#but apparently it's a real thing and it's just so far for my experience that i never realised it wasn't just made up

[mitchfynde]

Again, I'm not interested in the whataboutism. Have that debate with someone else.

You conceded that the fake electors plot was a real thing that happened. That was him attempting to steal the election. Not sure if you changed your phrasing to him successfully stealing the election on purpose or not, but my claim wasn't that he succeeded but that he attempted. You conceded to that and now you seemingly don't remember or didn't actually think about what that meant.

Trump did immense damage to the America and the world.

Are the Democrats to blame for their most psychotic extremists online being anti-male? It's not as if the party endorses these beliefs or in any way puts them forward. You're quite literally advocating for reactionary politics or at least excusing them. That's feelings over facts, by the way, something I doubt you'd be comfortable with.

And you're just totally wrong about Trump VS Kamala. I cannot remember Trump answering a single question about anything. His answers were never real answers. The concept of a plan? He usually just said "we're gonna fix everything magically" in one way or another. There were 0 details. No real answers. Kamala had actual policy, you just ignored it apparently.

And then you put it on her that her followers are anti-male, even if that's the vast minority. You don't seem to use that same standard for Trump, whose extremists are far more mainstream and include Elon Musk, a fucking billionaire who runs the website where most Americans get their news.

I tolerate the memes from both men and women, because I have actual principles. It's fun and you should try it.

I am deranged. Next.

You don't even know the bigger issues exist. You don't even think the abortion restriction is an issue. You've memory-holed Trump attempting to steal the election. I just... don't have much faith in your ability to prioritize these things.

Your current priorities make no fucking sense to me and seem based on your own personal experiences with far-left lunatics. Reactionary politics are not real politics. You're just in your feelings. Radfems are bad, I'm with you on that. Let's not pretend Democrats are some radfem haven. In reality, Democrats are the party of trans rights and they do not give a fuck that you are male. In fact, they see it as an absolute win of their own social policy. You most likely owe the fact that you are able to openly exist to Democrats with or without the capital d, politicians and voters alike.

That's not to say you owe them allegiance btw. I don't mean to imply that. It's just worth thinking about. And obviously, if you're from a different country, it doesn't apply so much.

This is actually wild. And I'm pretty sure nearing illegal. These people want you dead. And they keep yelling out so everyone hears. This is legit advocacy for murder. And for what? Because you can't kill the unborn? Except what changes? Trump said he won't ban abortion. And even SUPPOSING he did it's very likely against the 14th amendment anyways.

And abortion is never life saving. So again. What's your issue? What's so bad you'd advocate for murder? You all belong in a looney bin.

[nostalgia-tblr]

loki/william rufus fic, where bill explains that as the second son he has inherited england while big brother bob only got the duchy of normandy, ha ha ha.

[rragnaroks]

i just realised that it might be a little strange that for a person with limitless creative drive, i have very little creative ambition?

[dee-the-red-witch]

How to ACTUALLY date a trans girl

(This column was originally submitted to Autostraddle as a reply to their "A Trans Guy’s Guide to Picking Up a Trans Girl" but since they've apparently passed on it, it gets to be posted up free everywhere else instead.) Picture this- you’re a trans woman who’s been in transition for three years now. Your dating life has gone from abysmal to amazing in alternate fits and spurts and you’ve found not just one, but three awesome partners despite the many, MANY pitfalls you’ve experienced along the way. And then one day, your social media feeds ping up with screencaps of a guide to picking up girls like yourself. Needing a good laugh, you click through. And read. And proceed to smack your forehead with your own palm in frustration a few times and giggle and some other lines on the first readthrough. But things feel off, so you read again. And begin to seethe. And then start opening up the Word document and start typing frenziedly into it. Because honestly? At the end of the day, as a trans lesbian who dates all sorts of people on non-male parts of the amorphous spectral mass that is Gender, I feel like I’m obligated to. I wanted to go into that first reading and find a column that actually got things right, and this was so far off the mark in the worst ways, so I feel like I have to set some things down on paper. Because this guide reads, in so many ways, like everything my cisfem friends have complained about in the straight dating scene for years. Reading through it that second time, I felt almost the exact same sense of of sheer grease and sleaze that I’ve felt reading incel pickup guides. I felt like I was being seen as a pretty object at best and a disposable sex toy at worst. I wasn’t treated as human. At best it was a bunch of stereotypes, none of which applied to me. But under it all, I saw other bits- the tricks an abuser used to lure me in. The lies my rapist fed me. The excuses made by folks online for why I should be treated like a monster or thing because of my identity. You know, the specific blend of misogyny that singles out transfem identities in general- transmisogyny. And since we’re addressing the elephant in the room, I want to address a few particular points from Gabe’s article before I give you some real idea of how to go about this. And I want to emphasize here- this is after editing out a page of swearing, going over Gabe’s own past history of transmisogynistic writing, and just cutting it down to the actual points where the original article really went wrong, and also pick up a few points at the end that’ll actually work well for trans guys or anyone else who might be interested in a relationship with a trans girl. First off, if you’re trans as well? Stop playing the ‘we’re both trans’ card. ESPECIALLY if you’re coming at it from a ‘Why yes, I used to be a woman’ angle. For one, you’re telling us at the same time that you see us as former men, which is usually very much not the transfem experience (Personally, I always felt like I was putting on a ‘man’ act. All the time. Badly.) and for another, you’re being transphobic to yourself and your own identity. If we’re there to date you, it’s as the man you are- be that guy.

Secondly, just because the trans woman experience shares similarities with the experience you had trying to be a woman up until you came out and transitioned, it also has staggering fundamental differences, and your attempts to relate are going to highlight those differences in ways that aren’t going to work in your favor. We didn’t get to go shopping in public, or if we did, it was fraught with fear at being caught out in the early stages of transition, followed by massive frustrations with both trying to figure out where we fit into women’s sizing. And then discovering that absolutely nothing available in local stores, including thrift shops, would fit right, especially not that cute choker we’d always been drooling over. That nothing smelled right for lotion or perfume because we were dealing with a body chemistry that was going through a slow shift on HRT. And we don’t need or want to be reminded of just how much we stand out from the other girls in those kind of regards.

Also, maybe, just maybe, don’t do things that would get seen as completely misogynistic and creepy if you pulled them on a cisgender woman. Don’t go digging into her socials- stalkers and chasers pull that crap and it’s beyond tiresome. Don’t try to deduce what her pretransition life was like, that’s for her to share, if she chooses to. Don’t see her as a stereotype- some of us never played New Vegas, owned cat ears, or like thigh-highs. On that first date if you ever get there, don’t bring her flowers, lovebomb her like mad, constantly find little ways to touch her, any of that- if she has any experience, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop in response, because she’s had this treatment before and it ended oh so badly. Just be yourself. And get it through your head that the bear is still definitely a choice regardless of everything- after all, we have examples like Gabe to prove that transmisogyny certainly isn’t limited to cis folks.

What should you do? Treat her like any other woman. Treat her like a human being, because we get so little of that, even from the rest of the LGBTQIA+ community. Yes, you’ll more than likely have to take initiative, because we’re used to seeing our attractions, needs, and desires as being perceived as aggressive or predatory by others. When you touch her, do it with assertion and intent- none of the little brushes and stalker moves- ask if you can hold her hand, or put an arm around her, so she knows you actually want to be here and want contact with her. Listen to her, and pay attention- let her be open and honest about her experiences and interests, and remember what she tells you, because she’s going to need to know that she’s wanted and valued for who she is and what she’s into, and it will be part of how she connects to you. And finally? Common sense and communication- every last one of us is different in a lot of ways, and asking or making room to talk about things from physical contact and sex to social activity or group outings or anything else can save a lot of blunders from ever happening. All in all you can and should date trans women! Please! A lot of the best relationships I’ve ever had were with other trans girls and I don’t regret any of those. But you have to put down the pickup guides, stop seeing us as fetish dispensers and sexy lampshades, and actually deal with us as people, first.

[odinsblog]

“I'm observing such a huge gap between different social groups that I didn't even realize were different. I, you know, most of my friends are in the media. A lot of my journalist friends are just much better informed.

A lot of them have had experience reporting in Israel, Palestine, and are quite critical of both Israel and the antisemitism narrative. Then, like, my wife is a lawyer, and her circle is a little bit different, right? It's not dominated by media people, like people in the law or in other professions seem to be broadly much more kind of taken by the sense of profound insecurity and shift in the American Jewish experience.

I think we sort of see different things, for example, when we watch the hearings in Congress on antisemitism on campus.

The university presidents, of which there have now been two hearings, one with three presidents, one with the president of Colombia, and there will be many, many more. And what I see is a right-wing campaign against higher education that is weaponizing antisemitism as an idea, right? Not antisemitism as a practice.

And what they see is, with the possible exception of the president of Colombia, is people who represent institutions or lead institutions that they feel an affinity with, often institutions that they graduated from, who are not standing up for them. Which I find that viewing of those hearings somewhat shocking because people seem to be turning off their critical faculties. But people, intelligent, educated, politically astute people don't turn off their critical faculties unless they're scared.

So I think the underlying fear is real. But just because it's real, it doesn't mean it's justified.

I think a factual account of what we're seeing on campuses now is that this generation of Americans is far more critical of Israel than their parents' generation. And this is true of both Jews and non-Jews. I think that they look at information available to them and they see a 57-year brutal illegal occupation.

And they don't understand how it's possible that their parents and the politicians that their parents support and the politicians who come and give commencement addresses and all that other stuff that I can say about politicians, how it is possible that these people support that state? I think that is an entirely understandable view. It also reflects a huge generation gap.

I think some of those young people are assholes, and some of them are antisemites. I think it's a small minority of the protesters, and it is not actually part of the critique. The protesters' demands, the protesters' organizing beliefs are not in any way or shape antisemitic.

And then there are Jewish students who were brought up Zionist, who were brought up to identify strongly with the state of Israel, who are, I think, a little bit like my cousin in the settlements again. They see these protests, and even probably the participation of their fellow Jewish students in these protests, as threatening their core identity, as threatening their ties to their families, as threatening everything that they were taught for the first 18 years of their lives is true. And of course they feel rattled, of course they feel unsettled, of course they feel threatened.

Like, wouldn't you, if you felt that everything you had believed in was being turned on its head, and if you, by apparently reasonable people? And so you have a couple of options. One is to look at what the protestors are saying, to engage with the facts, to engage with the critique of everything you've ever believed.

There was a terrific, George Curran's podcast a couple of weeks ago with three Columbia students, one of whom sort of narrated that kind of trajectory, getting to university and finding this stuff out and having their mind blown. That's a very difficult path, and it's a very difficult path, especially if you are, say, a first year student in 23, 24.

And then there's the easier path of staying integrated in your community, in your beliefs, and saying this is antisemitic.

Because unfortunately the things that the protestors are talking about are so horrible that you can't say, okay, let's agree to disagree, that you can't hold both of these things in your mind at the same time.

You can't continue to hold your family's uncritical, long-standing support of Israel, and an understanding of what is happening in Gaza and the occupation that has preceded the war in Gaza.

So yeah, of course they feel rattled. That doesn't mean that they're being surrounded by antisemitism.”

—Masha Gessen, the descendant of Holocaust survivors, discusses campus protests (part 3 of 3)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Modern AU where Eddie is a tech repair person at an apple store in Chicago while he tries to make it big with his band and Steve is a spoiled rich kid who is trying to cover up that he's been using his macbook to film for his OnlyFans or something similar and he needs that shit wiped.

Eddie is as professional as he can be, but can't help but be amused at Steve being worried that he's gonna see everything.

S: seriously, just wipe everything. nothing has to be saved. don't even look through each file. just start over. E: okay sure. but you know you could just buy a new laptop. S: my dad checks my credit card statements. E: okay, so tell him you bought it for a friend or something. S: just. can you wipe it? E: yeah i can.

Eddie doesn't let him know that he already has seen everything because of course he subscribes to S.H. and often leaves him bigger tips than he can afford. He doesn't even know why Steve does it since he's apparently rich, or his dad is.

It only takes a few hours to wipe it, and Eddie's grateful he managed to help Steve instead of his coworker who is a certified Creep ™️ who absolutely would have made sure to watch as many of the videos as he could first.

He calls Steve and leaves a message for him that it's done, but doesn't hear back and Steve doesn't come by. He does the same thing again the next day, and the day after that, starting to grow concerned.

He goes so far as to check Steve's OF page, just to see if there's an update, but sees it's been shut down, like it never existed.

He finally caves, does the most unprofessional thing he's ever done, and texts Steve's number from his own phone.

This is Eddie from the apple store. Your laptop's ready. Just want you to know after 30 days we usually get rid of unclaimed items.

There's no response.

But two days later, Steve comes into the store wearing sunglasses and a hat, clearly trying to hide.

When he takes off the sunglasses to sign everything, Eddie sees a healing black eye and swollen nose.

He isn't stupid.

And he suddenly feels extremely protective over him.

E: did your dad find out? S: find out what? E: about your online job? S: how do you know? E: I wasn't gonna say anything, and I swear everything got wiped without anyone including myself seeing, but I do subscribe to you and I recognized you when you came in. S, already having a panic attack: shit no. this is bad. okay you can't say anything about this to anyone. please. E: I wouldn't, I won't. but your dad found out didn't he? he did this to you? S: *nods* E: you safe now? S: *shrugs* E: need a place to stay? S: i've been saving. that's why i did this in the first place. so i can pay rent somewhere. E: I have a second bedroom at my place that just opened up. up to you.

And of course Steve takes it because he's desperate, and doesn't have real world experience with a lot of strangers, but has a good feeling about this.

Eddie finds that Steve is a very typical rich kid; ignorant to a lot of the world's struggles, but not an asshole despite his bitchy attitude sometimes coming out, thinks money can fix everything until Eddie shows him that apologies and a cuddle on the couch can be better.

Steve is so touch starved, he doesn't even realize the way he always folds into Eddie's side when they're just relaxing and watching a movie, or how he always lets his hand brush against his side or hand when Eddie gets home from work. Eddie helps him look for a job, and they find that he loves working at a daycare even though the money isn't that great.

They fall in love so easily, neither of them actually realize it happens until Steve comes home after a very long day before the Christmas holidays, covered in paint stains from crafts with the kids, and Eddie just welcomes him home with a kiss.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

breaking news!

pairing: milf! reader x pre-re2 leon

cws/tags: protected p in v, virginity loss, leon cumming immediately, coming untouched, talking about past somno (implied to be consensual), presumably established relationship, no description of reader beyond cis female who has had a child and is older than leon, reader POV, no use of y/n

summary: leon doesn't wanna die a virgin! shit goes down in july '98 (bizarre murders occur in raccoon city etc. you know the monologue), and leon sees it on the news, decides he's gotta fuck before he becomes a cop fr.

a/n: this is part 3 to cool mom's countdown. i wasn't sure how to tag some stuff bc it's like they're having sex rn but reader is thinking about stuff they've done in the past too, so it's kinda a little time-skipping sometimes. (past things are italicized for your reading pleasure)

wc: 1.7k

taglist: @onlyasimp4-2dbitches @puppedup @nilpill @sya-skies @shiawaseorii

@rigorwhoring @porcelainseashore

@tieabowaroundme @frankieeeeesblog @kerredgraveblog

join my taglist! purchase a commission!

At first, your relationship with Leon made you feel old -- all of the pop culture references you’d make flew over his head, and you realized how out of the loop you were when it came to modern slang when you had to ask Leon for the definition of approximately one word per sentence he spoke. While miscommunications arose through conversations, you were in sync when it came to sex. 

In the proverbial bedroom, Leon made you feel young again. After work one Friday night, you made out on the couch until you insisted that you needed to freshen up before your movie date, and ended up sitting on the bathroom counter with Leon’s head between your thighs, and, to pay him back, you jerked him off in the theater.

You’d been together for a good six months before you finally went all the way. You told Leon from the beginning that you wouldn’t have sex with him until he was 100% sure he was ready. A sweet boy like him deserved to have a good first time. 

After a gourmet meal of macaroni and cheese plus whatever else you could find in the cabinet, the two of you shared a six pack on the back porch while watching the sun set over the suburbs. It was romantic, minus the topic of conversation -- everyone was talking about the bizarre murders in the Arklay Mountains which weren’t far from where you lived. Leon was glued to the TV, watching updates as they appeared on the news over the course of the past week. 

It was disturbing enough to hear the outlandish reports of families being attacked by a group of about 10 people, but the victims were apparently eaten. And, you couldn’t bear the thought of Leon being a member of that STARS team that went missing. 

Leon had always been insistent on joining the force, but being forced to actively accept your own mortality can be a scary experience for even the bravest. However, Leon’s biggest fear wasn’t death itself. 

“I keep seeing those cops on the news -- the ones from the RPD who died and I don’t wanna die a virgin.”

“What?” His train of thought blew past about 10 stops before arriving at its destination, it seemed. You struggled to put the pieces together. 

“That’ll be me pretty soon -- well, not necessarily dead, hopefully not, just part of the RPD, I mean. But, since there’s a real chance I could die, I would like to lose my virginity.”

Talking about death put a bit of a damper on the mood, but Leon could get you riled up in the most inappropriate of situations. 

“I told you we can do it whenever you’re ready,” you said nonchalantly. 

“What I meant was, I’m ready now.”

Your first instinct was to look down towards the front of his jeans. 

“Mentally,” he clarified when he saw you checking for a bulge in his pants. 

You swiftly led him up to your bedroom and by the time your lips were on his neck, he was physically ready for you too. Leon’s a sucker for hickies. Pun intended. 

“It makes me feel like I’m yours,” he mentioned one night, wearing a stupid grin and smudged lipstick - both courtesy of you.   

“You are mine,” you said, cupping his cheek, “and I’m yours.”

“Then, can I give you one too?” 

He shouldn’t. You already felt out of place at the neighborhood book club, and you didn’t want Karen and Cheryl (or whatever their names are) to think you’re a complete whore. 

Fuck it. They could stare all they wanted. Bring on their jealousy-fueled disgust. 

You exposed your neck to Leon and let him suck lightly at the skin. As it turned out you liked them quite a bit too. 

When you told Leon he was yours and vice versa, you meant it, but tonight you were really going to seal the deal. 

It was a dance of tipsy fumbling around as one’s first time should be. Giggling while barely holding yourselves back from ripping each other’s clothes off. 

“You’re so needy,” you whispered into his ear, though you were the one palming him through his underwear. 

“No... you’re just hot... I can’t help being like this around you.”

“Yeah? Then how do you think I feel around a handsome young man like you?” You took his hand and gently guided him to feel your arousal through your panties. 

He inhaled sharply, and you felt his needy cock twitch against your hand which had yet to slip inside his boxers. Poor thing, he was always so desperate. 

Not that you minded – not even when you’d wake up in the middle of the night to him rutting his hips into you from behind. He did this often in his sleep – he thought it was embarrassing, but you thought it was endearing. He’d mumble your name and coax your hand back to his hard-on if you ever dared to retract it. 

Leon hooked his fingers in the fabric of your panties and slid it to the side, teasing your folds with his touch. 

In retaliation and reward, you took his length in your hand, planning to give him the same languid, tantalizing strokes he was giving you. But he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. 

“Wait-” he said, breath shaky with what you assumed to be nerves.

You backed off completely. “Leon, I’m so sorry. If you’re not ready tonight, we can do this some other-”

“-I’m ready, too ready. Just thinking about getting to be inside you is making me feel... really good already, so, um, if you touch me like that, I might not be able- I might cum before I can actually... you know...”

“Fuck me?” God, it was so cute how flustered he’d get over the simplest things. 

“Yeah, fuck you.” He couldn’t curse in front of you without blushing. It took him a while to adjust to calling you by your first name instead of ‘ma’am’, so you couldn’t blame him for feeling awkward cursing around you. The redness in his cheeks only rose when he realized how his statement - fuck you - could’ve been interpreted. 

“No, wait, not fuck you, I mean, I wanna fuck you... in a good way. I wanna make you feel good,” he clarified.

“Then come here,” you lied back on the bed and beckoned him closer. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Typical. You had to resist the urge to call him a ‘good boy’, knowing those words alone might make him cum in his pants. 

It wouldn’t be the first time. Once, while he was going down on you -- on his knees at the edge of your bed, his favorite position -- you told him how he was such a good boy for making you feel so good, and though his hands remained gripping your thighs, holding them open so he could bury his face in your cunt, your orgasm triggered his, and he came completely untouched. 

You grabbed a condom from your bedside table -- you were on the pill, and neither of you were seeing anyone else, but you were pretty sure that his cock wouldn’t make it inside you if you told him he could fuck you raw -- and you handed him the packet. 

“Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah, they made us try putting them on bananas in health class.”

“Thank your health teacher for me, then, will you?”

“Um, I don’t know if Mr-”

“I’m kidding, baby.”

“This is no time for joking around. You’re breaking my concentration,” he said, but his smile betrayed any facade of seriousness. 

When he successfully put it on, you said, only half-joking, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

“Don’t say that,” he said -- no, whined. 

“Why not?”

“Gonna make me cum too quick.”

If only he knew that his bashfulness, his pretty, whiny voice, and his desperation were going to make you cum quicker than you usually would. 

“Okay. I won’t say anything.”

“At least tell me if I’m doing it right, like, if I’m putting it in the right hole.”

“You’re doing fine so far.”

He nodded and took a breath before positioning himself at your entrance. When he pressed the tip inside you, you moaned simultaneously. You wanted to beg him to keep going, you wanted to feel all of him, but you knew you needed to let him set the pace. 

“You feel so good, you’re so tight...” His thoughts were mostly tame, things you’d heard men say before but he was so genuine, couldn’t even help running his mouth -- until his words were reduced to nothing but moans. Pornographic, pathetic, sexy. 

When he’d finally buried himself to the hilt, he stilled his hips, keeping both of your orgasms at bay. Your hands never left his body because you couldn’t get enough of him, not even when he was entirely inside you. You thought you were being gentle but the marks left on his skin said otherwise. 

Eventually, he began to thrust in and out of you slowly, and you could see that he was holding himself back. 

“Leon, baby, you know you can go as slow or as fast as you want, yeah?”

“I wanna go faster but if I do, I’m gonna cum,” he said as if that wouldn’t be the hottest thing he could do. 

“Yeah? I wanna see you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, really? Already?” 

He didn’t wait for a response before he increased the pace of his thrusts rapidly, his hips leading and his mind following. 

You tried to answer, but he was brushing against that sensitive spot inside you over and over again, so all you could manage was an ‘uh-huh’. 

Frantically, he said, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” with a mixture of pleas and apologies. Neither of which you needed. 

When he came, he threw his head back and let out an unbridled moan followed by labored breaths. 

The sight of him sent you over the edge, scrambling for something to hold onto, your nails dug into his back. You nearly screamed his name as you shuddered through your high. 

When you returned to reality, you saw complete bewilderment on Leon’s face. “Did you just cum?”

“Uh, yeah?” you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as you said it. 

“I made you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

Flopping down next to you, satisfied with himself, he asked, “Can we do that again?”

“Like right now?”

“Yeah, that was amazing.”

And you couldn’t agree more.

[l-in-the-light]

Luffy's and Law's similarities

Because people always talk only about their differences, time to do the uno reverse! You might be surprised how many there are, actually.

Snapping at exactly same thing.

Snapping at same stuff again, because sometimes they share exactly the same brain cell. Even their face expressions are exactly the same in both examples lol.

Whenever Law actually loosens his guard, he reacts in exact same ways as Luffy does.

They both have a very similar experience with their mentors sacrificing themselves for them and same selfblaming reaction. This serves mostly as a prologue because we will compare how child Law and child Luffy behaved.

Both were reckless brats with very wrong self-harming ideas to get what they want.

They hate "dirty tricks" and being lied to. And easily lash out.

Their initial reaction to making fun of someone tripping/being pushed on the floor or making fun of anyone. Also standing there in exact same pose with their fists clenched.

"I will go find a real role model", same vibes here honestly.

"You will pay for this" mentality. They were also both literally thrown which endagered their lives and they both can't believe it's actually happening, that anyone would do something like that. Also bonus points for swearing child Luffy haha.

Both consider some people to be just total scums that deserve punching. Bad guys should be taught a lesson. Law at least managed to land a stab, so 1:0 for him.

This is intriguing. This is the last time Law asks someone for help. And last time Luffy asks someone to help him. Both seem to be convinced "asking for help" caused their loved ones to get hurt, so you will never hear them do it again. The only difference here is Law is asking to help Corazon, while Luffy is the one who needs the help.

Later on Luffy is taught to ask for help by Vivi in Drum Kingdom, but he isn't asking for himself, but to help Nami. Meanwhile Law never again uses the polite words. The most he is capable of is to ask Cavendish "tanomu" which is more like "I'm counting on you".

Both sit in same pose whenever Law isn't trying to impersonate Corazon's style (yes, Law mimicks Cora a lot, also in the way he walks). At least once he slipped and sat in the way he found naturally comfortable instead and it was exactly same way as Luffy's preferred sitting position. What a curious coincidence.

Another funny thing about them is that they both like to wear exactly same type of shoes they used to wear as a child, Luffy the sandals, and Law his dark boots. It's not really that common thing in the manga, for example, Nami and Zoro didn't stick to same type of shoes they used to wear when they were kids.

They also sleep in exactly same position, the infamous T-pose. For comparison, the rest of the Strawhats all have their own different sleeping positions (first from the right is Usopp ofc lol).

They also match each other's pace pretty well. "Let's go, Torao!" and "Ike!" as Law's answer which literally means just "Go!", because Traffy is ready too, no need to stall back.

And finally my favourite:

If Law wasn't under Corazon's "calm" spell, would his laugh sound familiar? Perhaps would it be "shishishi" we know so well? Of course that's the last time Law laughs like that, so we can't compare him laughing when he's an adult. Families in One Piece often share similar laughs, it seems. Unless you're a devil fruit user, that also changes your laughter apparently hm.

There's probably even more similarities between their behaviour, thinking patterns and expressions than I managed to find. I find it suspicious considering those two did not grow up together, so why are they so similar when they're both children?

I dunno if whole D. clan is an actual family, but I think Law and Luffy definitely had a shared ancestor and probably not that far in the past. Very curious since they're from East Blue and North Blue, the two seas mentioned to be the hardest to travel from one another.

Many people speculated Dragon isn't related to Garp or Luffy because they don't really look that much alike, but if you compare Monkey, Trafalgar and Gol family members together you can start to see some pattern emerging: they all have naturally black ruffled hair Potter-family style (you're welcome for that comparison you never wanted to notice and now you can't unsee haha). I wonder if Joyboy will also be revealed of sporting similar style of hair.

[sirfrogsworth]

Dinner with John

In a little test to make sure my heart is doing better (it seems to be doing much better so far), I decided to reconnect with one of my oldest friends. John and I met for dinner at this really cool restaurant that I had no idea existed.

It's like, just on a street, in a neighborhood, not too far from my house. I parked in front of some dude's lawn.

I didn't realize such a thing was possible these days. Most places are moving out of the area. It was also a bit jarring to be next to people's houses and going to a restaurant and then across the street is one of the biggest churches I've ever seen.

After "Here is the church" they decided to really overdo "HERE IS THE MOTHERFUCKIN' STEEPLE!!!"

They probably didn't curse though.

Or maybe they did.

That could have been Our Lady of the Rancid Tongue and their greeting could be "Praise Jesus and fuck you."

Probably not.

And then the restaurant, Hendel's, was a real treat. Just a very cool vibe. I couldn't figure out how to actually enter the place as the front door was inaccessible.

Thankfully John knew to go through the rear. The church is probably really judgy about that.

I'm getting a lot of jokes out of this church.

On the side of the building they have a really cool mural...

But, apparently, they didn't care for the aesthetic of the power meters so they painted those to match the brick.

Which I thought was quite clever.

When we were ordering I had already decided I was going to get a birthday steak in honor of my dad. Every year on my birthday he would grill me a steak. And though it is about a month late, I still wanted to make that happen.

But then John said he was paying.

And I said, "You can't pay, I'm getting a steak."

And he said, "I can get you a steak."

And then I felt guilty for not just ordering a water and eating bread. (I was raised to be highly embarrassed by generosity. But I'm working on it.)

When the waiter asked how I wanted my steak done I asked, "What is the least amount you can cook it?" And then he said, "We can do rare." And I was like, "I would like it rare." And then the waiter gave me a look as if to say, "Are you sure about that?" But when one asks a question like that, there is an assumed level of certainty that you want your steak to moo when it arrives.

We bonded over both losing our dads. Sometimes it is nice when you have a shared experience, even if it is a sad one, to just be able to talk without the bullshit. On occasion, dealing with people who aren't sure what to say can drain the emotional batteries. And when you have someone who... just knows... it is a lot easier.

It was a nice night out. I realized it was my first time in a restaurant in over a decade. And I had just enough energy to make it through dinner. I had been working on my house all week and I was dangerously close to using up what last bit of energy I had. Which is why I collapsed into bed immediately after getting home and have stayed there since Thursday night.

But as the folks at OLRT would say, "Fuck the consequences, I had fun. Praise the goddamn Lord."

[deadandphilgames]

A note from Daniel (new epilogue from You Will Get Through This Night)

Thank you for reading This Night. Writing this book in 2021, while sitting locked down in a lightless basement apartment for months, had a certain self-fulfilling irony that was not lost on me.

In many ways, I wrote this book for not only my past self that I wish could have known these things when I needed them most - but for the guy sitting in an incredibly uncomfortable, hunched, t-rex-esque position typing, that needed it right then. Like many of you, I thought those particularly fun couple of years were a temporary inconvenience, that I wouldn't have to age the book by diving into. And here we are. I hope you enjoyed that new chapter about resilience and whatever the hell a 'polycrisis' is. Turns out certain global events do have an additional effect on our mental health - it's understandable that you may try to power through it and pretend it never happened, but we all deserve to take whatever time we need to honestly process how life makes us feel. I hope you're doing alright. My journey of reflecting honestly on my own life experiences and lifestyle while writing was …like spontaneously punching yourself in the stomach. "Wow. I really live like this? That is apparently not conducive to a healthy mind. Oops. Guess I'll go touch some grass." I'm happy if that made this a more entertaining read occasionally.

Even now, I find myself continually re-reading the book in those small moments of first emotional reaction to situations where I now at least think "Wait - what was I supposed to do here? Right. Not catastrophise." If this is you - that is fine. You are not expected to perfectly memorise this book or retain all knowledge you hear in life. I know I don't. If you're ever sat next to me in the emergency exit aisle of a plane, know that you may be required to physically throw me out of the door in order to inflate the slide because I was busy during the briefing, imagining how my life would have been different if I actually had the nerve to dye my hair black that time in school. I am at peace with that.

It was honestly terrifying for me to try and mine the content of my life to try and actually illustrate advice for people that may really need it …for me to honestly look at the balance between joking about my mental health, and really getting real. Hey - if your attempt at opening up via some humour comes out a bit offensive, you still get points for at least putting it on the table. That's progress.

This is not a book about me. I am here just as an example of terrible behaviour that you have permission to have an inappropriate public transport snort at, and as a writer who has repeatedly not finished traditional 'self-help' or scientific study books for being dry, unrelatable and preachy. I just hope you found this moist, identifiable and accepting of all of your beautiful flaws. So many flaws. I often worried if any of the material was maybe obvious, or something you could stumble across on the second page of Google - then I had a small moment of honesty with myself contemplating my own ignorance, commitment to procrastination, attention span …and the fact that factually just 0.63% of all people searching online, ever bother clicking to the second page of results. If you already knew some of this, good for you. Honestly. You must literally be happy with yourself. I'm just looking in the mirror and trying to do something for the 99.37% of humanity that spend their lives never successfully researching how to not lay awake at night fantasising about their doom. Look forward to the upcoming pocket size book of 'offensively self-destructive jokes' by Dan - or 700-page memoir of my yet un-girthy, mostly unremarkable life so far if that's what you're really looking for.

Perhaps the most terrifying result of releasing this book into the world, has been coming face to face with those of you that have read it. For in these moments, all of my protective self-deprecating persona comes crashing down in an instant when someone says this book made them feel better. Hearing that this book was the first time they finished anything tangentially related to self-improvement, or that just one thing they read was a new perspective on a part of their life they needed, makes me feel my mission in life is already complete. Seeing it be recommended by bookstores amongst all the other choices, hearing that people have shared it with their therapists or had it suggested to them by a professional, is an unbelievable seal of approval that I appreciate. I am so inarticulably grateful to have been given the opportunity to do anything that could make your life easier, more peaceful, more enjoyable. I've met people who annotated this book with post-its, told me they listen to audiobook exercises on their commute - and even a few people that have had illustrations tattooed onto them as a symbolic reminder of a message.

All of this puts that year of typing like some kind of infinite monkey at a typewriter into perspective. I'd do it all again. Mostly. It has been the greatest privilege of my life to be the guy whose name is printed on this book, and I just hope that reading it helped you, as much as writing it helped me.

Love and good luck.

- Dan

[rarilight]

Tamagotchi - Ficlet ft. Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy

PROMPT: Fluttershy asks Twilight to bring back her Tamagotchi pet after it accidentally dies

-----

When Fluttershy barged into Golden Oaks, reduced to tears, Twilight Sparkle feared the worst. Somepony had upset her sensitive friend, or a book she'd lent her had been accidentally too sad, or worse, one of Fluttershy's animals had died.

Which they had. Sort of. Kind of.

"Please, Twilight," Fluttershy sniffed, dabbing at her puffy eyes with a tissue. "Please, t-there must be something you can do! I've only had Sorbet for a week, and I promise I've taken good care of him, and--"

Twilight pursed her lips, hesitantly looking over the small purple electronic Tamagotchi. "One minute, let me see what I can do." She turned away from Fluttershy, fiddling with it for a moment before determining that, unfortunately, the battery was likely faulty.

"Well?" Fluttershy pressed. "Did you find out what's wrong?"

"I... I think so, yes," Twilight replied, still looking over the device. "The battery is shot. It's an easy fix, and I even have spares to give you, but... Well. The internal memory of these things usually rely on the battery, so--" She turned around to look at Fluttershy, her sentence petering out at the hopeful expression on her friend's face.

"So?" Fluttershy asked, her ears alert. "So you can bring Sorbet back?!"

Twilight smiled. Awkwardly.

"Ha ha. Well. Er."

Fluttershy's ears fell. Tears bordered her eyes anew. "....Twilight?"

"Yes!" Twilight lied, because she couldn't bring herself to tell Fluttershy that Sorbet was gone.”He’ll be there, just like always!”

“Really?!” Fluttershy gasped.

“Yes! Yep. Yes.” Twilight immediately levitated the Tamagotchi over to a bookcase. “Though, I, uh, need to keep him overnight just to make sure he’ll be okay. Alright?” At Fluttershy’s effusive nodding, Twilight apparated a notebook and pen. “And, uh, why don’t you, er, write down all the information you remember about him? Just so I can make sure the coding didn’t change.”

“Of course!” Fluttershy grabbed the notebook and immediately got to work. “Oh, thank you, Twilight!”

----

It was about three in the morning when Twilight Sparkle finally decided it was time to pass the torch. With bleary, tired eyes, she blinked at the details Fluttershy’d written, and then looked at the creature she’d been painstakingly grinding for hours. It had taken her about sixty-eight reboots to get a creature with the same shape, color, nature, gender, and preferences as the original Sorbet, and she’d only just gotten to the halfway point of matching its experience levels to the original’s. 

Thank Celestia for the book she’d read on using magic to hack devices. There was no other way she’d been able to bypass the time-locked events otherwise. 

To the sound of a big yawn, she walked towards the bed, tiredly rubbing the snoring blanketed lump on the couch. 

“Rarity, it’s your turn.”

“Sssssnore.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Rarity.”

“SSSSSNOOOOORE.”

“Come on! Up! Why did you send Fluttershy to get my help if you don’t like my solution?” Twilight chided, far too tired for shenanigans. “And stop that, we both know you don’t snore!”

“SSSSNOOOO—” The blanket came off, and a weary Rarity glared at her friend. “Fine, fine!” She magically snatched the Tamagotchi and frowned at it. “This is ridiculous, Twilight! It’s just a game! Sorbet isn’t even real!”

Twilight arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you want to tell Fluttershy that?”

Rarity looked away. “...No.”

“That’s what I thought. So, go!” She collapsed onto the couch and covered herself with blanket. “Level twenty-three. Six gifts pending. The complete sunflower outfit.”

“But the minigame is so difficult, and we already have the hat! Isn’t that enou—”

“Complete. Sunflower. Outfit.”

“But—!”

“SNOOOOORE!!!!”

----

“Oh, Twilight!” Fluttershy exclaimed the very next day, her eyes now filled with happy tears as she pressed button on her little device. “He’s fine! I’m so relieved!” She brought the device to her face and nuzzled it. “Oh, Sorbet, I’m so happy!”

“And everything is as you remember?” Twilight asked, the bags under her eyes matching the ones of Rarity, who was napping on the couch. “Not that it would be different, obviously! Because it’s the same Sorbet as always.”

“He’s just like always,” Fluttershy reassured her, allowing Twilight to finally relax. Or, well, until Fluttershy frowned, peering at her electronic friend. “Oh, that’s strange.”

“Strange?” Twilight asked, alert. “What is?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Oh. It’s just… His favorite fruit was oranges, but now it’s apples?”

“He changed his mind,” Rarity said, immediately, without even missing a beat or even turning around on the couch to look. 

Fluttershy looked at her friends, surprised. “He changed his min—?”

“Yep!” Twilight interrupted. “Yep. They do that. Yep.”

“But he really loved orang—”

“Darling!” Rarity continued. “Considering your crush on dear Applejack, it’s only natural he’d switch to apples, yes? Yes,” she interrupted, poor Fluttershy’s cheeks turning thirty different shades of red. “Problem solv—”

Twilight blinked at Fluttershy. “You have a crush on Applejack?”

“Rarity!” a flustered Fluttershy gasped in return.

“SSSSSNOOOOOOOORE….”

[iamthat-iam]

Real vs Unreal 🤯

Jade has been in the LOA community for over a year now. It opened her up to many different possibilities, such as shifting to the MCU (Marvel Universe) where she is a superhero with super strength, super speed, and the ability to fly.

Everyday when she wakes up, and before she goes to bed, she does an intense visualization of this reality. Each time she does it, her "current reality" seems to disappear, until she opens her eyes. She knows that she's so close yet so far from shifting there! She decides to go on Tumblr and ask for advice.

She comes across some intriguing ND posts that say "You must collapse the duality between physical vs imagination and real vs unreal" and "All experiences are the same, no matter the label. Seeing a car in a 'daydream' is no different than seeing one 'in real life.'"

This seems to be different than what she learned from LOA, with the existence of a 3D/4D and 'fulfilling your imagination until it shows up in the physical.' She sends a blogger a question out of curiosity.

"Hi! I know that this is not a shifting blog, but I wanted clarification on a few things. For over a year now, I've been trying to shift to the Marvel Universe, where I'm a superhero with powers. Everyday I do a visualization where I am experiencing these things. I just saw your post that says all experiences are the same, and how seeing something in imagination is the same as real life. Does this mean the whole time I was visualizing myself in that reality, I was already experiencing that? It was real? I also want to know how imagination and physical are the same. Thank you." She inquired.

The blogger responds with, "Yes you already experienced it. The reason why there's no physical vs imagination is because your awareness, your true nature, is present during all appearances that come and go. We've just labelled certain appearances real or not real based on certain ideas we picked up through life. For example, many people think that experiences are only real when you are awake and you seem to be living through the 5 senses. They were also taught that things like fairies, dragons, supernatural abilities aren't real, so when they hear stories about people experiencing those things, it's a huge shock for them. But in reality, nothing is objectively real or unreal, all experiences are possible for awareness. You (as awareness, THAT, or " ") are the ONLY thing that is truly real. As the ultimate authority, only you can decide what is "true" for you or not."

Jade decides to take some time to really think about what this blogger said. Everything they said is a complete 180 from what Jade thought she knew about life and how reality works. So that means this entire time, she was already in the MCU? And the MCU is apparently just as real as what Jade calls "real life?" That is truly an interesting concept to ponder! The one thing that has Jade stumped, however, is the fact that she opens her eyes and continues to see her old life. She goes back to the blogger to ask about this.

"That's really interesting how I already experienced being in the MCU! So this technically means I can tell someone I "shifted" there, and they couldn't accuse me of lying? Also, I'm a bit confused on why whenever I open my eyes after visualizing, I still see my old life," She questioned the blogger.

"To answer your first question, no, they can't accuse you of 'lying' because that was a valid experience for you. The idea that you have to experience "shifting symptoms" or enter the void state to "experience another world" is limiting, and creates a barrier between you and whatever you want to experience. This is no disrespect to that community, if they want to "shift" or "enter the void state" to experience things, that is totally up to them. But ND is about not labelling experiences, and not treating them as if they are separate from you. All experiences are yours. It's natural for you, as an omnipotent being, to experience whatever you want instantly. As for why your "old life" continues to appear, there is no old life. There's no experience A turning into experience B, it's all nothingness. You said you visualized being in the MCU, have you noticed that the "old life" seems to disappear and you're totally focused on the visualization? That's because the "old life" never was in the first place!" The blogger explained.

That response made everything click for Jade. She finally feels free enough to experience the MCU universe or any other universe whenever she wants! "Thank you so much! This was very helpful and empowering!" She thanked the blogger.

And so Jade became the superhero she always wanted to be.

[romanoffsbish]

Clandestine Meetings

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Prompts / Request

 “Go and lock the door for me.  I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

 “Go get one of your toys.  Let’s make this even better.”

“Is that gonna fit?”  “I’ll make it fit.”

Warnings: Jealousy, Emotionally Stunted Natasha

Smut: Natasha has a penis, Daddy(N), Detka/Whore(R), Nipple Clamps, Vibrating Egg, Oral(R), Unprotected Sex/Breeding, Choking, Edging/Teasing, Orgasm Denial.

18+ | Minors DNI

"I want love Nat, you just want a quick fuck."

The words you whispered to her over a month ago have been bouncing around her mind the entire time, plaguing her very soul. It got to the point where while away on her mission she couldn't even focus on the objective anymore.

Who were you to just come to a conclusion like that without so much as a conversation?

——

Not a, "Nat, we need to talk," or a "I'm not sure we want the same things Nat, correct me if I'm wrong here," and she would've corrected you. Because you were so far off base, all Natasha wanted was to love you, she just didn't know how to do that outside of worshipping you in deeply passionate moments that usually ended just as fast as they began, and left you alone.

Now here you lay on the compounds couch in your sleep shorts, a sight the redhead would love to see every morning in her own room. Waking up beside you would be a dream new experience, potentially challenging, but she knows that she'd grow to love the situation.

Natasha already loved you—desperately so.

The only obstacle here had been her inability to make her loving intentions clear to you. She'd always been a bit more on the vulgar side, and you seemed into it for awhile, but one random night you shoved her away and that was just it.

As soon as she figured herself out, she was going to make things right with you. But there was apparently a new obstacle, because right now your head was settled into another's lap.  Carol was listening to you ramble on while mindlessly stroking your cheek. Natasha envied the blonde's ability to offer such an intimate moment without any real effort.

When she saw how much the woman enjoyed your presence she felt her heart shattering into tiny, jagged pieces. With her jaw clenched she rushed out of the kitchen and went straight to her room where she allowed a stray tear to fall. Then she reached for her phone, and sent you a text message: Meet me in my room in 5 !

Carol smiled down at you knowingly when she heard the ding of your phone, "I told you to go after her Y/N, she didn't seem very pleased."

"Yeah, and I don't give a fuck," you huffed, arms crossing over your chest, and the blonde cackled wildly at the sign of faux indifference before she returned to a more serious state.

"Y/N, ever since she's been gone all you've done is mope around this place, but oh look, the day she's back you suddenly appear before me with a sunny disposition and expect me not to see right through it? Answer her text and maybe even go get laid, you're insufferable."

"Carol," you groaned, hands flying to your face to hide the mortification in your eyes at the brutal call out, "She doesn't want me," you pouted, "at least not in the way I want her to."

"Did she say that?" Carol asks while lazily drawing circles on your shoulder to calm you.

"She didn't have to say it out loud..."

"Oh Y/N," she tilted your head so you would be facing her, she caressed your cheek then spoke, "Natasha isn't exactly known for expressing her feelings in ways that make sense, so how about you put your big girl pants on, and force her to say the words she couldn't manage to before."

You huffed while glaring up at her, knowing she was right, but in the same breath you snatched your phone up, and read the message while rolling your eyes, a bitter chuckle leaving you as you saw the song that happened to have been softly playing at the time of arrival.

After a moment of soul searching you took off to her bedroom in a frenzied ball of nerves. Entering her space felt both comfortingly familiar, and extremely uneasy. Seeing her sat on the bed in sweats with her legs manspread, leaning back on her exposed muscular arms as she wore a cami without a bra you felt your body tingle with need, and your mouth go dry.

With a sly smirk, and a crook of her finger you made your way further into the room, but she left you to be blanketed in an awkward silence. It was clear she didn't actually expect you to be here, and now that you were she was weighing out her options, but just like usual, she was not able to articulate the right words like: I missed you, I love you, or please, don't leave again...

"Go and lock the door for me. I don't want anyone to walk in while I'm balls deep," the redhead commanded dryly, and though the thought of her inside you alone nearly brought you to your knees, you rolled your eyes instead and went to hurriedly walk away again.

Natasha ran after you, catching you by the wrist to prevent you from leaving, "Y/N, stop doing this okay," she pinched the bridge of her nose, and softly sighed, "I don't know how to do all of this, vulnerability isn't my strong suit, okay? Just let me show you instead..."

You furrowed your brows, and she sighed exasperatedly, "Give me a chance, please."

Saying no to her would be in vain, because it was all you wanted to finally be beneath her, so you nodded without really much hesitation.

Natasha leaned in to kiss you, the first time in your whole arrangement that she'd done it with any semblance of care present. Normally it's all teeth clashing, and tongues sloppily gliding over the other while she brought you to bliss.

Up until now Natasha has only ever offered you quick moments, with only her hands or mouth diligently bringing you over that glorious edge. Never had she actually shown you tenderness, but more importantly, she had yet to fuck you with the bulge poking you through her pants.

Natasha wasn't ready to give you all of her, it was actually something she'd never done with another person that she loved before. She's screwed girls before, usually as a means to an end, with their faces smushed into a mattress, but she couldn't bring herself to do it with you. No matter how desperate she was for release after hearing and seeing you come undone for her, or how prettily you'd beg to help her out each time, she just couldn't cross that line.

But now, she knew it was all she could do to make sure you understand, that you feel her in every sense possible, and feel her love for you.

"Na-Natasha," breathlessly you stuttered out her name as your hips reflexively canted into hers, "I need you daddy, please, fill me up."

Natasha groaned, pulling away from your lips she smirked devilishly, you could see the flicker of mischief in her gaze as she leaned down to suck a mark onto your smooth skin, "Go get one of your toys. Let's make this even better."

The knob twisted in her hands this time, she watched in amusement as you scurried across the hall to your room in your mussed up state.

"Look at how desperate you already are detka," she slammed you back into the door as soon as you crossed the threshold, the door slammed close with the impact and you moaned weakly.

Surveying the items in your hands she softly chuckled, "Oh, you're in for it now Y/N, gonna give you all of me so you can finally understand what my true intentions with you are."

This time when she kissed you it was with a bit of urgency, her hands contrastingly gripped your hips softly, and without ever breaking the kiss she walked your body over to the mattress. Natasha lowered you down gently, and as she rose back up she collected the nipple clamps and the vibrating bullet from your hands.

"May I?" Natasha gestured to your body, and you smiled gratefully, no matter how quickly she usually took you, she'd always been keen on hearing consent. "Please, do it already."

The sleep clothes were quickly discarded, and her lips latched onto your risen buds instantly. Her tongue rolled around your nipple slowly, causing your breath to shallow as you were overrun with pleasurable anticipation. After a moment she released your nipple with a pop, giving you only seconds to adjust to the chill on your wetted skin before she attached a clamp.

Natasha caught your hand before it could mindlessly tug the clamp off, "It's okay detka," she shushed you softly, tenderly smiling down at you as she slid her fingers between yours, "You're okay," she gently brushed her lips over your knuckles before laying your interlocked hands on top of the mattress. A whimper left you as you were overrun with a overdue sense of comfort from her, then you were moaning when her lips returned to your heated skin.

"I'm going to ruin you Y/N," she growled around your other nipple before she bit into the hypersensitive skin, "No one will ever touch you again after I leave a mark on what's mine."

"Say it," she growled as she hovered over you, but before you could even try she was clamping your sore bud, effectively making you wince.

"Oh shit," you gasped when she gave the chain a harsh tugging to ensure it was properly attached, the accompanying pain was dizzying.

"I asked you to say something," she leered over you, hand now wrapped around your throat in a way that not only intimidated you but left you absolutely dripping onto her expensive sheets.

Natasha watched your brainless eyes searching for a response, it took you a minute, but you were finally about to open your mouth, but all that came out was a lewd moan as she pressed the vibrating egg into your slicked up cunt.

"Come on now detka, you know I don't like to be made to wait," she tightened her hand around your throat, something that only ever adds to your pleasure, and she knew that, it was honestly her favorite, slowly draining the life from you as she brought your body to euphoria, only to spare you in the last second.

She was a bit of a sadist. You didn't mind...

Something about that control was exhilarating, seeing your eyes grow hazier with every second as you harshly choked never failed to make her cock twitch. Maybe it was the underlying way in which you trusted her to never go too far, it had her overwhelmed with unwavering joy.

After allowing you a moment of pure bliss she deemed it enough, so she tore it away from you, ripping the vibe out of you and watching in amusement as your eyes filled with tears, and your lip was now caught between your teeth, "Daddy no, please, I-I was so close."

Your whimpering always affected her greatly, she gets off to the memory of you begging all the time, so it's no surprise to her that her cock was painfully straining against her boxers.

"Whores that forgot how to speak don't get to cum!" Natasha spat, the underlying tone full of pain telling you she meant more than in this moment, your constant distancing hurt her.

"Natty," you tried to apologize, but she only grew angrier, her hand harshly gripped your face, and she hovered over you with a furious gaze, you hated to admit it but it sent a pang of arousal down to your already dripping cunt, "That's not my fucking name slut, try again."

"Daddy," you whimpered, and she softened momentarily as she leaned in to kiss your lips, "Better, but I no longer want to hear you, so lets shut that pretty brain of yours off," she pecked your lips once more before her lips trailed down your body in quick succession.

The sound of buzzing as she now faced your cunt left you with widened eyes, this new dynamic was throwing you off honestly. So used to a quick release this newfound joy of hers spurring from teasing you was alarming. You began to wonder if the loveless sex was better, but deep down you knew it wasn't, especially when she edged you so deliciously.

Natasha held the vibe just out of reach of your clit, a test of sorts that she wanted you to fail. "Daddy's gonna get a taste now detka," she murmured against the lush skin of your thighs as she moved to further mark her territory.

After minutes of torture, where she barely swiveled the egg over your bundle of nerves you finally caved and canted your hips up. Natasha bit harshly into your thigh, blaming you for moving as she moved to hover over your face, "There's a time and a place for your pleasure, and this isn't it, now stay still Y/N!"

"Sorry daddy," you sniffled wetly, drawing her back out of her lust driven haze, and the sight of you so broken was honestly picturesque, it brought a lopsided smirk to her plump lips.

Natasha usually moved only to please you, but in this moment, she wanted you desperate. So needy, hopelessly dependent upon her touch, this way you'll never look for anyone else again. Looking into your eyes now she saw that was already your truth, you were so lost in the pleasure that she was hardly giving, "It's okay detka, you know daddy will take care of you."

Natasha kissed you until you were breathless, then when you were reduced to a heaving mess she returned to your thighs, she placed a few soft kisses there before finally diving into you.

With the vibrator pressed firmly into your clit, and her tongue deep inside you it was all you could do to make a mess of her face, a scream of pleasure echoed off her walls, and Natasha pulled back with an accomplished smile. The sight of her as your slick was dripping down her chin made your body shiver, that unraveled coil started to retighten, and your hazy eyes slammed shut as you tried to calm down.

Natasha teasingly rutted her hips into yours, you could feel her straining against her boxers when she stilled, and you couldn't help but to squirm when she made no move to fuck you.

Natasha chuckled as she felt your desperation, she softly continued to push her sizable bulge down against your slit, the irritating fabric separating your sexes actually brought you a slice of pleasure when it grazed over your clit. It would never be enough though, your hips began to jerk up to meet hers, desperation fueling you, and Natasha could feel it wholly.

She truly loved teasing you, feeling the way your aromatic slick soaked through her boxers, it only became too much for her once you were whining pitifully in her ear, making her twitch without reprieve, so without much warning she jumped up, leaving you to cry at the loss of friction, but the protests died on your tongue when you saw her dick spring free, it was huge.

"Is that gonna fit?" you visibly gulped, wide eyes watching as the tip of her cock hit her abdomen as she slowly sauntered over to you with an obnoxiously hot smirk overtaking her face as she hovered over you, "I'll make it fit."

Her lips pressed to yours, instinctually yours parted, Natasha's tongue slid into your mouth as her tip pushed passed your entrance, and you latched onto her tongue as you moaned. A shiver ran down the redheads spine when your walls simultaneously squeezed her thick shaft making it near impossible for her to fill you up.

The way that your warmth enveloped her cock made her fearful that she'd bust without even thrusting as she bottomed out, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're taking me so well detka."

Her hand sought yours out for grounding, and when you felt her interlock her fingers with yours again your eyes fluttered open to see her deepened green pair staring back into yours. The eye contact was intense, and arousing, but incredibly hard to keep when you felt her begin to thrust slowly, and relatively deeply into you.

"Keep em open," Natasha panted, your eyes slowly fluttered back open, fighting against the insurmountable pleasure, "Wanna see you."

It was a struggle, but you somehow managed to keep your eyes partially open for the ferocious women pounding into you with strong hips. The brutal pace she set was building you up quick, you never knew how much you needed her until now, she felt too good, the way she stretched you out left you gasping, and with every thrust her bulbous tip drove you wild.

With her hand in yours, and eyes locked you were overwhelmed by a love you were truly convinced didn't exist. The one that pulsed inside you the closer she got to her release, the love she needed verbally reciprocated to finish, "Say it detka," Natasha whispered breathlessly just as she twitched inside of you, "Please..."

"I'm yours Nat," you dopily confirmed with an amused tone, the moment was however short lived as a scream was torn from your throat, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she let go inside of you, hot spurts of white filled your womb to the brim, and your body trembled without reprieve. "I-I need you Y/N, please don't leave me again, I'll do better..."

"Nat," you managed to squeak out her name in between your pants, "If you don't run, I won't."

"I'll never run again detka," she pressed her lips to your cheek, then trailed them down until she was resting in the crook of your neck, "I promise, we'll learn how to love together."

"Oh, I know how to love," you teased with a deliberate clenching of your walls, "Shit Y/N."

You flipped your positions before she could even recover, harshly grinding down against her as you did, did the trick when you could feel the way her cock hardened once more.

"It's my turn to show you," you winked, and the redhead smirked, a long drawn out sigh leaving her lips as you began to grind down into her.

———

3,075 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 😏

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 4

authors note: thank you so much to all of ya'll showing interest in this little au 🥺🥺🥺 ya'll are the real mvp's.

masterlist

words: 4.5k // warnings: some smut, roman being possessive/borderline stalkerish

Solana is clearly naive.

Embarrassingly so, because for her to just assume she could dip out on Roman Reigns without there being any sort of consequence or him wanting to follow up was simply ludicrous.

It’s ludicrous and simply not going to fly for the Head of the Table, hence Solana’s current situation. Standing at the back of her store trying to convince Sami Zayn to deliver her very clear, unmistakable message to Roman who’s apparently waiting out back for her.

“Sami, I’m sorry you’re in….in the middle of this, but I—I don’t want to see Roman.” There’s a strange, borderline uncomfortable feeling that rises, even as the words leave her mouth. Solana knows that’s what she needs to say and should say, but there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to say it.

But, then she thinks back to Rosalia’s cruel words, hurtful but true. And it’s the reminder she needs. She swallows, reiterating, “please tell him I’m not interested.”

And while these may be words spoken from a sudden sense of finality, they seem to be more of a death sentence to the man before her. Sami’s face is growing red and ruddy by the minute. “Oh boy.” He blows out a breath and runs his hand through his still unkempt hair. “Ms. Miller—”

She gives him a small smile. “You can call me Solana.”

“I can’t call you anything if I’m dead.” Her eyes go wide, and he winces, apologizing. “I’m sorry. I just—I’ve been working hard to work my way up in the Bloodline and telling the Tribal Chief no….well, that sure seems like a good way to get my ass chewed up and spit out��.or worse.”

A deep frown settles on Solana’s face as she nervously taps her fingers against the side of her legs. The last thing she wants is for Roman to take his anger at her ‘rejection’ out on Sami. She’s not worth that. 

At all.

Gasping quietly, she shares, “I have an idea.” She motions for him to follow her, Solana guiding them to her office in the back. Grabbing a pen and the notebook on her desk, she quickly gets to writing, not allowing herself to think too much. That’ll only cause her to second guess her decision, when she really can’t afford to do so. 

Roman,

I’m sorry for leaving abruptly, but that shouldn’t have happened. We’re two very different people. I’m not what you’re looking for. Let’s just end this now before it gets too far.

Sorry for wasting your time.

Solana

She doesn’t even give herself the chance to look it over, ripping it from the notebook, folding it over and handing it to Sami. “Just give him this.”

Sami looks down at the piece of paper like it may contain anthrax. He then sighs, heavily, accepting it from her. “Alrighty then.”

Grateful for his amenable nature, she offers a small smile of appreciation. “Thank you, Sami.”

He says nothing, just walks out without another word to deliver the message that will, hopefully, close up this strange, unexpected, brief chapter of her life involving a certain Roman Reigns.

Never mind the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach making Solana wonder if she’s made a mistake. 

But, she quickly pushes it away. The silly thing. Of course, she made the right decision. There’s no place in her life for someone like Roman Reigns.

It’s just better this way.

—--------

In recent months, it’s happened more often than not that Solana finds she has the condo she shares with two of her best friends, Rhea and Kayden, to herself. 

Just Solana and her 8 month old puppy, Dulce.

Tonight happens to be one of those nights. 

And she’s grateful. Because while Rhea still remains oblivious to Solana’s…..experiences with Roman, Kayden is aware and skeptical of Solana’s made up story about the evening not going well, hence her coming home early last night. It would be a believable story, especially considering this is Roman, but not for the fact that Solana sucks at lying and Kayden is a truth seeker through and through.

So having a night off of having to dodge her sly attempts to coax out the truth is appreciated.

Very much so.

Kayden is spending the night over at her latest fuck buddy's, and Rhea…..well, Solana doesn’t exactly know why Rhea has been coming home either at an ungodly hour or not until sunrise the next day. It’s sort of out of character for her normally antisocial friend, but Solana also knows that Rhea is the person who will open up about things when she’s ready, so she's just left it alone. 

But them being gone leaves Solana and Dulce with the condo to themselves. Hence her taking the opportunity to truly decompress from an eventful, stressful week. After her ‘everything’ shower, she puts her hair in space buns and pulls out the skimpy shirt and underwear set gifted to her by Rhea last Christmas. It’s not something Solana would ever wear in front of anyone, somewhat because of the emo design but mostly because it’s so revealing. A thong and barely there tee.

It’s also an intentional thing, walking around so exposed, more skin on display than usual. Something to aid in building back up her body confidence that was almost entirely squashed under the overwhelming weight of those infamous text messages.

Solana does her best not to revisit those dark times, arguably one of the hardest periods of her life. She can’t go back. Has come too far and made too much progress to regress. Even more, he isn’t worth it.

Never was.

Filling her Stanley cup up—a gift from her bougie ass cousin Jade—with ice, Solana grabs a water bottle and empties it, topping the icy water with two lemon packets. Tossing the used packets in the trash, she grabs her phone and ventures through her many Spotify playlists, settling on the R&B one. Turning on her Beats headphones, she slides them over her ears, smiling at the opening notes of Fantasy by Mariah Carey.

Walking out the kitchen, phone in one hand, Stanley cup in the other, she hits the lights and hums along to one of Mariah’s many bangers. Her smile grows and hips naturally move to the rhythmic, infectious beat as she hits the light switch in her bedroom, walking over to her nightstand where she deposits her cup.

Shuffling over to her attached bathroom, she flicks the switch and goes to put away some of the products used during her hour spent in there for the shower and everything after. Cleaning and Mariah end up being the perfect combination, Solana’s singing and dancing increasing and evolving into a brief, silly little moment of her using her hairbrush as a microphone. A nice, little nostalgic throwback to so many summers ago that she spent with her cousins, staying up much later than what they should have, giggling over trivial things like boy bands and school gossip.

Much simpler times.

Before she grew up and realized that maybe the idea of men—and love—would always be better than the reality. At least, for her.

Pleased with the clean state of her bathroom, Solana turns off the lights and dances and sways her shapely hips while sauntering back into her bedroom. 

“I’m in heaven. With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriend. There’s no beginning, and there is no—AHH!”

Eyes wide, hand against her chest, Solana is rendered speechless and barely avoids a heart attack at the sight that awaits her.

Roman.

In her home.

In her bedroom.

Sitting on the chair by her vanity, Dulce in her bed just a few feet away, sleeping like everything is fine. Like there’s not a complete stranger in her room. 

Her brother and dad were definitely right about one thing. Dulce is for comfort. Not protection.

Solana just continues to stare, in a brief state of shock while Roman simply states with a smirk.

“Don’t stop on my account, baby.” Oh my God. “I was enjoying the hell out of that show.” His light brown eyes travel over her body, as she rips off her headphones. “Very, very much.”

It’s that statement that reminds her of her attire. Or lack, thereof. A humongous wave of embarrassment and borderline humiliation wash over her as she reaches for her robe on the bed, hurriedly putting it on and tossing the headphones down on the mattress.

Roman chuckles at the action, standing up from the chair, reorienting Solana to the situation. The potential severity of the situation. 

“Roman, what are you—how did you—” She has so many questions. A ton. A million. But, the first one is how. “How did you get in—I –made sure the doors were all l–locked.”

He stops halfway, scoffing, “sweetheart, you can’t be that naive. Locked doors don’t do shit. Especially not for someone like me.” A sort of frown then falls on his face as he shares, “you really should have a security system. I’ll have one put in tomorrow.”

Solana can barely process him telling her that he’s getting a security system installed in her home, because he’s back moving toward her, a small slice of panic forming. 

Moving back against the closest wall, she cautions in the least intimidating voice ever. “I–I’ll scream.”

Again, he pauses, that wicked smile reappearing. “Oh, I am going to make you scream, but it won’t be out of fear.” Solana’s stomach flutters, but she can’t tell if it’s because of his suggestive comment or just the asinine nature of this entire situation. 

And, it’s when he’s directly in front of her, one hand planted on the wall above her that she finds it in her to ask, “Roman, what—what are you doing here?”

In her house. In her room. In her life. She’ll take an answer for any of them at this point. 

Meanwhile, he simply responds like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been avoiding me.” Solana wouldn’t call it avoidance as much as she would call it trying to pretend he doesn’t exist and what happened between them never occurred.

Tried to play all of that off as some bad dream. Or maybe just a dream, because nothing about how he made her feel back in that locker room could ever be even remotely close to bad.

But, she can’t tell him that.

Of course not.

So, she does the possible worst thing someone could do in this situation. 

She lies.

Sidenote: Solana hates that he’s so close to her for a plethora of reasons, the major one being that he’s close enough to touch her. A dangerous, dangerous thing. It's.....distracting

“I—I haven’t.”

Roman makes a ‘tsk tsk tsk’ sound. “Lying to me never turns out well for people, but you’re pretty, so I’ll give you a pass. This time.” She swallows, practically unable to stop their locked gaze. “Why?”

She didn’t realize the first statement was actually a question, but that’s irrelevant now. “I—I told you. I—” She blows out a breath. “What happened was—was a mistake.”

“Bullshit,” he’s calling her bluff. “You don’t believe that.”

Maybe she does. Maybe she doesn’t. But, there’s nothing confusing or conflicting about her next statement. “I’m not—I’m not like that, Roman. I don’t…..sleep around. I—” Solana has to stop herself. The last thing she needs to be telling this man is that she’s still a virgin. Something tells her it’ll up the ante. “My fiancé or—”

He cuts her off, asking, “are you still engaged?”

That might be the easiest thing he’s ever asked her. “No.”

“Good.” He shrugs, adding casually while shrugging one shoulder. “Wouldn’t have made a difference. I would have just killed him anyway.”

Horrified. Solana should be horrified by that chilly statement. No doubt something he would 100% do. Men like Roman have no moral compass. They live by their own primal, selfish wants without regard for others. And yet, something within Solana, that might not be too far off from Roman’s lack of morality, causes her to mutter, “I–I should probably be more disturbed by that.”

Roman’s eyes narrow with curiosity. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“No.” That’s also an easy answer. Well. Sort of. “But—”

“But?”

She shouldn’t say it. Absolutely should not say it, and yet, something dark within her makes it creep out, sneaks it past her inner morality police. “If you had asked me a couple months ago, I might have given you a different answer.”

Awful. It’s an awful thing to say about another human being....even if that human being is a piece of scum.

Finding out the truth about her relationship, finding out the facade of her relationship nearly broke her. Solana's heart was shattered into a thousand pieces that she’s still working to regroup. She’s far from where she was when her world fell apart but is still not exactly who she was prior to the ruination.

She’s not sure she’ll ever be. 

Meanwhile, Roman makes a sound, sharing, “maybe I’ll kill him anyway.”

And this is why Solana didn’t want to say anything. Because it’s like dangling candy in front of a kid. Still, what motive would he have? 

Solana is partially confused and needs to not think about his touch, thus her going for a relevant distraction. “For what reason?”

With a dark chuckle, he traces random patterns against the belt of her robe. “He obviously hurt you. That’s reason enough for me.”

Solana frowns. This man makes no sense. No sense whatsoever. 

Her voice is low, heavily weighed down by confusion and something else she can’t identify. “Roman, what—what do you want from me?”

“A lot.” Her stomach is knotting all over again. That is not the answer she was expecting. “But, let’s start with why you left.”

“I told you—”

“The truth, Solana.” His voice goes hard as does his expression. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

She believes it. 

Swallowing, she realizes the truth is something that he’s going to get one way or another. Might as well concede now.. “Your…..your sister—”

He briefly looks away, muttering something in a language she doesn’t recognize. His gaze is then back on her. “What did she say?”

“Nothing nice.” It’s not the specifics, but it is an answer. A truthful answer, just like the next part of her statement. “But—but, she wasn’t wrong either.” Solana shakes her head, once again reiterating, “if–if you’re looking for an easy lay, then—”

“Solana, I can get that anywhere and with anyone. Respectfully, if that’s what I wanted, I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you.” 

She believes it. Because it makes sense. There’s no shortage of women who would gladly give Roman whatever he wants, however he wants it, and whenever he wants it. And yet, he’s here with her….for what?

It’s a question she finds herself verbalizing. 

“Why—why are you here then?”

Roman just looks at her, his eyes twinkling with desire. And right there, Solana knows she should have gone with the scream. 

The scream of fear.

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you…..” His volume lowers, but Solana is too caught up on what he said versus how he said it. “How good you smell, how good you look….” She closes her eyes the minute he dips his head, Solana unconsciously grasping his shirt. “How good you tasted.” She releases a shaky breath that matches the light tremble of her thighs when he asks, “you been thinking about me?”

Yes. Far too much. An embarrassing amount. “N–no.”

Roman’s deep voice hums against her ear, like he can hear her betraying thoughts.. “Hmmm. I don’t think that’s true.” 

Solana should stop him the minute his hand starts to mess with the knot of her belt. Should push his hand away or offer a verbal protest instead of just standing there, letting the robe fall open, revealing herself to him. 

She opens her eyes just in time to see Roman soaking her in, eyes slowly and gradually going over her body the same way he’s done the past few times. 

“You wanna know what I think?” She’s so thankful he doesn’t wait for a response, cause he’d be waiting for a minute. It seems Mr. Roman Reigns is a voice snatcher, especially when his hand moves to her belly of all places, tip of his finger moving across her pudge. “I think you left because you liked it.”

Oh my God. 

Solana’s head falls back against the wall behind her, her hand flattening against his abs. 

Roman continues to taunt her and call her bluff. “You liked the way daddy made you feel.” She goes to grab his wrist the minute his hand dips inside her underwear. “The same way I’m making you feel now, huh?”

He’s not lying. Even if she wanted it to be a lie, the truth is unavoidable and inescapable, right there, real and tangible as he grazes his fingers over her lips. 

Soaked. 

Of course. 

“What you need to understand, baby, is that daddy can do this cat and mouse shit all day.” Roman’s words are accompanied by him moving his hand to slide her panties to the side as he slips one of those deliciously long, thick fingers inside of her, making her arch against him. “I always get what I want, and I want you.” She chews on her bottom lip as he enters another finger, her walls contracting around him. Roman groans, “that lil' dick fiancé of yours certainly wasn’t fucking you right cause this pussy way too tight.”

Roman practically growls, moving his other hand from the wall to lift her left leg, widening it, giving him more access to her, his reach inside of her deepening. “Look at how you’re gripping my fingers right now. This cunt needs me.” This new depth has her eyes watering as he thrusts his fingers inside of her, while his thumb flicks at her clit. “Got you this wet from barely doing anything, and you really want me to believe you ain’t been thinking about me?”

Rhetorical. It’s gotta be rhetorical. He can’t honestly expect her to say or respond to anything in a logical manner with how he’s making her feel right now. Overwhelmed. In a good way. A majestic, glorious way.

Solana goes to grip his arm, her fingers unable to touch. He’s so built. “Roman….”

“You said you don’t sleep around, and that’s okay, cause when it's all said and done, you still won't be sleeping around, because the only one who's allowed to touch you from now on is me." She whimpers, that familiar feeling from that night in his locker room coming over her all over again. Her thighs are practically jelly, those tears finally leaving the confines of her eyes. “This tight little pussy is mine.”

That one sentence, possessive and controlling, should not be the thing that sends her over the edge. That has her gripping onto him as her orgasm rips through her body, that has stars shooting behind her closed eyelids. But, that’s exactly the case. Roman has to practically keep her upright as he watches her come all over his hand.

His lips ghost over the outline of her jaw. “I could never get tired of watching you come.” But the minute he pulls his fingers out of her used, puffy vagina, and Solana opens her eyes to see him licking them clean, she nearly comes all over again.

This man is going to ruin her.

He uses that same hand, damp fingers going under her chin to lift her head, making her look at him.

“You ran because it freaks you out that you’re interested in me the same way I’m interested in you.” And before she can even begin to sit on that, he throws her for another loop. “I’m not gon’ make you do anything you don’t wanna do, but just know this, you will want it before it’s all said and done.” 

Solana swallows, completely wordless and wholly stunned at just how the hell this happened yet again. He says a couple things, gives her a few touches, and she spreads her legs without second thought. Like her vagina has its own mind and thought process, completely uninterested in whatever logic may be going on upstairs in her brain.

She’s (her pussy) just trying to get hers, and Roman just happens to be very…..very good at that. 

Unfortunately.

“Now let’s try this again.” Roman slides his arm through the back of her robe to pull her closer against him. Her hand moving up his abs to his chest seems to elicit the slightest hiss from him. A reaction that has her both confused and excited. “I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”

Her eyes widen. He’s asking her. Giving her a choice. Not a demand. And while it should feel good to some extent. Nice to have some autonomy. It’s still…

The answer is obvious. The same reason she ran out that night. The same reason she gave him that letter. Roman is not the type of man she needs to be messing around with. He’s dangerous. Beyond dangerous. Unpredictable. Older. She could probably create a generous list of reasons to tell him no. To take this 'out' he’s giving her.

And yet……

She’s briefly pulled from her thoughts when he brings his hand to her face, cupping her cheek. His expression is soft, such a marked contrast for everything about him that’s so hard and dark. “I just want to get to know you, La'u Ma'asoama.”

She hasn’t the slightest clue what he just said, but everything about it from the delivery to the almost pleading tone of his deep voice does absolutely nothing to help her resolve.

Solana’s voice is light. “J–just dinner?”

He nods. “Just dinner. I promise to not touch you.” Roman smirks, finger tracing the outline of her lips. “Unless you want me to.”

She closes her eyes. That’s the last thing that needs to happen. She needs to decline, needs to return back to the days where the thought of even entertaining someone like Roman would never even cross her mind. He represents everything in her life she never wanted for herself.

And yet, it’s hard for her to think of anything alarming that's happened that would justify her saying no. Not from what she’s personally experienced with him. He’s direct, yes. Has a filthy (talented) mouth, most definitely. But, he’s yet to be rude or mean or exhibit any of the other horrible things she’s heard about him making her wonder if maybe…..just maybe, there’s more to Roman Reigns than meets the eye.

He was right about one thing.

There's definitely an interest on her part. 

“O–okay. ”She finally concedes, stomach fluttering at his smile. He’s so handsome. “But, can—can it be some place private? I—” She’s not sure how to tell this man that at her big age of 28, she’s nervous about her family finding out about…..whatever this is. Doesn’t want to risk anyone seeing her with Roman Reigns, of all people. On a date, nonetheless.

Roman, however, just scoffs. “I hate people, Solana. I especially hate being bothered when I’m busy.” That’s not surprising at all.  “And I plan to be very busy with you.” His thumb caresses the apple of her cheek. “It’ll be private.”

He needs to stop touching her so much. She’d very much like to be able to think straight with lucidity, and that’s clearly not a possibility when he’s touching her. 

“O–okay.”

“Good girl.” And he definitely needs to stop referring to her as that for……reasons. “I’ll text you the details.”

Her brows furrow. “You–you have my number?”

He shrugs like it’s an obvious thing. “Of course.”

Never mind the fact that this man has her number, something she’s always prided herself on in only allowing those close to her have such close contact. It's besides the point, because she has another pressing question. “So—why didn’t you just….call or–or something instead of…..” She doesn’t know why she has a hard time finishing her sentence. Calling him out, in a sense, on literally breaking and entering into her house.

Cause that’s exactly what he did.

And yet, she’s still standing here, entertaining him when she should have just called the police or something. Not that that would make a difference. It’s a known fact that the Bloodline has practically the whole state of Florida on payroll. Police departments included.

Roman shakes his head. “A phone call doesn’t let me see this pretty face.” Her breathing is once again interrupted when he flits his thumb across her lips, separating them ever so lightly. “Or touch you….”

Lord.

He smiles at her poorly hidden reaction to such a touch, dropping his hand. “And don’t worry about Rosalia. I’ll take care of her.” If she wasn’t his actual freaking sister, Solana might be a bit fearful of what the ‘take care’ means. 

The Bloodline may be ruthless, but they don’t play about family. Going after blood is strictly prohibited outside of the most extreme cases. And Roman’s sister essentially calling her a whore is far from extreme.

“One more thing.” Solana gasps when he suddenly turns her around and tugs off her robe, the soft plush falling to the ground, leaving her exposed yet again in front of this man. 

“R–Roman!” Before she can try to cover herself, Roma tugs her close, her back pressed up against his front. Solana refuses to acknowledge the hardness pushing into her back. 

He then drops his mouth by her ear again, murmuring, “you don’t ever have to be insecure around me.” Roman moves his big hands over her thick thunder thighs. “These gon’ keep my face when I’m eating.” He steps back just enough to palm her ass, sharing, “I’m gonna love seeing the recoil of all this ass you got when I’m fucking you from behind.” More movement to the front and upward, Roman palming her breast through her flimsy top. “Can’t wait to feel all up on these big titties while watching you ride my dick.” And finally, he dops both hands to her belly, gathering her rolls. “And this……It’s all you, so I fuckin love it.”

She’s beyond grateful he doesn’t let those big, talented hands travel to the space between her legs, because it’s just plain embarrassing how he’s got her pussy throbbing and wet all over again from some not so innocent touches.

Roman Reigns is clearly no good for her. 

And yet, the slightest frown appears on her face when he releases her, stepping back, eyes quickly snapping back up from her ass as she turns around.

His smile is smug and borderline arrogant. Or maybe knowing. Because arrogance implies a greater sense of importance that doesn’t match actual abilities. And Roman most certainly has some sinfully delightful abilities. 

Their gazes are locked as he murmurs, “Goodnight, Solana.” She licks her lips, ready to return the parting term when he simply walks past her and out the door, closing it behind him.

It’s only then that she leans back against the wall, hands to her face, trying to process just what the hell just happened.

Because, truly, what the hell just happened?

[vibingandsimping]

I always feel so awkward/flustered requesting things, but the bg3 brain rot is so real. Could I ask for specifically Gale’s, and/or also anyone else of your choice (if you want obvs), like reaction to a virgin!Tav, like never had more than a peck on the hand or cheek inexperienced? I’m just absolutely feral over a shy, never been kissed Tav and companions~~~

Tav is just like me, fr. I appreciate you pushing your comfort zone and asking. Never feel ashamed to request something on my blog. <3

I liked this idea so will count it towards my second follower goal special. Funny how both of them ended up being Gale requests, honestly. Attempted to keep it gender neutral.

Word count: Around 2,000

Forewarnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, partial loss of virginity, oral (receiving), undergarment stealing, porn with little plot.

Gale, himself, had been quite inexperienced before Mystra. He just had himself so deeply rooted in his books and studies he thought the time was… wasted. It wasn’t that he couldn’t seek a partner, no, he just didn’t fare the effort. Mystra sought him out and how in the hells could he turn a literal goddess down? That relationship burned and crashed. Honestly, he was thankful for it now. He met you. You struck him like no other. You were more than Mystra. So when feelings reciprocated? Gale was elated.

He judged on your nerve that you either found him stunning, or, you lacked experience. He thought the latter. Whenever he held your hand and gazed into your eyes you seemed to shake. It was cute. His palm cupping your cheek and you’d flush so deeply he’d fear you suddenly fell ill. Often times, you’d break it off before things escalated beyond a hand holding or a gentlemanly kiss. Gale didn’t take to it harshly, at first. He yearned for your skin, your lips, your touch. He tried to make that clear in his language. Hands reaching for you more often, bodies closing the distance. He’d never push too far, though. Gale’s shame would be immense if he scared you.

Some gentle probing finally pulled some truth from you, one evening. You were a virgin. Never even having been kissed before. He wasn’t sure whether to comfort you or take a primal hunger in the idea of being your first. Lips and body, hopefully. He brushed it off initially, saying that he’d tend to your needs when you were ready. His words lingering in the air as he made it apparent that he craved you. Lusted and loved, in every sense. You nearly combusted and stammered. Gods, you were going to be his ruin. Mystra, forgive him but he believed you more enchanting than she ever was.

The first time he tasted your lips was under the guise of moonlight. Northern lights dancing in the sky as the moment you shared tender. You relaxed in the privacy and comfort of him. He bore his heart to you that night. Explaining his fears- his worries and his longing. It was shocking to see you make the first move, your hand cupping his face this time. You drew him in and he closed the distance. He swore he was flying when he pressed against the plush of your lips. Moving in and out, feeling the breath of each other dance along skin. His hand reached out and rested on your knee. You covered it with your own, grasping it in your hold. Fingers interlocked and he took the initiative to deepen the moment. His tongue flicked against your lips and the whimper that followed made him shiver.

As soon as it happened, he pulled away with a pant. Doe-brown eyes searching your expression as his mind raced. “I apologize if I am taking things too far or too fast. Your beauty strikes me and all I wish is for this moment to last an eternity.” You laugh, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Then, you shake your head and draw him in closer. “No, it’s okay. I think i’m ready. I want you, Gale.” His nostrils flare at the words and he steels himself, watching you intently. Nerve trickled in your voice but there was no outward hesitancy in your desires. He sits for a moment and soaks everything in. The satisfaction and sight of you presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable and so willing. He trailed his free hand to your shoulder and gently pushed you onto the grass. Intertwined hand next to your head as he claims your lips once more.

You could only lay and enjoy the sensation he was giving you. His fingers tickling down your shoulder to your chest. He was more than happy to lead you in this dance of pleasure. It would pave a path into many nights where you could enjoy each other. He’d be able to forget what it was like imagining your flesh. His tongue parted your lips and licked at your own tongue. You exhaled a sharp breath through your nostrils, sloppily trying to reciprocate. He smirked a little and continued to guide you as his hand lowered to where your sleep-shirt rested at your hips. His fingers were a little cold from the air as he slipped underneath it to feel your stomach. Gale parted from your lips to your jaw, continuing his love there down to your neck. Arousal from the touch of another was strange- but definitely not unwelcome. Gods, no, it’s so welcome. Your thighs clenched as he kissed over a particularly sensitive spot of your neck. Seemingly noticing your shift, he nibbles and sucks on it. The sensation causes you to gasp and writhe underneath him.

His palm presses flat on your stomach, using his strength to keep you still. Once he finds enough satisfaction after leaving a hickey, his lips trail down to your shoulder. A final kiss is left and he lifts himself to meet your gaze. His lips are wet and a tad swollen as his lids are halved. The sight made your loins tingle. It spoke all lust and admiration. He took such pleasure in watching and feeling you succumb to his touch. He nods downward at you, gesturing to your shirt and you nod in return. With the confirmation, he slips your shirt over your head and soaks the sight of you topless in. You can feel him shake a little as he hovers over your body. He lowers himself and slides downward to plant kisses against your collarbone. They follow to the middle of your ribs until he’s level with your nipples. He looks upwards through his eyebrows as he wraps his lips around one. You keen- arching your back as he suckles while his fingers tend to the neglected.

You hardly notice when his lips meet your lower stomach. Reaching to your pelvis as he slowly works your pants down your legs. You help him by shimmying your hips- and he groans in satisfaction when the skin is revealed. His hands contact your thighs and hold you down while he continues kissing along your pelvis- tickling the undergarments you wore. Your breath hitched and fingers twitched at the grass underneath you. Torn between admiring the sky or him as he worked your body so beautifully. A nibble caught your daze and you whimpered. He parted and cherished in the kisses and little marks he’d left. “Love,” he whispered and you craned your neck to look at him, “It is not too late to stop. I won’t force this upon you.” Admittedly, you paused for a moment and stared at him. Smiling and reaching out, his face was cupped in your hand. “No. I want this.” He visibly perked.

“Then, may I?” His fingers slipped under the waistband and tugged. You nodded with a twinkle of amusement. The cold air on your sensitive flesh made you hiss- but he was quick. Fingers and tongue meeting with little hesitance. You jerked at the sensation and he simply hummed, easing you down. It seemed he waited a moment for you to adjust before working his magic (pun intended). His tongue licked and worked you in circles while his fingers explored the flesh around. Your thighs, your rear- anything he could touch. He was keen to listen to your whimpers and observe your movements. He’d stop when you’d flinch and he’d continue when you moaned. Quite honestly, the coil in your stomach twisted and wound faster than you’d anticipate. He collected the mix of your arousal and his saliva onto his fingers. They circled your entrance and gently prodded, allowing you time to recognize his desire through the haze that was pleasure. It didn’t come easy when he started to push them in- no, you tensed and cried out. Gale continued working your sex while his spare hand caressed your flesh comfortingly. Once he was past the first ring- everything began to slowly ease.

His eyes watched you carefully as he slowly began to explore the inside of you. You were thankful for how patient he was being. Stopping whenever it seemed to overwhelm you and continuing when the stillness became unbearable. It was a few minutes before you could finally find a deeper pleasure in the touch rather than the discomfort or pain. He hummed approvingly against your sensitive parts- and you whined. His fingers were relatively thick but mostly long. They searched inside you until your body writhed as he brushed against a spot that made your eyelids flutter. It was over after that, he didn’t miss a heartbeat adjusting his tune to increasing the intensity of his mouth and tongue while abusing it with his fingers. You couldn’t contain the depraved sounds you made after that. Gripping at whatever you could; settling on his hair with tight white knuckles. Breaths were shallow as everything came to a crescendo and- crashed. It crashed hard. You were a writhing mess under him as a strangled cry cut from your throat.

Gale happily licked and cleaned up any mess you made as he worked you through your orgasm. Thighs clenching and unclenching around his head as he milked you of all you’re worth. He pulled away when the brink of overstimulation set in, wiping at his face with a grin-eating smirk. You lay like a fish out of water, riding the high and twitching with aftershocks. The man curled up beside you and cooed comfortingly in your ear while you recovered. You could feel his erection press into your skin through his robe but he paid no mind. He laid with you for however long until you could breathe and think with some sort of clarity. Recognizing that, he spoke. “Beautiful, truly beautiful. I have craved to see that for ages now. Yet, nothing my imagination could supply would have compared to it.” He laughed softly while you melted at the sound. “Do you need some… erm-“ You gestured towards the mass against your leg. He blinked, looked downward and smiled bashfully. “No,” he claimed and you blinked in shock. “I wore you out thoroughly with that. I will be fine- there are opportunities ahead. It will make it all the sweeter. Besides, I want you to cry my name out next time.” He shushed any rebuttal you had with a kiss. Soft yet passionate- with the aftertaste of you on his lips.

He grabbed your discarded garments and began to wipe the rest of the mess from between your thighs. You flinched and shivered at the touch of the highly-alert flesh. He kissed your ear tenderly to reassure you before curling the fabric into a ball and pocketing it. You gave him a pointed look- questioning. “Keepsake.” He muttered with a blush. A shiver ran down your spine at the perversion of the act. Yet, it made you feel so desired all the same. “Do you need anything? Food or water?” His eagerness to confirm your comfort made your chest swell. You shook your head and claimed you only wanted to relax with him. Gale visibly softened at that, almost awestruck. He assisted you back into your clothing and fixed your sex-messed hair. The night was still after that. Wrapped in his arms as his breath washed over you from the proximity. His fingers danced along your skin and traced unknown shapes. Everything felt as close to perfect as you’ve gotten in… a long while. You knew you couldn’t stay there the entire night. It just felt right to enjoy the rest of the moment with him til you had to return. Return to the madness that was your current life.

For now, you could forget the tadpole. You could forget anything that wasn’t the feeling of his warm body pressed to yours and the afterglow of everything that occurred.

[deathworlders-of-e24]

Thomas, Engineer

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching Tranquility Base drift away as the Noah launched on its maiden voyage from Earth’s moon left Thomas Hibbs with an odd feeling of deja vu. He’d worked on dozens of ships, but always in the engineering decks where the only windows were peering into the mechanical arrays. Peering out into the void of space was…actually pretty damn cool in Thomas’s opinion.

I wonder if this thing has a VR Grid, he thought.

In the 50 years since humanity had joined the GAIL, it hadn’t been all space hoppers and life saving medical breakthroughs, the entertainment industry had made huge jumps in realism and simulated realities. One species in particular, the machine people known as the Padrino, had such a realistic virtual reality environment code that practically every other species in the assembly paid top dollar for a copy of it. Thought most used it for information storage and practical exploits, Humans were the first to turn it into a hyper advanced game simulation. The Padrino weren’t exactly pleased to learn the code they used to store their memories and experiences was being used to fight monsters with supernatural powers at weekend game tournaments on Earth, but they didn’t complain that much. Thomas had the idea to upload a compatible version of an old game called PAC-MAN where you’re your own avatar running the mazes into the ships computers. He couldn’t wait to get that high score again.

The engineering deck was right below the science labs, and Thomas saw one of the 3 other humans on board with him. He thought her name was Liz or something, but didn’t stop to say hi. She looked preoccupied with something, and talking to people was hard. Machines were good listeners. Thomas could talk for hours to machines while he worked, even if they weren’t the kind that could talk back, thought this ship did have those. Maybe here he could meet some people who get him.

The engineering deck was all catwalks and overhead piping, service lights and ventilation ducts. Computer terminals threw blue light against the opposite wall as Thomas made his way to the Engineer ‘locker’ room. Thomas figured that’s what it was, given the cubbies for the crew’s personal items and racks and shelves of tools and equipment for the ‘fixers’ to use.

There were about two dozen people moving around the room, none of them human, several of which were non biological as well. 2 Padrino were there, speaking their machine language while they sorted tools across a long workbench against the far wall. There were several other species as well that Thomas didn’t recognize, lots of different shapes and sizes. He felt a little insecure, being just the basic human he was.

Thomas found his name on the cubby wall and stuff his own tool bag in there, as well as a change of clothes and safety gear. Then he very carefully hid a hand held game pad under his spare jumpsuit, for emergencies. He’d been stuck in an air duct once before for hours twiddling his thumbs. Never again.

Just as he finished stuffing away his gear, something small bumped against his boot. He looked down, and saw a small robot waiting patiently for him to lift his foot. Apparently he’d been trailing confetti from the launch ceremony around the ship the whole time because these droids weren’t supposed to be down here in engineering. It had probably been following him since he’d walked in. The little guy had a cylinder torso, no real neck but his head looked like it turned in circles with two tiny exhaust pipes sticking out the top. Two ‘eyes’, or sensors with aesthetics, were all that made up the face. His little feet reminded Thomas of a chicken’s, and he had two little arms with tiny hands on each.

“Oh my god you’re so cute I love you,” Thomas half squealed as he picked the little robot up like a baby. “Have you been following me this whole time? Doing such a good job, keeping the ship clean. Did you get lost? Do you need help?”

The little machine just looked at him and wiggled its legs, probably the gyroscope trying to compensate for the sudden shift in balance.

One of the other engineers laughed.

“It’s just a service drone, it can’t actually understand you. It probably just followed your trail of waste and its sensors can’t get it back to the upper decks anymore.”

Thomas looked up from the tiny robot to see a fair number of his co workers looking at him, some trying to hide smiles, some not bothering being so polite. He felt his face begin to burn as a blush came to his cheeks and surged down his neck.

Oh my god I can’t believe I did that but it’s so freaking cute how can I not how can they not love it maybe there’s more on the ship this cute, his brain might implode at the rate it was going. The service drone continued to wiggle in his grip. To Thomas it was almost the size of a toy, maybe a solid 4 inches tall. It stopped squirming and looked up at his face, its tiny head whirring and clicking as gears shifted inside its chassis. It reached out one of its tiny hands and poked his thumb.

“Beep.”

“Beep.”

“Beep.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped. How could a machine with no higher functioning AI be this adorable?

“I’m gonna call you Roomba.”

“That’s just its service alarm. It’s processing an inability to perform its tasks so it thinks it’s stuck somewhere, ergo it’s alerting other drones to come assist it. It probably thinks you’re rectifying the obstacle.”

There were some snickers, a few openly laughed, but Thomas couldn’t care about them right now. The little droid was so adorable in Thomas’s eyes it was like looking at puppies.

He did, however, notice the 2 Padrino staring at him, motionless. For a moment he worried he’d maybe offended them by gushing over the little toy like robot. One of them approached. The Padrino had a clearly mechanical body with chrome plating encasing its joints and limbs. Its torso was thin but solid, whirring quietly as it walked over. Its head had a single antenna with a tinted face plate, which Thomas figured just was it’s ‘face’.

“It has been observed that Humans form an emotional bond to many different species and objects. Is this what is occurring, Human Thomas?”

Gauging the inflections of their voice was difficult, they didn’t have any kind of body language and the voice itself was entirely synthesized, adding layers of difficulty. Thomas thought for a moment, then just shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene in here, I just got excited. It’s small and kinda cute so I just lost control for a moment.”

“Apologizing is unnecessary. We’d simply like to understand how Humans function to better improve the efficiency of this division.”

“Beep.”

The service drone wiggled in his hand again.

“It appears the small droid is out of range of its directive. It is asking for assistance with a new objective to replace its task queue.”

“Wait, you can understand it?”

“Yes, the alert sound is not a language. It’s sending out a very short range signal burst with information embedded in it, which I can receive with internal sensors. It’s AI is crude and simple, but it does have the basic functionality to form an artificial language. You’ve replaced its designation D7 with the name Roomba.”

Thomas looked from the Padrino to the little droid and back again.

“Does it like the name?”

“Beep.”

“It says it is a sufficient new designation and is awaiting a new task queue.”

“Oh good, I’m not good at naming stuff so I was worried-”

“Since the ship has launched, the service drones have gone inactive due to safety features. Since this one, new designation Roomba, was here on the engineering deck, it was outside the proximity of the ship’s AI core transmissions. It has exhausted its task queue and requests a new one.”

“Beep.”

“It is repeating the request.”

“Yeah, yes, got that, thank you. Okay, and I can just give it something to do?”

“That is correct.”

“Beep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Roomba, can you hand me another bolt please?”

“Beep.”

[Primary task in the queue has not been completed: obtain high score]

“I know buddy, but you can pause it with that little button on the side there. I need that bolt real quick.”

Roomba looked where Thomas was pointing on the game pad. The pad itself was bigger than the drone, by a good half inch, so it was like Roomba was standing on a flat screen built into the floor, or playing one of those retro dance machine games from way back.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged]

The Padrino had been kind enough to give Thomas’s ear piece translator an quick upgrade, so now he was able to receive Roomba’s signal burst data and understand what he was ‘saying’. They’d even given Roomba’s AI a little tune up so he could understand more complex tasks and ideas. Roomba had disconnected from the ship’s core code when he’d gone to the engineering deck so Thomas figured it’d be fine, the little guy could hang out with him now.

It took Roomba’s whole hand to get the game pad to register the pressed button and pause PAC-MAN, which was cute. And what was even cuter was the bolt Thomas needed was half the little robots size so it struggled just a little to bring it over the few feet to him.

“Good job buddy, thank you,” Thomas said, grinning.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged. Returning to primary task]

“You do that. Good luck Roomba.”

At the time, the only thing the Padrino had asked for in return for their help and upgrades was the chance to observe biological lifeforms and their tendencies to ‘bond’ with others. The Padrino were a sort of hive mind it seemed, each unit being just an interface with the main AI back on their home planet. When units were out of range of communication with the home office, the main AI base code was copied into the machines and split off to collect information. When they got home, they dumped the data into the main computers and integrated back into the main AI core.

Thomas thought they were the coolest people he’d ever met. He’d said ‘sure, observe all you want, I just wanna thank you guys for your help.’

The game pad trilled, a little tune to congratulate moving up a level.

“Beep.”

[Update: progress has been made. Continuing primary task: obtain high score]

“Good work Roomba. You keep at it buddy, you’ll get there.”

From down the hall the 2 Padrino watched the strange little robot ‘playing video games’ next to the human doing an actually productive task.

“More data must be collected. The human, a deathworlder, has bonded to the drone.”

“We will continue to observe.”

“Agreed.”