#It's on me for daydreaming and reading into things

[whowrotethenote]

𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

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

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

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

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

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

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

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

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

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it's fine.”

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

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

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

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

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

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

“I do,” I answer him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We got one night only.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for last night. Joe. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again. 

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

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

banner credit:  @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[thatoneevanfan]

Remus Lupin x popular girl!reader

In which the popular girl starts taking interest in her tutor.

warnings: lowkey bimbo reader, oblivious Remus, cussing, tension, lowkey suggestive

—————————————————————————————————————

YOUR POV:

“Ughhh” you groan as you slam your head against your desk. “I don’t even know what you see in him. Isn’t he like a nerd?” Your friend, who was laying uninterested on your bed, reading some fashion magazine. “Well… Kind of but that’s what makes him so hot. He’s hot and he doesn’t even know it! Such a turn on.” You daydream.

“You sound like you’d fuck his brains out.” She chuckles plainly, barely leaving any actual emotion in her words.

“well that’s the thing. I WOULD. If only he gave me the chance…” You whine out frustrated while trying to once again regain your focus on your potions essay.

“Also what the fuck is this essay. I don’t get anything. Potion class sucks.” You groan out dramatically.

“Why don’t you just ask your wonderful man to tutor you?” She rolls her eyes sarcastically. You bite your lips focused but your demeanor changes at her suggestion.

“Wait a minute… YOURE BLUDDY BRILLIANT.” You shout out excitedly, jumping over to the bed and placing a smooch on her forehead.

“What? I wasn’t being serious Y/n! Where are you going?” She yells after you as you skip outside the dormitory, leaving her dumbfounded on your bed. Quickly you run back into the room and grab her along, to help with your plan.

—————————————————————————————————————

No Pov:

He walks into the library looking for his favorite book on one of the shelves. Suddenly he hears sighs coming from behind one of the shelves. With much curiosity and worry he decided to go look into the noise.

As he walks around the he spots you.

Well and your friend.

He watches as you dramatically sigh and whine over an essay. He pretends to look for a book to continue eaves dropping.

“This essay is so hard. If only I had someone that could tutor me.” He hears you, once again, sigh dramatically. Any less oblivious person would have instantly noticed your intention, Remus however was way too oblivious to understand your intent. Innocently he turns around and asks you if you need a tutor.

“Well there’s just noooo way i Could ask that of you…” You sigh once again longer than you should have.

He however assures you that he would love to help you. He is a prefect after all.

You happily agree and plan a time and place to meet.

_____________________________________

NO POV:

Happily you start skipping over to your agreed upon place. You grin to yourself as you look down on your outfit. Your school skirt, way too short. Your out of school shirt, way too much cleavage. Perfect.

“Hiii Remus” You smile innocently at the poor boy who is still completely oblivious.

“Hi Y/n, so i’ve looked at your task and basically you have to write down what happens through out the experiment. Lucky for you I have connections so we get to use the potions classroom and the stuff in it.” He smiles proudly.

“Oh wow remus! That’s great, I wonder what i would have done without you.” You exclaim dramatically.

He blushes furiously at your words.

You both make your way to the classroom to start working on the project.

_____________________________________

“Sooo you crush this unicorn hair, mix it in with the hardsnail slime and the water, then it turns into this white thicker liquid.” He explains with full concentration.

“Mhmm does it?” You giggle at his words like a 14 year old boy. His eyebrows furrow at your reaction as he tries to figure out what was so funny. “Why did you- Oh. Y/n that’s-“ He cuts him self of with silence as he remains speechless. You sit quiet with a proud grin.

“anyway… you continue by stirring.” he instructs with a stutter.

—————————————————————————————————————

The awkwardness continues for another hour, as you manage to make everything he says have a sexual undertone, as well as occasionally brushing against him.

However something finally makes him crack.

The liquid you both had made seemed to start bubbling and started splashing. Some of the white liquid splashed onto his face, making it look quite… sexual.

“Now in a different setting i’d think that’s hot.” You smile suggestively.

He takes a sharp breath and looks at you with furrowed brows.

You reach out to wipe it away but he grabs your wrist mid move.

“Y/n.” he exclaims, saying your name like a warning.

You start to feel a little bit embarrassed, feeling rejected.

You apologize and quickly get up to leave, gathering your things.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He once again warns. You look up at him with confusion, slightly blushing at his demanding tone.

You open your mouth to respond but quickly get shut up by him pulling you in for a kiss. You continue to make out for a few seconds before he pulls off for air. He grabs his stuff and walks to the door. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” He grins at you before leaving you there.

You stand there dumbfounded but your mouth quickly turns into a grin.

He totally wants you. You think to yourself proudly.

But… what will the next step be?

[buckysouvenir]

call it what you want

pairing: bucky barnes x y/n authors note: day tree!

the valentine’s day collection 2025: for the first 14 days of february, i’ll be posting a series of short stories inspired by songs, all centered around bucky barnes.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

The world was quiet for once, but Bucky’s mind was anything but. 

The Winter Soldier. Hydra’s weapon. A killer. They had a picture of him so dark, even he had a hard time believing there was anything else left.

So, he disappeared. For months, nobody heard from him. Not Steve. Not Sam. He needed the silence more than he needed air. He needed to figure out who he was without the ghosts of the past clawing at him, dragging him back into the dark.

But then, there was her.

Y/N walked into my life when I wasn’t even looking. She wasn’t afraid of me like so many others were. She didn’t flinch at the sight of my metal arm, didn’t hesitate to stand by me when I thought I didn’t deserve anyone’s kindness.

She saw me. The real me.

I don’t know how she does it, but when Y/N looks at me, it’s like the weight of the world lifts off my shoulders. She makes me forget the noise—the whispers of those who doubt me, the accusations, the labels. All the liars fade into nothing when I look at her.

And she’s beautiful. God, she’s beautiful. She’s got this way about her, like she doesn’t even realize how much light she brings into a room. She’s fit like a daydream, moving through life with a kind of quiet strength that leaves me breathless.

Sometimes, I catch myself staring. It’s not just her smile or the way her eyes light up when she’s excited. It’s the little things—how her lips twitch when she’s trying not to laugh, or how she tilts her head when she’s listening to someone talk.

And she loves me. Not in the way people love an idea of someone, but the real me. She loves me like I’m someone brand new.

I don’t deserve her. I know that. I’ve made the same mistakes over and over, burned bridges I didn’t even try to fix. And maybe I’ll never learn, but at least I did one thing right: her.

One night, we were sitting by the fire. The compound was quiet for once, the kind of peaceful stillness I rarely experienced. She was leaning against my side, her hand brushing mine, and the words just slipped out before I could stop them.

“Would you run away with me?”

I wasn’t sure why I said it. Maybe it was because, for the first time in forever, I felt like I could breathe around her. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to share her with the rest of the world.

She turned to look at me, her eyes wide, searching my face for something. And then she smiled, this soft, radiant smile that made my chest ache.

“Wherever you go,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll follow.”

When you first met Bucky Barnes, you didn’t know what to expect. He was quiet, his head always down, like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. He moved like he didn’t want anyone to notice him, but you did.

You saw him.

He had this way of making himself small, like he thought he didn’t deserve to take up space. But when he looked up, when those stormy blue eyes met mine, something shifted.

He’s the kind of person who hides his heart, but when he trusts you, it’s like being let into a secret. And somehow, you became the person he walked to.

Bucky isn’t what the world thinks he is. He’s kind, in ways people don’t notice. Like the way he remembers the little things—how you take my coffee, which books you like to read, even the songs you hum under my breath.

One night, when the compound’s heating system failed during a snowstorm, he built a fire just to keep you warm. He sat there for hours, feeding the flames, making sure you wouldn’t shiver.

It wasn’t just the fire, though. It was him. Always showing up, always caring in ways he didn’t think anyone noticed.

You started wearing his initial around your neck not long after that. A small silver chain with a simple charm. It wasn’t because he owned you or anything like that—it was because he knew you. Really knew you.

Bucky saw through all the walls you’d built around yourself. He saw the parts of you kept hidden, the pieces you thought no one would ever want. And he stayed.

One night, you sat by the fire again, the same warmth wrapping around you. He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Would you run away with me?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his words. He didn’t ask because he thought you needed saving or because he wanted to escape. He asked because, for the first time, he felt like we could have something that was just yours.

“Wherever you go,” you whispered, “I’ll follow.”

#taglist: @cjand10

[treviso-nights]

Blood and Allegiance—Rook de Riva, Teia/Viago

summary: before she was rook, Keket was a fledgling taken from a declining, abusive House. now, in treviso, she meets her new benefactor (viago de riva) and his surprising, beautiful counterpart (teia cantori). what will she think of her potential benefactor? what will they think of her? rating: M word count: 2500 (inspired by the first prompt from this post!!)

read on AO3

Keket had heard many things about Treviso, had flipped through the images of its canals and architecture marvels in textbooks. In private, Keket had even pressed her fingertips to the glossy pages and imagined she was there instead of where she was, instead of doing what she was. In fact, anywhere would have been better than training in her House. Yet in those secret daydreams, in those most private thoughts, Keket was always in Treviso, cartwheeling down boardwalks flanked by sparkling water—or perhaps ziplining over a twinkling marketplace.

Now, as she was escorted through its front gates, Keket knew she had been right to hold onto those daydreams.

Treviso was the most beautiful place she had ever seen.

Her escort didn’t speak to her as they meandered through Treviso’s walkways, moving with the elegance and grace of a trained assassin. Someday, she would be as languid as that. Though as a teenager just past her thirteenth year, Keket was mostly just uncertainty, with limbs too stiff to do anything useful with. It wasn’t as if the anxiety hadn’t already been beaten out of her—it had.

But Keket also couldn’t help wondering what kind of beatings her new benefactor favored—because they all favored one or another. There was no love lost for her old House; that was for sure. However, the nondescript warehouse they came upon didn’t do much to appease newfound concerns, no matter how often she’d been punished for them in the past. After all, Antivan Crows were nothing if not relentless. At least, that was what she told herself.

“This is where I leave you.”

Years of training kept Keket from jumping at the sound of his voice. “Thank you,” she responded, smiling grimly up at her escort. Because even then, she knew to be polite. Even then, in this new city, with this new benefactor, Keket knew to be pleasant. How else was she supposed to form alliances?

To her surprise, her escort smiled warmly back at her—even winking before he began to walk away. That was harder to digest. Crows weren’t supposed to smile at anyone that wasn’t a contract. Keket nearly frowned at the absurdity of it. No doubt that whoever trained him would be ashamed if they’d seen.

The front door to the warehouse was also nondescript—though pretty and well-stained wood, if anything. The inside was dark and empty, save for a few skylights, which provided enough sunshine for Keket to easily make her way to the room’s center, where a person in shadow awaited.

Her new grandmaster.

There wasn’t much Keket wanted—they didn’t need to be kind or accepting or even remotely interested in their fledglings. But if this new House could just be better than the last… if they could just be even one iota less cruel, that would be enough for her.

“Welcome! You must be our new fledgling.”

If Keket’s escort had surprised her, this was nothing less than shock, radiating down into her very bones. As she approached the figure, she could have sworn the day-light filtering in from above rearranged itself just for her—for the small woman standing in front of Keket. Which it should.

Because standing in front of Keket was an earth-shatteringly beautiful woman.

“I’m Andarateia Cantori,” the woman said, flashing white teeth in her smile. “Though you can call me Teia. Just don’t tell anyone else I told you so.”

Sheer instinct kept Keket on her feet, had her nodding slowly back to Teia. Though it was several moments before she could find her voice again. “Are you my new grandmaster?”

This only made Teia smile’s widen, until she was full-blown grinning at Keket. If the gesture itself wasn’t so warm and full of kindness, she would have retreated to a more defensible position in the room.

“Well…” Teia began. “Not really. Although, if you wish, I could make arran—“

The warehouse door slamming back open was the last straw, and Keket threw herself to the side, safety rolling near one of the room’s main walls, which she promptly pressed her back against.

“Oh, dammit!” Teia shouted, all traces of her previous warmth evaporated. “You scared our little fledgling half to death!”

A new, distinctly male voice sounded off then. “Teia!” the intruder barked, his long legs carrying him to where Keket had just been standing. “What do you think you are doing? Is it your life’s mission to be a complete pain in my ass? Or did I do something to specifically warrant this intrusion? I can never tell.”

“Keket?” Teia called, ignoring the intruder’s protests. “May I introduce to you your new grandmaster—Fifth Talon, Viago de Riva.”

At this, Keket’s eyebrows shot up. Fifth Talon? The Fifth Talon wanted her in his House?

“Come over here,” Teia encouraged, beckoning Keket with another warm smile. Still, she ignored Viago’s ever-reddening face, the deep blush darkening his handsome bronze skin until it almost looked purple.

The wall felt safer. But Teia was too enticing, too beautiful and friendly to disobey—as if they had already formed a comraderie or an understanding that could not be betrayed by Keket’s own suspicion. Even if that suspicion was a necessary part of their trade.

Unwilling footsteps shuffled Keket closer to where the duo stood, only twelve inches apart or so. The sky-light illuminated both of their features, which were very Antivan in nature—tawny brown skin and dark, curly hair so tightly coiled the curls were more like ringlets. And while Teia’s eyes were as deep and brown as her hair, Viago’s were a strange, muted emerald, as if that emerald had first been buried in fresh soil.

Only when Keket came to a stop next to him did Viago turn towards her, his piercing gaze pinning the teenager’s feet to the spot.

“Viago, Keket. Keket, Viago,” Teia chuckled.

Keket remained silent, as was expected of all fledglings before their grandmaster. So did she avert her gaze, keeping it trained on the ground. She needed to show him the utmost deference and respect, just as her last grandmaster had taught her.

“Look at me,” Viago commanded.

Keket’s blood ran cold. That didn’t seem right. What had she done wrong?

“Now.”

She obeyed him at once, her eyes wide and wiped blank of any obvious sentiment—the best she could do, given her terror.

“Don’t frighten her more,” Teia hissed, and Keket’s eyes involuntarily flicked to the scowling woman beside them. “Or I’ll make you regret it.”

Keket’s next inhale stuttered in her chest. Surely she would face punishment for speaking to the Fifth Talon this way?

But Viago only rolled his emerald eyes, his mustache quirking with a grimace. “How old are you?” he asked her.

Keket knew to answer quickly. “Thirteen.”

“How long have you been a fledgling?”

“Since I was eight.”

“Eight?” Both Viago and Teia shared a look.

Keket fought the urge to squirm. “Is that… unusual?” Typically, Keket would never deign to speak while not spoken to, but something about their reactions felt strange.

Teia was the one to answer. “It depends. But your former grandmaster had a certain reputation for eccentric recruiting practices.”

At that, Keket was silent. What did that mean?

Viago scoffed. “What she means is that your former grandmaster was a despicable speck of scum that had no qualms about recruiting hordes of small children so long as some of them survived long enough to cause trouble for the other Houses.”

Keket nodded absently.

“Agreed. Let us hope their new grandmaster has more sense,” Teia added, glancing at Viago again. “Lest the rest of us be forced to take action.”

With no clear understanding of what she meant, Keket once more averted her gaze.

“Keket, let me properly introduce you to Andarateia Cantori, Seventh Talon of the Antivan Crows, since I am sure she made no effort to disclose her official title.”

Against all instinct, an audible gasp ripped through Keket’s throat.

“Now you’ve done it,” Teia angrily muttered.

The Fifth and Seventh Talon. Keket knew this meeting could potentially be dangerous, though she would never have been able to ascertain the level of that danger—would never have thought that two Talons would ever be standing in front of her, squabbling like old lovers as if they couldn’t end her existence with a single twist of their hands.

There were no words for the influx of awe, horror, and hope rushing through her belly. So, Keket defaulted to the proper supplication these Talons deserved; a still body, and a quiet mouth.

This, however, did not seem to please Viago de Riva.

He cursed in Antivan. “What? Did your grandmaster beat the spirit out of you?”

Keket’s reply was instantaneous and without any emotion. “Yes.”

Then Teia cursed. Keket turned to her. “Grandmaster said that a good Crow must be emptied before it can be filled with anything useful, so we practiced being empty a lot.”

The warehouse’s subsequent silence only served to further strain Keket’s nervous system. That wall was looking highly safe right now…

“A good Crow uses everything at their disposal to complete their contracts,” Viago replied. “Especially their natural predispositions.” A pause. “Look at Teia,” he continued, gesturing to Teia with his hand. “What weapons do you think she is most likely inclined to use?”

“Here it comes,” Teia grumbled.

Keket was sure she was being set up to fail this question, but she also suspected Viago did not tolerate anything but the truth. Slowly, Keket appraised Teia once more, absorbing her small, lithe body, which would certainly attune her to agile movement; her full lips; the way her soft, long hair framed her jaw…

An uncomfortable blush began peppering Keket’s neck and ears when she realized she was staring. “Well,” she started. “She is… very beautiful.”

This prompted Teia to grin at her, which only served to aggravate the blush.

But Viago only frowned. “Exactly. So you can imagine how many powerful, wealthy men survive encounters with her when she is fulfilling a contract.”

“Probably not very many,” Keket said.

Teia laughed. “Exactly. Seduction is one of many tools in a Crow’s arsenal. These powerful, self-important men see my face and my ears and think I am harmless. Usually, it is the last thought they ever have.”

Keket’s eyes widened in something akin to wonder. 

“Now, what do you think of Viago? What skillset do you think he is most predisposed to?”

She felt her jaw lock when Viago’s intense gaze returned to her. This was most certainly a trap. Right? 

Still, the answer came at once—a muted whisper that bubbled inside her mind. Such whispers came infrequently, though when they did, they most often struck true.

“Poison.”

Both Teia and Viago’s brows shot up, their visages conveying an honest surprise at the answer.

“And why would you say that?” Teia asked.

Keket swallowed, attempting to ignore Viago’s stare seeping into her face. “He holds himself apart from others—at least one foot away. At first, I thought it was because of a… distaste for you,” she said, unwillingly glancing back at Teia, “but your obvious familiarity with each other ruled that out. I would guess that you just don't like to be touched.”

She got the distinct impression this made the Talons uncomfortable, judging by their stony expressions.

“Secondly… you smell like Belladern,” Keket murmured.

Viago de Riva cocked his head at that, his stare turning intense. “Are you sure you are not scenting my cologne?”

“I’m sure. Belladern is created by mixing belladonna with wyvern venom, and it has a signature aroma when heated at the right degree. It’s sweet.”

Viago nodded, his head moving slowly while he stuck his tongue against one cheek.

But Keket continued to answer, her voice steadily becoming more confident as she did. “I also think you sampled some before coming here. You probably ingest small amounts of several poisons to build immunity to them, since most who prefer poison are often paranoid about unknowingly consuming poison themselves.”

“What’s your evidence?” Viago asked, deliberating.

“Belladern side effects include rapid heartbeat, and I can see yours pounding against the arteries of your neck.” Keket lifted one hand, pointing at Viago’s carotid, where his pulse point throbbed at a steady and swift rate.

“And I don’t think it’s because you’re nervous,” she supplemented. “Also, your left fingers keep twitching. Since Belladern also causes convulsions, that would make sense as well.”

Teia muttered something softly, the Antivan momentarily breaking through Keket’s examination.

“Anything else?” Viago inquired.

Keket nodded at Viago’s other hand. “The tips of those fingers are red and raw, as if they’ve been burned. Since I assume you wear gloves while you work, yours are either old and worn through, or you need a second pair to cover the first. I would recommend drakeskin, as it deteriorates slowly,” she finished, voice once again quiet.

Viago de Riva folded his arms across his chest, the harsh angles of his brow and jaw smoothed out. “Was it your grandmaster that taught your class alchemy?”

“No. He used it on us. I remembered the smell.”

After an agonizingly silent pause, Teia cursed again—a fiery, filthy string of curses Keket struggled to not blush at.

Meanwhile, Viago looked vicious once more, fury etching deep into the handsome planes of his face. “Agreed, Teia.”

Keket resisted the urge to return to the warehouse’s wall. Had she said too much? Was she arrogant in her responses? Did she insult his honor?

“Right, then,” Teia chirped, a strained smile pulling at her mouth.

“Viago, if you do not want another fledgling, I would be more than happy to declare her part of House Cantori.”

That… couldn’t be right. Right? 

But Viago only glowered, each emerald eye narrowing in warning.

“Absolutely not. I will not have you poaching every wounded fledgling who crosses your path.” Then he turned to Keket, the curls in his hair bouncing slightly with the movement.

“You should know: I will not coddle you the way some may think you deserve. Becoming a fledgling in my House will mean even more discipline and more… correction, if you will.”

Keket nodded. She did not expect anything different.

“But,” Viago said, his jaw unclenching. “Only when you deserve it. Or when lessons demand that of you. Nothing more.”

Unwilling, traitorous tears began to gather in the back of her eyes.

“Stop that,” Viago snapped, all too observant.

Keket froze. “Yes, sir.” She briefly turned her gaze to the ceiling, hoping that the tears would suck themselves back into their ducts.

“I guess it is settled then,” Teia said, clapping her hands together. It did not escape Keket that she seemed to be pouting, her lower lip jutting out a touch more than the top. “What a shame. I do enjoy my strays.” 

And for the first time in many months, Keket found herself smiling.

Treviso, the city of dreams, indeed.

[v3lvet-midnight]

Hello! I'd like to request for a DC matchup please. ^^

Name: Aurora  Pronouns: they/them Character preference: Someone from teen titans or the batfam

MBTI: INFP Enneagram: 4w5 sp/sx Zodiac: Cancer Moral alignment: True neutral (leaning slightly towards lawful evil)

Personality: Introspective and rational, terrified of conflict. I daydream a lot and tend to space out when I’m not talking to someone. I’m a true introvert, but I love to talk to certain people and about things I find interesting, like my fixations or a fun hypothetical situation. I observe people more than I want to interact with them. I'm also good at reading people (to the point where my brother thinks I can read people's minds). Purple represents me best as a colour.

I value my authenticity, creativity and emotional intelligence (I can’t say I’m really empathetic, but I listen to people when they need me to and I try to be there for them). But I am quite sensitive and emotional. I tend to remember events in which I was hurt easily. My friend would describe me as a jaded Disney princess because I daydream a lot and used to be idealistic as a kid but now I'm more of a realist/pessimist. They also say that I can be blunt most of the time.

Love languages: Giving - gift giving and quality time, receiving - words of affirmation and acts of service

Hobbies: Reading, looking for fanfiction with amazing writing styles (descriptions, vibes, the closer it reads like poetry, the better), writing (fanfiction for now, but I plan to become a professional writer in the future e.g. movies, tv shows, manga), listening to music, psychoanalyzing people, analyzing fictional characters, watching horror movie summaries and anime/movie reaction videos

Likes: POETRY, anime (mostly shounen, but I've watched some movies as well), manga, analyzing characters with many layers to them, personality typology (the closest thing I've had to a hyperfixation. my all-time favourite is enneagram, but I’ve had astrology and MBTI phases), personality quizzes, action or comedy movies, visiting cafes, looking at sunrises and sunsets, watching storms (LIGHTNING), crochet flowers and plushies (I don’t crochet, I just buy them), phone charms, the colour purple, window shopping, video essays (marketing - celebrities, not companies, somewhat deep topics like love and philosophy, literature and film analysis - especially themes of horror movies, despite me being too chicken to actually watch the moves)

Thank you for your hard work!

𝕷𝖔𝖆𝖉𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖈𝖍𝖚𝖕...

𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖘𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆 𝖈𝖆𝖎𝖓- 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑

you're good at reading people, and as a girl with limited speech and mostly uses body language to communicate ...it fits in my opinion

she feels you understand her, and initially that's what brought you both together at least before Barbara taught her to speak. Cassandra was overjoyed the days you'd also join in on the lessons and help her it just made things more comfortable for her with you around

once she learned to read more, she definitely loved joining you when you did, doesn't matter where as long as she was close to you, she didn't mind it one bit <3

she was the one who confessed, after Steph helped her realize her feelings towards you. She probably let it slip out on a night of patrol

she notices your habit of buying crochet plushies, and she began getting you some. though she wouldn't give them to you up front, you'd just find them in your stuff or somewhere she knows you'd find them with a sweet little note from her

Shes also a good listener, and she will gladly lend an ear when you want to talk about something that you are excited about, she finds it endearing and your voice is something that's comforting to her so that's a bonus

⥅♡⤎

[deepspaceclawstation]

I feel so stupid rn

[softgothbabe]

Pull up a chair in front of the full-length mirror, and sit me (naked) on your (fully clothed) lap facing the mirror with my legs spread. Make me watch you play with my sensitive clit until I'm whining and dripping and begging for you to put your fingers inside me. Insert one finger slowly. Hold my chin with one hand to keep my dizzy eyes focused on you gradually fitting a second, then third, finger inside my aching pussy. Pick up the pace. Move your hand from my chin to cover my mouth to silence me as I moan louder and louder. Make me climax so hard I'm shaking and squirting all over your lap.

[grimmweepers]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ 𝓻𝔂𝓾𝓱𝓪𝓲𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓶

there was an ache in my heart when i awoke in a strange, beautiful world that wasn’t my own. even as months turned to years, i still missed the familiar skies, the voice of loved ones and the home i had left behind. i wrote letters that went nowhere and whispered silent prayers that reached no one. it was like i was plucked from my own reality and placed in a world where i didn’t quite belong.

yet, as much as i longed for home, i was determined to learn in this new life. sumeru became my sanctuary and the akademiya, my solace. i learned their languages, customs, and secrets while sharing stories of the stars, landmarks, and beauty of my own world. the scholars listened, fascinated by the similarities and differences, but none more than al-haitham—a student assigned to guide me through this foreign land. he was a quiet presence. thoughtful and curious. he did not pity me.

and over time, he went from guide to peer to something more. over time, i wasn’t just seeking knowledge but also him. but what was the point? what was the point of falling for him if one day, i could just disappear—vanish back to my world, leaving him and teyvat behind? this could slip away at any moment. this might be as fleeting as a dream.

despite all reason, i still found myself loving him deeply. in a world that wasn’t my own, he had become my home.

𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐬: very slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐔𝐒: 22.10.22 | playlist | genshinverse ryu | home for christmas (fic) | moodboards

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐒: modern au | akademiya days | season of love | minecraft |

[teddybeartoji]

i'm kind of obsessed with the idea of gojo never driving. like ever. he knows how to drive, he just doesn't like it. he LOVES being the passenger princess and he LOVES taking the public transport.

suguru and shoko both drive (they both also have very sexy cars. like some older cars yk... hear me out shoko with some kind of a convertible?? smoking as her hair flows in the air?? very hot i would say...). sugu and shoko keep complaining about the music he plays but they let him be the dj every single time anyway. satoru doesn't mind sitting in the back either btw. by passenger princess i guess i just meant that he loves to be in the car with his friends lmao. whenever he sits in the back – he's having a party on his own. he has snacks (which he always shares. sugu and shoko just need to open their mouths and satoru is feeding them immediately. they don't even have to ask for it. he sometimes whines about them eating a lot but he still feeds them without a second thought) and he's just loving life back there. he's staring out of the window, slipping from one side of the car to the other and pointing out just about everything he sees. kind of like a child but yk, it's sweet. sometimes he falls asleep in the weirdest fucking positions possible and then wakes up with a terrible neck pain and pouts when his friends laugh at him.

when he's sitting in the front... he's doing all of the same fucking things who am i kidding. he's eating, he's singing, he's pressing his face right against the window and earning a flick to his head for it. also he's fucking AWFUL with maps. idk that just feels right. never ask him any kind of directions bc you'll just get even more lost than you were before; so the only thing satoru is forbidden to in the car is being the gps. actually i kind of have a feeling that shoko isn't that great at it either lmao.... imagine suguru is just sighing loudly before yanking the map from their hands (fuck technology ig) and figuring out where they are on his own while the two of them just laugh their hearts out wahh i love them so fucking much

he looooves the public transport okay. he loves the little rush he gets when he's almost late to the bus; heaving and panting as he barely makes it with a stupid smile on his face. he also loves to blame the subway for being late, it's literally his favourite excuse and whenever somebody tells him to either get a car or idk take the earlier one – he just says that it's boring. because it is!!!! to him it is. he likes to try and enjoy the small things in life and the public transport is sometimes one of those things. he observes everything, he sees everything and he loves telling people about his adventures. the old lady with the rat, the guy with the hair, the man who was naked? yeah, it's all so exciting to him. honestly, i can't really think of anything about the public transport that make him upset in any way. maybe this is a reach but he's just curious little guy okay... he likes to experience new things and whatever might happen on a bus or a tram or a subway is just one of those new things okay.... let him do his thing..... OKAYY anyway i love this man so so so much<333 thank you for listening to my ramble i love you all mwah mwah

[lale-txt]

heartbreaking! one of your favorite artists makes fun of y/n fics!

[laniemae]

I THINK OJIMA WOULD BE SO MUCH HAPPIER IF HE USED AGE REGRESSION AS A COPING MECHANISM

[ganondoodle]

everyones more than welcome to send me asks about stuff* btw, i know i havent been that good in answering, but i think thats largely bc i always want to do too much, like .. drawing entire character design sheets and everything and then never having the energy or motivation for it so it sits around like all of my hundreds of wips i never finished bc i lost energy/motivation, waiting for it to come back .. which might never happen (and i still dont know how to handle compliments ,, i might never will tbh- if i havent answered a compliment its very very likely i dont know how to properly convey my gratitude- feeling like theres no amount of things i can do or say to 'pay back'? ... kinda weird if you think about it .. but i am weird so what do i know jsklfnhsdk, i promise you i treasure it)

im pretty sure not everyone that sends an ask expects a drawing or multiple and pages long text right? thats my skewed perspective isnt it?

*stuff being like .. about my ocs, about my zelda comic, about the totk rewrite project, suggestions, ideas, rants too, kind of anything though im less likely to respond to personal things (and in case theres anyone newer to tumblr, asks dont have to be literal questions, you can write in those what you want, i like them alot bc its a lil message without the chat type of commitment to it ... im even worse at keeping up responding in chats (not intentionally .. my short term memory sucks) o3o)

[chaoswarfare]

danny falling asleep in weird places part 2! because i’m so tired 😀

[ashintheairlikesnow]

But what's happening in Magic Vietnam?

There is this thing that happens a lot in books I read. It's not a bad thing, really, just kind of an odd Thing. It happens most often in books that take place in an alternate history or alternate earth, or maybe it's just something that I notice more often in those instances because the world itself is more familiar to me.

And it's when the entirety of what matters in the world seems to be centered around this very narrow area, maybe the size of one country, maybe we get real fun and include a whole continent - but the rest of the world seems to simply not exist, even though ostensibly these stories take place in settings where the rest of Earth DOES exist and the consequences/stakes explicitly involve the entire world. But there is just.

No mention of what that world includes, or only vague intimations that anything else exists.

Which always leaves me with this itch in the back of my mind, like, okay it's nice that Magic War that will potentially destroy the earth is happening here, but... what's happening in Magic Vietnam?

Oh, the Pit of Evil Magic is slowly eating the world and leeching all the life from it? Why does "all the life" consist of just this one small teeny location, when the world otherwise clearly has global communications technology or even fucking magic communication technology and so there should be at least SOME idea of what's going on elsewhere?

The story tends to lose its draw for me, then, and I end up obsessively trying to pick apart how the setting would affect other places.

In a world where only so many Magic Saviors can be born at any time, when was the last one born in this earth's version of South America? Are there a dozen other Magic Saviors that nobody knows about because we're all pretending Everything That Matters Happens in Europe?

What's like... all of Asia up to, in this universe? Why are the Magic Saviors always from one single place in the world? How does that affect the relationship of Magic Savior royalty to all other royal/ruling classes?

Oh, so there's a line where the world of the Fae meets the world of Man, and it's otherwise Earth, so... how do other parts of Earth feel about this magical otherworld existing just on the other side of this magical wall only in one part of medieval France? Is there another Fae Wall somewhere else we just don't know about? Is there a whole empire of fae communities in the Russian steppe just like, livin' their best lives next door to people?

"If such-and-such happens, it will destroy the world!"

Will it?

Or will it destroy, like, ONLY one single area of one single nation, and everybody in Nova Scotia is going to be just fine?

It's the funniest little nitpick that my brain gets stuck on. Most of the time, it genuinely doesn't matter at all to the story. But my mind won't let it go.

What changes about other cultures when magic is a given in the world? What about food is different in lands where magic can be used to encourage plant growth and development? How do their politics change?

What the fuck happens in Magic Vietnam?

[icewindandboringhorror]

I've referenced before how I have a big google document to keep track of every media I've ever seen in my entire life (just for reference because I like to track everything possible lol… I am the Data Collector), but recently as I was updating it, I thought of actually evaluating them to find out random percentages (like for example, out of Total Shows Watched, what percentage did I finish vs. stop watching, what percentage did I like or dislike, etc.)...

Evaluating these things is made easier by the fact that I already place everything on each subsection of the list into 6 broad ranking categories, so I don't have to go back and guess to figure out how I feel about them or anything. The categories are: Ranking 5 - overall best* (despite some criticisms of course because I'm too much of an Analyzer to ever find anything Perfect lol) Ranking 4 - more positive than neutral, but not good enough to be 5 Ranking 3 - either the good + bad negate each other, OR it's just not memorable/interesting in any way enough to be ranked higher or lower (this is the Default category ALL things are placed in if no other rank applies) Ranking 2 - maybe a few redeemable elements but largely more negatives than positives Ranking 1 - So bad that it circles around to being fascinating to observe in some way (not necessarily Funny, or Good, but just interesting somehow) Ranking 0 - Bad in a genuinely frustrating or obnoxious manner

*("best" primarily defined here as most interesting, rather than most good in a technical sense, or some other measure. I tend to value more highly whether there's something novel or thoughtful about the worldbuilding, tone, writing, base premise, etc - than about whether it's actually executed perfectly.)

And here's the amount of shows that have so far been placed into each category -

TV shows ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 20 shows ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 28 shows ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 114 shows ~ Rank 2 (mid low) -33 shows ~ Rank 1 (low low but intriguingly so) - 14 shows ~ Rank 0 (iredeemably low) - 2 shows

This would make for a total of 211 TV shows overall. However, there are 57 shows within these list marked as "didn't finish" (typically meaning I quit on the very first or second episode - but log them still to keep a record that I at least had a brief view of them).

So my total of genuinely fully watched shows would be more 154. 211 Total, but a More Accurate Total of 154.

Counting them all and using the Total Number Of The List (211) -- that means roughly 9.5% of all total shows I have ever watched (or at least attempted to watch) have been Mostly Good, 13% have been Moderately Okay, 54% have been either entirely Forgettable or some mix of good + bad that lands them right in the Neutral Middle, 15.6% have been Mostly Bad, 6.6% have been Bad (but in an interesting way), and 0.9% have been Terribly Bad.

Additionally, I didn't even get past the first two episodes of about 27% of the total.

Sooo, discounting ones I didn't finish, my total TV shows ever watched in my life would be about 154 (maybe give or take a few, assuming I might have forgotten some from very long ago).

But instead of entire life, let's just say this is the total for 'About 20 Years' (so, not counting very early childhood when I likely wouldn't remember things I saw/have no detailed recollection of them (like for example, I'm sure at some point when I was like 4yrs old I must have seen an episode of Spongebob or something, but I have zero distinct memories of it, can't quote anything of it, and barely recall the premise - so I don't count it on the list, etc.)).

In that case, 154 divided by 20 would be roughly 7.7 shows a year.

Which is actually surprisingly low considering that I often have stuff on in the background for hours whilst I make sculptures and do costumes and stuff (maybe I should have also marked some distinction between 'things I fully paid attention to' and 'things I kind of half listened to whilst sculpting', but that would further split the categories too much probably lol), but I guess a lot of that is youtube videos or random documentaries, so .. eh.. maybe I get it being lower.

Now, doing the same thing for movies-

Movies ~ Rank 5 (highest) - 4 movies (3.4% of total) ~ Rank 4 (mid-high) - 12 movies (10.3% of total) ~ Rank 3 (neutral/default/meh) - 91 movies (78.4% of total) ~ Rank 2 (mid low) - 8 movies (6.8% of total) ~ Rank 1 (low but interesting) - 1 movie (0.8% of total) ~ Rank 0 (irredeemably low) - none in this category (0%)

That makes 116 for a Total (Actually Remembered) Movies Watched In Lifetime (Or At Least In 20 Years).

116 divided by 20 is roughly 5 or 6 movies a year (I feel this has probably been skewed though by adding everything since like elementary school onwards, as I remember a lot more movies from child/teen years.. Whereas, the past 3 years I feel like I've barely seen maybe even 5 movies?? lol). I also have "Didn't Finish" marked on 18 of them. Which means I quit halfway through about 15% of the total movies.

So, a for broader summary stuff..

I seem to be less forgiving to movies than tv shows, by far. Which makes sense to me, I guess, because I love elaboration and details, so "short form" things that only last an hour or two are often lost on me a bit. My biggest complaint with movies is indeed usually walking away just wishing there had been more exposition, more scenes where characters are doing nothing, more "mindless bantering" conversations, more Quiet Downtime and Lore Elaboration and so on lol, so... of course most 1-2hr films end up feeling a bit Not Enough To Draw My Interest/Nothingy to me.

If you count 5 and 4 as "like" and rankings 2 to 0 as "dislike", then for TV shows I at least somewhat liked 48 of them, and at least somewhat disliked 47 of them.. So it's almost exactly the same lol. I'm just about equally as likely to find something bad as I am to find something redeeming about it. But overall, the largest chance is that I just won't really care much for it at all and it will be tossed into the 'neutral' pile, forgotten forever. Movies have a bit better of a balance, "liking" 16 of them, and "disliking" only 9 of them. So I'm slightly more likely to enjoy a movie than to find it annoying - though still VASTLY more likely to just not find it anything in particular, possibly not even finishing it.

ANYWAY.. this is vague and literally pointless, but like I said, I just really find information fun. Like my document where I've rated every apple flavor I've ever tried (like 40 of them now?), or reviewed every oreo flavor (32?), or ranking data from my entire 10 years of Trying To Make Friends process (out of 100 people, roughly 8% chance of a moderate compatibility, 3% chance of high), or etc. etc.. I love to have random pointless things to analyze I suppose lol.

I doubt anyone tracks things in their life in this same exact way, but I'd be interested in hearing any at least somewhat similar data !!! (like, how many TV shows you watch a year on average, and what percentage of those you like vs. dislike (if you keep track of that sort of thing), etc.)). I guess it might be easier with movies, since I think some people use those websites where you curate a list of movies you've seen and you can rate them or something, so maybe the numbers are already available on those places. :0

[samwhump]

are there any pre-series events that they talked about/hinted at in the show that you would've wanted a flashback of

edit: giggling because I realized after I'd already typed most of this out that you specifically said pre-series events, and I wrote about some series-concurrent events too, because I am an idiot with zero reading comprehension it seems! sorry adgkjadksg

oh man, this is such a good question, and the answer is YES, 1000%

honestly, because Sam Winchester is like...my ultimate comfort character and life's greatest passion, the easy answer is "any scene with Sam in it" rofl but in the interest of maybe making this response semi-interesting to read, I'm gonna pick out some specific stuff I've thought about before.

Sam's shenanigans between S3 and S4: like...why would I not want to see him fucked-up, broken, drugged-up and passively suicidal, getting ordered around by Ruby and regularly fighting demons/gobbling down blood like a starved man/getting beat up in the process? I mean...my username isn't samwhump for nothing. I need to see her whumped!

the Stanford fight: I don't know what to say about this that hasn't been said, honestly, but I just like. want to see it play out. I don't really have a specific way I want it to go, honestly, because I have a lot of fun reading others' (Sam fans', obviously lol) various interpretations of it. but I would just like to see it acted out, because DGSJDJSKGJDSGJDSGJGD. the pain. the suffering. the sobbing 17-year old Jared Padalecki. etc.

Dean taking Sam's body back from Cold Oak and standing guard by him for days, descending into the depths of total emotional and mental anguish while living his own personal nightmare. idk I just think it could be cute

MATHLETE SAM. MATHLETE SAM WINCHESTER. mathlete Sam??? I just need to see everything about this, I need to see him spending all his free-time studying, bringing scratch paper along on hunts and scribbling down proofs on stakeouts, getting nervous for his first competition and Dean ribbing him for being a nerd but still showing up to cheer him on day-of and taking him out after and telling him he's proud of him over a big cheese pizza at the arcade <3 just give it to me I need it give it to me okay? give it to me. gimme. give.

I think it would have been cute to see baby-Sam interacting with Sully <3 <3 <3

this last one is a bonus, because it is not technically implied on the show, but I do think it logically follows from dialogue in Free to Be You and Me (and it's one of my all-time favorite headcanons): I would very much like to see Sam killing himself after Lucifer tells him he'll just bring him back to life if he dies. because Sam is a smart boy, and he's a critical thinker, and I don't think he would just accept this as fact without conducting some observational trials to prove (or disprove) his hypothesis! so yeah...idk suicidal Sam is just like something I want/need/must have or I'll lose my mind or whatever

also if I say Sam/Brady/Jess threesome where they top the shit out of him then you can't stop me because there's definitely evidence for that in canon