#bro is not a good manager it seems :P

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

Honestly I understand why Megatron is obsessed with Optimus Prime. Megatron is doing his darndest to run an evil army, but because it's an evil army everyone is constantly betraying him. He tells them infighting is destroying them, heck, he's even tried to be empathetic, and they turn right around and attack either each other or (more frequently) him. Is it any wonder he's almost happy to see Optimus on the battlefield?? At least with him, Megatron knows what to expect--bro will be there to fight him every time. Simple! Consistent! An opponent who's actually in front of him instead of behind his back! What a relief...

In short Optimus is basically Megatron's comfort item and I don't blame him for that

[creamflix]

Hiiiii queen, not sure if your requests are open but what are your thoughts on a reader x gym instructor Toji fic? as a gym girly, I’m feining for that shit bjsjsbsh 😭 If you’re not into it, no worries at all, just ignore this! thankyou loveyou 😛 hope u have an amazing day <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER! — toji fushiguro x female reader 

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. gym trainer toji, gym trainee reader. mentions of gojo satoru. toji's kinda a dork. lots of sexual tension. big dick toji yessir. orgasm control & denial. doggy style. fingering (f. receiving). big four: dirty talk, degradation, teasing and praise. slight dacryphilia. overstimulation and mindbreak. hair pulling. semi-clothed sex. locker room sex. p in v sex (protected!! no creampies today folks). crack + fluff ending, somewhat aftercare?

thank you to anon who requested this <3 i hope you enjoy!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3 

your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence. 

toji fushiguro. the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “gym instructor thirst trap” google search. nope, not at all.

as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and...testosterone? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.

“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”

oh. 

my. 

god.

this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal. broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?

play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.

“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”

your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?

“uh, uh...i want to — uh…” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”

as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!

the first warm-up nearly killed you. 

it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.

“c’mon, grocery girl,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”

two minutes felt like two hours.

“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”

toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”

oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.

you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.

“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.

walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:

stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.

figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.

spoiler alert: you wouldn’t succeed.

— ☆

toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.

"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong."

"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face. 

"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"

toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent, dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘community service.’ i ain't some saint."

satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for...specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."

"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. "soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"

toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"

satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"

toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."

“groceries?” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”

toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but...they've got potential."

“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.

satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”

as if that was possible.

— ☆

day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point. 

but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.

and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.

you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.

“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“y-yeah?” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.

“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”

improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.

still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.

“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.

before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”

cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.

“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.

“uh-huh,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.

“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”

if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.

“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.

your entire body locked up.

did. he. just.

“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.

you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.

grocery girl? more like gone girl.

but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.

maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more...muscular.

— ☆

you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.

the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?

“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.

you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.

toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste” look.

“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’”

the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”

you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”

toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘hot girl summer’ thing.”

your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji? 

your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios.

“uh, sure,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.

“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”

as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.

“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries.”

toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming.

you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.

watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless.

now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was...passable, at best.

“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load.”

you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”

toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”

“they’re not!” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.

“mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this.”

before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.

“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.

“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”

“what — wait!” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.

“relaaxx, grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”

your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”

“prove it.”

you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.

“there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”

you nearly dropped the bar. “excuse me?!”

toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for...extra training. wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”

you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.

what the hell had you signed up for?

— ☆

toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.

“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”

“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”

toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just...ya got a condom or what?”

that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”

“shut the hell up,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.

“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”

toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”

“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf?”

toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”

toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.

back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.

“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.

“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.

“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”

you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”

toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”

his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.

your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.

maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.

— ☆

you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.

did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten. and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.

was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?

and your lips — oh god, your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:

a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),

a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),

a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),

a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and

a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.

now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.

but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.

and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.

“so,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um, yeah. totally. i’m ready.”

toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little...distracted.”

“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just...focused.”

he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.

“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.

mental checklist? forgotten. lip gloss? nonexistent. your name? who even knows.

but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.

— ☆

toji had this all planned out — or so he thought. 

he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy? 

yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.

but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things. 

except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.

toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating. not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.

he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”

and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.

oh. okay then.

toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.

you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “well,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”

toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear, sweetheart.”

he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell, he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.

“now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.

training? oh, the session was just getting started.

— ☆

you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling, brain-melting insanity.

toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.

easy, right? wrong. so wrong.

especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town.

“alright, genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”

you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “uh — uh, the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.

toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit. 

oh.

“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.” 

you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”

you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?

“uh...quadricep?” you ventured, your voice shaking.

toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.

and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself. 

“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”

you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.

toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart, life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”

generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.

— ☆

“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”

you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.

“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”

you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.

toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no. don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”

you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.

“awww, embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”

you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.

“ah-ah,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”

you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“fucckkk,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”

your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “toji! these are new —”

“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight. can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess.”

you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.

“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely...maybe, just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “well...guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”

— ☆

“fucckk, you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”

you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.

“hey,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”

his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “shit, you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”

“toji,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.

“ohh fuucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow…fuckin’ perfect fit.”

he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.

“shi, don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big, huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl. already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”

you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “nuh-uh, not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.

“fucccck,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”

you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “shit, look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”

he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.

“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”

toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”

you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.

“shit,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.

“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”

you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.

toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “shiit, look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl, don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”

you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “b-boobs.”

toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “boobs?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“uh-huh,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.

toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”

“w-what?” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.

he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle.”

“but —”

“nah,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort.”

you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.

“toojiiii!” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.

“naaahh, don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”

the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick. 

“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.

toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“fuck, baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”

you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.

“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah, you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”

you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.

“therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”

you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.

“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.

him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.

toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”

you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit.”

he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides…” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”

“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”

— ☆

toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity. 

his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.

“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded.  this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.

“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant, and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”

he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

“kiss me, idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.

and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.

he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”

“soooo, does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.

“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”

if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.

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[hotheadedhero]

Ok question how would the tmnt bros (all 4) react to someone having a crush on them, and they confess, but the turtle rejects at time... but later on he realizes no wait I actually do like them!

But theres already been like a good month or more since the confession and their crush has been sorta avoiding them by hanging out with the other turtle bros and though still being polite, they avoid like being alone with their turtle crush and try to act like they don't have a crush still(but they do)

Sorry if I didn't write the request right! and thanks for your writing I love how you write the turtles!

Frothing at the mouth. No words. Speechless. Thank you so much anon! This request is absolutely amazing and tugged at my heart in all the good ways, you beauty. So glad you like my writing tyty <3 Apologies for the wait btw :] I might have meddled with the idea a bit depending on the turtle but I hope this is the kind of thing you were hoping for! May even make a part 2 continuation because there was just so much to write, this was really a lot of fun so thank you again :P I let fate decide which version to base this on and we got Bayverse!

Rejection, Realisation, and Regret

Warnings: bad language, grovelling turtles for their idiocy, angst with this in mind, oh these boys are some real idiots

Bay Turtles x Reader

Leonardo

Turns you down as gently as he can but it still feels like a sucker punch to the gut. It may sound calloused but he's a ninja, a mutant, a protector before anything else and that includes being someone's boyfriend. With a constructive discussion on the matter, he can only hope that you understand his position. You assured him that you did.

So, then, how is it that he barely gets a conversation in with you these days? And why does that fact burn a hole in his stomach? This pit, although metaphorical, weighs down heavily on him. Assumably, he’s missing one-on-one with a friend until it truly occurs to him just what exactly is going on. There's a lesson to be learned here, he's sure - a saying that goes around as if taken from an ancient script: you don't realise how good you have it until it's gone. You're not gone perse but you make a point of avoiding him individually. As well-mannered as you try to be, he's noticed and he's noticed the hurt in his belly that comes alongside it.

He thought things were okay, that despite the rejection, you would still be able to comfortably continue your friendship without any issues. It seems he managed even to fool himself. Being so caught up in what it means to be one of New York's self-acclaimed protectors, he was completely absentminded to the feelings that had been bubbling up inside him all along. No wonder he's been losing focus on his training as of late. He has attempted to try and talk to you about it but to no avail. Has your heart really been that broken?

For once, he doesn’t know what to do, or what decision should be made. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Who's the one person he can turn to at a time like this? Come on. Who else would it be?

"Sensei, you know better than anyone that our position comes with complications. That we as ninjas are sworn to certain oaths.” 

"Yes, the duty of yourself and your brothers is indeed a heavy burden. Responsibility comes with risk and consequence as I am sure you are well aware of by now.” Splinter watches his son bow down as he thoughtfully strokes his beard.  "However, sensei, rat, master; alongside all of these things, I am foremost a father who wishes to see his sons be happy. You're in love, are you not?"

Leo’s attention quickly turns up from the floor to his master. How had he figured it out? Must be that parental instinct. Either way, he’s thankful for that in some respect. It makes this easier. Less complicated. 

The turtle nods and breathes out, "I am, Sensei."

"That's what I thought." His father lays a hand over Leo’s shoulder before it taps him against the side of his head. "Now, what are you waiting for? Talking to me isn't going to change the situation."

Splinter is right. It's high time for him to get out of his funk and strategise the best way to make amends. He can only hope he isn’t too late. 

Raphael

Rejects you thinking it was some sick prank curated by his youngest brother or something. There's no way you have a thing for him. He's a mutant and you're a human. How could someone actually be in love with a freak like himself? That's why he blows up in your face when you attempt to pour your heart out to him. Whatever joke you thought would be funny, isn't. 

He may have taken things out of proportion. This much is made obvious enough by the poorly thought-out excuses you make just to avoid being alone with him. Yeah, that's right, he thinks. You should feel ashamed for trying to pull a stupid stunt like that, for trying to mess with him. He's standing firm on his self-assurance. Don't think for a second that he's going to lose sleep over what he said that day.

However, life has a very funny way of playing its own game. It all comes to fruition when you're laughing with the leader of the brothers. When your hand landed on his forearm, Raphael was struck with something fierce. The shot of jealousy to his heart almost takes him for a wild spin but he disregards it for typical Leo/Raph rivalry. Until that night, anyway. This man is tossing and turning in bed, ruminating on that sickly feeling in his chest; losing sleep over it. No. Surely not. He isn't in love with you. This isn't something that's been in the making for however long now. So what if you managed to calm him down quicker than anyone else he's ever known? Big whoop if you used to make a point of checking up on him when no one dared to go near him. It’s no big deal that you’d hype him up and cheer him on before each mission. 

Fuck. He's been in love with you this whole time, hasn't he? Oh, you have got to be kidding. This was probably the only chance he had at something close to normal in his life and he trampled over it like it was nothing. That's assuming it was even genuinely meant from your end to begin with. He still has his doubts all things considered. Either way, he can’t just sit in bed and wallow in his head all night. He needs some air. 

"What crawled up your shell and died?"

Great. He had hoped to get some peace and quiet. Not that this city knows the definition of either word but that isn’t the point. 

"Not now, Jones. I ain't in the mood."

Casey's head rolls against his shoulders and he sighs, "Hey, if this is to do with (Y/n) ignoring you, what do you expect? 'Can't just make someone cry and expect things to be okay after without an apology."

Raph's mask slowly descends and hoods over his eyes, those of which are now staring down the detective.

"Oh, shit. You didn't know?"

No. No, he did not. He really made you cry? Why would you-? Ah. Two things smack him up the head at this moment: you meant every word of what you admitted a month ago and he is an absolute asshole. Despite already living in the sewers, he feels like the scum of the Earth.

That's it. No more holding back. No more being chicken. He might have ruined his chance but he can at least try and make things right by you.

Donatello

Aloof. Absolutely aloof and utterly clueless to the fact that you were even trying to admit your feelings for him. Yet, the way that the whole situation plays out makes it seem as though he had denied you. His head is usually stuck in a book or on one of the many screens that litter his quarters. What can you really expect of him? Unfortunately, this isn’t something that comes to mind nor is taken into consideration when you attempt your casual proclamation. With his eyes glued to his computer, his inattentiveness could only be read as uninterest to which you find it’s probably best to withdraw yourself. 

In the weeks to come, it still doesn't even occur to him that you were confessing. The only thing that dawns on him from your weirdly abrupt absence is how strange it feels without you around. You still engage in your regular visits to the lair but are always elusive to his corner. Had he missed a memo? He can't quite place a finger on your change in behaviour. Then he realises just how much he enjoys and misses your presence. Even just how you'd pass by his little section of the lair and do something as small as asking him what he's working on. The small details should always get their chance in the spotlight but he managed to miss them when they were right there in front of him. When you were in front of him.

Subsequent to this steady progression of fluttering heart palpitations upon the thought of you and his drying throat when he tries to speak your way, he decides to take some action. At least, that’s the plan he has in his head. You hardly look his way, so he needs to find a way to gain your attention. There must be some way. With somewhat of an idea in mind, he dials a number through his computer and lets it ring. 

The other side of the line picks up and there’s a voice. “If this has anything to do with goons, aliens or whatever trouble you guys have gotten yourselves into, I don’t want any part of it.”

“Relax, Vern. This is something that entirely requires your expertise without life endangerment. I need to ask about women,” Donnie confirms, cutting right to the chase.

There’s a pause. "What-?” Another longer pause and then an inhale. “Can't you just ask one of your brothers or something?"

Yeah, right, because his family of sewer dwellers are so well-equipped for this matter. Even asking for Vern's aid is pushing the boat a little but it's better than nothing - a baseline structure of what to expect is all he needs. The internet would probably be more reliable but it doesn’t include that vital real-world experience.

"You engage in frequent courting. By all accounts, you're the only person I know who has enough field experience to give advice."

This might be giving Vern too much credit but this is a surefire way to get what he wants. Feeding a man's ego can accomplish many things. Call it manipulation of the circumstances if you will but no harm done. 

"You know what?” There’s a brightness in his tone, an uptilted cadence in Vern’s rhetorical question. Bingo. “You being the smart one has never been more accurate, Don. Alright, I'll help you."

The notes he takes are unfathomable but he wants to make sure that everything is thought out with careful precision. That's not even taking into account that he needs to muster the courage to ask you out in the first place.

Michelangelo

One would think that this guy would be jumping with unparalleled joy to have someone confess their feelings for him but he's got eyes for someone else. April O'Neil is his one true babycake, his angel face, the first love he had ever known. He turns you down in the friendly way one would expect him to if not a little cocky. Who wouldn't want a piece of the MC Mikey? There aren’t any hard feelings though, right?

Well, no but the sting that follows is still too much for you to handle. Too much in fact that you decide it's best to recoil into a shell of your own and spend less time with the loveable terrapin. Such a shame as well considering you're missing out on your regular gaming sessions together. It probably sucks big time to be rejected but he meant no harm by it. He thought you could still hang out as you normally would. Perhaps you just needed some time. That’s what he reckoned until the days turned to weeks and those weeks to almost two months. 

He’s subjected to playing bystander when you hang out with his family, barely getting a chance to have a word with you alone. If this treatment is good for anything, it gives him a chance to spectate and watch how you interact with those around you rather than directly with him. He recognises how much he adores that sparkle in your eyes, the playfulness of your tone when you crack out jokes with his brothers, how you light up the entire lair when you make your presence known. There is this unshakable spirit within you that he somehow never noticed until a few days prior when you took the liberty of playing an incredibly bold practical joke at Casey's expense. Man, this turtle's heart sored higher than it ever has before, which is saying something considering he had to jump out of a plane once.

Well, colour him surprised. He was so sure of himself that New York's favourite journalist was the only one for him but it seems he was wrong. Oh, man. He's feeling pretty bad now. He can surely make up for what happened though, right? Hopefully. There's only one way of finding out but he has one thing he needs to do first before talking to you.

"I'm sorry, angel face. My sights have been led astray. My loyalty shouldn’t be doubted but it’s for someone else now.” 

The way Mikey is knelt down, head lowered with April’s hands in his own is a perplexing sight if not curiously amusing. His feelings and the pronounced “dibs” on the reporter have been no secret but his recent infatuation with you hasn’t been much of a secret either. Not to her anyway but she likes to think she’s good at picking up on these things. 

“Just know that you'll always have a special place in my heart,” he finishes, ending the overly dramatised display by holding a fist to his chest. 

"Considerate as always." Her expression is somewhere between humoured and endeared, fighting the shake of her head at how adorably ridiculous this turtle can be. "Thanks, Mikey."

Now that's out of the way, he can go into this with a clear head. Although, the only thing really going into this is going to be all of his heart.

[retro-rezz-the-est]

Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader

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

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

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

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

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

This…This can not be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They…They did it.

They actually managed to do it.

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

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

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

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

….but Roman?

Roman is pissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not anymore.

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

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

But the two in the ring just smile.

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

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

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

You have to find him, and fast.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs you.

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

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

“Roman, wait-”

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

Not now.

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

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

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

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

“Wise man…”

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

“Leave us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For what, you wonder?

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

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

“Look at me.”

But, can you? Can you really?

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

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

“I said, look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I need you, baby, please.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, think again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He needs you now.

“On your knees.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, my-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you, things are…different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.

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

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

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

He just can’t.

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

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

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

Please don’t leave me.

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

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

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

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

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

A good nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

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

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

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

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

That’s a fucking promise.

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

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

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

Oh, fuck…

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

[teapartyprincess4two]

Corner Store - C. Sturniolo

pairing: Employee!reader x Coworker!Chris

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, slow build up & slight cursing

summary: Chris is your annoying coworker who always manages to make your shifts a little more miserable than necessary, but it turns out he has a misunderstood crush on you.

—

“That’ll be $10.32,” you say, scanning the last item and looking towards the customer awaiting their form of payment. Your shift seemed to drag on, you had already been here 6 hours and still had 1 more to go before your shift was over. Not like you would be able to leave right away anyways, you always had to wait until the next person scheduled arrived to relieve you. When you checked to see who was scheduled after you, you noticed that Chris, one of the few other people who worked here, was scheduled today. Chris was always late.

You watched as the customer in front of you dug through her purse, struggling to find the correct amount of change. “I swear I have the 32 cents,” she mumbled, fishing around for the loose coins scattered at the bottom of her bag. Your fingers tapped against the counter impatiently as you watched her. How had you gotten yourself stuck in this dead end job?

“Here,” she says, finally finding the correct amount of change. She hands you a quarter, a nickel, and two pennies. She waited for you to cash her out, not realizing that she had yet to hand you the ten dollars. “Hello?! I need the receipt,” her voice holds an impatient tone as her hands point towards the receipt machine aggressively. You sigh, knowing that this interaction could go south quickly if you didn’t choose your next words wisely.

You wanted to reply with, ‘Hello?! I need the ten dollars,’ but your shift was almost over and there was no reason to pick a fight now. “I still need the ten dollars, ma’am,” you replied, using your customer service voice at its fullest potential. She facepalmed, realizing her mistake before responding, “Oops! You’re right, sweetie.” Her hands returned into her purse, this time pulling her wallet out and handing you a ten dollar bill. Without a word you take it from her and cash her out, making sure to hand her the stupid receipt. “Keep the change,” she jokes. The joke feels like a slap to the face, there was no change. There was never change. You wanted to bang your head against the wall.

“Have a good day,” you say, chuckling a bit at her sarcastic joke and offering her a fake smile. She walks out with all her items in hand, the ring of the doorbell letting you know the coast is clear. Once she’s gone you slump back into your stool, pulling your phone out to check the time. 30 more minutes and you’d be free.

You’re about to turn your phone off when you notice a text from your coworker Chris.

Chris (WORK): hey you think you can cover for me? I’m running late lol. I’ll be there in like 30 minutes :p

You were fulling expecting him to be late, but 30 extra minutes sounded like actual hell. You groan, running your hands through your hair in annoyance before replying.

y/n: really bruh :|

Why was it so hard for him to get to work on time? He didn’t even live far, you had dropped him off a few times on the rare occasion you were scheduled to work the same shift and he didn’t have a ride. He lived like a full 5 minutes away, 10 minutes if he walked. The text bubbles would disappear and reappear, indicating that he was typing up his response.

Chris (WORK): sorry, I’m waiting for my brother to pick me up. he’s my ride

Another groan of annoyance escapes your lips, annoyed at the fact that a grown man was still relying on others for transportation. The haunting sound of the doorbell rings again suddenly and catches your attention. A couple had just walked in hand in hand. “Hello!” You greeted them quickly using your standard go-to customer service voice as you watched them disappear to the back of the store. You hated greeting the customers, they always ignored you.

y/n: you always do this bro. you could literally still get here on time if you started walking right now

The customers in the back of the store were laughing loudly, causing you to once again look away from your phone and in their direction. They were horse-playing, pushing and pulling each other playfully around the store. As cute as it was, you could only think about them possibly tipping something over and making a mess. The last thing you needed right now was a big mess to clean up.

Chris (WORK): that’s not true.

Chris (WORK): and nah I’ll just wait for Matt to take me

You didn’t even bother replying to his last message because no matter what you said he would still be late either way. A loud crash echoes from the back of the store, the couple gasping right after. You sit up from your stool and tiptoe, trying to see what they dropped. ‘Hopefully they didn’t break anything,’ you thought, but you knew they had. Before you could examine the situation, the couple was running out of the store giggling and laughing.

When you walked over to where they previously were you saw it, an entire 6-pack of Coors Light busted on the floor. You wanted to scream, the only thoughts running through your mind being about how much you hated this job. Somehow this all felt like Chris’s fault because his shift started in five minutes and if you weren’t so busy texting him back you might’ve caught the couple in time to warn them to stop.

“Stupid Chris,” you whispered in annoyance as you bent down to pick the beer cans up. The beer dripped down your arm and onto the floor as you rushed it over to the trash can. You really, really hated this job right now.

—

By the time Chris finally arrived it was well over 45 minutes since your shift was meant to end. You were still cleaning up the mess from before, using bleach and the dirty mop from the supply closet to try and remove as much of the sticky residue as possible.

Chris rushed inside, buttoning up his uniform shirt in the process. Once inside he immediately looked around, trying to find you to let you know he was there and you could leave. “Y/n, where you at?” He called through the store, peering easily over the shelves as he tried to find you. But because you were hunched over scrubbing as hard as possible to clean up the liquid mess on the floor, he couldn’t see you.

He walked down the aisles, picking up a bag of chips on the way. He opened the bag, popping a chip in his mouth as he continued to the back of the store. When he found you, he didn’t even comment on what you were doing, instead letting you know that you were free to go, “hey thanks bro, you’re good to go.” You stood up straight with the mop in your right hand and the bleach bottle in the other as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

A chip fell from his mouth, landing on the floor. This irked you even more. Not only was he 45 minutes late, but now he was actively adding to the mess you were trying to clean up. “Here,” you say sternly, shoving the mop and bleach spray towards him and snatching the bag of chips he was holding.

“Hey! I was eating those!” He exclaims, attempting to grab them back from you. “Bye Chris,” you reply, already beginning to walk off, eating a chip in the process. You quickly learned that you didn’t even like this chip flavor, but you couldn’t stand looking at Chris’s face right now so you took them simply to mess with him. “Wait! You didn’t finish cleaning this up!” He called back, looking between you and the mess on the floor. The mop felt so foreign in his hands, he never mopped. You or one of your other coworkers always did that, but never Chris.

“I’m good to go!” You replied, quoting his own words as you pushed the front door and walked out, the doorbell ringing in the process. You threw the bag of chips away on the way to your car. Now it was Chris’s turn to be haunted by the doorbell.

—

The next day you were off so you decided to focus your energy on studying and binge watching your favorite tv shows. You had a few exams coming up so you made a mental note to specifically study for those. You hadn’t even reached the end of the first day when you received a call from Chris.

You debated on whether or not you should answer it, knowing it had to be a work related call. ‘Someone probably called in,’ you thought. You weighed out the pros and cons quickly in your head. ‘Pros? I answer this call and get more hours. More hours equals more money,’ you thought. On the other hand, the cons were never ending. ‘Cons? everything.’

After letting it ring five times, you picked up the phone and placed it on your ear, “Hello?” You could faintly hear the hum of the convenience store refrigerators in the background along with loud chewing. Chris was definitely eating yet another snack. “Y/n, Marcus called in again. Do you think you can come in?” Chris asks, getting straight to the point.

Why was everyone at your job so unreliable? “Umm I don’t know, I’m pretty busy right now,” you replied, staring at the exam notes sprawled out in front of you on your bed. “You don’t sound busy,” he said sassily and followed it with loud crinkling noises as he tried reaching the chip at the bottom of the bag. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You sounded offended but Chris didn’t notice. He mostly wanted you to come in so he wouldn’t have to get through this shift alone. Of course he could’ve called someone else to come in, but for whatever reason he found himself calling you.

Today was Friday and although your store was generally slow, Fridays tended to pick up around 5pm when everyone was either getting off work or picking their kids up from school. “It means that you don’t sound busy,” he replied again, still crinkling his chip bag. His fingers were so greasy at this point that he kept missing the last chip every time he almost had it.

“I mean, what are you even doing right now? Studying?” He asked again. It was a rhetorical question, but the answer was yes. A loud crunch was heard through the speaker, he finally found that one straggling chip and was now incessantly chewing on it. ‘Lucky guess,’ you thought as you began piling all your notes together in embarrassment. “I’ll be there in 20,” you replied, wanting nothing more than to end this conversation.

“You’re studying aren’t you,” he chuckles, crumpling the chip bag, creating a make-shift basketball. He sits in the stool, shifting his body in the direction of the trash can that sat in the corner so he could throw his bag away. “Shut up,” you grumble, getting up from your bed to start getting ready.

“KOBE!” He shouts, throwing the bag in the direction of the trash can with a swift flick of his wrist. He missed terribly and the bag hit the floor with a soft thud.

—

You arrive to work 20 minutes later, mentally preparing yourself for the long 8 hour shift ahead of you. When you walked inside you noticed Chris had a long line of customers forming, all of them holding a multitude of items. Dread filled your body as you realized that you actually had to work and couldn’t just sit there as you waited for your shift to end.

You made your way behind the counter and situated yourself to the right of Chris, motioning for the next customer in line towards your register. “I can help who’s next in line,” you said loudly. The next customer quickly shuffled over to you, dumping all their things on the counter for you to scan.

The rush doesn’t last long, both you and Chris checking customers out quickly and efficiently in order to get them out the door as fast as possible. “Thanks for coming in,” Chris finally says, watching as you grab a box of candy from under the counter. The box is heavy, causing you to heave slightly when you pick it up. Chris notices this and quickly sits up off his stool to help you with the box. “Yeah, it’s whatever,” you reply nonchalantly, allowing him to help you pick the box up.

He’s now holding the box with ease before inquiring what your intentions with this box of candy were, “you gonna stock up?” You hum in response, ready to take the box back from him so you could begin stocking up the now bare candy shelves around the store. He notices this and offers to help carry it around for you. It was the least he could do after calling you in on your day off. “I got it,” he says, adjusting his arms so the box is comfortable enough to carry around.

“Thanks,” your reply is simple, they always were. Chris had never been able to break through to you on a personal level. Throughout your shifts you would always make small talk to pass the time and he was able to learn small details about your life, but he was never was able to learn anything truly personal about you. On one occasion, for example, he learned that you were working here to pay for your school, but he never learned what you were going to school for. Another time he also learned that you had a dog, but you never told him its name.

All your other coworkers had opened up to him with ease, sharing personal details about their life and even trauma dumping a few times. He wondered why you were always so distant. He wanted to get to know you better, but he didn’t know how.

Chris follows behind you as you stock up the shelves, watching as you organize the rows neatly before moving on to the next. He catches sight of a package of Twizzlers, deciding he was going to use this as his talking point. “These are my favorite candies,” he comments, handing you the package so you can organize it onto the shelf. You don’t even respond, you just continue working like some type of task bot.

He sighs quietly, wondering if he should’ve asked someone else to come in for Marcus. Chris wants to give up, but he decided to try again, “What’s your favorite candy, y/n?” The question causes you to pause. ‘If I wanted to be quizzed, I would’ve stayed home to study,’ you thought, already wishing that these next 8 hours would just be over.

“Um… I don’t know? M&M’s are okay, I guess,” you respond, providing him with a half-ass answer in hopes that he’ll take the hint and stop asking questions. He doesn’t.

“What color M&M is your favorite?” He asks, thinking about the different M&M characters from the commercials. “I don’t know, they all taste the same to me,” you quipped back, trying to focus on neatly organizing the shelves in front of you. He was still trudging behind you and although the box he was holding became lighter with each candy you removed, it was still heavy. He adjusted the box again and pulled it up higher against his chest.

“No, I meant like the characters,” he laughs, his mind replaying all those funny commercials where the M&M’s are getting into trouble. You were silent, seemingly confused with whatever he was talking about. “You know! From the commercials!” He sounds excited, hoping that you know what he’s talking about so he doesn’t sound like an idiot. You don’t remember but decide to just go along with him for the sake of your own sanity, “oh yeah, the red one was pretty cool.”

He scoffs at this response, pretending to act offended, “the orange one was clearly the best.” You chuckle at this and it instantly puts a smile on his face. Finally he was getting somewhere with you.

Chris would be lying if he said he didn’t find you pretty. You were the prettiest girl who worked here, which really wasn’t saying much considering the only other woman who worked here was a 65 year old named Gladys, but he’d been around town and he could never find a single girl hotter than you. So, yes, he’d sneak a few glances your way here and there and was always excited to come into work when you were scheduled. Sometimes he would even come in on his days off to buy a soda for an excuse to see you.

You found Chris attractive too, but you mostly found him annoying. He had a pretty terrible work ethic and every time you worked with him it felt like you were stuck doing all the hard labor. Not to mention the fact that he was always running late, forcing you to cover for him until he arrived. Plus he was always snacking on something and leaving his crumbs all over the place for you to clean. Despite all this, he did have his few good moments. Like right now when he’s helping you carry the heaviest box in the store.

“I knew I could make you laugh,” he comments, handing you the last package of candy in the box. You roll your eyes at his comment before responding, “it doesn’t take much to make me laugh, kid.” Your comment was meant to push his buttons, but he didn’t mind the challenge. “Is that a challenge?” He asks, a small smirk growing on his face as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. This earns him another eye roll from you.

“I’d like to see you try,” you respond with a cheeky smile as you take the empty box from him so you can throw it away. Chris watches as you walk away, feeling absolute smitten by you and confident in his skills to make you laugh at least one more time in the next eight hours.

‘This is going to be fun,’ he thought.

—

Chris spends the next 8 hours of your shift trying to make you laugh. He tells bad jokes, pulls silly faces, and even does stupid little dances all in an attempt to see you smile. You laughed at his first joke, but it was quiet enough for him to miss it. You were grateful for that because it egged him on.

“C’mon y/n! Just one little laugh, one giggle, a chuckle even,” he pleads, walking closer to you from behind the counter. You shake your head playfully as you sit back in your stool and face him. He inches closer once again as his mind comes up with the perfect plan of action to get you to laugh,, “what if I do this!”

He pounces on you, using his fingers to poke at your sides as he tickles you. Immediately you burst into a fit of laughter as you attempt to push his hands away, but he uses his strength to keep them in place. “Chris! Stop!” you say in between laughter. He has the biggest smile on his face because he finally got to hear you laugh after so many failed attempts.

Chris continues to tickle you, failing to notice how your body is beginning to slide off the stool. Before he knows it, you’re leaning backwards and heading straight for the floor beneath you. You shriek at the feeling and reach forward to latch yourself onto Chris’s arms to prevent yourself from falling. He immediately stops tickling you and grabs you firmly by the waist, catching you before you can slip off the chair completely.

At this point his forehead is flush against yours, both your eyes locked in a heated stare as your breath fans against his lips. You tried catching your breath, both from the laughing and from the scare you’d just gotten. The moment feels so intense and intimate, all Chris can think about is how easy it would be to kiss you.

‘Fuck it,’ he thinks as he closes his eyes, ready to lean forward and capture your lips in his before he can psych himself out. You do the same, too lost in the moment to realize that you were about to kiss Chris, your coworker who you found annoying up until a few hours ago. Before your lips can meet, the sound of the doorbell rings through the store causing you to break away as quickly as possible.

You both look towards the front door, fully expecting a customer to be standing there but you’re met with nothing. It was just the wind from outside, it had pushed the door open slightly and triggered the doorbell.

Both of you cough awkwardly, deciding to avoid each other for the rest of your shift.

—

Finally, your shift is over. You and Chris worked together silently to close the store up and restock any bare shelves. Once you grab your things you prepare to walk outside and over to your car. Chris was outside already on the phone near the gas pumps. He was calling his brother to pick him up, but he wasn’t picking up.

When you make your way outside, you use your keys to lock the doors behind you. As you fumble with the keys you hear Chris muttering something under his breath before groaning. You turn to walk over to your car, ready to leave without Chris, but as you reach for the door handle you stop to look in his direction one last time. He’s now sitting on the curb, looking in the opposite direction of you. He’s debating in his head whether he should ask you for a ride or just walk home in the dark.

You watch as he gets up abruptly as he decides he was just going to walk home. He couldn’t bare having to sit in a car with you after what happened today. The guilt ate at you, causing you to offer him a ride. “Need a ride?” You shouted in his direction, waiting patiently for him to turn around and acknowledge you. Immediately his head turned in your direction at the question. He silently thanked God for your offer because he really didn’t want to walk home, but he was to embarrassed to ask for a ride. This also meant that you probably weren’t as upset with him as he thought you were. In reality you weren’t mad at all, but you did feel a little awkward.

He jogged over to your car, standing in front of the passenger side door awkwardly almost like he was waiting for permission to get in. “You getting in?” You asked as you opened the your car door and hopped in. “Oh. Um, yeah,” he stutters before following suit and getting in the passenger seat.

The ride to his house is silent, the only noises being the radio and the sound of the car engine. Considering he doesn’t live far, it doesn’t take long for you to arrive to his house. You pull up to the side of the street and place the car in the park, waiting for him to thank you and get out like he always does when you drive him home. He doesn’t immediately get out though, instead he sits in the passenger seat quietly as he rubs his clammy hands against his thighs to relieve some of the anxiety building up inside of him.

Chris’s mind is racing a mile a minute as he thinks of all the possibilities this night could lead to. He could get out of the car, leaving you with nothing but a simple thank you and then let your relationship return to normal. Or, he could do the unthinkable and gain an outstanding reward in return. Whatever he chose, he knew he’d have to deal with the consequences and right now he was willing to gamble.

“You good?” You ask him as you shift in your seat to gain a better look at his face. He looks so nervous that you almost don’t recognize him because it completely contrasts his usual energetic and confident demeanor. “Yeah, I just-“ he’s struggling to find the right words, afraid to say the wrong thing and ruin it all. “You just?” You push, wanting to know what he’s getting at.

Chris sighs, taking one last pause to gather his thoughts before completely shifting towards you. His eyes pierce into yours as he searches them trying to gauge whether his next move will affect his chances at a future with you. Upon further inspection, he decides to just do it.

“I just-” he begins to say but cuts himself off by planting his lips on yours. You’re caught by surprise at his actions, eyes widening in shock and arms falling stiff to your sides. His hands move up to your face, cupping your cheek in an attempt to get you closer, but once he realizes you’re not kissing him back he completely pulls away from you.

It took you a while to process what had just happened; Chris just kissed you! Despite your reaction, you were satisfied with the outcome of the night. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have-” he begins to apologize, but you interrupt him this time. Your lips are back on his, both your hands cupping his face to keep him as close to you as possible. A sigh of relief escapes him, his warm breath landing on your lips. He melts into your touch, placing one of his hands on yours that rested on his face. Chris tasted like candy which only made you want the kiss that much more.

Finally you two pull away from the kiss, letting go of each other slowly. He has a goofy smile on his face as he stares at you, taking in every aspect of your being. “Stop looking at me like that,” you giggle, covering your face in embarrassment.

He laughs along with you, pulling your hands away from your face before replying, “see, I told you I’d make you laugh.” You roll your eyes, moving your face closer to his once again.

“Shut up,” you whisper, kissing him for the third time that night.

—

A/n: I wrote a Matt story so yk I had to write a Chris story. Nick is next don’t worry lololol. Also, I’ve seen your requests/ anon messages and trust that I’m gonna respond to those too! Thanks for reading 🩵enjoy girlies!

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

[fatecantstopme]

Just You Wait

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus size!Reader

Summary: Big girl, giant man, perfect pair.

Warnings: RPF. An insane amount of smut: Size kink, praise kink, dom/sub vibes, Oral (M/F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), face sitting, orgasm denial, light choking, spanking. Use of pet names (darling, baby, love). Cursing.

A/N: My first RPF and I feel kinda weird about it, but this man has been living in my brain rent-free for days and I couldn't help myself.

When you first met Henry Cavill, you almost had a heart attack. The man was even more deliciously gorgeous in person than you could have ever imagined. You felt like you had absolutely no right to even be looking at this man, let alone meeting him. It was pretty much the luckiest day of your life, all thanks to your childhood best friend, Chris Evans. Chris was a couple years older than you, but you were born and raised in the same town, family friends since before you were even born. 

On this particular evening, Chris had dragged you along with him to an A-list holiday party, insisting that he didn’t want to go alone. You weren’t exactly a party person, but you’d just moved to LA and didn’t really know anyone. So when Chris begged you to come with him, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe you’d even meet a couple people, make some friends and whatnot. You did not, however, expect to meet the single most beautiful man on planet earth. A man that you’d had a crush on from the very first time you saw him on the TV show The Tudors. 

Chris knew you had a massive crush on Henry, and if his expression was anything to go by, he also knew that Henry would be at this party. 

“Christopher Robert Evans, if you did this on purpose, I swear to god—” you started. 

“Do what?” he asked, feigning innocence. 

Just as you were about to verbally assault him, you heard a delicious English accent from directly behind you. 

“Hey, Evans, good to see you again.” 

You turned around and found yourself face-to-face with Henry Freaking Cavill. You stared at him like a guppy fish, mouth opening and closing, no words coming out.

Chris pulled the larger man into a bro hug. “Always good to see you, man.” He turned to you, clearly intent on introducing you. “This is my best friend, (Y/N). She just moved to LA.”

Henry looked you up and down, eyes moving salaciously slowly. You silently begged the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Unfortunately for you, the floor remained completely solid. 

Henry offered you a warm smile and extended his hand to take yours. When you placed your own hand in his, instead of shaking it, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss to it. 

You almost died right then and there. If it weren’t for Chris, you probably would have just stood there in awkward silence for the rest of time. Chris elbowed you in the side and you yelped in surprise. He gave you a look and you immediately cleared your throat. 

“Sorry, um—hi.” You literally couldn’t have sounded more like an idiot if you tried. 

To your surprise, Henry just smiled at you. He seemed almost…intrigued, by your awkwardness. “It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).” 

You nodded and Chris cleared his throat again. “I swear I’m not normally this awkward,” you mumbled. 

Chris and Henry both laughed. “I can confirm that. She’s actually usually the life of the party.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Well, I think you’re positively charming,” Henry replied. 

You nearly choked on your own saliva. The mere idea that Henry could have found you charming was actually laughable. 

Chris slid his arm around you and gave your shoulders a squeeze. “She’s the most charming person I know.” 

You recognized the teasing tone in Chris’s voice, but Henry clearly didn’t know him as well as you did. “Oh,” he said in surprise. “Are you two, a—uh—couple?”

You laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. “Dear god, no,” you managed between fits of laughter. 

Chris was laughing too, but he smacked you on the arm when you didn’t stop laughing. “Laughing hard enough there, (Y/N/N)? I’m not that terrible, ya know.” 

“Oh you know that’s not what I meant, it’s just…I know you waaaay too well to ever date you.” 

Chris grinned ear to ear. “You know me too well, period.”

Henry looked back and forth between the two of you before shaking his head with a chuckle. “I can see why you like her, Evans, even if it’s only in a friendly way.” 

“Strictly platonic,” Chris said. “She’s completely available!” 

“Christopher!” you hissed in embarrassment. 

“What? It’s true,” he insisted with a shrug. 

You groaned under your breath, but your mood changed instantly when Henry said gently, “I’m also completely available.” 

“How is that even physically possible?” you asked before your better judgment could stop you. 

Henry grinned teasingly. “Whatever do you mean?” 

Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck. “I—umm���well…have you seen a mirror lately?” you squeaked out. 

Chris was desperately trying to control his laughter, his face twitching slightly as the mask began to slip. 

Henry simply smirked. “Are you saying I’m attractive?” he teased. 

You figured you couldn’t get any more awkward, so you might as well go all in. “Easily the sexiest man alive.” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Chris interjected. “Pretty sure that’s my title.” 

“This year,” you teased. “Perhaps Henry will win it next year.” 

Chris rolled his eyes. “I just want it to be very clear that I held it first.” 

His tone was light and joking, and it made you laugh. Henry’s eyes were watching you, the beautiful blue orbs incredibly intense. 

“It’s much more of a compliment coming from you than any sort of public voting poll,” Henry said warmly, a teasing tone in his voice. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Technically, I’ve personally voted you sexiest man in the universe at least twice.” 

Henry laughed loudly, the sound warm and sweet. “Now that’s a title I can get behind.” 

“You can get behind me,” you mumbled under your breath. 

“Sorry, love, what was that?” Henry asked. 

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately. You hadn’t intended for anyone to hear what you said, hell you hadn’t really intended to say it out loud at all. “Um—I—uh.” 

Henry leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered in your ear, low enough that only you could hear him. “I would be more than happy to, darling. If that’s something you really want.” 

He pulled back from you, giving you a wink. You stood there, rooted to the spot, jaw practically on the floor. 

Chris seemed to sense the change in the mood and slowly backed away. “I’m gonna go do something, uh, somewhere else.” He disappeared into the crowd of people filling the room. 

Your heart was beating so loudly that you were pretty sure Henry could hear it. Your breathing was shallow and rapid and you could feel heat pooling in your lower body. 

“So? Is that something you want?” Henry asked you again, eyebrows raised in curiosity. 

You nodded your head rapidly, not trusting your voice in the moment. 

Henry leaned forward, large body towering over you. “I need to hear you say it, beautiful.” 

“Yes, please,” you whispered. 

He smiled warmly and took your hand. “Come with me.” 

You followed along behind Henry, unsure of where exactly this was heading. He guided you up the stairs of the beautiful mansion, escorting you quickly to the nearest empty bedroom. The moment you were inside, he shut the door and locked it. You could still hear the music playing downstairs, but you were completely and utterly alone with the man you’d fantasized about for years. 

“I have to know, (Y/N), how long have you wanted me?”

You gulped, feeling so incredibly small under his intense gaze. “Years,” you whispered honestly. 

Henry groaned audibly. “I wish Chris had introduced us sooner. You’re gorgeous and I’m quite certain you’ll taste delicious.” He took a step towards you, eyes filled with desire. 

“Really?” you whimpered softly.

“Oh sweet girl, I wanted you the moment I saw you. I said hi to Chris in hopes that he would introduce me to you.” 

Surprise lit up your pretty face. You’d been a bigger girl most of your life, puberty slamming into you like a fucking freight train. You had large breasts, a round butt, wide hips, thick thighs, and a soft belly. Henry was the polar-opposite in every possible way. His entire body was covered in muscles, strong and sturdy. You were much shorter than him, and despite your curvy body, he was so much larger than you. The mere size difference between the two of you made you wet. Desire pooled in your belly and you found yourself wanting to be used by this man in every possible way. 

You licked your lips and looked up at him, trying to determine exactly what type of man he would be in the bedroom. You knew exactly what you liked and you silently prayed that he would oblige you. “What do you want me to do, sir?” you asked in your most submissive voice. 

“Fuuuuck,” Henry groaned. His body immediately responds to you, cock hardening in his already tight pants. “Come here, pretty girl.” 

You move to stand directly in front of him and he grabbed your hips to pull you flush against his body before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started gentle enough, but quickly turned into a deeper, more passionate one. You could feel Henry’s hard length against your abdomen, and his hands tangled into your hair, tugging lightly. You moaned against his lips, unintentionally inviting his tongue to enter your mouth. 

His tongue immediately asserted dominance over yours, everything about him deliciously predatory. Even the way he held your body against his reminded you that you were completely at his mercy. There was no place you’d rather be. 

When Henry finally allowed you to pull away to breathe, you gulped air down as quickly as possible, desperate to feel his lips against yours again. 

“Can you take your clothes off for me, darling?” he asked softly. 

You nodded your head, but your self-consciousness about your body started to rear its ugly head. You started to take off your pants, feeling less uncomfortable with him seeing your lower body than your torso. 

Henry watched your movements hungrily. He was desperate to touch every single inch of your body, but he knew he needed to be patient. He was enjoying watching you strip too much to stop you. 

When your pants were lying on the floor of the room, you started to remove your shirt, but stopped just before lifting it to reveal your stomach. You took a deep breath before quickly removing the shirt completely. Your arms immediately moved to cover your stomach, as if on instinct. 

Henry was trying to appreciate your beautiful form and was annoyed when you put your arms in the way, hiding yourself. He was about to correct you when he looked at your face and realized the truth. 

He took a step towards you and laid a large hand on your arm. “Don’t hide yourself darling. I want to see every single inch of you.”

You swallowed thickly, but allowed him to peel your arms away from your body, giving him a full view of your scantily clad form. 

He groaned softly, eyes raking over your body. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful,” he whispered reverently. 

“Thank you,” you murmured. 

“Now, how about you let me take off that pretty bra?”

“Please,” you whispered. 

The moment he got a full view of your breasts, he inhaled sharply. Normally, he would have asked first, or at least taken his time with you, but he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. 

Henry seemed to realize that he might have moved too quickly and immediately removed his lips from your breast. “Sorry, darling. I should have asked first.” 

“It’s quite fine,” you murmured. “You’re in charge, sir.”

The use of the title made his body shiver involuntarily. “That’s my good girl.” 

You gasped and pressed your hips against him, the praise clearly going straight to your core. 

Henry obviously noticed too. “You like that don’t you? When I tell you you’re a good girl?”

You nodded quickly. 

“Darling,” he said in a warning tone.

“Yes, sir,” you said hastily. 

“Much better.” His lips attached to your breasts again, hands sliding up your body to assist his mouth in pleasuring you. He took his time, enjoying the sweet little sounds you were making. 

Your moans turned into soft whimpers of desire. You needed more, desperate to feel his touch on every part of you. 

Henry seemed to sense your need and he lifted his mouth off of you. “You need more, baby?” he asked softly. 

“Please, sir. I need you.”

“Well how could I deny such a sweet request?” Henry took a step away from you and directed you to sit down on the edge of the bed. “Watch me,” he said firmly as he began to remove his clothes. 

Each movement was painfully slow and you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him so badly that you almost jumped out of your own skin. Henry knew exactly what he was doing to you and damnit if it didn’t turn you on even more. 

When Henry unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his body, you nearly passed out. “Holy shit,” you murmured. 

He grinned, practically preening under your appreciative gaze. He removed his pants much more quickly than he had his shirt, his own desperation controlling his actions. He tugged his boxer briefs down, his massive cock standing tall, begging for attention. 

If you thought he looked good before, there weren’t even words for how incredible he looked completely naked like this. Every inch of his body was hard and chiseled, and you felt an intense desire to touch him. 

Without a single thought, you dropped to your knees in front of him, mouth mere inches from his hard length. You looked up at him, eyes begging him for permission. 

He looked down at you with a dark expression. “Open your mouth for me, love.”

You immediately did as he asked, mouth parting for him, tongue ready to taste him. 

He slipped the head of his cock between your lips with a groan. “Can I fuck your pretty little mouth, darling?” 

You pulled back slightly. “Henry, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s too much. Stop asking me for permission, you already have it.” 

He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk playing on his lips. “As you wish.” 

The moment the words left his lips, he was grabbing your hair and thrusting his cock into your mouth so deeply you gagged. You dug your nails into his thighs and pulled him even closer, letting him know you liked it. 

Henry let go of any sort of inhibition he may have had and began fucking your mouth relentlessly. Every single thrust hit the back of your throat, and within seconds you were a drooling, whimpering mess. 

“Fuck, baby, feels so good. Doing so well for me.” 

You moaned as loudly as you could, the vibrations reverberating through his cock. 

“Shit,” he groaned as his thrusts became more frantic. “Gonna cum, baby.”

You tightened your throat around his cock and his hips bucked as he came in your mouth, seed spilling down your throat. He pulled out and pulled you up off the floor, gently cleaning your face, wiping the saliva and tears from it. “Loose the panties, sweetheart,” he said softly before climbing on the bed. 

You did as he asked before climbing onto the bed with him. He beckoned you closer, pulling you up to straddle his chest the moment your body was within reach. 

“Sir?” you asked in confusion. 

“Come up here, baby. Wanna taste you.” 

There is absolutely no way that he meant what you think he meant…you were much too big for that. 

As if he read your mind, he dug his large fingers into the flesh of your hips. “Get up here, now.” His voice and expression practically dripped with dominance and it was extremely hard for you to resist him. 

“But—I, um—I don’t wanna hurt you,” you mumbled. 

Henry sat up slightly, large hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look directly at him. “I could pick you up and toss you around if I felt like it, baby. You’re not going to hurt me or smother me or whatever other nonsense you’re thinking.”

Your eyes widened, pussy clenching at the mere thought of him tossing you around like a ragdoll. 

Henry seemed to notice and he shot you a little grin. “Oh, we’re definitely gonna talk about that later, but right now, I want to eat that little pussy until you can’t breathe.” 

You couldn’t deny that it sounded incredible, so you started to crawl up his body until your pussy hovered directly over his mouth. Henry dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down against his mouth, holding you tightly. 

His tongue darted out to taste you and he moaned loudly. “Fuck, yes,” he groaned into you. He started to lick and suck at your pussy, skills clearly evident. 

You cried out loudly as he ate you with abandon. You started to ride his face slowly without even realizing it. The moment your hips started to move, Henry gripped them and started to guide you gently, helping you reach your high more quickly. 

“Oh god, please,” you whimpered. Your legs were already shaking and you could feel your impending orgasm ready to rip through you. “Please, I—I’m so close.” 

Henry loved the sound of you begging for him. He couldn’t speak without stopping what he was doing, so instead he moaned against your core as his tongue assaulted your clit. 

The vibrations from his moan mixed with his current actions, quickly pushed you straight over the edge. In the heat of the intensity of your orgasm, you cried out his name. 

Henry helped you through your high before gently lifting you off his face and onto the bed beside him. The fact that he did so with almost no effort was a massive turn-on. 

Henry immediately rolled on top of you, hovering over your body, arms caging you in place. “You tasted even better than I imagined,” he whispered into your skin as he kissed your neck. 

You sighed softly, loving the way his lips felt against your skin. 

“But you made a big mistake, darling.” His voice was dark and he bit your shoulder gently. 

“I—I did?”

“What did you call me when you came, baby?”

You quickly realized your mistake and hastily apologized. “I’m so sorry, sir. I—I didn’t mean to. I was just—you were so good—and I—” 

His teeth nipped at your pulse point, effectively silencing your stuttered apology. “I know you’re sorry, love, but unfortunately your bad behavior must be punished.” 

Your body immediately responds to the threat of punishment, fluid dripping from your core as a shudder raked through your body. Neither of which went unnoticed by Henry. He grinned devilishly, knowing you were so wanting and willing. 

Henry’s cock was hard again and pressing against your core. You whimpered slightly and he looked at your face. Seeing worry in your eyes, Henry’s expression softened. “I’ll go slow, darling.” 

You nodded. “Okay.” 

“Hey,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you, okay?” 

You nodded again. “I just haven’t—umm—haven’t had anyone that big before.” 

Henry smirked, eyes filling with lust. “Yeah? Never had a big thick cock in your sweet little pussy before?” 

Your eyes widened, clearly enjoying the dirty talk. “No, sir.” 

He groaned, the head of his cock pressing between your folds. You gasped as he slowly began to enter you. The intensity of the stretch was almost unbearable. Henry paid close attention to your face as he continued to push into you, making sure you weren’t in too much pain. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent some pain, but he would be damned if he hurt you more than was necessary. “You with me, pretty girl?” 

“Ye—yes, sir.” 

“That’s my good girl.” He pushed even farther into you, almost bottoming out. “You’re taking me so well. Just a little more.” 

You clung to Henry’s shoulders as he fully sheathed himself inside of you, going still to allow you time to adjust. You had never in all your life felt so incredible and the man hadn’t even moved yet. Your pussy was stretched deliciously and so full of him, and you loved it. 

“Hen—sir, please move, please.” 

Henry decided to ignore your near-mistake since you corrected it so quickly. Instead, he obliged your request, hips almost immediately setting a brutal pace. 

“Oh—god—” you moaned loudly, words barely able to form in your mouth. 

“Fuck, darling, this pussy is so tight. Made for me,” Henry groaned out as he fucked you harshly. 

You could already feel an orgasm building within you and Henry seemed to notice it almost immediately. 

“You’re close aren’t you, baby?” he grunted. 

You nodded rapidly. 

“Don’t cum until I give you permission. Understand?” 

You looked upset, but nodded again. 

Henry grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to look at him. “Words, love.” 

“I understand, sir.” 

“Good girl.” Henry’s agile fingers quickly found your clit and began to gently rub it in exactly the way you liked as if he’d fucked you 100 times before. 

Your moans only increased in volume and number, signaling Henry that you were incredibly close. “Do you wanna cum, darling?” 

“Yes sir—please,” you begged. 

The moment the words left your mouth, Henry’s hands left your body and his hips slowed to shallow thrusts. 

“No—no, please, sir. Don’t stop.” 

“Sorry, love. This is part of your punishment,” he murmured as he placed gentle kisses to your neck and face. 

Your orgasm quickly faded and Henry picked up his movements again. This went on for what felt like an eternity, at least 5 orgasms were denied by Henry, and by this point you were a sobbing mess beneath the behemoth of a man. 

“Please, sir—please, I can’t—I need to cum,” you sobbed, actual tears sliding down your cheeks. 

As much as Henry was enjoying denying you, he desperately wanted to feel you cum around his cock. “Yeah, baby? You need it?” 

“Please,” you begged desperately. 

Henry’s hand wrapped around your throat and gave it a very gentle squeeze as he fucked into you. You mewled desperately, clinging to him tightly. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” he murmured. 

The orgasm that hit you was the most incredible, intense orgasm of your life. You cried out, but no coherent words left your lips. Your body shook beneath the massive man, and he released your neck, shifting his weight to chase his own high. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close. Gonna fill you up.” 

“Please sir. I wanna feel you cum in me.” 

“Fuck,” he gasped as he pumped into you, moans breaking through his dominant façade as his seed spilled into you. He worked himself through his orgasm before pulling out of you and collapsing beside you. 

“Give me five minutes, darling, and I’ll finish your punishment.” 

Your head whipped to face him so quickly, he was surprised you didn’t have whiplash. “More?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh yes. You just wait, pretty girl.” 

“Can we make it ten minutes?” 

He chuckled. “Only because you’re so difficult to say no to.” 

You were incredibly thankful for those ten minutes, but they passed way too quickly. Before too long, Henry was back on top of you, lips hungrily pressed against yours. 

“Roll over for me, darling.” 

You did as you were asked, now laying against the bed, face pressed into the comforter, ass in the air. 

Henry was directly behind you, admiring the view. His hands gently rubbed your ass, appreciating the supple skin. “Now this ass is the best I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. 

Before you could reply, you felt a sharp stinging pain on your ass cheek. You gasped at the sensation, head whipping around to look at Henry. He was smirking back at you, his entire body oozing the dominance you so desperately craved. 

“Count,” he demanded. 

“One,” you gasped out as he hit you again. Slap after slap after slap, all of which were soothed by him immediately after. “Fifteen,” you said breathlessly. 

Henry stopped, placing a gentle kiss to the reddened skin. “Such a good girl for me.” 

You whimpered, pussy dripping with the anticipation of what was to come. 

Henry lined himself up at your entrance, cock sliding back and forth along your folds to collect the juices there. Without warning, he fully sheathed himself in your tight pussy, your moans mixing with his soft curses. He once again set a relentlessly brutal pace. 

“Sir,” you gasped, the feeling so overwhelming that you couldn’t even begin to formulate any other thoughts. All you could do was moan in pleasure. 

“Shit, baby, so good for me,” he gasped. “I want you to cum all over my cock.”

You whimpered, orgasm already building within you. 

“Don’t you worry, baby, I’m gonna mark you forever. You’re mine,” he growled. 

The authority with which he said it had you clenching desperately around him. You wanted to be his, to be marked by him forever. 

Henry’s hand slid up your back, gripping your neck to pull you back against his chest. He held you tightly against him, hips never faltering. One hand wrapped around the base of your neck and the other slid down to rub your clit, the combination of all three actions and his breathy moans in your ear had you begging for release. 

“Please, sir—let me cum.”

“I’m gonna fill that sweet little pussy up, baby. You’ll never get rid of the feeling of me inside you,” he groaned in your ear. “Tell me you’re mine, baby. Wanna hear you say it.” 

“I’m—I’m yours,” you gasped out. 

“Fuck.” His movements became desperate and you could tell he was close to cumming. His hand tightened on your neck and you gasped in pleasure. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered. 

Your orgasm slammed into you with even more intensity than the previous one. You cried out, moans mixing with Henry’s name. Your orgasm triggered his and he barked out your name as he spilled inside of you. 

After a few moments, Henry pulled out and laid you down gently on the bed before stumbling to the bathroom to grab a wet towel. He came back to the bed and very gently cleaned you up. Each touch against your pussy made you gasp, your over-stimulated body shaking beneath his gentle touch. 

“I’ve got you, darling. I’m here,” he whispered. 

Henry tossed the towel onto the floor and began to get dressed. Once he had his clothes on, he started to help you back into yours, but he slipped your panties into his pocket, refusing to give them back to you.

“Give me those!” you demanded with a laugh. 

“Absolutely not. These are mine now.” 

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. “So, um—I’m not sure I can walk.” 

Henry grinned impishly. “Don’t worry, I’ll carry you to the car.” 

“Car?” you asked in confusion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think I’d just let you leave with Evans after this?” 

“I—uh, yeah. I mean, I guess I didn’t think about it.” 

Henry leaned over you, lips inches from yours. “I told you were mine, (Y/N). I wasn’t kidding.” 

Your eyes widened. You’d just assumed that was a heat-of-the-moment sex thing.

“Unless you don’t want that,” Henry said softly, backtracking a little, fearing he’d gone too far. 

“No!” you said quickly. “I mean, I want that. Definitely. You, uh—you kinda ruined me for all other men.” 

He grinned and puffed out his chest proudly. “It only gets better from here, love.” 

“Oh really?” you teased. 

He kissed you passionately before pulling away. “Just you wait.” 

[thatanimewriter]

LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD.

➳ request: I was wondering if u can like oneshots Bakugou x reader where reader is similar powers to Ruby and Weiss from show rwby and has weapon like Ruby I hope this makes sense

➳ character/s: bakugou katsuki

➳ warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, bakugou being in denial and very competitive, mineta being weird (mentioned to be looking at the girls, reader not specified to be in women or men's change rooms), bro is pining hard

➳ word count: 0.8k

➳ notes: what a cute little conceptt, he'd mistake a crush for an enemy-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

bakugou hates cool people. that's what you think, anyway. you've never seen him smile - not smirk - to anyone in the class regardless of if their quirk or combat abilities were good or not. in fact, you're not sure his face could ever show any form of happiness. there's a few reasons for this theory.

once, you were at the training grounds and you'd perched yourself on a ledge, shooting at whatever 'enemy' was in range with your gun-scythe (his words, not yours) and all he did was scream at you from afar. if you were being perfectly honest, you couldn't actually make out what he was saying because he was so far away. to entertain yourselves, you shot at him instead and earnt yourself what you thought was a middle finger.

another time, you'd been running late to class, so you'd sped there in a flurry of petals. supposedly, bakugou was about to enter the classroom before you whooshed past him and plopped in your seat panting obnoxiously. soon after, you heard a series of coughs and the door slammed open to reveal his spiky hair and deep-set frown.

"oi! flower power! you nearly fucking killed me!" he claimed, pointing an accusatory finger at you and holding a fistful of petals in the other hand.

admittedly, that one was your fault.

however, the day after that incident, he was sparring against you and seemed to be getting quite the ego boost since he was kind of kicking your ass. his cockiness quickly morphed to anger as your gaze flicked to midoriya, who had managed to sweep kaminari from his feet. taking bakugou's temporary distraction, you copied midoriya's move and pinned his shoulders to the ground. you got a lot of spit on your face that day after he berated you for not having your full attention on you.

the rest of class 1-a was unsure if he was really into you and was scared of the feeling or if somehow you'd become worse than midoriya and bakugou's very limited world. there's a couple times jirou thought she caught him staring at you from across the room but she wasn't sure if glaring can still be considered as staring.

in the changing rooms one afternoon, mineta was peering through a small hole in the wall and admiring the girls'... assets. this was no surprise to anyone in the class, but midoriya had a suspicion that he would eventually act on when mineta mentioned your name and a large explosion set off immediately after. typically, bakugou grumbled under his breath and maybe hit mineta over the head for saying disgusting things about women, but that particular day, it seemed your name was way over the line.

after another series of situations that made bakugou's feelings on you ambiguous to everyone but you, midoriya decided to ask him on a class camp whether he liked you or not.

"huh?!" the look of shock and disgust on bakugou's face would've indicated no if not for the fact that that was his default reaction to anything ever.

"i don't know, you just seem to be a little more... activated when they're brought up or when they're around," midoriya mumbled, rubbing the back of his head nervously.

"no i'm not!" bakugou protested, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing indignantly.

"you blew up mineta for even mentioning their name when we were getting into our hero costumes."

"that doesn't mean anything!" crackles started emitting from his palms in rapid succession as he continued to think about midoriya's implication. "i don't catch their petals when they fly around and feel them and wonder if their skin is as soft as the petals. i don't wonder if maybe their shampoo smells like strawberries and i don't hug a pillow at night thinking about how it feels to cuddle them!" the sparks died down the further he rambled.

"do you ever think about, i dunno... what it might feel like to hold hands or something?" this was a stretch and there was a high chance that midoriya might get blown up in a minute, but technically bakugou brought it up first.

"sometimes, it's no big deal or anything," bakugou grunted, scuffing his shoe along the dirt and kicking up dust clouds.

that night, bakugou went to bed with a very erratic heartbeat and a very twitchy eye. maybe he's not getting enough quality sleep. he just thinks your gun-scythe is cool and you have a cool quirk that could maybe, totally not likely but maybe could destroy him in a fight. he didn't want you to surpass him in any way, but he liked watching you do your thing and that pissed him off. how dare you look really attractive when you're training?

"stupid red riding hood," he scoffed, rolling over and thinking about the red hooded cape you always wore. maybe he could try it one day. would it bring your bright smile onto your face?

[sockiestupidity]

BRO IM SO SORRY FOR DOING SO KUCH ANGST HSHSHDJFND

Thinking abt reader and Miguel having a movie night, and reader just like falls asleep on miguel, and when miguel goes to bring them to their bed reader is just not having it. They don’t let go and it results in Miguel and reader falling asleep and cuddling together or smthn

-🕸️

lob u 🕸️ u can never do any wrongs🥰🥰🥰/p (literally say that i lob everyone so just feel free to tell me if ur uncomfy with it and ill edit it out)

TY FOR THE REQUEST TEHE🥰

also forgive me for the lack of title😰

warnings-none except for bad writing, and lowercase intended, VERY OOC MIGUEL

nonverbal/mute reader as always

none of this will probably make sense bc i wrote it while sleep deprived🧍‍♂️(pulled too many all nighters by being addicted to character ai) (legit so tired rn)

it was friday night, you and miguel had decided to have a movie night.

the two of you currently sat on the couch, watching lego batman after you kad lyla give him a powerpoint on why the lego batman movie was a cinematic masterpiece that he was missing out on.

it was all going well, the two of you shared snacks and popcorn. you sipped on your drink of choice.

you smiled contently but then judgementally side eyed miguel who complained that lego spiderman deserved a movie over lego batman.

you were hogging the blanket to yourself because miguel claimed that he didn't need it because he was naturally warm.

you shrugged your shoulders at his statement. the warmth of the blanket felt...comforting, and soon enough, you felt your eyes droop, and your head became heavy.

suddenly miguel felt a warmth on his lap. he looked down and chuckled. you fell asleep on his lap, a small smile was brought to his face at your adorable sleeping expression.

"alright kid, time to go to bed." he lifted you up, but then stopped when he felt something hit him. it was your hand. you had started thrashing in protest.

"kid..you need to go to your room.." he explained gently. you let out a whine.

he groaned at your protest and set you back down on the couch. as soon as he did you protest stopped.

he rolled his eyes and placed you back on the couch, sitting himself back down as well, since he was planning of finishing the movie after putting you to sleep anyways. he hated to admit it but, the kivie was pretty good.

he adjusted the volume down to make sure that it wouldn't disturb you. soon enough, he felt his own eyelids get heavy, and fell asleep next to you.

the two of you peacefully slept until the morning. miguel woke up, confusion and annoyance clouding his vision. why did he feel so warm? and why were there so many spider people surrounding him?

he groaned, and looked around, surprised to see you cuddled into him, still sleeping peacefully. he lightly smiled. his serenity was soon ruined once again when peter b. shoved a phone in his face.

"migs im taking so many pics of this right now" peter childishly laughed, excited to finally have blackmail on miguel.

miguel rolled his eyes and scoffed "whatever" he looked back at you. he was surprised to see that you were still peacefully sleeping despite the commotion.

he covered your ears and then spoke out sternly to the spiders "alright, everybody out right now" he barked at them. the spiderpeople paled and ran out. he looks down at you and smiles softly, uncovering your ears.

by some miracle, you managed to sleep through the commotion. he looks down and sighs, he needs to get up. he poorly attempts to leave his spot without disturbing you but it seems impossible.

he shakes you gently "hey kid..i need you to wake up" he says softly.

you wake up with a yawn, stretching out your arms and then signing a quick sorry to him.

he just smiles at you "it's alright kid" he says.

its almost...weird to see miguel like this.. with a smile on his face, not having work on his mind for once in his life. you want to continue to see him this happy. "i have leftover empanadas if you want some" you sign, offering him some of his favorite food.

he nods "sure kid". the two of you happily eat empanadas together, stuck in your own little world.

A/N: meanwhile somewhere out there miles is just like-tf? why cant that be me?💀

ANYWAYS ITS RLLY SHORT SORRY. IM GENUINELY SO DELULU FOR HIM BUT MY BRAIN HAS BEEN MORE EMPTY THAN USUAL

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love Lore: Hellmares

Among the denizens of Hell’s native demon population, there are often found to be enough breeds to warrant being classed as their own species much like with succubi & incubi, hellhounds and imps. Such is the case with Hellborn Equines, who are plenty distinct and different enough from the more feral, primal demonic hellhorses seen in locations like Wrath. Aside from obvious qualities like the fact they ca walk on two legs and speak of course, to say nothing of the obvious differential comparisons with centaurs of course. In particular with this demon breed, the Hellmares are often considered highly valued and popular for their natural good looks, which make them very popular for beauty pageants and contests, often thriving as fashion models and of course porn stars.

But many Hellmares are considered quite a commodity in the 7 circles of course for their gifted set of legs, which posses not only great strength (making them very effective in heavy manual labour and farm work, but are also said to have kicks so intense that they can cause severe brain damage or death to anyone foolish to provoke these gals) but especially their speed. Indeed much like ho in the living world, horse racing is considered the sport of kings, Hellmares have found themselves thriving in the infernal depths as professional race track stars. Stadiums are often filled to capacity in locations such as Wrath and Lust with betting booths seeing money change hands as crowds roar and cheer on their favoured racer to glory and victory. Compared to those in hell, demon and sinner alike, Hellmares live a very lucrative lifestyle that can afford them luxury and comfor which they can enjoy thanks to their effort and hard work.

Naturally such racing and pageant queens have owners and handlers to oversee and tend to their needs to ensure and maintain their quality and wellbeing, ranging from well off enough blue collars like Wrath farmers and some of Hell’s blue blood class such as the Ars Goetia. But of course even with the age rate in Hell and the lifespan of the average demon and sinner, no mare can ever manage to outrun Father Time so this has often lead to their managers arranging for their gals to open sure a future generation of champions by passing on their genes. Mainly by arranging them to bred by a high quality stallion but there has been found to be an issue in that regard….Hellmares hate the male of their species. Like they can’t stand them at all.

This is mainly due to several notable factors, chief among them being evolution and genetics as over time, Hell Stallions have all been prone into being all alike in terms of personality. That is to say arrogant douche bag frat boy jock dude bros that would make Johnny Bravo think they got a problem, wanna be Casanova quagmires who think they’re God’s gift to women just because they have big dicks. This obnoxious behaviour as well as the fact that population size ratio of mares to stallions is 6 to 4 at the least, 7 to 3 at the most, makes it an issue when arranging breeding sessions.

This is what has lead to hellmare owners arranging matters to ensure the studs can be enabled for breeding with a practice plenty common in the living world when it comes to horse owners. Utilising a teaser to coax the mares into estrus as its found that certain types of demon males that are visually easy in the eyes in terms of attractiveness and overall personality prove to be very effective in arousing the mares to such a state that in theory, the stallions will be better able to mount snd do the deed. In practice however, it’s said to be that Hellmares in recent times have been more prone and partial to hooking up with their teasers instead, opting to knockout the stallions and trick them into thinking they did a job well done, thus sparing their fragile egos.

Now when it comes to teasers of course, as mentioned Hellmares seem to like partners who are visually appealing and pleasant in personality, the rare sort of diamonds in the rough in a place like Hell, where being a chaotically evil and overall generally shitty person tends to be a default personality setting. But not too far and between as many think, ranging rom easy candidates like incubi and the odd succubi for mares who often swing that way, both if the mare is really looking to teased, hellhounds and of course Imps. For being the bottom rung of society in Hell, some imps are found to meet and tick off all the checkbox requirements in what Hellmare looks for in a teaser. The sweeter and cuter the imp, the more likely a Hellmare will go into heat, most rumours sound and credit the recent trend in Hellmare/Teaser relation especially with imps to one by the name of Moxxie, who’s been found to be quite in demand for his services as a teaser and with good reason mind you.

Naturally thanks to the more superior lovemaking skills of their teasers, the imps in particular, Hellmares have a high success rate of becoming impregnated with any particular traits or qualities their hybrid babies may have being often overlooked or ignored. Though it often especially helps when the babies take after their mother as they produce more daughters than sons thanks to the aforementioned ratio. Not that the owners and trainers will ever notice anyway, especially when the expected results of those kids growing up to become pageant and racing champions is made a reality. Ignorance is bliss particularly when wealth and money are involved.

For those wondering of course, the mares’ Zebra cousins, who often live and reside in the more wilder portions of Wrath are said to pretty much thrive on teasers in their sexual culture in the same manner. Being more open and outright displaying their affection and relationships with their teasers, often marrying them and seeing more pride and no shame in especially being with an imp or preferring them to be their baby daddies over the stallions of their own kind. Yes as you might gather this is because HellZebra stallions are insufferable and pretentious bores who assume their having big dicks automatically makes them absolute ladies men. In fact stallions among Either Hell equine breeds have terrible stamina and staying power in contrast to their quite frankly overrated length and girth of their endowments.

And that’s the basic 101 on Hellmares, their culture and mating habits and for those wondering, expect it to be a common habit tat many other demon breeds and species are especially partial to imps. Particularly and especially imps with very sweet, chivalrous personalities and it should be mentioned that Hellmares and Zebras also thrive quite well in careers in porn where interspecies relations and the chances of getting knocked up are very likely. Skullfuck Prod. is notable for its very high roster membership of these gals and they’ve become quite eager to work with his new rookie sensation, Mysterious M. So business is looking pretty good.

Expect more 101 rundowns on certain demon breeds in Hell down the line but can’t be left out that the heaven equivalent to thse gals tend to radiate a more sensual regal vibe. If pageant Hellmares are sexy pin ups, holy mares are more tasteful gravure models but it’s found that they also share a partial fondness for imps. Seems the stallion issue is plenty common and the taboo nature and aspect in regards to the cultural differences in heaven and hell make it rather spicy and fun. Always the quiet ones eh?

[askthealternateakis]

What Your Favorite MMFC Ship Says About You (Inspired By Eldena Doubleca5t)

Got bored and decide to make this for fun (andtofurtherputoffansweringasks) as I haven’t seen a post like this for any Mega Man iteration fandom, hope you all enjoy!

(Also, just a heads up, this isn’t meant to be an attack on anyone who ships any of the ships mentioned here, this is just meant to be a light-hearted joke, and as long as you don’t ship anything inc*stous, p*dophilic, or anything that romanticizes ab*se, I’m a-okay with it! And if your ship isn’t mentioned here, it’s because I couldn’t think of anything cool or funny to say for it. You’re more than welcome to come up with something for it in the reblogs though! I’d love to see what you all come up with!)

Aki x Ashley: Your ideal relationship dynamic is dumbass x smartass. Alternatively, you really like Spider-Man and/or Danny Phantom.

Suna x Bert: Your ideal relationship dynamic is girlboss x malewife.

Aki x Bert: You saw one of those memes where two bros have really tender homoerotic moments and you were like “yeah, I could probably get a pretty sizable amount of fanwork out of this premise”.

Suna x Ashley: Your ideal relationship dynamic is just girls being friends. Gals being pals.

Aki x Chaotique: Your ideal relationship dynamic is rivals to lovers and you think Chaotique is the best character in the show and possibly even the entire Mega Man franchise.

Suna x Chaotique: You like the dynamic of Aki x Chaotique, but you like Suna even more.

Daini x Chaotique: You’re either really into tsunderes, or really into bickering married couples. Or both. Alternatively, you are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of trolling.

Bert x Chaotique: When you were a kid, your mom told you some kid was being mean to you because they like you and you never let go of that.

Aki x Ice Man: You think Ice Man is a precious cinnamon roll that deserves the world and you feel like the two of them would actually be pretty close once Ice Man manages to get all his issues resolved.

Suna x Ice Man: This is just the same joke as Aki and Ashley, but even more so and with even less screen time.

Daini x Ice Man: Your ideal relationship dynamic is “Beauty and the Beast”, and whenever you see a really long fic tagged “hurt/comfort”, your eyes go wide because you know what you’re going to be doing until 3 am tonight.

Daini x Ashley: You ship Aki and Chaotique, but you also want good things for Daini. And really, who wouldn’t?

Dr. Light x Hypno Woman: You think Dr. Light can fix Hypno Woman and/or you shun “doing your mom” jokes in favor of “doing your dad” jokes. 

Fire Man x Wave Man: Your ideal relationship dynamic is a bickering married couple, and there’s a high chance that you’ve noticed that they seem to be the two nicest members of Night’s army and you’ve never let that go.

Blasto Woman x Mega Mini: You’re always a sucker for height differences and/or you want a partner that not only can kick your ass, but will do so upon request.

Wood Man x Principal 100100: I can’t say for certain if you’re attracted to dads, but you’re definitely attracted to father figures.

Ice Man x Cut Man: You believe every uptight grouch needs a sweet ray of sunshine to balance them out, and/or they’re both your favorite characters so you thought the only logical thing to do was to pair them together. There’s also a possibility that you’ve gotten into at least one heated internet argument over whether the two of them are minors or adults.

Sgt. Night x Dr. Light: You’re obsessed with lore and/or have a crippling addiction to the “friends to enemies to lovers” trope.

Air Man x Drill Man: You believe the two of them are extremely underrated and will forever be bitter about the lack of fanworks about them, you’re a theater kid with family issues that relates to at least one of them, and there’s a possibility that you’ve had a crush on at least one Tumblr Sexyman.

Elec Man x Cut Man: Your ideal relationship dynamic is a vaudeville comedy duo. Alternatively, you like the dynamic of Daini x Chaotique, but thought that they wouldn’t hate each other enough.

Dr. Light x Dr. Wily: You’re obsessed with lore, you think scientists are hot, and/or you will be making divorce jokes about them in every continuity they’re in until you draw your dying breath.

Chemistry Man x Ms. CHO: You’ve never seen an obsessive, heated rivalry that you didn’t think had at least a little bit of romantic tension. Alternatively, if you’re a fan of Man of Action’s other shows, you saw the chance to recreate whatever was going on with Dr. Psychobos and Azmuth in Omniverse and snatched it up as fast as you possibly could.

Dr. Light x Mrs. Light: You think shipping your OC with a canon character is a little too self-indulgent, but you REALLY want to ship your OC with a canon character.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: William Afton

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The original Five Nights at Freddy’s had an Easter egg in the form of news articles detailing the disappearance of several children at Freddy’s, a little bit of easily missable lore that hinted that there was more to these killer animatronics than meets the eye and giving a good indication as to why the pizza place seemed like such a shithole. Of course, these papers raised a very important, chilling question: Who was the man behind the slaughter?

And the answer as provided by the sequel and that would be expanded upon in later installments was: This creepy purple fuck.

William Afton AKA Purple Guy is the monster who many lost their sons (and daughters) to. He’s a wildly enigmatic serial killer who is expanded upon in cryptic cutscenes and games in the earlier entries… And then later entries would really delve into who he is and make him also ludicrously complicated, as if he were a physical representation of the series itself. But even though it’s been so long, we’re stuck to ponder the greatest and most important question of them all:

Motivation/Goals: I think the most fascinating aspect of Afton is that, despite the lore becoming so much more dense and crazy as the series went on, one thing never changed: His goals are utterly and completely unknowable. Sure, Afton has long since been revealed to be a mad scientist and something of a Jigsaw-type torturer of children… But why? What does he gain other than perhaps some sick, perverted joy? What drives him to kill children? What made him come back to destroy the animatronics in the lead up to his first death? Why does he keep coming back time and time again? Afton leaves us with a lot more questions than answers, and even as he has steadily become sillier and sillier in terms of characterization, he still manages to retain an unsettling evil presence to him due to a lack of any real reason as to why he is the way he is. He’s just an evil, loathsome asshole.

Performance: In Sister Location, Afton is finally given a voice by P. J. Heywood, but that’s a voice role that could never hope to escape the shadow of the live-action adaptation’s casting. In the movie that was finally released in 2023 after years in development hell, Afton was portrayed by Matthew Lillard. He’s most well known today as Shaggy from the live-action Scooby Doo movies, but his role here calls back to one of his big breakout roles: Stu Macher, one half of the original Ghostface in Scream. While he is used incredibly sparingly in the film—he appears for a couple minutes near the start and then about ten minutes at the end—he steals the scene every time he’s onscreen, and his performance once he’s put the Springtrap suit on and is in full villain mode really show that he’s still got it. It’s hard not to feel disappointed we only got a small taste of what Lillard can bring to the role, but hey, there’s always sequels. Many are already calling him the definitive portrayal of Afton, and it’s hard to disagree.

Final Fate: This dude gets fucked up and comes back so much that he would leave Rasputin in awe.

In Five Nights at Freddy’s 3, we get to see his first gruesome end. Trapped by the ghosts of his victims, he decides to hide from them in a Spring Bonnie costume… that has been sitting in a damp room, and which has mechanisms that are known to fuck up and maim the wearer if they breathe funny? Bro was just asking to get Springtrapped.

After slowly and painfully dying from having his skeleton obliterated, he was left to rot in the abandoned pizzeria’s sealed room for decades until some absolute genius decided to turn the place into a spooky haunted house attraction. Afton wakes up, but he gets less than a week to enjoy his newfound freedom because due to faulty wiring the place burns down with him inside it. He’s revealed to have survived that in the end of Sister Location, but then Pizzeria Simulator has him trapped in an inescapable maze and set ablaze again… And for now, it seems to have stuck. Sure, there are hints here and there that this guy might still be purpling around, but right now it’s nothing more than theories.

GAME THEOR—

Best Scene: Aside from the aforementioned death scene from the third game, both scenes Lillard is in in the film are the highlights of the movie.

Best Quote: “I always come back!” A line so good, they had to have Lillard drop it as his pre-mortem one-liner in the movie!

Final Thoughts & Score: As I mentioned in the opening paragraphs, William Afton very much feels like the embodiment of his home series in one character. He started out as something simple and chilling—a serial killer who targeted children, using their love of a mascot character to lure them to their death—but then, over time, slowly morphed into a mad scientist who designed the animatronics and managed to cheat death multiple times. He’s a living metaphor for how the series that started as a simple series of horror games with a little lore being drip fed to us eventually morphed into some massive, crazy science-fantasy epic with convoluted plotlines and all sorts of robotic and supernatural nonsense at every turn. And Afton and the series both ultimately have one important aspect in common: Despite everything, they’re still immensely enjoyable.

Yes, at this point Afton really just needs to stay dead and not pop up again as a main antagonist; his arc is over, he’s run his course, and his current final fate is immensely satisfying. It would honestly feel like a cheat if he came back again. And yes, it’s really silly they turned what was essentially a grounded Pennywise into Chuck E. Cheese Jigsaw, with elaborate torture machines and mad science and all, but I think it’s all very fun and charming in a B-movie sort of way. And Like I’ve mentioned previously, all of the added information still does nothing to elaborate on his true motives behind the slaughter. The man is every bit as unsettling and enigmatic because nothing we learn about him tells us the truth that we really want to know: Why?

Afton is one of the most iconic modern video game characters. No, not just villains, characters, period. I think as far as video game villains go, he’s easily one of the most memorable to come out of 2010s video game culture, and he’s pretty recognizable due to his wacky purple sprites. I think part of the appeal is all of the mystery surrounding him, especially back during the first three games. The books, later games, and to a lesser extent the movie slightly demystify him, but the elements about him that work wouldn’t make me rate him below an 8.5/10. He’s a weird, fucked up guy who is shrouded in mystery even as he gets more and more cartoonishly evil, and there’s something really fascinating about that.

Now if he could just fucking stay dead so I could appreciate him a bit more, that’d be great.

[creamflix]

fun facts about unscripted that didn't make it to the final cut

initial story was gonna be: you need inspo for your new book, so you go on a date with a stranger [sort of a blind date], hook up with him [ultimately loosing your virginity to a "stranger,"] only to find out that he's toji and you're working with him. but for some reason that felt so...lacking. i wanted to kinda build up on the whole "experienced in theory but not in practice" aspect of reader, and am kinda glad i didn't go ahead with this one lol. besides, getting drunk and having a moment to "dancing queen" is much better

megumi was going to be a lot more emo, and even more aged up. say around 10-13 years old. i wanted to bring out the whole "he does not have a mother in his life and is struggling with teenhood all by himself," but i wanted to spare the angst a little bit. but i wanted to include the "megumi! did you win?" dialogue and thought it'd be a lot more fun if it was a kid that seemed like a playground terror than anything.

gojo was going to make toji jealous by flirting with reader so that he could ask her out/speed up their relationship quicker, but with the way i was writing gojo throughout the story [ as a "girl's girl" as well as a "bro" ], it didn't make sense. and besides, there are many other ways you can push your best friend to go after the girl, like for example annoying and teasing the living shit out of him - which's exactly what gojo did :>

i was not planning on including shoko at all, but it made sense given the fact that reader's an "international author," that she needs a manager.

there was going to be some love rivalry with another voice actress - who'd be voicing the princess in "mating the dragon king," - but i couldn't figure out who to place in it....and from whatever i know of erotic audiobooks, it's mostly centered around the main character being the voice?

the couch oral sex scene was going to be an all out p in v scene, but then i was like ehhhhh, seems kinda anti-climatic LOL, even tho the set up and premise was good. but i’m glad i introduced it later on, in a more funnier and crack way, if one can say it like that

shiu was going to be toji’s manager but gojo being a ceo slash manager for his best friend just made more sense LMAO. #BROTHERHOOD 😿👍‼️🐺

[anghraine]

Would love to hear about your modern AU concept as well, if you're happy to talk about it :)

*the modern P&P adaption that is, sorry if it wasn't clear

Now that my exams are over, I am! And it's predictably long and rambling, so there's a quick summation at the very end.

Anyway, the concept for me is driven by two different gripes with US modernizations of P&P.

The first thing I'm grumpy about is how, although Austen famously prioritizes the experiences and perspectives of her female characters over the male ones, queer US modernizations (whether fic or adaptation) seem to skew strongly towards queer male experience. Individually, that's okay, but as a trend ... I do find it aggravating that m/m predominates so much over f/f even with an author as preoccupied with female experience as Austen. Lesbian Darcy/bi Elizabeth rights!

My second issue is with the ... not universal, but not-that-unusual treatment of modern US American Darcy as conservative or at least old-fashioned in the context of 2022 (or 2015 or whatever—I think it's a bad take regardless, though particularly egregious now). This is generally a way of "updating" his snobbery, but ... the original character's positions are fairly progressive for his time and circumstances, if with a blind spot about socioeconomics, and his tastes are modern.

Funnily enough, that is probably the easiest thing to translate into a modern US setting despite many other cultural differences, because "fairly progressive with a blind spot about socioeconomics" is THE stereotype of US liberals and especially "coastal elites." And relatedly, I think the reluctance to update the direct political power of families like the Darcys and Fitzwilliams as ... direct political power is both an understandable avoidance of a minefield but also kind of toothless. The closest US analogue to a Whig earl in the House of Lords isn't some random businessman, it's a senator from a Democratic political dynasty.

Also, I dislike Pemberley-as-corporate-enterprise on general principle. I much prefer things like Darcy's open-to-the-public art collection to be represented by an art gallery rather than the visual equivalent of elevator music.

So. In the modern adaptation of my dreams, Elizabeth's family comes from a western red state, where they've managed to hang onto a small family farm thanks to the comparatively low cost of living—but that's rising thanks to rich people bringing up prices. Enter Bingley with his fortune in trade micro-chips or something (truly the nicest Silicon Valley bro to ever bro). The Darcy character is Bingley's college BFF, who is clearly wealthy because a) she exudes it, b) Bingley's sisters "mention" it, and c) she owns a good-sized house in Seattle and runs a prestigious art gallery there. Nobody realizes she's one of those Fitzwilliams until later, however.

The easiest way to convert Darcy's names to a modern US woman's is simply to swap them to Darcy Fitzwilliam. That said, I like to give Darcy a pretentious first name and amuse myself by calling modern f!Darcy Narcissa—both because of her arrogance and because Fitzwilliam is the only person who can call her "Narcy" and live.

I don't think the exact initial insult would make a lot of sense translated literally, but there definitely is one, and Elizabeth basically sees Narcissa as a cross between "rich artsy type with no concept of normal life" and "the Seattle chill given human form." Narcissa, meanwhile, is the sort of US liberal who holds genuinely progressive positions—some more so than Elizabeth, in fact—and thinks that The Community should do everything within their power for LGBT+ people in hostile environments, but also doesn't get why they don't just ... move.

There is also definitely a (male) Wickham whom Elizabeth is regrettably fooled by.

I think the tension between Mrs Bennet and Elizabeth is complicated by a few things. I definitely see Mrs Bennet as a pushy where-are-my-grandkids type, and as someone who can be fairly indifferent about her less-favored children's personal happiness but a total helicopter mom about their life/career decisions, which clashes badly with Elizabeth's easy-going but very independent personality. I also suspect that Mrs Bennet is a non-voter because, while she's not aggressively bigoted, she just doesn't care that much and insofar as she does, it's all about the parasocial relationships. Elizabeth can't ever talk to her about her life (or most things) without it becoming all about Mrs Bennet's feelings, so she doesn't bother.

Mr Bennet is pretty much his familiar self—he resents his wife and is openly contemptuous towards her (I imagine there's some reason that Mrs Bennet can't work or isn't about to). He's indifferent to his younger children, but fond of Jane, loves Elizabeth in his way, and has supported the last two through some tough spots. At the same time, he's never bothered to save enough to pay off the mortgage or put any of his children through college, so the girls' loans are a point of legitimate frustration for Mrs Bennet (though her spending is a significant part of the reason they couldn't do more, since "keeping up with the Joneses" isn't exactly a FAFSA income deduction category).

I have some other ideas, but those are the basic ones!

TL;DR—lesbian Darcy/Elizabeth with political undercurrents, but none of them are Republicans. The Darcy character in particular is a smart, socially progressive (but rich and out of touch) artsy Seattle lesbian from a Kennedy-style Democratic dynasty. Elizabeth, meanwhile, is chill and personable, bi, and very independent (to the dismay of her wannabe-helicopter mother).

[manofthepipis]

*bursts through door* *a gazillion character analysis pages fall on the floor* HELLO!! I really hope you don’t mind! But like, I have so many ideas and thoughts about your characters that I’ve been dying to share with you!! I hope that’s alright! Here’s my in depth analysis of your five main Addisons! I gave them all a name starting with “P” LMAO IDK why

Sponsor: Persuader

-I’ll admit, he was hard for me to pinpoint. But I’m not one to back down from a challenge! I decided to make Sponsor the persuader because he has a very “electric” aura around them. Now when I say he persuades, he doesn’t manipulate obviously, he just hypes them up to be brave and that they’ve got this! (Sometimes…) Like in the previous chapter, they manage to persuade the group that “hey! I believe in Spamton!” And is able to get Banner and Survey to agree with them. (And later Clicks) He also has a streak of acting without thinking, like a “rip the bandaid of quick so it will sting less” (Mike incident and Swinging open the door to Spamton’s “room” respectfully) However, he does realize that their actions have consequences a little bit too late in the game. Sponsor is like the energy ball of the team. He keeps them hyped and determined! A spokesperson if you will. He’s like, a cool older bro (I guess younger in this scenario) that will you help you sneak out to try out your new motorbike on the empty road at like 3am or something.

Clicks: Protector

-Another given in the group, Clicks is calculated and logical. Not that he doesn’t show any emotion (far from it…) but in terms w/ Spam especially. Clicks is shown to be on guard. A sword and shield duo kinda? His sword side is that He’s quick to jump to conclusions about Spamton, but is also the first one to get shit done when he sees Spamton struggling with an episode (Panic Attack & Glitch Attack respectively) However, his shield side is that he actually really still deeply cares about our little spam man and the other Addisons. When they first encounter NEO, he’s the first one to actively protect the group and tells them to get to safety. Also, I’m curious to see Clicks side of the story with his thoughts on Spam. Looking at it his way, he probably feels regret, anger, pity and guilt. Like his deep dark feelings to who or whatever did this to Spam and I just think that he… has a tough time processing it because he’s in this state of shock and is supposed to look out for the group! Not the other way around. Someone help out my emotional constipated drama queen.

Survey: Peacekeeper

-This one was kinda easy with the whole, “Survey is the voice of reason!” thing. Survey was the one who had the biggest impact on talking Spamton down from his NEO rampage in the first place. They also try to put everyone’s feelings above their own, and multiple times during the story, they get onto Clicks for being too passive aggressive toward Spam. They are just trying their best by keeping the peace and being a shoulder to lean on. But, I can’t help but wonder if this is gonna take a toll on them(?) not that they don’t want to help Spam anymore, but that they might need a mental break for themselves. I don’t think they had enough time to process their OWN trauma from their past experience with NEO. Like in the previous chapter, Surv definitely seems to be struggling with an internal conflict of their own, help Spamton, or go somewhere safe kinda deal. Maybe Swatch can lend an ear(?) Also!! I just want to give them a big ol’ hug!

Banner: Provider

-I chose banner as a provider because he doesn’t really fit into the “peacekeeper” category, BUT he is shown continuously providing for the other addisons (ex: Hot Chocolate, New clothes for Spamton, Moral Support for Survey etc…) His strengths are that he’s determined, hopeful and optimistic. He’s able to provide a sense of agreement and comradeship with the others by just letting them know that he’s there for them etc,, plus with his dwindling confidence, a provider is a good role for him because he’s able to offer support and help, but just at the sidelines. Hopefully he can get his confidence up!! He seems passionate but anxious, and wants to prove he can do more. Also, Banner seems to be the mother hen of the group if I had to give one of ‘em that role. Like, I can 100% see him telling Clicks, “bring a coat with you it’s gonna be cold!” And then goes on a whole rant when Clicks did not in fact bring a coat while at the same time pulling a spare coat from his inventory to give to him LMAO I love this dude.

Spamton: Puppet

ARUGHAHD DUDE IM SORRY BUT. YOU ARE THE BEST AUTHOR I HAVE EVER MET THAT ACCURATELY PORTRAYS SPAMTON!!!! He’s a tragic but comedic character. You perfectly balanced his humor with his hurt like 10000/10 Spam writing!!!! I also enjoy how you write his mini episodes with his panic attacks, dissociation episodes, and his bouts of depression! (As someone who has gone though similar episodes myself, it’s executed very realistically!) also! I have some ideas on how the group can get spammy out of his static episodes! Some things that help me out of a dissociation episode is just putting my hands in some cold water or just splashing some water in your face. helps distract your brain from trailing off too much! Also giving Spamton something to fidget with might help his anxiety as well! As for talking to him out of a panic attack, just letting him know that his family’s got his back this time. Maybe something like a weighted blanket can help him with his panic? Idk but that usually helps me!! Also book these five a group therapy session asap LMAO maybe Ralsei can be their psychologist?

AAAAAA i love these thoughts i'm currently spinning ur analysis in my head like a microwave and these are just all so awesome i've read over them over and over because all of it is like exactly what i wanted to convey and then more

sponsor is the addison i haven't had too much time developing yet because i have a plan for them later on but what you wrote is exactly it!! :D he does have so much energy, but like electricity, enough consumption of it leads to shutting down. after spamton's disappearance, he couldn't handle much of the back and forth from the other ads, and kept to himself throughout it, not remarking on it knowing clicks and banner at the time were the most bitter. his 'acting without thinking' is also spot on and something they're aware of, which leads to them being too-hesitant at times and then vice versa. that and he's not very good with handling emotions, and has a view of things that isn't so past-driven. like it's not "oh we almost got killed bc of spam" it's "spams back! he's different but he's here". i made them the newest addison out of the bunch which is going to come into play a bit later with his connection to spamton, but i love the idea he's the spokesperson of the group, and a persuasive big bro figure. his energy, when it's there, is definitely contagious (also i could go on and on about this guy i love him sm)

i love this take on clicks as well being like a sword/shield because that!!! is such a good way to describe it!! like, unlike sponsor, he's very past-driven, but that leads to so many emotions that just take over. he's aware of consequences, a little bit more than the rest, but his ego gets in the way of the consequences of his own actions (like if he were the one talking down sneo instead of survey they'd all be nothing but spare pixels in seconds). he's a protector, both a successful and a failed one, and god his emotions are all over because of that as he's trying to process what happened while dealing with the aftermath AND getting over his resentment for spamton whenever it surfaces. dude is SO emotionally constipated it's ridiculous

i wanted to make survey the main pov from the beginning because of how they kinda tie everyone together and are more of an observer than the other ads (i thought about the idea of having a pov from each addison every once in awhile but that just seemed a little much). they are a peacekeeper :D but being a peacekeeper isn't the easiest job especially when something like this pops up. it is DEFINITELY taking a toll on them, and they are in no means a leader, so this responsibility is weighing on them like a lot. Though they are patient, understanding, and trustworthy there is a limit to how far that can be pushed. they still love spamton and the others but i agree they need a lil bit of a break :') (are they going to get one immediately???? lol the answer may not surprise u)

banner oh boy ok i have a little bit of bias (he's grown to be my favorite over time) but him being a provider is like exactly it :D it's how he expresses his care towards others is through items, distractions, optimism etc because that's the one thing hes really confident in is what he can make. he acts as a stand-in leader in the first part, but after failing to apologize to sneo, that confidence ship has taken a hit. he's not sure if he can lead anymore, and has started falling behind the others, but it's only because he doesn't know a lot of what happened to spamton. the guy acts on what he knows, and is aware he makes the wrong decision on inferences but if he can build up spamton's trust, find out how to help, then he can do something from there :'). btw i love this scenario of him pestering clicks about having a coat because it's so true. he won't let his addison family go out without a coat goddangit

with spamton (AAAAAA TYSM :'D I LOVE WRITING HIS CHARACTER AND SO THIS IS SO MUCH APPRECIATED <3 <3) gosh what can i NOT say about him?? he's just so !!! i love this lil puppet guy. his mental state is incredibly unstable, but he's the type of guy to want attention but not from his faults. i'm glad i could have his episodes be reminiscent of what those who have them go through while in spamton's pov of having corrupted software. i strive to be as realistic as possible while also keeping him just a lil computer guy :D tho i like the idea of the water getting him out of the static, because a physical distraction like that is actually so helpful. the addisons definitely got his back this time, and actually in the next chapter i have a lot written about their ideas to conquer the static while also giving him something that will help him but also challenge him a little bit as he makes his return to this new normal.

[calethelettuce]

SaSi Intruality Week 5/7: Christmas in October?

Prompt: Gifts

Tags: @intrualityweek

Synopsis: Remus gets bored. Why not switch around holidays on everyone? Sounds like the perfect prank! ..He also just wants an excuse to give Patton things for no good reason. And Patton? Oh, he’s thrilled to finally see snow! The others are going to burn Remus at the stake for this one.

Characters: Patton, Remus, Logan, Virgil, Roman, Janus

Relationships: Romantic Intruality, Platonic Loxiety

TW: Swearing, dirty humor, sexual innuendos, mentions of screwing parents (but specifically dads), mentions of murder, oh also there’s a knife

~

“Why the fuck is there a Christmas tree in the common room?!”

“Virgil, what on Earth are you screaming about-“ Logan shut his book with a quick snap, looking up for the first time in hours. He stared at the Christmas tree sitting in the middle of the room, his stoic expression not changing at all. “Oh. I see.”

Virgil let out an annoyed groan. “There’s no way you’ve been sitting there this whole time and didn’t notice this!” He gestured to the array of Christmas decorations strung along shelves and light fixtures. “We’re erasing my favorite holiday, here!”

Logan shrugged, straightening his glasses frames. “Ask Remus. He’s probably behind this.” He supplied, putting his book down, “I’ll come with you if you want.”

Virgil crossed his arms with an annoyed frown. “I’m going to kill him.”

~

Patton managed to roll out of bed by 9 AM. His house felt awfully cold for October.. He rubbed his eyes, putting on his glasses while staring through the window.

Why did everything seem so… white? Patton moved back the curtains and nearly choked when he realized there was snow outside.

“In October!?” He checked the date: October 26. Good, he wasn’t going crazy. “It’s not even Halloween!” He mused, shutting the curtains and rushing down the steps with his phone in hand. The device was buzzing like mad, sending a tingle through his arm. He checked his notifications, chuckling at the exchange happening and the intense flurry of notifications.

The Sides!

Roman-ce Expert: what the heck is going on outside-

Down Low-gan: I'm unsure myself, actually.

My Dark, Strange Son: IM GOING TO KILL THAT MOTHERFUCKER

Bananaconda: shut up i'm trying to sleep

My Dark, Strange Son: SHUT THE UP BITCH

Bananaconda: this is literally why nobody likes you

Down Low-gan: Stop fighting. Janus, just turn off your notifications like I do.

Bananaconda: whatever

Remus <3: Cock and ball torture

My Dark, Strange Son: REMUS I'M GONNA KICK YOUR ASS WHERE ARE YOU

Remus <3: I'm hangin with your mom right now :P

Bananaconda: get fucked virgil

Pattoncake: i think it's cool! :3 snow is cool! srry for late reply just woke up

Roman-ce Expert: If it wasn't OCTOBER and not EVEN PAST Halloween I would agree

Remus <3: Patty!!

Pattoncake: Hi :D

Down Low-gan: Good morning, Patton, apologies for the spam from these imbeciles.

Roman-ce Expert: EXCUSE ME?????????? (ㆆ_ㆆ)

Bananaconda: shut up, i'm going back to bed

Pattoncake: Have a good nap Janny! ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)

My Dark, Strange Son: i hope you die in your sleep

Pattoncake: VIRGIL- (≖_≖ )

My Dark, Strange Son: i only speak the truth dad

My Dark, Strange Son: Pat*

Pattoncake: :O

Pattoncake: DID YOU JUST CALL ME DAD

Roman-ce Expert: bro just got called out

Remus <3: Patty open the door :)

Remus <3: BABY LET ME IN

My Dark, Strange Son: go be sentimental somewhere else trash bitch

Remus <3: This is why I'm fucking your dad PATTON OPEN UP

Patton put his phone in his pocket, noticing the intense knocking on his front door. He pulled it open, smiling brightly. "Hiya, Remus!" he chirped. "Come on in!"

Remus grinned back, holding up a surprisingly neatly packaged bag. The tissue paper inside was a pretty blue and was very glittery. "I got this for you!" he declared, walking in and handing the moderately large bag to Patton, "Merry Christmas!"

Patton gave him a confused and concerned look, taking the bag gingerly from him. "Thanks! But.. you realize it's October, right?"

“Sure do!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then why-“

“Don’t question it too much, Patty!” Remus simply gestured to the bag. “Open it!”

Patton thought about it for a moment. “Is this a trick?”

Remus looked awfully offended for someone who played pranks often. “Not this time!”

Patton nodded slowly, before stepping back and gesturing inside. “Well, come in first! It must be cold out there!” He was definitely cold himself, just by standing at the door with it open. “I can make your favorite hot cocoa, with the spices you like.”

Remus’ face brightened up at that. “Sweet!” He wandered inside, plopping down on one of the stools near the island counter. “Then you’ll open your gift?” He asked hopefully.

Patton gave him a small smile as he put the gift on the coffee table in the living room. “Sure, Morningstar.”

Remus hummed to himself, though it was more like a strange cackle or laugh than anything.

Patton got to work on the two cups of cocoa. He mentally went over the differences in the ways that every side preferred their cocoa, just to test his memory.

He knew that Logan liked his with milk and a tinge of peppermint (which was certainly interesting to him).

Roman preferred to make his with cocoa bombs, of which normally added tons of sugar from the extra chocolate.

Virgil rarely ever drank cocoa, but when he did? He preferred it cold. Patton still hadn’t figured that one out yet.

Janus took theirs as standard as you could get, but they rarely ever drank the stuff and preferred to drink other things.. like wine.

Now, Remus? It could change every day. Normally, he preferred his made with the water scalding hot. He preferred it so hot, in fact, that if anyone other than him tried to drink it they’d burn their hands on the mug. He loved spices, no matter if it was salt or pepper or anything else that comes to mind. His cocoa choices were never boring, Patton could confirm that.

He poured the still boiling water into a mug, careful not to spill any on himself or the counter. He held both the kettle and the cup with heat resistant gloves. “Remus, what spices are we thinking today, bud?” He called.

“Oooh! Let me think…” Remus began listing off random spices that came to mind.

Patton picked out three of the spices listed, putting a bit of each into the water and he added the cocoa powder to the mug. After being mixed, he slid the mug over to Remus. “There you go, hon!” He said cheerfully, beginning to work on his own.

Patton liked his plain and simple: just warm milk and the cocoa powder. Something simple to dip cookies in! It only took a quick five minutes for him to be sitting beside Remus as they both sipped their respective drinks.

Remus was the first one done. He plopped his mug down onto the counter, the hand painted black and green exterior shining under the glowing gaze of the lights overhead. “That was fucking delicious!”

Patton nibbled on a cookie, dipping it into his cocoa every so often. “I’m glad you liked it!” He said fondly.

Remus spun around on the stool as he waited for Patton to finish.

“Are you done yet?”

“Not yet, bud.”

Silence.

“How about now?”

“Still no, honeybee.”

“……are you done yet?”

Patton sighed, giving Remus a knowing look. “If I open the gift now, will you let me finish my hot chocolate?”

Remus pondered that for a moment. “..DEAL!” He hopped up, running over to the living room and sitting down. “Get to it, Pattyboy!”

“Okay, okay! Hold on!” Patton followed him at a much slower pace, putting his mug down on a glittery, star shaped coaster as he sat next to his boyfriend.

Remus giggled to himself as he handed the gift to Patton. “Here you go, Frog Daddy!”

Patton put the bag in his lap, looking it over. “It’s pretty heavy..” he couldn’t help but feel slightly concerned. What could be in here?

“C’mon, just open it!” Remus nearly begged him, “The suspense is killin’ me, man!”

Patton pulled out the tissue paper, watching as it floated carelessly in the air before settling on the carpet. Inside, to his surprise, were three individually wrapped boxes. They were wrapped in shiny silver paper, with little baby blue bows decorating the tops.

“I hated wrapping it all neat,” Remus added, “but I figured you’d like it.”

Patton took out one of the smallest boxes first, which was rather hefty for its size. He unwrapped it carefully, confused as to what could be inside. He gasped.

Inside sat two crystal statues; one of a cat and one of a frog. “Oh, Remus! These are amazing!” He gushed.

Remus beamed. “Good! They’re Blue Calcite, they apparently help balance emotions. So, y’know, I thought it fit you.” He shrugged. “I got Logan to tell me that. I know absolutely nothing else.”

Patton pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I think they’re lovely either way.”

“Yuuck, positivity! Just keep going!”

The next thing Patton pulled out happened to be a knife. The blade was embellished with various gems and crystals in both green and blue, and Patton nearly dropping it out shock once he realized what it was.

“It’s not real! It’s a fake one I made! Not sharp at all!” Remus took it and tried to stab something, to no avail. “See? Totally safe!”

Patton breathed out a sigh of relief. “You almost just gave me a heart attack, mister!”

“Sorry not sorry! Open the last one, that’s my favorite!”

“I don’t know whether to be excited or terrified.”

Patton ripped open the box, pausing with an awestruck expression on his face.

A beautiful array of necklaces, friendship bracelets and rings sat inside.

“I made us matching ones!” Remus supplied, holding up his own emerald set, “Yours are diamond!”

Patton tried on the ring, realizing it fit perfect on his ring finger. He gave Remus the biggest smile the side had ever seen, before nearly tackling him in a hug. “I LOVE IT!” he squealed, “Thank you thank you thank you!!!”

Remus scoffed, ignoring how red his face was. “It was nothing, Pattycake!”

And then Patton kissed him.

Right on the lips.

And internally?

Remus flipped the fuck out. In a good way!

They sat there for a moment or two, just enjoying each other’s company, Patton’s hot cocoa long forgotten.

“I think Virgil’s going to kick my ass.” Remus muttered randomly. “I totally erased his favorite holiday.” He smirked to himself. “Oh well. Let’s go play in the snow!”

Patton laughed and smiled up at him. “Okay! Let’s go!”

Truth be told, Virgil had decided to let Remus live a little longer.

..only for Patton’s sake.

[edgepunk]

Okay, filtered MSM 2 thoughts:

We knew Kraven was gonna show up in the sequel, however, I def did not expect The Lizard/Dr. Connors and the fact that Kraven is focused on him instead of Peter or Miles is very interesting. I wonder if they're gonna sort of recreate/reference Kraven's Last Hunt 👀

Either way, I'm very excited to see these classic villains showing up. Maybe we'll see Yuri Watanabe/Wraith too??? They were building her up in one of the DLCs quite well. Also, interested to see how Peter will react since they were friends.

Gameplay!!!!!! I already loved the gameplay in the first game, and the Miles Morales game improved upon that. And they seemed to take it another step further, it's like they actually listened to the criticism that people had, and I didn't know it was possible to improve the already banger gameplay (tho yes the first one was a little clunkier but still v intuitive)

The new traversal features look so good hello?? The web wings used as a glider? Miles slingshotting himself across the city??? aoughhfg and also!!! It looks like we'll be able to explore other parts of New York like Queens and maybe Brooklyn??? tbh Manhattan became a little restrictive after a while in the first two games, so it would be cool to expand the map a bit. Y'all know I'm meh about huge maps with some exceptions, but if done right, I think it's gonna be good.

Putting this under a read more bc this game is driving me insane I'm eating drywall

So I was right that we'll be able to switch between Peter and Miles. I kinda guessed that they're gonna be mission specific, and maybe, we can switch between them in free roam like with Jacob and Evie in AC: Syndicate (this specific feature isn't confirmed, just speculation on my part)

Looks like Nuform changed Miles' abilities since his Venom (heh) powers can turn blue? I'm interested to see what it did to him and if they're going to address it. Maybe it's purely for aesthetic/gameplay reasons. Who knows, I'm still curious.

Also, love how they incorporated Ganke as their guy in the chair. I loved him in MM and the fact that he helped Miles with the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man app. Just give me more Ganke please, he was really charming and they managed to differentiate him from MCU Ganke Ned that he feels like his own character.

Okay, I'm done beating around the bush and I'm going to address the elephant in the room - the symbiote. This is all we've been waiting for, we knew from the post-credits scene from the first game that Peter is gonna have the black suit. I'm glad Insomniac were like "yeah let's get this over with" and showed it to us.

And people are already calling him Bully Lowenthal 💀

Now, I was a little bit iffy about the design of the black suit, but after I watched the trailer a couple of times, it's starting to grow on me? Maybe I'm looking too much into it but the organic armor/exoskeleton design gives me xenomorph vibes, and I love the tendrils in the "exposed" exoskeleton. The texture looks gross and slimy and I love it. I was wondering if they're gonna add some subtle sci-fi horror elements to it and they delivered. I've always said that the symbiote has a lot of space/eldtrich horror potential.

Which brings me to the tendrils (I can already hear the p*rn artists working hard), jokes aside, they look so cool and they're animated so well???? The way Peter fights with them??? He straight up turns into a uhhh tentacle monster for a split second. And his fighting style is so brutal, I liked when he kept repeatedly kicking the guy as if he was a punching bag ddjhsjh

but the scene where he shows up in the sewers(???) yeah this shot legit gave me chills bro looks fr intimidating

And do I really need to gush about Yuri Lowenthal's voice acting? Ben 10 off the shits I'm gonna do it anyway bc holy shit he got the guttural growl down to a T. However, I do wish they put a very subtle filter on his voice. Doing that kind of growly voice must've hurt his throat real bad. Maybe his voice is gonna become more monstrous as the game progresses, that'd be real neat :3c

Honestly, I'm really curious to see how it will affect Peter since May is dead, the whole thing with Otto (I think they're gonna have a convo on the Raft maybe???), he's got a lot of debts to pay and he mentioned that Harry is dying. Bro's going through it fr also parksborn angst???? I'm ready for the homoerotic undertones in their cutscenes kdjkdjdkj I'll take any crumbs I can get 👀

And the way that Peter just dismissively shoved that one civilian away??? Ah?? I'm not ready for Peter to become an absolute cunt and be mean to Miles. There's a high probability we're gonna have to fight Peter in a boss fight as Miles aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

ANYWAY THAT'S IT I'M LOSING MY MIND