morning, a pit of dread in your stomach, your body cold without Shauna next to you.

you hear the scream— shrill, loud and full of grief. shivers run down your spine and you wince as you pull on your multiple layers of clothing, dashing out of your hut to the animal pen, where Akilah sobs over the corpses of her babies. everyone gathers around her silently, looking down at the sprawl of your only food source, now dead and completely worthless.

it happens so quickly. the decision to hunt. the card drawing. you read them like books.

you pick up your mask— a fox mask. fitting. you grab the nearest weapon— a knife, and charge after poor Mari, wiping your stinging eyes as you do. Shauna is on your tail, marking you closely. something about it reminds you of the last soccer practice you ever had. the same collaboration. being able to predict each other's moves to work in harmony.

when you reach a copse of trees that bends into a fork, you see your opportunity. you turn to Shauna, who's scanning the woods with the precision and intent of a predator, starving for air. god, you are not athletic. “We should split up.” she immediately turns her gaze to you, her eyes wild and fierce. “No.”

it's a simple, one word command. an order to back down. as established before, you're not one to cower before her. you stand your ground.

“We should split up.”, you insist. “We'll have better chances of finding her. I'll reconvene with you at the village when the horn sounds.”

she grips onto your wrist tightly, no doubt leaving marks that will bloom into bruises tomorrow. her eyes lock onto yours. she's trying to psych you out.

but you've been here before— and won. you stare right back. you know you can wait her out. you have no interest in hunting down your friend. she, however, is losing precious hunting time and the annoyance is showing through her body language as the mist from her ragged breathing starts to get denser and denser with each passing second.

she gets off on the thrill. she can't live without it.

finally, she breaks the eye contact, groaning as she flips wisps of her sodden hair out of her macilent face.

she lets go of your wrist, glaring at you like you were the one that killed Jackie. “Fine.”, she spits out. “But if you don't come back to the village immediately after the horn sounds, I'm coming back to find you myself.”

she presses a kiss to your jaw that's more possessive than anything, before taking a left down the trail left by the snow, her boots trampling through the heavy white ground.

you head in the opposite direction at first, taking the right ‘path’, knife held aloft as if ready to strike. the second she's out of sight and you've sufficiently disguised yourself among the trees, you turn back and follow her discretely, keeping your distance.

she prowls through the trees, her footsteps soft on the snow, barely making a sound. her head twitches with the slightest noise, her hand resting protectively on her dagger. her eyes scan the vast landscape, searching, hunting. a wolf.

'run', you find yourself thinking desperately. 'run, Mari'. there's no way she'll survive out here even if she does escape. no food, no water, no warmth. murder is more merciful.

but you hope that if she truly does have to die, it's a mercy killing. that she comes face to face with one of her friends, who'll hold her hand as she bleeds out in their arms, who'll comfort her in the throes of the end of her life.

not Shauna. never Shauna.

you watch as Shauna discovers Mari’s clothes— her coat, her pants, her socks. poor Mari is now freezing cold, stripped down to her unders, running from your pack of wolves— and, you think, as you notice the red droplets on the ground leading away from the discarded rags, bleeding.

Shauna’s face changes from a confused grimace to a callous look of victory, a small smirk twitching at the corner of her lips.

something creeps up on you at that exact moment. a shadow of lingering anger that's always been there. resentment towards her— for everything, basically.

for killing Jackie.

for being enraged at the world for her baby not surviving and then taking it out on everyone.

for twisting her righteous grief into something dark and malicious that manifested in every terrible way possible.

all thoughts of the plan are abandoned as you watch the cantankerous girl trudge through the snow, looking straight ahead— as though she can smell the bloody trail Mari is no doubt still leaving behind. you snap off a branch, thick and heavy, from one of the nearby trees. you're hot with the blinding urge to punish. to make it sting.

she stops dead in her tracks, jerking awkwardly. she can sense something. she's not dumb, far from it. she's always had a sixth sense for these kinds of things— Jackie’s death, the fire, everything.

Shauna stands stock still, perturbed by sudden silence, the air of a foreboding omen lingering around her. you can see her grip on her knife tighten. you watch from behind a tree, eyes locked onto the two, faint red scars on her neck. your markings.

you don't think any longer. you charge her, so fast that she barely has time to blink before you're on her. her knife is once again knocked far far away from her hands, landing somewhere in the snow where you can't be bothered to look for it.

you're back in that position. straddling her waist, pinning her wrist down with your free hand, the other holding something to her throat. only, this time, you don't hesitate.

you press down with the branch, hard. she starts choking. “We've- been here- before…”, she chokes out, but she's smiling. her eyes glint with an emotion akin to pride. “Yeah. We have.” you pant out, furious that she's still able to talk.

she's coughing now. her air column is slowly being cut off, her lungs struggling for life. you can feel it. every single movement of her body underneath you, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as her body frantically tries to get her the oxygen she needs.

“Old- habits die— hard, huh?” she chuckles out, but it's weak, pathetic. it lacks any of the caustic nature it usually holds

. you press harder. you've always thought the phrase ‘seeing red’ was a poorly described metaphor for being a total cornball— you think you know what that feels like now.

the grin on her face is fucking infuriating. with each pass of your eyes over her ecstatic face, the press of the branch against her throat becomes tighter.

you're vaguely aware of the horn sounding in the distance. you don't care. Mari is dead. if not her then another one of your friends. just another reason to kill her.

her face is turning blue now. her eyes flash with just the slightest hint of fear when she realises— you aren't stopping.

you don't intend to either. you want her gone. you want to feel her squirm and gasp for air under you, like poor Javi. like Mari. like everyone she ever left for the dead. to feel her pulse slow down, to see those earthy eyes glaze over as they stop seeing your enraged face, to see her stop feeling.

she's staring to panic now. her knife hand, which was previously holding onto the branch, pulling it closer, now struggles against the force you're using.

“Y-you know this isn't gonna do anything f-for you, right?” she wheezes out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the back of your own.

you count down the seconds till she stops breathing. the end is inexorable for her now. 10…9…8….

“She's already- already d-dead…”

her voice is getting weaker now, just a little above a hoarse whisper. 7….6…..5..

“You- you're just so…..fascinating…a-aren’t you?”

any second now, she'll die. you'll never have to deal with her again. 4…..3…2… almost...almost...—

“You're jus-just like me…for this…y'know that?”

with that, she pulls you down into a kiss, breathing her last breaths into your mouth as you gasp into it.

fucking hell. fuck. fuck fuck fuck. of all the bullshit in the world, that's what stops you.

you immediately yank your mouth away from hers, her freezing cold lips slowly turning pink from the warmth of the kiss.

you pull the branch away from her throat, just slightly. she immediately gasps for air, letting it fill her parched lungs again.

she smiles weakly at you, her face completely drained of its vivid colour. infuriating. you feel like giving up all morals and just throttling her.

instead, you roll off of her, throwing aside your branch. you both sit up, panting for completely different reasons. you look over at her from the corner of your eye as you rub the blisters starting to form on your palms.

her cheeks are now flushed red, her eyes sparkling in a way that you've only see them do when she was around Jackie. she's smiling uncontrollably, like a teenage girl with a puppy crush— which is, in hindsight, exactly what she is.

only, you aren't sure any other teenage girl with a crush in the outside world would be grinning like a lovesick fool after nearly getting strangled to death by the receiver of their affections.

“You're a sick fuck.” you spit out, rage making your voice shake. “I'll never be anything like you.”

Shauna grins at you cheekily, winking as she presses her palm gently against her sore, reddened throat. “You're right. You aren't anything like me. I would've gone for the kill, kitty-cat.”

you get up and stalk off, moving with as much agility as you can, your feet finding purchase in the snow. you don't have to look to know she's right on your heels. you wouldn't be surprised if she was skipping after you at this point. you don't turn to confirm your suspicions.

you find the other girls hovering over a pit in the ground. the lump in your throat is back as you survey the scene. Mari lies in pieces, impaled on spikes, in just her grimy, once white, tunic, her body completely stained in blood.

you wipe the stray tear that slips down your cheek, holding back the torrent of sobs that are stuck in your throat.

Mari, who was so excited to get back home and return to the land of creature comforts.

Mari, who saved Melissa when the guide shot her and had nursed her through the night, despite her clear dislike for her.

Mari, who had been cooking for all of you from day one, who secretly snuck you a couple extra rations when she noticed that you looked particularly malnourished.

Shauna steps up next to you, not half as emotional as you are. she examines Mari’s mangled corpse with the cold detachment that makes you shudder and want to slap some emotions, anything into her.

“Get her out of there.” she orders no one in particular, but the rest scramble to oblige anyway. you don't.

you watch, numb, as Gen and Melissa pull Mari out, letting Robin tie the knot on her leg to drag her along.

you hear quiet sniffles from beside you and turn to see Van, who looks about as devastated as you feel.

wordlessly, you hold out your arms to her for a hug. she accepts, trembling in your arms, warm tears dripping down your neck and soaking your shirt. you don't care, because you're crying too.

minutes later, Gen is leading the group back to the village as the designated navigator, the others in tow, dragging Mari’s corpse along and leaving a path in her blood.

you hang back at the very end of the group, walking slow, like a fly in amber. Lottie brings up the rear end, quiet as a mouse.

Shauna walks next to you, choosing not to comment on your languished pace, or on the tears streaming down your face that you hastily wipe away.

she rubs at the redness around her neck as she walks, hissing quietly under her breath from the friction burn. you silently take off your silk scarf and tie it around her neck. she thanks you. you, obviously, don't respond.

it's only after a few minutes of silent walking that the quiet becomes unbearable and you pipe up in a hoarse voice, “I'm sorry.”

Shauna chuckles dryly, turning her head to look at you, her steps becoming more like a strut. “No you're not.”

“No.” you agree. “I'm not.”

“The only regret I have is not finishing the job.”, you state flatly. She snickers. "As you should."

if Lottie finds this interaction odd, she doesn't let it be known. she's probably too busy foreseeing the divine future or whatever the fuck anyway. you wonder if she'd be able to foresee you poisoning her drink before it invetiably happens.

the unbearable silence stretches thick between the two of you again. you try to maintain that, but the urge to speak your mind is just as insufferable as the silence.

“It didn't have to be this way.” you grit out. “The hunt, I mean.”

Shauna turns to you again, flashing you those wide brown eyes that purport a sense of innocence that she definitely does not have.

“Oh but sweetie, it's what the wilderness wanted.” she turns her head around to Lottie, who's perked up at the mention of her god. “Isn't that right, Lottie?”

Lottie nods slowly, but it's clear that her mind is far, far away. “Yes. It's what It wills. It had to happen—”

"Oh can it, Lottie." you snap at her. she immediately defers, silently drifting back into her own thoughts.

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly. “Bullshit. You don't even have faith in that.”

Shauna shrugs. “Who knows. Maybe I'm changing my ways.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”, you reply immediately.

“Then you know me pretty damn well.”

“And the hunt had to happen.” Shauna continues without a hint of remorse. her voice rises, but the others in front of you don't react. not a twitch, nothing. you suppose they don't want to be next.

“It's crucial to our survival.”

you narrow your eyes at that, your tone zealous. “And we couldn't have gone— I don't know, berry hunting?”

Shauna simply shakes her head, taking off her hat— Javi’s hat. “No. Death is essential to this place. We need to feed It blood. And she would've died anyway. She wasn't strong enough to survive out here. Natural selection works the way it's supposed to you.”

you stop in your tracks, gawking at her. she stops you, calmly mirroring your movements.

“What the hell are you even saying?” you ask, trying to hide the consternation coursing through every fibre of your being, every vein pulsing in your body, ever muscle stretched taut.

“You tell me. Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone?”

the unsettling tone in which she said it, a cold statement utterly lacking human compassion, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up and causes your skin to prickle in a way that has you frantically rubbing at it through the bulky fabric of your clothes.

if you found it unsettling, Lottie must've thought she was in a living nightmare. you hear a small gasp behind you and turn just in time to see the tall, slender girl crumple into a heap on the forest floor, her mouth gaping wide open.

“Lottie!” you rush to her side, dropping to your knees and she stirs, completely and utterly dazed. you pull her head onto your lap as Shauna stares at the two of you in complete disdain.

“I'm- I'm fine…”, Lottie tries to tell you, but her tattered voice tells you better.

you start to fan her as the others get ahead. Shauna just shrugs. “Keep up.” she walks off to join the others without looking back.

you flip off her back and help Lottie get back on her feet. she stares after Shauna’s retreating figure almost reverently, before turning to you and giving you the sweetest smile you've ever seen from her.

it unsettles you immediately, and also makes you feel small— like she's a pre-school teacher watching you stumble over your ABCs. you silently help her to her feet and keep her balanced by letting her lean on your side.

the only sound for the rest of the trek is the quiet crunching of branches under shoes that ring out like gunshots in the silence.

they string her up by her feet like she's some fox they shot. not one of your friends, one of you.

it's all on Shauna's orders, of course, but that doesn't mean that you don't feel sick to your stomach when you see Mari’s glazed over eyes staring at nothing, a gaping hole in her cheek, her dark hair shrouding her face like a veil.

Shauna pulls out her knife, surveying the group for a victim, someone to fill her previous shoes. your stomach drops as her eyes lock onto you.

she glides towards you, a small smile on her face. she kisses your forehead lovingly and then pushes you out of her way, holding out the knife to the trembling girl in the pink hood.

“Natalie. Please, do the honours.” Shauna drops the knife into her trembling hands, and she grips onto it like a vice, turning it over unsteadily in her hands.

“The Wilderness has made its choice clear.” Shauna announces to the group. she scans them, waiting for any objection. none comes. Shauna turns back to the girl, her eyes gleaming with arrogance. “Prepare her for tonight. And when it's done, bring me her hair.”

you can't stand it. the girl's dark eyes look up to meet yours, terrified and shadowed by black powder. you choke down your fear, taking a firm step forward. “I'll help her.”

Shauna turns her head to you sharply and for a second, an uneasy sensation creeps down your spine. but then she smiles, shaking her head. “No. You're coming with me.”

she doesn't give you time to argue, taking your hand in hers. she bends down, brushing her cool lips over the back of your hand. “C’mon.”

before you can squabble with her on the matter, she starts pulling you behind her, making her way to the little alcove right behind your village. Lottie follows behind silently, her eyes locked onto the back of your head.

the others retreat into their huts, ready to wash the blood off their hands to get ready for the feast tonight.

you try to speak multiple times, but she hushes you each time. finally, as you dig your heels into the (literal) muck and refuse to move, she sighs deeply. “You're finally getting your treat, kitty-cat. Try to show some more excitement, yeah?”

your treat? as in, from Halloween, a million years ago?

you're about to grill her for more details when she finally pulls you into the alcove trove and effectively gags you.

in front of you is a chopped tree log, one of the more common pieces of furniture around these parts. but what makes your jaw drop is what sits atop the log.

a gorgeous crown of roses rests on the log. a variety of shades of reds and whites threaded together into a single crown, tailored to fit your head exactly.

it somehow sparkles, the setting sun light reflected off each frail petal, fluttering in the breeze.

the delicate scent tickles your nostrils, a considerable improvement from what your poor nose has gotten used to smelling in all the time you've been here.

the cherry on top is what's attached to them. gorgeous white antlers— a hind’s, perhaps, have been attached to the stalks tying the roses together. they've been meticulously polished until they shine and have flowers draped over them, crocheted together by fine twine.

you stare in awe, shocked speechless. as horrifying as it is to be stuck in the woods, you'll admit that there's been no shortage of beauty when the landscape is concerned.

somehow, Shauna has managed to craft something— or gotten someone else to craft something, let's be real, so incredibly stunning that it takes your breath away.

you turn your head to Shauna, your eyes wide— and sparkling, you're sure. she has the widest, goofiest grin you've ever seen on someone set on her face, her own shining eyes gleaming with pride. you've never seen her look as happy when it's not a hunt.

“Holy shit….” you stutter out, breathless.

“You like?” she asks the obvious as you turn back to admire the crown, slinging herself over your back, tucking her chin onto your shoulder.

“Yes- yes- I- is this for…me?”, you ask almost petulantly, picking up the crown with an almost childlike wonder, turning it over.

“It will be. On one condition.”

you almost drop the crown at that, but you catch it just in time and set it down carefully, turning back to face her. her arms are looped around your waist and she shuffles you backwards till the back of your legs hit the log.

your mood immediately sours, eyes narrowing. “Oh, of course. I should've known. What's the catch?”

Shauna turns her head to look over her shoulder at Lottie, who you nearly forgot existed in your admiration for the crown.

she's leaning against the doorway calmly, apparently watching you in a way you're sure she thinks is serene. you think she's a peeping Tom.

she nods encouragingly at Shauna, who turns back to you giddily, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Well…I'm queen now. Of our village, I mean.” she adds as you raise your eyebrows. “And like all good queens, I need a consort. Someone to look pretty and rule by my side.”

she takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with her own slim ones, resting her forehead against yours. “I've been waiting for weeks to do this. I think it's fair to say your relationship with Natalie is old history.”

you spare her a noncommital grunt of acknowledgement, your heart giving a meek twang at her words.

“So I want you to be mine. You're perfect for me. We're perfect for each other…. And the others— they love you like they don't love me. I need them to listen.”

“So I'm essentially your P.R. marriage?”

“No.” she shakes her head. “I need you.” she rests her forehead against yours, inhaling your natural scent, unbothered by the musk.

Lottie pipes up, ruining the intimate moment completely, as she has done several times before. blue baller.

“And besides, it's what the wilderness wills.” she finally steps into the alcove. the sun lights up the back of her head, almost like it's giving her a halo. huh. maybe there is some truth to the whole ‘lottie is jesus’ rumour spreading around camp (by one, Marianna Sofia Ibarra, of course.)

her eyes display her excitement even as her voice stays even and steady. “Your marriage will be beneficial to our survival. I can see it.”

you hear a record scratch and immediately put a little distance between you and Shauna.

“Woah, woah. Hit the brakes. Let's circle back to that. Marriage?”

Shauna shrugs, pulling you back into her as she smiles again. “How else are you gonna be the crown princess?”

“Aren't- aren't we a little young for that?”, you peep feebly, melting into her touch despite yourself. you've been starved for affection since you moved out of Nat’s hut and for some reason, Shauna’s lavish love is like a drug— intoxicating and addicting.

“We're both 18. And I think we've lost all sense of societal norms long ago.” Shauna says pensively, peering into your eyes. “I'm serious. Marry me. I want you by my side.”

you look at her, then Lottie, then at the crown. then you chew your bottom lip and exhale deeply, making your final decision. sometimes, you have to take one for the team. and sometimes, that phrase means marrying a gorgeous, severely mentally ill teenage girl.

you nose your way into her neck, inhaling her scent. thankfully, Akilah had also learned how to make natural perfumes a while back. it was a purely accidental but welcome incident. it wasn't nearly enough to cover the long term stench seeping through your pores, from your very being, but it did its job well enough.

“Fine then. I'll be your wife.” you submit quietly.

Shauna lets out a sharp bark of a laugh as she accepts your hug, clinging onto your clothes, nails digging into your bag. such a dog…

and that's how you end up here. you're sitting across from Shauna, a little ways away from the campfire the others have started. Lottie sits in between you two, a torch in between the three of you illuminating her face.

you're dressed in clothes almost identical to Shauna’s. your robe is a little shorter, but loose and comfortable. Mari’s hair dangles from various folds of hers. her crown of antlers sit next to hers. she intends to put them on during the feast.

yours, meanwhile, is already on your head. heavy is the head that wears the crown— and boy was this damn crown heavy. the things you do to look like a good monarch…

Shauna is eerily silent. apparently, Lottie had offered to officiate your impromptu wedding, given that she was the voice of the Wilderness or whatever other title she's being called by at this point in time.

Lottie snaps you out of your thoughts as she picks up two cans of steaming hot tea, and passes them to you two.

you take a cautious sniff and wince. it's strong and saccharine smelling— not at all the scent of the meager tea you usually make.

Shauna, meanwhile, downs the entire cup in one go like she's taking a shot, without any hesitation.

“Is there something in this?”, you ask Lottie, who's closed her eyes like she's trying to gather her thoughts, cautiously.

both Lottie and Shauna turn their heads to you like you just committed blasphemy.

you bristle, scoffing defensively. “What?”

“Sweetie.” Shauna's tone is warning and she tilts her head at you just slightly. an order to shut your trap. “Drink.”

you bite your bottom lip to prevent the protest that was about to leave your mouth, instead downing the sweet drink without any further comments. there's no point in losing your motivation after you've nearly reached the finish line. Lottie hums approvingly.

you set the cup down on a nearby stick, watching it wobble precariously before predictably toppling over. neither Shauna nor Lottie seem to notice. or if they do, they don't care, they're quite preoccupied at the moment.

“Hold out your palms, please.” Lottie says in a soft tone that makes you feel like you're trying to summon a demon at an occult club meeting.

you do as she says and she places the back of your hand on top of Shauna, who loops her fingers through yours, squeezing encouragingly. she starts chanting something in French that you can't be bothered to rack your brains to translate.

your mind is just flashing with thoughts like ‘this is stupid’ when the tea hits. your world turns upside down while your posture is still erect and things start blurring in and out of vision. the flames of the torch start dancing, burning high and bright, reflecting Shauna’s glowing face in them.

okay then. so that tea was definitely spiked.

you're brought out of your haze when a sharp, stinging pain runs across your palm. you let out a quiet yelp of pain as your eyes struggle to focus on your hand. you register red. oh. you're bleeding.

Shauna is bleeding from her palm too. unlike you, she didn't make any dying animal noises, instead sitting still as a statue, patiently awaiting the next set of instructions from Lottie.

Lottie picks up your paln, pressing it down on Shauna’s wound. you stifle another yelp of pain, watching as your blood mingles with Shauna’s, dripping out onto the pale white snow.

you're sure there's something poetic to be said about this scene. you're too busy reeling from being drugged to think about haikus and limericks.

you wonder how you understand the French that Lottie is spouting suddenly and then realise that she's switched back to English. you squint your eyes to take a gander at Shauna and catch her eye. her eyes are hooded and her jaw is slack. she's just as high as you are.

“...and hence drink her blood, so that you may be bound to each other by the grace of the wilderness.” Lottie says breathlessly.

your body somehow moves on autopilot, knowing what is wanted of you. you raise your palm sluggishly to Shauna’s lips. she catches your wrist, pressing her mouth to your blood-soaked palm.

she licks a long stripe across the length of your cut, blood dribbling down her chin.

you swallow harshly as she lets out a low groan at the taste of your blood before dropping your hand. she makes no move to wipe the remaining blood from her mouth.

then, she returns the favour. she presses her palm to your lips. your tongue swipes at the cut experimentally. a tangy, metallic taste bursts on your tongue, making you drool.

that's probably the iron deficiency talking, you think slowly, struggling to comprehend— well, anything, really. it's like trying to talk when your face is stuffed full of marshmallows.

Shauna watches, entranced, as you slowly lap up her blood, some of the warm liquid splattering on the front of your robes. the hunger in her eyes grows as she does.

she hasn't eaten since morning, the small part of your brain that's yet to be infected by the drugged tea reasons. that's not what she's hungry for, replies the other.

finally, she drops her palm after extricating it from your grip— you had unconsciously been holding it to your face with both hands, and you stare at each other, riveted by the bloody, messy sight of other.

she has somehow never looked better than she does now, mouth covered in blood, earthen eyes locked onto yours, dark hair whipping about loosely in the wind. the earth moves on without you. you're trapped here, lost in her, dead to the world.

Lottie's chanting in French again. you squirm, feeling antsy, hungry. hungry for her, your brain supplies helpfully.

thankfully, she seems to be just as affected by this weird...mating ritual thing, as you are. her bleeding hand scrunches up snow and then lets it goz over and over again, till it looks like a bunny massacre has taken place at that particular spot.

finally, finally, Lottie switches back to English, delivering the words you've been waiting, dying to hear.

“By the power vested in me by the wilderness, you may now kiss your bride.”

this time, when Shauna leans forward and captures your blood stained lips in hers, a messy, open mouthed kiss, you respond back just as hungrily, desperately gripping the front of her robe to ground yourself as you do. you taste the tea on her tongue and can't help but smile against her lips.

she pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly. she rubs your cheek soothingly as a small whine leaves you, her other hand finding yours. she turns to look at Lottie, who's staring at her reverently again.

“Come. We have a feast to attend.”

Shauna stands up first, somehow not faltering even a little, her back completely rigid. she takes your hand in hers tepidly, getting you up on your feet.

you aren't as elegant as she is, stumbling forward, but she catches you with a casual ease— like she's been doing this all her life. it certainly feels like you've been hers all yours.

Lottie gets up last, holding the torch. she nods at you two and starts ahead, leading the path to the burning campfire, where Mari’s body is being prepared.

you're too high to remember the semantics of the night. the only thing you remember is being seated next to your wife, her hand looped in yours, her veil over her head, her antlers protruding through like the queen she was born to be, your subjects seated around you as they feasted on the body of your fallen comrade.

you fall asleep sometime during the feast. clearly, Shauna had ordered the others to not wake you, since when you wake up, you find that your head is her lap, sleeping in till the wee hours of the morning. the girls are clearing up the remains of the feast.

Shauna smiles down softly at you as you stir. she leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

you tense up just slightly before relaxing again. without the influence of drugs clouding your thoughts, you finally remember your aim again.

you roll over, forcing your body into a seated position, rubbing your eyes. “Mm. Don't tease your wife now.”

she laughs, a melodious sound that is completely uncharacteristic coming from her, but so natural too.

she once again holds onto your hand as you head back into the village, quietly looking at the rest of your friends. her grip is almost possessive now. you are hers now, you suppose.

you know what she's gonna do before she actually does it. she spots a familiar pink hood walking back to their hut and your eyes follow her line of sight just seconds too late. it doesn't even really matter.

she struts over confidently, spinning the girl around with the pride of a peacock before you can think to stop her.

your brain is still trying to recover from the after effects of being high out of your damn mind. your body feels light as a feather— but for a completely different reason.

you can't hear what Shauna’s saying, you make no move to either. you instead watch with vivid satisfaction as she taunts her to no avail, pulling her hood down to reveal Hannah.

she stumbles back in shock, her eyes wide and furious as her brain slowly processes what's going on. you can practically hear the cogs turning in her head.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS NATALIE?!” she screams as she whirls around to face the village, her voice shaking with anger and a touch of fear. perfect. just the way you like her.

the others emerge from their huts one by one— Tai, Van, Gen, Melissa, Travis— everyone. they all stare at her with a mixture of satisfaction and revulsion, refusing any explanations. they don't have to explain. the looks on their faces are telling enough.

her eyes lock onto you and then widen in betrayal. she knows that you had a role to play in this. about damn time that she realised.

“Shauna likes power. She won't jump in to save anyone— but she feels a claim over things that aren't hers.” Misty explains to you, her glasses making her eyes gleam in reflection of the torchlight.

or perhaps that's how she always looks. you're quite scared of her sometimes. “You need to weaponize that against her.”

you slowly start walking towards your ‘wife’, unable to resist the urge to deliver a villain monologue.

“You know, I thought you were smarter than that.” you start off wrly, smirking at her as you near her. “I thought you would've caught on immediately. It's why I was just the slightest bit hesitant of the plan at first.”

you lay your head on Nat’s lap, fiddling with the rough strands of blonde hair that's starting to fizz out as her roots show more and more. “And, you're sure you're fine with this?” you ask again, unable to hide the worry in your tone.

Nat laughs— a throaty, rough sound as her hands cup your upside down face, squishing. “Well, in normal circumstances, I would've ripped her fucking eyes out with that godamn knife of hers for even looking at you..”

she trails off to general giggles before continuing, “— but this is different. We- we actually have a chance. Of leaving this shit hole. Of getting home. And besides, I trust you.”

she leans down and kisses you— a tender, warm thing that fills your stomach with butterflies, like it always does. “So yeah. Fuck her if you need to. I know you'll always be mine anyway.”

“But I was pleasantly surprised when you let your guard down so easy. You really do have it bad for me, huh?”

you would've felt the slightest twinge of remorse for the hurt flashing in your eyes, did you not fiercely remind yourself that she was the reason you weren't cozied up with Natalie under a heated blanket right now.

you reach up for her face, stroking the gaunt lines of her cheekbones as you force her to look at you. “It's too late to clip her wings now. You can't stop her. She's long gone.”

you practically beam at the shattered look in her doe-like eyes, relishing in her shock as you remember all the times she's done the same to the others. you deliver the final blow— a death by a thousand cuts.

"You've grown quite predictable. I knew you'd turn out to be boring."

you press your lips to hers, humming as she stays stiff against you. then, your teeth graze the soft, plump flesh of her lips— and you bite down. hard.

she gasps, yanking herself away from you even as she starts to bleed, the red dripping down her chin and trickling into her robes.

you smile sadistically, squeezing her face with one hand to draw more blood. she hisses, drawing away from your touch like you've burned her. you roll your eyes. always the drama queen.

her eyes scan your face, looking for any hint of regret for doing this to her. she finds nothing.

you lick a droplet of her metallic blood from the corner of your mouth, swiping the rest off with your thumb.

then, you shoot her a sultry grin. just to dig the knife in a little deeper.

“Trick or treat, motherfucker.”

────────────౨ৎ ────────────

a/n: I tried to shorten it but it didn't work— whatever ig. you get a long fic now ! yayayayay— also, this once again had a lot more shauna x reader than nat, that's mb yall

if you want a pt 3 to this, get back to me after s4 releases cuz I have ZERO ideas rn lmao

reminder that requests are open for all the Yellowjackets girls, dead or alive!

taglist: @jigglypufflashton

#— airi's works : 𓏲🐚 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets #yj #yj season 3 spoilers #yj season 3 #yellowjackets x reader #wlw #shaunanat x reader

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the-real-rain-world-confessions · 6 months ago

Note

is this a safe space

almost all of the "controversy" I've seen in this fandom has been the dumbest shit ever, and people are being HARASSED OUT OF THE FANDOM over it. seriously, I've seen all these "exposing ___ for being a predator" posts and then it's just a 17 year old making sex jokes with a 19 year old or situations where the "older person" genuinely isn't at total fault. not to mention the amount of times people have been accused of being "zoophiles" over drawing normal ass furry porn (especially of anthro slugcats). this is the Internet. porn is and always has been a thing, and it's not evil. it's not "ruining your fandom".

I don't even know where to start with the weird puritanical "all sex is evil and bad" thing going on in this fandom, or the straight up infantilisation of teenagers. Yes, 16 year olds know what porn is. yes, they look for it. no, they will not explode and die if they see it. NOBODY is hornier than the average high schooler, stop treating them like little kids who shouldn't even be allowed to acknowledge the existence of sex until they're 18 it's fucking weird (and for the love of god stop throwing "zoophile" and "groomer" around so loosely. those words have lost almost all of their meaning at this point, a groomer is NOT a legal adult who happened to mention the concept of sex around a 17 year old)

speaking from a place of genuine care and concern, so many people in this fandom need to grow the fuck up. not every friend group drama needs a Google doc and a public call-out post. teenagers/"minors" are not these angelic babies who can do no wrong and are free of consequences and are always the victims. you are old enough to think for yourself and make good decisions, and you are, in fact, capable of being in the wrong -- just as much as the young adults you claim are also old enough to know better. this mob hate mentality is destroying the fandom more than any amount of furry porn or teenagers making sex jokes

I tried very hard to shorten this as much as possible

#rain world confession

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felassan · 10 months ago

Text

Edge – The Future of Interactive Entertainment magazine, issue #401 (October 2024 issue) – Dragon Age: The Veilguard story

The rest of this post is under a cut for length.

Update: this issue of this magazine is now available to buy from UK retailers today. it can be purchased online at [this link]. [Tweet from Edge Online] also, Kala found that a digital version of the magazine can be read at [this link].

This post is a word-for-word transcription of the full article on DA:TV in this issue of this magazine. DA:TV is the cover story of this issue. When transcribing, I tried to preserve as much of the formatting from the magazine as possible. Edge talked to BioWare devs for the creation of this article, so the article contains new quotes from the devs. the article is written by Jeremy Peel. There were no new screenshots or images from the game in the article. I also think that it contains a few lil bits of information that are new, like the bits on companions' availability and stumbling across the companions out and about on their own in the world e.g. finding Neve investigating an abduction case in Docktown.

tysm to @simpforsolas and their friend for kindly telling me about the article!!

-----

[image source]

Article introduction segment:

"[anecdote about Edge] We were reminded of this minuscule episode in Edge's history during the creation of this issue's cover story, in which we discuss the inspiration behind Dragon Age: The Veilguard with its creators at BioWare. Notably, director John Epler remembers the studio experimenting with a number of approaches during the early phase of development before eventually locking in to what the game was supposed to be all along, above all else: 'a single-player, story-focused RPG'. As you'd expect from BioWare, though, that was really just a starting point, as we discovered on p54." BioWare draws back the Veil and ushers us into a new Dragon Age

"BEHIND THE CURTAIN BioWare's first true RPG in age age is as streamlined and pacey as a dragon in flight. By Jeremy Peel Game Dragon Age: The Veilguard Developer BioWare Publisher EA Format PC, PS5, Xbox Series Origin Canada Release Autumn

The Dragon Age universe wasn't born from a big bang or the palm of an ancient god. Instead, it was created to solve a problem. BioWare was tired of battling Hasbro during the making of Baldur's Gate and Neverwinter Nights, and wanted a Dungeons & Dragons-like setting of its own. A small team was instructed to invent a new fantasy world in which the studio could continue its groundbreaking work in the field of western RPGs, free of constraints.

Well, almost free. BioWare's leaders mandated that the makers of this new world stick to Eurocentric fantasy, and include a fireball spell - since studio co-founder Ray Muzyka had a weakness for offensive magic.

Beyond that, BioWare’s storytellers were empowered to infuse Dragon Age with their own voices and influences, leaning away from D&D’s alignment chart and towards a moral grayness that left fans of A Song Of Ice And Fire feeling warm and cozy.

In the two decades since, the world of Thedas – rather infamously and amusingly, a shortening of ‘the Dragon Age setting’ that stuck – has taken on a distinct flavor. It’s something director John Epler believes is rooted in characters.

“There’s definitely some standard fantasy stuff in Dragon Age, but everything in the world, every force, is because of someone,” he says. “The idea is that every group and faction needs to be represented by a person – someone you can relate to. Big political forces are fine as background, but they don’t provide you with those interesting story moments.”

Dragon Age: The Veilguard bears out that philosophy. The long-awaited sequel was first announced with the subtitle Dreadwolf, in reference to its antagonist, Solas – an ancient elf who once stripped his people of immortality as punishment for betraying one of their own. In doing so, Solas created the Veil, the thin barrier through which wizards pull spirits and demons invade the waking world. In other words, many of Dragon Age’s defining features, from its downtrodden elves to the uneasy relationship between mages and a fearful church, can be traced right back to one character’s decision.

“The world exists as it does because of Solas,” Epler says. “He shaped the world because of the kind of character he was. That’s, to me, what makes Dragon Age so interesting. Everything can tie back to a person who to some degree thought they were doing the right thing.”

Perhaps BioWare’s greatest achievement in slowburn character development, Solas is a former companion, an unexploded bomb who sat in the starting party of Dragon Age: Inquisition, introverted and useful enough to get by without suspicion. Yet by the time credits rolled around on the Trespasser DLC, players were left in no doubt as to the threat he presented.

Determined to reverse the damage he once caused, the Dreadwolf intends to pull down the Veil, destroying Thedas as we know it in the process. The next Dragon Age game was always intended to be his story.

“We set that up at the end of Trespasser,” Epler says. “There was no world where we were ever going to say, ‘And now let’s go to something completely different.’ We wanted to pay off that promise.”

Yet almost everything else about the fourth Dragon Age appears to have been in flux at one time. In 2019, reporter Jason Schreier revealed that an early version, starring a group of spies pulling off heists in the Tevinter Imperium, had been cancelled two years prior. Most of its staff were apparently moved onto BioWare’s struggling Anthem, while a tiny team rebooted Dragon Age from scratch. That new game was said to experiment with live-service components.

“We tried a bunch of different ideas early on,” Epler says. “But the form The Veilguard has taken is, in a lot of ways, the form that we were always pushing towards. We were just trying different ways to get there. There was that moment where we really settled on, ‘This is a singleplayer, story-focused RPG – and that’s all it needs to be’”.

Epler imagines a block of marble, from which BioWare was attempting to carve an elephant – a character- and story-driven game. “We were chipping away, and sometimes it looked more like an elephant and sometimes it didn’t”, he says. “And then we eventually realized: ‘Just make an elephant’. When we got to that, it almost just took shape by itself.”

2014’s Dragon Age: Inquisition was an open-world game commonly criticized for a slow-paced starting area which distracted players from the thrust of the plot. The Veilguard, in contrast, is mission-based, constructed with tighter, bespoke environments designed around its main story and cast. “We wanted to build a crafted, curated experience for the player,” Epler says. “Pacing is important to us, and making sure that the story stays front and center.”

Epler is very proud of Inquisition, the game on which he graduated from cinematic designer to a lead role (for its DLC). “But one of the things that we ran into on that project was an absentee antagonist,” he says. “Corypheus showed up and then disappeared. You spent ten hours in the Hinterland doing sidequests, and there wasn’t that sense of urgency.”

This time, The Veilguard team wants you to constantly feel the sword of Damocles dangling above your head as you play – a sense that the end of the world is coming if you don’t act. “There’s still exploration – there’s still the ability to go into some of these larger spaces and go off the beaten path to do sidequests,” Epler says. “But there’s always something in the story propelling you and the action forward, and allowing you to make decisions with these characters where the stakes feel a lot more immediate and present. And also, honestly, more real.”

No sooner have you finished character creation than Dragon Age: The Veilguard thrusts you into a choice. As your protagonist, Rook, steps into focus on the doorstep of the seediest bar in town, you decide whether to threaten the owner for information or make a deal. Brawl or no, you’ll walk out minutes later with a lead: the location of a private investigator named Neve Gallus, who can help you track down Solas.

You proceed into Minrathous, the largest city in Thedas and capital of the Tevinter Imperium – a region only alluded to in other Dragon Age games. It’s a place built on the backs of slaves and great mages, resulting in tiered palaces and floating spires – a kind of architecture unimaginable to those in the southern nations.

“When your Dragon Age: Inquisition companion Dorian joins you in Orlais, in one of the biggest cities in Thedas, he mentions that it’s quaint and cute compared to Minrathous,” Corinne Busche, game director on The Veilguard, says. “That one bit of dialogue was our guiding principle on how to realize this city. It is sprawling. It is lived-in. Sometimes it’s grimy, sometimes it’s bougie. But it is expansive.”

Immediately, you can see the impact of BioWare’s decision to tighten its focus. Around every other corner in Minrathous is an exquisitely framed view, a level of spectacle you would never see in Inquisition, where resources were spread much more thinly. “When you know that you’re gonna be heading down a canyon or into this plaza where the buildings open up, you have those perfect spots to put a nice big temple of Andraste or a mage tower,” art director Matthew Rhodes says. “You get those opportunities to really hit that hard.”

BioWare’s intention is to make strong visual statements that deliver on decades of worldbuilding. “People who have a history with Dragon Age have thought about what Minrathous might be like,” Rhodes says. “We can never compete with their imagination, but we can aim for it like we’re shooting for the Moon.”

The people of Tevinter use magic as it if were electricity, as evidenced by the glowing sigils that adorn the dark buildings – street signs evoking Osaka’s riverfront or the LA of Blade Runner. They’re just one of the tricks BioWare’s art team uses to invite you to stop and take in the scene. “A lot of what you start to notice when you’re the artist who’s been working on these big, beautiful vistas and neat murals on the walls is how few players look up,” Rhodes says. “We design props and architecture that help lead the eyes.”

For the really dedicated shoegazers, BioWare has invested in ray-traced reflections, so that the neon signage can be appreciated in the puddles. There are also metal grates through which you can see the storm drains below. “The idea behind that is purely just to remind the player often of how stacked the city is,” Rhodes says. “Wherever you’re standing, there’s guaranteed to be more below you and above you.”

One of BioWare’s core creative principles for The Veilguard is to create a world that’s actually worth saving – somewhere you can imagine wanting to stick around in, once the crises of the main quest are over. To that end, the team has looked to ground its outlandish environments with elements of mundanity.

“A guy’s normal everyday life walking down the streets of this city is more spectacular than what the queen of Orlais is seeing, at least in terms of sheer scale," Rhodes says. “One of the things we’ve tried to strike a balance with is that this is actually still a place where people have to go to the market and buy bread, raise their kids, and try to make it. It’s a grand and magical city, but how do you get your horses from one place to the next? Where do you load the barrels for the tavern? It’s really fun to think of those things simultaneously.”

Normal life in Minrathous is not yours to behold for long, however. Within a couple of minutes of your arrival, the very air is ripped open like cheap drapes, and flaming demons clatter through the merchant carts that line the city streets. A terrible magical ritual, through which Solas intends to stitch together a new reality, has begun.

“We wanted the prologue to feel like the finale of any other game we’ve done,” Busche explains. “Where it puts you right into this media-res attack on a city and gets you really invested in the action and the story right away. When I think back to Inquisition, how the sky was literally tearing open – the impact of this ritual really makes that look like a minor inconvenience.”

Our hero is confronted by a Pride demon, imposing and armored as in previous games, yet accented by exposed, bright lines that seem to burst from its ribcage. “They are a creature of raw negative emotion,” Busche says. “So we wanted to actually incorporate that into their visual design with this glowing nervous system.”

When a pack of smaller demons blocks Rook’s route to the plaza where Neve was last seen, battle breaks out, and The Veilguard’s greatest divergence from previous Dragon Age games becomes apparent. Our rogue protagonist flits between targets up close and evades individual sword swings with precision. In the chaos, he swaps back and forth between blades and a bow. He blends light and heavy attacks, and takes advantage of any gap in the melee to charge up even bigger blows.

“Responsiveness was our first-and-foremost goal with this baseline layer of the combat system,” Busche says. Unless you’re activating a high-risk, high-reward ability such as a charged attack, any action can be animation-cancelled, allowing you to abort a sword swing and dive away if an enemy lunges too close. “We very much wanted you to feel like you exist in this space, as you’re going through these really crafted, hand-touched worlds,” Busche says. “That you’re on the ground in control of every action, every block, every dodge.” Anyone who’s ever bounced off a Soulslike needn’t worry: The Veilguard’s highly customizable difficulty settings enable you to loosen up parry windows if they prove too demanding.

Gone is the overhead tactical camera which, for some players, was a crucial point of connection between Dragon Age and the Baldur’s Gate games that came before, tapping into a lineage of thoughtful, tabletop-inspired combat. Epler points out that the camera’s prior inclusion had an enormous impact on where the game’s battles took place. “We actually had a mandate on Inquisition, which was, ‘Don’t fight inside,’” he says. “The amount of extra work on getting that tactical camera to work in a lot of those internal environments, it was very challenging.”

Gone, too, is the ability to steer your comrades directly. “On the experiential side, we wanted you to feel like you are Rook – you’re in this world, you’re really focused on your actions,” Busche says. “We very much wanted the companions to feel like they, as fully realized characters, are in control of their own actions. They make their own decisions. You, as the leader of this crew, can influence and direct and command them, but they are their own people.”

It's an idea with merit, albeit one that could be read as spin. “It’s not lost on me,” Busche says. “I will admit that, on paper, if you just read that you have no ability to control your companions, it might feel like something was taken away. But in our testing and validating with players, what we find is they’re more engaged than ever.”

There may be a couple of reasons for that. One is that Dragon Age’s newly dynamic action leaves little room for seconds spent swapping between perspectives. “This is a much higher actions-per-minute game,” Busche says. “It is more technically demanding on the player. So when we tried allowing you full control of your companions as well, what we’ve found is it wasn’t actually adding to the experience. In fact, in some ways it was detrimental, given the demanding nature of just controlling your own character.”

Then there’s The Veilguard’s own tactical layer, as described by BioWare. Though the fighting might be faster and lower, like a mana-fuelled sports scar, the studio is keen to stress that the pause button remains as important to the action as ever. This is, according to Busche, where the RPG depth shines through, as you evaluate the targets you’re facing and take their buffs into account: “Matching elemental types against weaknesses and resistances is a big key to success in this game.”

You pick between rogue, warrior and mage – each role later splitting again into deeper specialisms – and draw from a class-specific resource during fights. A rogue relies on Momentum, which is built up by avoiding damage and being highly aggressive, whereas a warrior is rewarded for blocking, parrying, and mitigating damage.

Those resources are then used on the ability wheel, which pauses the game and allows you to consider your options. The bottom quadrant of the wheel belongs to your character, and is where three primary abilities will be housed. “Rook will also have access to runes, which function as an ability, and a special ultimate ability,” Busche says. “So you’re bringing five distinct abilities with you into combat.”

The sections to the left and right of the wheel, meanwhile, are dedicated to your companions. Busche points to Lace Harding, the returning rogue from Inquisition, who is currently frozen mid-jump. “She is her own realized individual in this game. She’s got her own behaviors: how she prioritizes targets, whether she gets up close and draws aggro or stays farther back at range. But you’ll be able to direct her in combat by activating her abilities from the wheel.”

These abilities are complemented by positional options at the top of the wheel, where you can instruct your companions to focus their efforts on specific targets, either together or individually. Doing so will activate the various buffs, debuffs and damage enhancements inherent in their weapons and gear. “So,” Busche explains, “as you progress through the first two hours of the game, this full ability wheel is completely populated with a variety of options and different tactics that you can then string together.”

BioWare has leaned into combos. You might tell one companion to unleash a gravity-well effect that gathers enemies together, then have another slow time. Finally, you could drop an AOE attack on your clustered and slowed opponents, dealing maximum damage. The interface will let you know when an opportunity to blend two companion abilities emerges – moments BioWare has dubbed ‘combo detonations’.

“I like to think about this strategic layer to combat as a huddle,” Busche says, “where you’re figuring out how you want to handle the situation, based on the information you have on the encounter, and how you and your companions synergize together.”

Deeper into the game, as encounters get more challenging, Epler says we’ll be spending a lot of time making “very specific and very focused tactical decisions”. The proof will be in eating the Fereldan fluffy mackerel pudding, of course, but Busche insists this shift to fast action isn’t a simplification. “What really makes the combat system and indeed the extension into the progression system work is that pause-and-play tactical element that we know our players expect.”

The autonomy of The Veilguard’s companions doesn’t end with combat. BioWare’s data shows that in previous games players tended to stick with the same two or three beloved comrades during a playthrough. This time, however, you’ll be forced to mix your squad up at regular intervals.

“We do expect that players will have favorites they typically want to adventure with,” Busche says, “but sometimes certain companions will be mandatory.” Others may not always be available – part of the studio’s effort to convince with three-dimensional characters. “They do have a life outside of Rook, the main character,” Busche says.

"They'll fall in love with people in this world. They’ve had past experiences they’ll share with you if you allow them in and get close to them.”

Being separated from your companions, rather than collecting them all in a kind of stasis at camp, allows you to stumble across them unexpectedly. Busche describes an instance in which, while exploring the Docktown section of Minrathous, you might bump into Neve as she investigates an abduction case. “If I go and interact with her, I can actually stop what I’m doing, pick up her arc and adventure with her throughout her part of the story,” Busche says. “What’s interesting is that all of the companion arcs do ultimately tie back to the themes of the main critical path, but they also have their own unique challenges and villains, and take place over the course of many different intimate moments.”

Some parts of a companion’s quest arc involve combat, while others don’t. Some are made up of large and meaningful missions – as lavish and involved as those along the critical path. “While they are optional, I would be hesitant to call them side content in this game,” Busche says. If you choose not to engage with some of these companion-centered events, they’ll resolve on their own. “And it might have interesting implications.”

The Veilguard promises plenty of change, then, even as it picks up the threads of fan-favorite characters and deepens them, honoring the decades of worldbuilding that came before it. This is perhaps the enduring and alluring paradox of Dragon Age: a beloved series which has never had a direct and immediate sequel, nor a recurring protagonist. Instead, it’s been reinvented with each new entry.

“It’s a mixed blessing to some degree,” Epler says. “The upside is always that it gives us more room to experiment and to try new things. There are parts of the series that are common to every game: it’s always an RPG, it’s always about characters, and we always want to have that strategic tactical combat where you’re forced to make challenging decisions. But at the end of the day, I think what makes Dragon Age Dragon Age is that each one feels a little bit different.”"

Q&A Matthew Rhodes Art director

Q. Early BioWare RPGs were literary, with the emotions and detail mostly happening in dialogue boxes. How have you seen the studio's approach to visual storytelling evolve? A. This has been my entire career. When I first showed up at BioWare, it was at the tail end of Jade Empire, and then I was working on Dragon Age: Origins and early Mass Effect. The games had taken that next step out of sprites and 2D models, and it was like: 'How do we say more? How do we communicate more clearly?' During those early days, a lot of games depended on words to fix everything for you. As long as your character was talking bombastically, you could lend them everything that they needed. But as time went on it also became a visual medium, and it's been this long journey of trying to establish art's seat at the table. I've worked with some great writers over the years, and art is also an essential part of the storytelling. From Dragon Age: Inquisition on, I've been trying to stress with my teams that we are a story department.

Q. Is part of that also letting writers know that your storytelling assistance is available, to help them show rather than tell? A. On The Veilguard, that principle has been operating the best I've seen it. Where you would need a paragraph of dialogue in one of those exposition moments where a character just talks to you, we could sell that with a broken statue or a skeleton overgrown with vines. We've had more opportunities to do that on The Veilguard than most of the projects I've ever worked on combined.

To a hammer, every problem looks like a nail, and so in every department, writing will try to solve it with more words, and art will try to solve it with more art. I've bumped up against moments where it's like, 'As much as we could keep hammering on this design, I think this is actually an audio solution.' And then you take it to audio, and you don't get that overcooked feeling where each team is just trying to solve it in their silo. It's a really creatively charged kind of environment.

[main body of article ends here]

Additional from throughout the article --

Image caption: “Spotlights shine down from the city guards’ base as they pursue you through the streets of Minrathous.”

Image caption: “While most of your companions can be sorted into comfortingly familiar RPG classes, The Veilguard introduces two new varieties: a Veil Jumper and a private investigator.”"

Image caption [on this Solas ritual concept art specifically]: “The name previously given to the game – Dreadwolf – was a direct reference to Solas. Your former companion, now on his own destructive mission, still features, despite the name change.”

Text in a side box:

"RATIONAL ANTHEM The hard lesson BioWare drew from Anthem was to play to its strengths. “We’re a studio that has always been built around digging deep on storytelling and roleplaying,” Epler says. “I’m proud of a lot of things on Anthem – I was on that project for a year and a half. But at the end of the day we were building a game focused on something we were not necessarily as proficient at. For me and for the team, the biggest lesson was to know what you’re good at and then double down on it. Don’t spread yourselves too thin. Don’t try to do a bunch of different things you don’t have the expertise to do. A lot of the people on this team came here to build a story-focused, singleplayer RPG."

Image caption: “In combat you no longer control your companions directly – this is a faster-paced form of fighting – but you are able to direct them in combat, and can even blend their abilities in ‘combo detonations’.”

Image caption: “You’ll be exploring new regions across Tevinter and beyond – Rivain is a certainty, and that’s only accessible via Antiva travelling overland.”

Image caption: “There are three specializations per character class; on the way to unlocking them you’ll acquire a range of abilities.”

Text in a side box:

"MEET YOUR MAKER “Full disclosure: Dragon Age has traditionally not done skin tones well, especially for people of color,” Busche says. “We wanted to do a make-good here.” In The Veilguard’s character creator, you can adjust the amount of melanin that comes through in the skin, as well as test various lighting scenarios to ensure your protagonist looks exactly as you intend in cutscenes. “Speaking of our first creative principle – be who you want to be – we really feel these are the kinds of features that unlock that for our players,” Busche says. “We want everyone to be able to see themselves in this game.” For the first time in the series, your body type is fully customizable too, with animations, armor and even romantic scenes reflecting your choices."

Image caption: “Your companions are a mix of old and new – Lace Harding is a familiar face. Veil Jumper Bellara is new, with a new occupation, while Davrin is a new face with a familiar profession – he’s a Warden.”

Image caption: "Arlathan Forest is home to the ruined city of the elves, now a place of wild magic, Veil Jumpers and (allegedly) spirits".

Image caption: "Bellara is driven by a desire to learn more about the elves, rediscovering the shattered history and magic of her people."

[source: Edge – The Future of Interactive Entertainment magazine, issue #401 (October 2024 issue) - it can be purchased online at [this link].]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #solas #video games #longpost #long post #simpforsolas #anthem #jade empire #mass effect #obsessed with the idea of helping neve solve cases...

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poisonlove · 11 months ago

Text

Strange couple | w.a

Pairing: Wednesday addams x reader

Warning: fluffy

"Hello, beauties!" I murmur with a smile plastered on my face as I walk into Wednesday and Enid's room.

I'd had a pleasant and intense morning.

Classes had been really fun and educational, I'd enjoyed the last chocolate pudding left at breakfast, found 5 dollars on the ground, scored the highest mark in Art surpassing my friend Xavier, and literally destroyed Bianca in fencing.

Despite everything, I missed my little and adorable deadly storm. I missed seeing her pitch-black eyes staring at me intensely, her sarcastic remarks, her obsession with being extremely tidy and punctual.

I missed kissing her and teasing her.

"Hi Y/N!" says Enid, full of life. "Someone's in a good mood, huh?" she adds, raising an eyebrow.

I look at my blonde friend lying on the bed with Thing and smile even more.

"Very much," I reply, chuckling.

My eyes shift to the figure on the other side of the room. Wednesday is typing her book with concentration on the typewriter. The sound of the keys furiously giving life to her thoughts fills me with pride.

She was extremely good at what she did.

"Don't you greet your girlfriend?" I ask with a small pout, trying to catch her attention.

Wednesday barely looks up from her typewriter, her face impassive and focused. "Hello, Y/N," she says in her usual calm, deep voice.

I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"Hello? Is that all you have to say?" I ask incredulously.

Meanwhile, I see Thing walk towards me and tug at the hem of my pants. "Hello, little one," I smile sweetly at Enid and Wednesday's friend, scratching his back as a greeting.

"So?" I ask Wednesday impatiently.

"Mmmh," Wednesday murmurs, still engrossed in her work. "Hi, baby," she adds automatically, probably trying to shorten the conversation as much as possible.

Thing starts gesticulating animatedly and I watch him attentively. "I know it's her writing time, but I wanted a proper greeting," I say, rolling my eyes at his comment.

Thing gestures even more quickly.

"I'm not being childish!" I mutter, offended.

I ignore Thing and see Enid barely holding back a laugh, the magazine she was reading abandoned beside her. Her expression tells me she finds the situation quite amusing.

Wednesday finally stops, lifts her gaze, and fixes me with those black eyes I adore so much. "You know my writing time is sacred, Y/N," she says calmly.

Her eyes soften, showing a glimpse of tenderness she usually hides so well. My heart skips a beat, struck by the rare expression of affection I can see behind her impassive mask. Even though her face remains serious, there's a hidden warmth in the way she looks at me.

"But I suppose I can make an exception for you," she adds, and I feel my heart swell with joy.

I smile with satisfaction, approaching her.

"That's better," I murmur as I lean down to give her a quick kiss on the lips. "Did you miss me?"Wednesday looks at me with her typical enigmatic expression.

"Maybe," she says cryptically, then returns to her typewriter.

Enid finally bursts out laughing. "You two are so cute together," she comments, shaking her head amused. "Too cute, even by Wednesday's standards," she adds with a playful singsong as she lies back on the bed and picks up the magazine again.

I approach and wrap my arms around Addams' shoulders, resting my chin on her collarbone.

Wednesday sighs loudly, visibly annoyed.

"You know, Y/N, there are better ways to spend your time," she says in a monotone voice.I chuckle softly.

"I know, but this is my favorite."

I start to annoy her romantically. I stroke her arm and leave open-mouthed kisses on her neck, feeling her skin quiver under my lips. Wednesday tries to stay focused, but I can see that my attentions are distracting her. The rhythm of the typewriter keys briefly pauses, and I notice a typo on the page.Wednesday stops, looking at the page with an annoyed expression.

"Y/N, stop," she says, trying to sound stern, but her tone betrays slight frustration mixed with resignation.

"You stop being so adorable," I whisper, continuing to kiss her neck. I feel a slight shiver run through her body, and this makes me smile even more.

Enid, from her spot on the bed, watches us with an amused smile. "You just won't let go, will you, Y/N?" she comments, shaking her head.

"You're a real nuisance," says Wednesday, trying to mask the amusement in her voice.

"But I'm your nuisance," I respond, playing with her braids.

Wednesday finally gives in, relaxing for a moment. "Yes, I suppose you are," she murmurs, barely turning her head to look at me with an expression that, despite everything, is full of affection. I smile shyly, and Wednesday leans in to give me a small kiss on the lips.

My knees go weak.

"Now leave me alone," she says in a calm and authoritative tone, fixing the mistake she had made.

I huff, but respect her request.

I start pacing back and forth along Wednesday's desk, carefully observing the objects that decorate it.

"Don't make noise," Wednesday mutters in a whisper.

My gaze lingers on a few photos of the two of us, moments captured that tell our story together. In one, we're hugging during a walk in the woods, in another, we're laughing at a school event. Next to them, there's a family photo with Gomez, Morticia, Pugsley, and Wednesday, all with their unmistakable stern looks.

Continuing to explore, I notice a necklace elegantly placed on the edge of the desk. I immediately recognize the pendant, a gift from Morticia to Wednesday, a symbol of protection and affection. The jewel reflects the light with a faint glow, emanating an aura of antiquity and mystery.

Finally, my attention is caught by a knife. The blade gleams in the light of the desk lamp, sharp and perfectly maintained. I can't help but reach out and trace the edge of the blade with my finger, feeling the cold metal against my skin. The knife is a piece of art, encrusted with intricate details on the handle, telling stories of tradition and danger.

"Careful," Wednesday's voice interrupts my thoughts. "That knife is extremely sharp."I turn to her with a mischievous smile.

"I know, but it's fascinating. Where's it from?"

"It was my grandmother's," Wednesday replies without taking her eyes off her work. "A family heirloom. She gave it to me when I turned thirteen."

"It's beautiful," I murmur, placing the knife back carefully.

Wednesday finally looks up from the typewriter, fixing me with slight curiosity. "Are you done exploring?"

"For now," I reply with a smirk.

Did I mention I love teasing her?

In a stealthy move, I grab the knife. Wednesday gives me a sideways glance as I toss it from one hand to the other with precision. She huffs, evidently irritated and gets up from her chair.

"Very funny, now give it back," she says, holding out her hand intensely.

I ignore her and smile even more.

Wednesday approached, determined to take the knife from my hands. I raised my arms, aware that my height gave me an advantage over her petite fury, and continued to provoke her. She pushed me, trying to grab the knife, but a misstep made us fall onto her bed.

“Hey,” I said with a sly smile as I looked at her straddling my legs.

An extremely compromising position.

Wednesday sighed heavily and brought her face closer to mine, making me smile even more. I closed my eyes, expecting a kiss, and sighed, feeling her hand on my cheek.

Our breaths mixed, the heat grew, but then everything faded like a dream.

I blinked in disbelief and saw Wednesday, with a satisfied expression, putting the knife back in its place.

"You two are a strange couple," Enid commented, amused.

“She played dirty,” I protested with a pout.

Wednesday returned to her seat at the typewriter.

“Soon you’ll learn all the tricks, Y/N Addams,” she said with icy calm.

“Aww,” exclaimed Enid with an adorable smile. Her eyes shone almost to the point of tears of joy at Wednesday’s words.

“Y/N Addams?” I asked, confused.

“Soon you will be, my dear,” Wednesday replied nonchalantly, returning to her writing.

For now, I chose not to ask further questions. However, deep down, I knew I couldn’t ignore this new turn in my life with Wednesday Addams at the center of it all.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #miércoles addams #wednesday addams x you #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday netflix #jenna marie ortega #fluffy #cara mia

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harrywavycurly · 7 months ago

Note

I just know Lonely Harry is so nosey when it comes to what his fiancé and Niall talk about especially if it’s wedding related😂

Hiii babes!!! Oh you know he is sooooo nosey he can’t even help himself! The thing is he’s ALWAYS been kinda nosey when it comes to you and Niall and what the hell y’all two talk about and the weird things/trouble the two of you manage to get into you when together because you two are what Harry oh so lovingly calls the “dysfunctional duo” and have been ride or die besties just as long as you and Harry have!

So I’ll happily give you some little examples of Harry being nosey and also getting caught trying to be nosey when you’re with Niall talking about wedding stuff/ just hanging out😂💖

-find all things for the Lonely series here✨

A/N: Harry is a a naturally very nosey man but when he knows you’re in the house talking to Niall he can’t help himself, he just wants to know what the two of you are talking about and if it has anything to do with him👀✨

Example One: Dress Details

“You think it’s going to look weird with that much of it touching the ground? That’s not tacky looking or anything? I was thinking maybe getting it shortened just a smidge?” Niall shoots you a look that makes you let out a huff as you reach over to the coffee table and grab your glass of wine. “I just don’t want it to get all dirty and gross on the bottom from dancing and stuff.” You explain as you bring the glass to your lips so you can take a sip while Niall just rolls his eyes as he places his beer down on the table.

“You have a bloody reception dress ya knob so your actual gown won’t be gettin all dirty and shit because you’re wearing it for what? An hour at the max? Maybe two if you include the time it takes for photos?” Harry knows he shouldn’t be listening, he knows for a fact if you turn your head and see him just standing off to the side of the living room near the kitchen casually stuffing the rest of his sandwich in his mouth that you’d probably let Niall jump over the back of the couch and tackle him to the ground and he’d deserve it.

He knows you don’t want him to know any details about your dress, but technically you two haven’t spilled any details about the dress minus the fact you don’t want to get the bottom of it dirty letting Harry know the dress is floor length but that was sort of a given because he knows you’d never wear anything above mid calf during the actual ceremony. He also was already let in on the fact you’d be changing into a different dress for the reception because you wanted a dress you felt more comfortable dancing in and one you’re not too worried about getting ruined if it gets wine or food spilled on it throughout the evening. While he might not know any details of what that dress looks like minus that it still fits the overall theme and vibe of the wedding as whole he can assume it’s not floor length because you’ve never been one to find those comfortable for dancing.

“Oh that’s right I forgot about that dress.” You laugh as Niall leans in closer to you so he can get a better look at the gown on your phone screen and Harry so badly wants to take a few steps further into the living room but he doesn’t, he just stays where he’s at and tries his hardest to be as quiet as possible in hopes of hearing something a little more juicy. “You think Harry will like that one thought? It’s a bit-”

“What I think is that Harry better get his lanky fuck of an ass out of this living room before I shove my foot up it.” Niall snaps before you can finish your sentence because unknown to you and to Harry he spotted your fiancé a few minutes ago and was waiting to see if he was going to leave on his own but when he saw him finish off his sandwich and stay exactly where he was instead of turning around and heading for his office or any other room in the house Niall decided he needed to step in.

“God you’re so violent for a man with wonky knees and a few inches left to grow before he’s even eye level with me.” You feel your eyes go wide when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you.

“Harry Edward Styles.” Harry feels his cheeks get hot as he watches you turn so your arm is resting on the back of the couch, wine glass still in your hand as your back is leaning against the armrest so you can get a good look at him. “Have you been standing there the whole time Niall’s been here?” You ask as Niall turns so he can also look at Harry but while you are giving Harry a glare and a quirked brow Niall is simply trying to hold back a laugh because he knows Harry is about to be in trouble.

“Uh n-no no not the whole time.”

“Oh yeah that’s real believable mate.”

“Fuck off Ni-”

“Don’t tell me to fuck off when you’re the one being a right fucking creep listening to our conversation in the shadows over there you fucking weirdo.”

“It’s my house Niall I can’t be a creep in my own bloody house.”

“Clearly Harry you can because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Now run along and go do something productive like I don’t know? Audition for a movie or make another overpriced beach bag.”

“You are such a fucking ass-”

“Yeah yeah love you too now get lost.” Harry lets out a frustrated huff as he glares at the back of Niall’s head as he turns away from him so he can reach for his beer on the coffee table, Harry slowly turns his attention to you and his face instantly softens to a small smile that you can’t help but return as you meet his stare.

“I love you.” His voice is much softer as he stares at you and you know he wants to come closer so you just give him a small nod as you close your phone and place it in your lap face down.

“I love you too.” Harry smiles as he walks further into the living room so he’s standing behind the couch, you tilt your head back a little so you can look up at him. “But please go away.”

“Okay baby I’ll go away.” He tells you as he leans down so he can place a kiss to your lips, you smile when he pulls away and you get comfortable on the couch while Niall finishes off his beer. Harry is about to turn to head towards the stairs but before he does he quickly reaches over a smacks the back of Niall’s head making him let out a squeal of surprise as a hand comes up to rub at the spot Harry just hit.

“Treat people with kindness my fucking ass you twat.”

“You started it you wank my beach bags aren’t overpriced.”

Example two: Beer Pong ft. A jealous Harry👀

Harry hears laughing coming from the kitchen as soon as he opens the door to his office and steps into the hallway, he knows you invited Niall over for lunch but that was over three hours ago so there’s honestly no telling what exactly the two of you have gotten up to in the time he’s been tucked away upstairs for a few work meetings. He quietly makes his way downstairs and runs a hand through his hair as he comes to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen, a smile creeps its way onto his face when he sees you lean your head back and laugh at something Niall has said that’s also caused him to erupt in that loud obnoxious laugh of his. Now Harry has always felt secure in his relationship with you, even from the very beginning when he fought the Irishman currently sitting at his kitchen table for the title of your bestfriend all those years ago Harry has always knows where he’s stood with you but that’s never stopped him from sometimes feeling a certain tiny twinge of jealousy when he sees the two of you together because he knows your friendship with Niall is completely different than your friendship with him ever was.

You and Niall have secrets and little jokes only the two of you find funny, granted you and Harry also have secrets and inside jokes that no one else has the privilege of being privy to but Harry for some odd reason assumed when he became your fiancé that all the secrets you and Niall shared he would get the inside scoop on, but he was wrong. He knows it’s silly to get so worked up over your friendship with Niall, hell Harry is the reason you even know Niall so he can’t exactly be mad at how close the two of you are because he was there the day you met and he saw it first hand just how quickly the two of you seemed to click and form a bond. Deep down Harry is grateful for your friendship with his bandmate because Niall has been there for you at times when he couldn’t be due to distance because of a work thing or when Harry was too stubborn and lost in his own feelings to see the error of his ways when he’d done or said something he shouldn’t have so you having a few secrets and private jokes with him shouldn’t be a big deal but Harry just can’t seem to let it go sometimes and today is one of those times.

Despite Harry knowing that Niall is just your bestfriend, Harry is the one marrying you in a few months for goodness sake, he can’t help but glare at the side of Niall’s face when the little tiny voice inside his head begins to question what it is that Niall has said that could possible make you laugh so hard you have to reach over and grab his arm and give it a squeeze like that? Harry crosses his arms over his chest as he decides to watch the two of you from the doorway for a few moments longer, your back is to him so he doesn’t have to worry to much about you seeing him.

“I swear I’ve never seen her look so pissed.” Niall says between laughs making you shake your head as you try to catch your breath.

“That’s because she wasn’t expecting you to just say you thought her dress was hideous Niall.” Your voice is playful as your hand that’s on his arm falls back down to the table while Niall just rolls his eyes in response to your words. “It’s rude.” You add and Harry knows you’re giving your bestfriend a glare as you stare at him making him shrug.

“No asking me my opinion on a god awful dress when I’m three whiskey shots in and working on my second pint of Guinness is what’s rude.” That makes you reach over and give him a light smack upside the head resulting him reaching over to you and flicking you in the elbow. “Don’t start with me. You know you can’t beat me. At anything really. Remember the time you tried to come golfing with me? What a disaster that was.” He threatens in a non-serious tone when he sees you about to reach over and smack him again. Harry knows by the way you tilt your head to the side that you’re glaring at him but Niall just ignores it.

“Can’t beat you? Please I’ve actually done it before and one handed might I add or do you not remember?” This makes Harry raise an eyebrow because he has honestly no clue what you’re talking about but clearly Niall does because he watches as a smirk forms on his face and his eyes squint into a hard glare.

“Really now? You wanna talk about that night huh? Well let’s not forget who had to be carried home by that same man you claim to have beat one handed.”

“I did not have to be carried home you are so dramatic.”

“Me? Dramatic? Says the one who cried when I told her I didn’t have any coffee in my flat that one morning after-”

“Oh fuck right off that doesn’t even count as being dramatic because you’ve cried over food as well and I was violently hungover and all I wanted was coffee and who the hell has two coffee makers but no coffee?” Harry’s eyes are wide as he tries to make sense of the conversation he’s hearing the two of you have, he doesn’t know when you ever got so drunk with Niall he had to carry you home and he also doesn’t remember when you ever opted to stay at Niall’s apartment over staying with Harry so he’s not sure when the crying over the lack of coffee happened and it makes him feel extremely out of the loop and he doesn’t like it one bit.

“Also I didn’t claim to beat you one handed Niall Horan I did beat you one handed.” You add as you reach over and grab a chip off Niall’s plate that looks like it’s leftover from the lunch to two of you shared hours ago.

“Beer pong isn’t my strong suit so it’s not that big of an achievement saying you’ve beat me at it.” Harry begins to flip through memories to see if he can try to get a better idea of when you and Niall were at a party and played beer pong together and it’s then that it hits him, this is all the way back when you were still in college and Niall used to go with you to a few frat parties because Harry didn’t like causing a scene when he’d try to go with you but Niall was able to blend in just a bit easier than him.

“Don’t be an ass.” Harry smiles as you not so gently punch Niall in his shoulder making him let out a groan as he rubs at the spot you just hit. “A win is a win.” You state with a huff as you steal another chip off Niall’s plate.

“Whatever you say bestie.” The tone is teasing as Niall looks away from you and suddenly Harry feels his body go stiff when he’s met with a pair of blue eyes staring into his green ones. “Hello there Harold how’s it goin? Your fiancé here is in a violent mood so I’d watch out if I were you.” Harry rolls his eyes as he takes a small step into the kitchen as you turn to look at Harry over your shoulder.

“I’m sure you deserved it.” You smile at Harry’s words as you turn to look back at Niall who just rolls his eyes making you stick your tongue out at him.

“Really? You’re so mature.” You just laugh as Niall gets up from his seat at the table. “I gotta head out but call me tomorrow and we can go over more Miami stuff because I’ve gotta book everything soon and if you don’t make up your mind about the boat then I’m gonna just make a decision for you and we both know which option I’m gonna pick.” He gives you a knowing look before he quickly leans over and places a super innocent kiss to your cheek that makes Harrys jaw clench.

“Okay I will call you with my decision by lunch time tomorrow.” You inform him and he just nods before he turns and heads towards the front door. “Love you!” You shout over your shoulder and you just smile when you hear Niall laughing as he shouts it back to you making Harry roll his eyes as he stands behind your chair.

“You’ve been down here with him all afternoon?” Harry asks as he leans down to place a kiss to the top of your head as his hands rest on your shoulders.

“Harry.” Your voice is soft but stern and it’s an odd mixture that has Harry suddenly glad he can’t see your face because he’s sure you’d be giving him a look that tells him you know exactly how he’s feeling right now. “You don’t need to be jealous of Niall.” Is all you say as you reach a hand up and place it over his that’s on your shoulder and give it a little pat before you turn your head so you can look up at him. “You know that right?” You ask with a raised brow and Harry lets out a heavy sigh as he leans down to place a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“I know. I just can’t help it sometimes-know m’a bit obsessed with you and don’t like to share.”

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