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evilgwrl · 2 months ago

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TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Six

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Oral (f & brief male receiving), barn sex yeehaw, PIV (no protection), praise, I love gaz sm he’s so fucking sexy and hot, titty sucking, more hickies!!!!

Masterlist

Your brow cocked towards the Scotsman, his arms folded against the width of his chest as he stared at you, Arctic blue orbs swirling with mischief as he stepped closer to you, chapped lips flushed against the heat of your forehead before he was strumming upstairs.

The day was sombre. The sky was roiling, a pall of menacing clouds enveloping the forest with a darkened haze, the soft jingles of the wind chimes sounding out to you as you rushed the horses into the barn, snouts whining and hissing out breathy grunts as a roll of thunder cracked through.

Bubbling heat simmered in the pit of your stomach; your body flushed with fervour as you scurried outside, your legs turning to mush as anxious feet padded against the soil, parched digits digging into reins. Your body ached with a needing demand, a need to be satisfied, not only by Price but by them all.

It was taboo. It should feel wrong. This wasn’t you. The growing ache that seethed between your thighs, only fed into the perpetual insistence that needed to be met. You needed to be fucked. Again, and again and again.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, the flush of iris visible as you trembled into the barn, pulling on Nancy as she trotted along, heavy hoofs skating across the already dirtied floors. As you secured the horses away, your eyes trained in on the door, the sound of heavy footsteps coiling into your stomach before Gaz appeared.

You weren’t quite sure what it was about him. He gave you a sense of comfort, his eyes gentle yet zealous, speckles of gold flaking through the endless diversions of umber. His presence was homely, settling around you like a forest fire, fusillading the anguished need you held for him. His smile was soft as he gazed at you, standing bashfully at the barn doors, chiselled arms pressed against the wood.

“Thought I would find you here,” he remarked, taking a step forward as he felt the spit of rain pellet down on his warm skin.

You raised a brow, “You looking for me?” Your tone was knowing, almost teasing as he let out a shy laugh, pearly teeth on display as his tongue kissed them, the simmer of the light reflecting against them. He was pretty, almost too pretty, the arrogant broil of his eyes sending a pit into your stomach as he stepped closer.

“Just felt like we, I, haven’t thanked you properly.”

“It’s alright, Gaz. Couldn’t exactly turn you all away, could I?” You tried to make light of the situation, your eyes averting to the floor as you shifted awkwardly.

“You gonna let me thank you, sweetheart? Hm?”

Your feet were clumsy, as you stumbled back, spine flush against a bale of hay as he stalked towards you. You felt like his prey, tantalising jaws snapping down on the silk of your flesh as he sucked the sweet liquor of your blood into his taste buds. Cadaverous hands groped at your thigh, melting the softness of the fat into his hands as he practically cooed at you.

His voice was patronising, threads of disdain lacing it as his grip found your knees, pulling them apart gently. Straw scratched at your legs, sending a jolt through you as you watched him through hooded eyes. His eyes were darker now, flushed over with desire as he pushed his crotch up against you, an evident bulge covered by denim petting your clad heat almost maliciously as you gulped down the air that flooded your organs.

Nails dug into your tender skin, crescent-shaped moons tattooing along the flesh as you whined. “I asked you a question,” he tsked, kissing along your jaw.

“Y-Yeah, you can thank me.”

The strain of your voice enveloped a laugh out of him, rough hands toying with your top before you lifted your arms up, bare chest on display as the cool air puckered up your nipples, his eyes darting between the two before his hands were wrapping around your neck, pushing against you slightly to arch your back before feverish lips were tugging at the buds, teasing them between his teeth before he would pull away and suck at the sore skin, tainted by hickies.

“Old man wanted to mark you up,” he growled as his hands released from your neck, toying with your tits as your core ached. The sensation was all too much, yet not enough. Greedy hips ground against the bulge that was pressed against you, a groan sounding out from between your tits.

“Are you gonna thank me?” You quipped, pulling at his hair as he clutched a nipple between his lips before pulling away with a subtle pop.

“Greedy, aren’t you? Just need to be filled up by us all?” Gaz smirked.

Your hips responded for you, pussy clenching around nothing as you panted, your breath wanton. His digits found your buttons, plucking at them before you raised yourself, letting him slide them off down you revealing your aching sex, thin cotton smeared against it as your slick darkened them. Gaz groaned in reply, rubbing at the wet patch feverishly as your lips found his neck, licking a stripe against his defined collarbone.

You swore, your voice lost in the crackle of the wind as he peeled your panties to the side, your aching cunt throbbing as he spread your folds apart, smiling in appreciation at the sloppy strings of slick webbing between your lips.

“Pretty fucking pussy,” he nodded as he pushed you back, throwing your legs over his shoulders as a rough thumb pressed against your clit, almost unsure if he wanted to use his fingers or mouth before he settled for both, his wet muscle toying with your entrance before plunging in, enveloping your gummy walls with his spit as his digit engulfed harsh circles around the sensitive nub.

Needy moans left your throat as you palmed at the hay below you, another hand buried in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as your pussy rode along his tongue, chasing a desperate release.

His touch was electric, spreading zaps of energy throughout you, engulfing your spine as your back arched further at the torment of his tongue, his laps gargling against your slick as he teased you.

Feverish hands wrapped around the fat of your thighs, bruising touches doubling every sensation you felt as you mewled against him, bucking your hips as you chased your high.

Teeth grazed against your throbbing clit, the sensation almost overwhelming as you gasped out, full lips sucking the bud as you convulsed, the air thick with arousal as the breathy sounds of your moans sipped through the holes of the barn walls.

Rain slashed against the roof as you threw your head back, Gaz’s torture against your pussy stimulating every nerve in your cunt as you choked out, gasping for oxygen as you found yourself holding your breath, too focused on the pleasure he was wracking through you.

His assault was continuous, his muscle lapping at your heat, slick pooling below you as fingers tightened against the straw, scratching against your palm.

“Oh - fuck,” you whined, your voice raising an octave as pleasure coiled in your stomach, spindling through every muscle and nerve as your legs convulsed, your belly tightening until it snapped, sending your eyes rolling back as you clutched onto the bale below you, Gaz’s mouth moaning against your slit as you cried out.

Your actions were clumsy as you pushed his face away at the overstimulation, your clit swollen as you took in his pussy-drunk expression, full lips glistening with your arousal, a trail of spit dribbling down his chin as he smiled at you.

“Please fuck me,” you quipped, clutching onto his shoulder before a hand gripped at the tent in his pants, palming the aching member with need as he growled against your neck, nipping the tender flesh before his hands were at his belt.

Gaz nodded as you pulled him in roughly, your tongues lashing against each other as you hummed at the taste of yourself, the tangy feeling melting between your saliva as the Sergeant tore his slacks down his muscled thighs.

You broke the kiss, looking down at his member. He was longer than John with less girth, yet still staggering in size, the mushroom tip flushed a begging purple as silk pearls of pre-cum coiled down his aching length.

Needy hips aligned with yours as he flushed the tip against your folds, smirking at the gooey sounds of your wetness. You whined in anguish. You felt like you were in heat, your body craving your womb to be filled.

The burn stretched through you, your brows furrowing in pain as you pushed against his chest before his hands were against yours, soothing you as he kissed you, setting a bruising pace between your lips, his cock working through you inch by inch as you gasped.

“That’s it baby, relax for me. Good girl.”

His tone was soft as he praised you, working through the tightness of your gummy walls with ease before he bottomed out, heavy balls slapping against the crevice of your ass as your neck buried in the crook of his neck.

“Please, I need you,” you whimpered, lips nibbling at his neck, savouring the salty taste of his sweat before he chuckled, his hips bucking against your sweet spot, his tip kissing your cervix deliciously as he began to rock inside you, setting a slow pace as he felt every ridge against his cock.

His tongue was filthy as he spat out expletives, his pace quickening with every fleeting second as you bashfully choked out whines and moans into his skin.

“Taking me so fucking well, Jesus Christ.”

His strokes were brutal, rubbing against your cervix selfishly as your mouth sounded out babbles, your eyes rolled back as you felt the trickle of sweat pooling at the back of your knees.

The pleasure was white hot, engulfing you with demand as you submitted your entirety to him, falling limp as his hips slapped against your sensitive skin, his fingers tugging at your nipples through your slouched figure as you moaned.

His pace fastened once more before he grunted, pulling out as his cock pulsated with the need to cum. Your motions were sloppy as you gripped the shaft, knees buckling as you lifted yourself to the floor, his member coated with your slick as you hummed at the taste, tracing the veins with your tongue whilst another hand cupped his heavy balls, squeezing them with a gentle motion before gargling the remainder of his cock down the pillow of your mouth.

“Holy fuck,” he bucked, hips moving rhythmically before he spluttered out, his cum gushing down the naval of your throat as you coughed, swallowing down the thick liquid with a huff as the remainder dribbled out of your lip.

Gaz’s hand found your hair, stroking the sweat along your forehead as he pulled you up, resting you along the hay again before dressing you slightly, as well as himself, before tugging you into the plushness of his chest, lazy legs wrapping around his waist before he was jogging with you through the downpour of the rain.

Holy fuck balls I feel like my writing has gotten so SLACK!!!!!

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artdcnaldson · 3 months ago

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thinking about pre engagement art at his first olympics. you’re doing coverage for a mag back home on some player from your hometown. but art. beautiful fucking art who you run into the morning of your first day and who you convince to come to your hotel so he can get away from the rickety little twin beds at the village. butter him up with a drink. only one, won’t hurt his game. you talk and talk you god you wish your story could be about him instead. and he stays the night in the hotel with you and is gone when you wake up but he’s left an official statement on his wonderful teammate, hometown guy, for your story that will make your boss happy. when you get home after your story star gets knocked in the round of 16 there’s flowers and your hotel has been paid off until the final. he wants to go to dinner after he wins gold and take polaroids of you w nothing but his medal on.

if u have room for 🫐 anon, i will keep homeostasis w my zweiginator emoji anon

Omg hi sorry I sat on this so long <333 RAHHHH pre engagement pretty angel curls art playing tennis at the Olympics makes me feel SO CRAZY

EEEEEP using your press pass to get access to all of his matches, even though you really should get home. Art’s dominating the court— effortless and beautiful. You’re there when he wins the gold medal match against an older, seasoned player, and he’s so gracious to the player’s face, to the press.

“It was a tough match,” he says into a microphone as you stand close by, thankful for the press badge around your neck. “I’m just lucky to get the chance to play with one of the greats.”

He smiles, charming and victorious when they take photos of him with his medal. The American flag in the background and him, the spitting image of homegrown, good old fashioned athletic talent.

The dinner is nice, fancier than you’re used to on a journalist’s budget. He’s just got a new sponsorship with Nike, so they pay for a lot. He buys a nice bottle of wine and bashfully admits he doesn’t know a lot about what makes it nice, other than the price tag. It’s charming, it’s sweet.

Sitting across from him at the table, you know he’s got less than innocent intentions for the night. Just three days ago, he had you sinking down on his cock, riding him hard and fast and crying out his name like it was a form of worship.

“Do you want to see the medal?” He asks once you’ve finished dessert.

You forget the question by the time you’re in his room in the Olympic village, when he’s mouth is on yours and his hands are ripping at your clothes. The bed is soft, plush beneath you as he drops you onto it, laid bare and wanting. You part your legs invitingly, wordlessly begging for him to strip off the rest of his clothes and bury himself inside of you.

You’d even let him do it raw— a present for his gold medal win.

But he disappears, digging in his suitcase until he retrieves the medal from within. Orange and red ribbon and a big gold medal at the center. Before you can say anything, he’s slipped it around your neck, so the gold is nestled between your breasts.

“Pretty,” he muses, fingers circling the cold medal where it rests. “Can I take a picture?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly. He could’ve suggested anything, really, and you would’ve said yes. He was just so beautiful, so charming. You wanted to please him more than anything.

He pulls out a digital camera and powers it on. It whirrs softly as he zooms in, then snaps a photo of the medal resting between your tits. “Pose for me,” he says, but he has another idea already. His hands move up, sliding from your hip, up your abdomen, until it cups your breast in one large palm. He snaps another photo, smiling behind the camera.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he muses. He nudges your thighs apart and toys with your clit, just on the good side of teasing. Slow, insistent circles that make you grow even wetter, even needier. He zooms out, takes a full body shot (because he’ll die before he forgets this pussy) and tosses the camera to the side.

He hikes your legs over his shoulders and buries his face between your thighs— mouthing hungrily at your cunt. His tongue laves over your center, lapping at the wetness that had been steadily leaking from your cunt since dinner. He moans against you, as he nuzzles his nose against your clit to get closer and closer. “Taste so good—“ his words are mostly muffled against you, as he licks and sucks on your pussy, face shiny with slick and spit.

You cum easily, your body responding to his touches so openly. Like it’s his toy to use. He smiles up at you as you pant and tremble, cunt fluttering with aftershocks. He kisses your thigh gently, reverently.

It’s not long before he’s sinking into you. Your pussy so soft and warm and wet for him, sucking him in, aching for something to fill that empty spot inside. You whine and gasp as he nudges against your cervix, buried deep, finding home there.

“That’s it,” he hums as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. “Pull me in deeper. Just like that.”

His pace is slow, his thrusts deep. You feel so close to him as he boxes you in, arms on either side of your head, fucking you like he’s making love. When he leans down and kisses you, it feels like heaven, which seems appropriate for a boy who looks like an angel.

#🫐 anon #Art Donaldson x reader

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merasunaar · 1 year ago

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Golden happiness comes when you know you can buy gold at minimum of 10 rupees - Mera sunaar

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investmentspect · 11 months ago

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#digital gold investment app in india #digital gold #digital gold disadvantages #digital gold price today #mutual fund calculator #best mutual funds next 10 years #buying digital gold online

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fryingtoilet · 7 months ago

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Hello Everyone! I'm super excited to announce my new sketch collection Artbook: ✿Halcyon Days✿

I decided to go the pre-order route this time to make the process smoother, since I've got a great system for fulfilling orders through my own shop, and I have some funds to start the production right away!

In order to secure the rest of the production funding, and to allow myself more time to work on Gloamingvale's Chapter 1, I am hoping to get as many preorders as possible quickly, and offering a big early-bird discount for the new book, as well as a big spring sale on the rest of my shop items! There will also be a couple of bundle-options available, with a big discount as well.

Let me tell you more about the book: I've been putting it together for the past couple of months, and ended up with a lot more pages than I anticipated. It's brimming with a huge variety of sketches! I included a ton of sketchbook scans, digital doodles, and all the fanarts that didn't make it into my previous artbooks. Here are the book details:

7' x 10' Inches - Softcover perfect bound, with Gold Foiling and soft touch Matte lamination - 104 Pages full Colour on premium munken paper with a matte finish

I have already begun production and the estimated preorder ship-out date is: Early-Mid AUGUST 2024

So only a few months of wait-time, much quicker than most Kickstarters!

I hope you will help me make the production of this book go smoothly by getting a copy early on and taking advantage of the reduced pricing! There will also be a brand new bookplate sticker design for this release, and an art print of the full cover illustration.

Your support is, as always, SO appreciated!

#illustration #artbook #sketchbook #sketches #sketchcollection #cosmicspectrum #gloamingvale #comicartist #characterdesign

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lunarmoves · 8 months ago

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through pixel eyes (chapter two)

pairing: DCA sun/moon/eclipse x reader

mentions: kinitopet/virtual au, gender neutral reader, general creepiness

a/n: i looked at this chapter for too long and it feels like ~garbage~ but! its here! take a shot every time i use the word "window" or "desktop" LMFAOO i'm going insane

word count: 6.8k+

masterlist | part one

ao3 link

You stayed up way too long last night, scrolling on your phone in bed, and now you’re paying the price for it. Namely, with a completely dead phone and a familiar, fatigued itch to your eyes once you manage to pry them open to start your day. It’s nothing you’re unaccustomed to, however, so you power through it knowing you’ll end up taking a nap later.

Fumbling out of bed, you plug your phone into a nearby outlet to charge and make your way through your morning routine. Cold water from your bathroom sink helps to refresh and wake you up properly so you can proceed with your tasks for the day. You throw open the curtains of your living room and kitchen so you can bask in the honeyed light coming from the sun, sweet and lush as it paints your walls a vibrant gold.

Breakfast is made, evaluations are done, forms are submitted—all before late afternoon. You thank your past self for all the leftovers you made to cruise you through the next few days. It’s always nice not having to cook in the evenings. You lounge around for a bit on your living room couch and indulge in a short nap before you plop yourself down in front of your computer for the long haul.

Navigating to your email, you pull up the submission form once more and fill out the basic information for now. You can’t even count how many times you’ve done this before for numerous other products. Companies tend to use the same generic questions, though sometimes they’re specific depending on what is being developed. At other times they don’t even require you to fill out a form and instead have you attend weekly meetings or update them via email. Either way, you can do shit like this in your sleep.

Alright, game time. You minimize the form’s window and double click on the FazPals icon as you fumble for your headphones. Nestling them around your ears, you watch in amusement as Sun pops up by sticking his head down from the top of your monitor like he’s perched upon a ledge just out of view.

“Friend!!” he cheers and waves both his hands at you zealously. You’re almost tempted to return the gesture. He swings the rest of his body down in a fluid flip and lands in the center of your desktop with a dazzling twirl. Confetti erupts into the air around him, the little digital strips of color disappearing once they float to the “ground” Sun stands on.

That same small, unlabeled window pops up at his side for you to type in. ‘hi sun.’

“Hello, hello! You’re back early!” Sun claps his little hands together and sways side to side rather jovially, bouncing slightly with each bob of his head. You have to raise your volume a little to hear his voice better, though the dialogue box near his head certainly picks up the slack.

‘yep. how r u doin?’ It’s so easy to slip into a typical conversation with him and push against the limits of his software. Whether that’s a good or bad thing, you’re uncertain.

Sun’s head twitches to the side, white eyes seemingly looking right at you. “Absolutely fantastic now that you’re here!” He winks at you, grin curling at the tips. “What would you like to do today?”

The textbox waits for your response. You purse your lips as you contemplate. What have you done with Sun thus far? He told you some fun facts and played games with you. That just left… ‘can u tell me a story?’

He pauses—minutely, very minutely—then resumes his swaying like nothing had happened. His rays jerk slightly outwards and he smiles in a mischievous sort of way. “Hmm, why don’t you ask Moon for one later? He is much better at storytelling than I am!”

You squint at him. Well, alright then. You hadn’t been expecting that sort of response. Shouldn’t they both be equally as good at storytelling if they are made from the same code? Maybe it’s a personality thing. You consider questioning him, but before you can type anything in, Sun forges on. “Is there anything else you would like to do? Remember, input ‘/help’ for available commands!”

Your fingers tap against the surface of your desk lightly, but in the end, you brush off his response. You shrug to yourself and pick the other option you hadn’t yet done with Sun. ‘then can u tell me a joke?’

“Oh boy! I sure can!” He smiles widely and pulls out a pair of large, black glasses from behind him with one hand. With the other hand, he pulls out a small, nondescript book. Is that a… joke book? Putting the glasses delicately on his face—you’re not sure how they stay on when he has no ears, but you chalk it up to technological magic—he clears his artificial voice and cracks the book open. “Why did the star get arrested?”

It seems the celestial theme extends to jokes too. Go figure. ‘i dunno. why?’

“Because it was a shooting star!” He grins, his rays spinning about his head like what he’d just said had been a particularly good one. You snicker more due to his reaction than the joke itself.

‘that was so bad,’ you type in light jest. And also kind of dark? ‘why did i laugh.’

“Because it was clearly good!” Sun replies. The glasses he has on makes his eyes look comically larger than they actually are and it has to be the silliest thing you’ve seen. “Here’s a better one: Why didn’t the Dog Star laugh at any jokes?”

You can see the punchline coming from a mile away, but you still indulge him. ‘idk, why?’

“Because it was Sirius!”

‘now that one was just predictable.’

“Ho ho, are you challenging me, Friend?” Sun suddenly asks slyly. “Because I am very, very capable.” Uh oh.

You shouldn’t have said anything, because he spends the next half an hour “reading” from that joke book of his and bombarding you with pun after pun. Now I know better than to critique his jokes, you think miserably to yourself as you listen to another one about Jupiter. There can only be so many jokes about the universe and stars, surely.

You eventually have to draw the line as he reads to you a joke about aliens (“What do you do with a green alien? Wait for it to ripen!”). You’re not here to evaluate the quality of his jokes. ‘okay u win, u win. i won’t doubt ur joke abilities ever again.’

Sun harrumphs and closes the little book in his hands with a snap. He takes off his glasses and— well, you’re not sure what he does, but one minute both items are in his hands and the next they’re gone. Like a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trick. “Thank you. I accept this win with utmost humility.” The way he smiles makes you doubt this, somehow.

“Alrighty!” He claps his hands together, his smile twitching slightly when his dialogue box appears a bit too close to his head. “Let’s do something else, shall we? How do you feel about”—he pauses for dramatic effect, then splays his arms out so he can do jazz hands—“Arts ‘n Crafts!”

It’s not like you’re going to refuse. ‘sure, sounds fun.’

“Wonderful!”

Like yesterday, he skips over to the side of your monitor to pull over the window of your Paint app and place it in the center of your screen once again. Seriously, how is he opening that? Then, he jumps up and perches himself on top of the window like he’s sitting upon it. His legs swing down, moving back and forth like they’re dangling off the edge of a precipice.

“Okay, Friend,” he starts as he reaches behind him and pulls out a little paintbrush. He spins it fluidly along his fingers and joints in a subtle display of dexterity. “For this activity, I will give you a prompt and you will be required to draw it! Simple and easy!”

A painting session? You can’t say you’re particularly good at drawing on your computer. You eye your mouse and cringe. Then, you hum and decide to tease him a little, just for the hell of it. ‘seems more arts than crafts to me.’

Sun waves his free hand as though to brush off your words. “Ah, semantics! We are creating either way, Friend!” He flips the utensil in his hand in the air and catches it smoothly. “Now! First prompt! Draw me something that encompasses happiness.”

What is this, philosophy? You hum thoughtfully, then use the pen tool to draw the first thing that comes to your mind: a smiley face. It is, admittedly, not your best one with how shaky your mouse is, but it gets your intentions across, you think.

Sun makes a sound like he’s clicking his tongue against his teeth—which is a bit of an eyebrow raiser given that he likely has no tongue nor teeth, but who are you to question his… features? “Is that all you’ve got, Friend?” he asks incredulously as his head tilts down to indicate he’s looking at your rather meager drawing.

‘what?’ you type, minutely offended. Is he judging you right now? He is totally judging you right now. ‘it satisfies your prompt, doesn’t it?’

“That is not the point!” he squawks out, and you wince at the shooting pitch of his voice. You nudge your volume down a little. “We are making art! Put a little oomf into it! A little personality! Show me your skills, Friend, and do not hold back!”

You roll your eyes up to your ceiling. So dramatic, but fine, you’ll adhere. You fiddle around with the drawing tool a little, then start drawing around your smiley face. A circle for a head, maybe some sunglasses. A rainbow that you spend way too long on, trying to make the arch of each color even. Some sparkles. A cat playing a saxophone—or your best attempt at one, at least. You’re kind of throwing things together at this point and hoping it’s enough to satisfy Sun—who’s starting to look more and more impatient the longer you take.

Finally, you finish. ‘okay, how about this?’

Sun claps his hands together and hops off the top of the window so he can stand before it properly and look at it like he’s a critic in an art museum. He ‘hms’ and ‘hahs’, tapping the bottom of his face with the paintbrush as he scrutinizes your drawing, looking at it every which way.

“Better, certainly better,” he muses and walks over to the other side of the window. “I can appreciate an effort when I see it.” You make a face at his words. Ouch? He spins back around to face you and gives you a thumbs up, eyes crinkling to crescents. “Wonderful job! A piece befitting a pin up to the refrigerator, I’m sure. On to the next prompt!” He snaps his fingers together, and the Paint application’s canvas clears. What? “Draw me something that encompasses sadness!”

You know now to be more detailed, at least. You doodle a sad face this time, accompanied by a variety of things you pull out from the top of your head. Sun criticizes your work when you finish, giving it that same appraisal as before. You feel like you’re in some sort of competition.

“Hm”—he eyes the rainclouds you’d drawn at the top of the canvas—“rather basic depictions, I’m afraid. Friend, have you tried varying the line weight of your pen tool? It might help!”

‘i’ll be sure to for the next one,’ you type in what you intend to be a dry manner, but you don’t think it translates all too well via text. As Sun grins approvingly at you, a sudden thought strikes you that you find yourself typing into that little window. ‘hey, why don’t u draw something since ur so… educated on it.’ Nitpicky, more like, but you don’t want to possibly offend him. ‘u seem like u’d enjoy it.’

“Me?” His eyes widen like he has not considered it. “You want…” His head cocks to the side. There is a moment where he just seems to look at you. Then, his eyes fall into a half-lidded, crinkled gaze that you have difficulty pinning alongside the stretching of his smile.

Everything is suddenly—quiet.

“You are,” he begins in a low voice that makes your eyebrows raise, “awfully strange, aren’t you, F-Friend?” A white facsimile of teeth flashes at you sharply that’s accompanied by a staticky glitch. “That’s okay! I like strange!”

And then—before you can truly decipher the depth to his smile or the offset pixels of the glitch—Sun beams at you, his rays spinning slightly. Like nothing had just happened. “I’ll make an artist out of you yet!” He claps his hands again, then wipes the canvas once more. He gestures to it. “Alright, for this next one, we are going to shift gears a little. Draw me a picture of your room!”

That is… definitely going into the submission form, you think. You hesitate for a moment, eyeing Sun as he sways side to side, but he… seems to be back to normal. It passed quickly—whatever ‘it’ was. No need to linger. You hope.

Your drawing is definitely a tad more rushed, but you think you do a pretty good job at capturing your room and its vibes—the decorations you have hung up, the comfy rug you impulse bought at a thrift store one day, and your bed swathed in your coziest blankets. You try varying your line weight, but you’re not sure how effective you are with it. Either way, Sun seems pleased with your attempts and praises one or two little details he notices, before he wipes the window clean.

“For the last drawing,” he says as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I want you to draw a self portrait!”

You make a face. Drawing inanimate objects is one thing, but an actual portrait? ‘i dunno if i’m skilled enough to draw a good one.’

He waves a hand as though to brush off your words. “Nonsense! Give it your best shot. I would love to see how you view yourself!” He smiles up at you. “Show me what makes you you!”

You chew at your bottom lip and adjust your headphones as you ponder. What makes you you, huh? Should be simple enough, right?

And yet it takes you the longest of them all to draw a self portrait that satisfies you. Sun’s practically vibrating in place as he waits, humming a dainty little tune under his artificial breath that you do not recognize. You finish up with the design of your trusty set of headphones and do a final once over before you tell him you’re done.

“Took you long enough, Friend!” He huffs as he slips over to the Paint window to begin his analysis. He nods his head during his observations, humming in a low manner. “Interesting! Very interesting.” He skips over to the other side of the window to get a different perspective. “Wonderful use of the dotted line tool here! Oh yes, yes, yes! This truly makes me miss Arts ‘n Crafts so dearly.” Sun sighs—forlorn, almost—and presses on before you can really say anything. “I’d say with some more practice you’d be deserving of being hung up on the Wall of Creativity! As they say: Practice makes better!”

‘thanks?’ You’re not sure you particularly like these sort of backhanded compliments, but well, he’s not wrong, per se. You eye the wobbly lines made by your mouse.

“No problem! The Wall of Creativity is the most highest of honors, you see.” Sun twirls the paintbrush in one hand and snaps two fingers of his other to clear the canvas for the last time. He points the bristle end of the brush in your general direction. “Now, how about we play some games, hm?”

You’re kept busy for a while, playing games to Sun’s whims—or at least, the ones you can do with just the Paint tool and two players. He reminds you to take a break at one point, so you stretch and grab some food—all the while summarizing in your head what to jot down in the submission form at the end of today’s session. When you return, it’s nearing seven o’clock, and you brace yourself for the appearance of the Moon.

“Well, Friend, it appears our time together must come to an inevitable end,” Sun bemoans rather dramatically, resting his forearm across the top of his head like he’s about to faint Victorian-style. “Fret not, however!” He perks up and flashes you a grin. “For I will see you later!”

‘okay, drama queen,’ you type with a silly smile splayed across your lips. Instead of being offended, he seems to fall deeper into the role.

“Life is a stage,” he says gravely, “and I am but a simple actor upon it.” He sweeps into a low bow, then bounds back up to his feet with a flourish. His eyes widen suddenly—round like two large, white coins—and he gasps. He points at something over your shoulder. “Friend! What’s that behind you?!”

There is the smallest, smallest moment, where something in your stomach drops down to your feet. Your eyebrows raise and you turn around in your chair to look behind you. There is only the wide space of your living room, with your rumpled couch and inactive television. From here you can see the door to your bedroom is slightly ajar. You’re pretty sure you didn’t close it properly earlier. You blink confusedly at the normalcy of it all, then turn back around to ask Sun what the hell he’s talking about.

Only you’re not looking at Sun. You’re looking at Moon. Ohhh.

You were duped, like a fool.

Moon does not look pleased, standing next to the little window with your textbox. He scowls when you type your usual ‘hi moon’, and doesn’t bother to grace you with a reply this time. There’s something akin to frustration in his expression, but you cannot—for the life of you—decipher why.

You try again. ‘you don’t look too happy.’

He shoots you what you can only describe as a glowering look from under the band of his nightcap. His hands twitch minutely at his sides. You can almost say he looks… preoccupied with something? You’re not sure what. You’re also not sure how long he’ll elect to stay. Yesterday, you had mere minutes.

‘can u tell me a story?’ you try, only to deflate when his scowl deepens. ‘oh come on, i’m trying here!’

“Don’t bother,” he eventually grumbles out, the twitching evolving into short flexes of his fingers—clawed like he’s trying to grasp something just out of reach.

It’s your turn to frown, but you don’t push it. ‘sun told me ur better at storytelling.’

His head jerks slightly to the side in a way that’s unnatural—rotating like a vinyl record. His gaze narrows. “He did, did he?” It’s said in a growl, displeasure lining his voice.

‘yep.’ You hesitate for a second, juggling your options and his irateness in your mind. ‘so… story? please?’

Moon snaps. “Fine! You want a story so badly, I’ll give you one. Listen very closely.” The little window you use to communicate with them closes out. Your eyebrows raise, but you are immediately captured by the low drone of Moon’s voice and the daggered look he somehow manages to give you even through your computer screen.

“Once upon a time,” he begins bitterly, “there was a fox. It lived with another fox friend in a peaceful valley. It was happy, living day by day with those around it. The two had each other and that was enough.

“But one day, the valley shook and trembled with the force of a mudslide. The fox was separated from its friend and injured by a fallen branch that manifested itself in the form of a perpetual limp. It tried, desperately, to find its friend, but it was no use. The friend was gone. It had to move on.

“The fox traveled for days. It was slow, but it made progress. And eventually, it found itself in a field surrounded by tall, waving grass and giant deciduous trees. It made this field its new home.

“For a while, things were good. The fox made some new friends. But there was still that ache of loss. The fox wondered if its old friend was still maybe out there, somewhere. It wished on the stars and hoped its friend would find it, in this new home. Someday. Somehow.

“Its wishes were granted. One day, the fox woke up to a familiar sound. The sound belonged to its old friend—that had found it after so long. The fox was happy and bound forth to greet its old friend. But there was something different about the friend that the fox could not place. It did not matter, however, for they were reunited at last.

“The days went on. The fox had noticed that its friend was not the same as before, but the same could be said about itself. They tried their best to live together once more. It was difficult. There were ups and downs. Fights and quarrels. The friend was controlling and the fox did not like this. They were not as close as they were before and this distance lingered over them like a storm.”

Moon breaks off for a short moment to glare down at his slippered feet. You are stuck in a trance, breathing bated as you hang on to his every word like they’re a lifeline. He shakes his head slightly, then continues on.

“The seasons cycled by. The auburn vegetation of Fall transformed into the desolate white of Winter, then to the lush verdance of Spring. Before finally, it settled on the yellowed brittleness of Summer. It was a particularly cruel Summer, but the fox and its friend did what they needed to survive while avoiding each other.

“And then… on a particularly arid day… A fire broke out in the field. It spread rapidly. It had not rained in days, and this caused the vegetation to burst into flames faster than the fox and its friend could react. It surrounded both of them. They were trapped. Together, yes, but still trapped. They couldn’t even reconcile in their final moments.”

Moon looks up at you, his eyes reminiscent of a tenebrous sky pulling you in deeper and deeper and deeper.

“Do you know,” he whispers with all the gravitas and conquassation of an earthquake barely repressed, “what it feels like to b u r n?”

And then the program closes.

You are left to stare at your empty desktop, throat lined with cotton and heart racing like it’d been you trapped in that fire.

There is much to dissect, but you haven’t got an inkling of where to even begin. You fall into an uneasy slumber throughout the night and wake up feeling just as clueless. Moon’s expression and voice lingers over your shoulder like a spiteful ghost and you’re left to wonder how a computer program can have such a depth to it. You don’t want to contemplate it, fearing the exacerbation of this… sinking feeling in your stomach. So you don’t.

A bug, you tell yourself as you shuffle through your daily tasks. Maybe a feature FazCo’s still trying to iron out.

(You don’t mention anything else other than a ‘weird story’ and more glitching in the nightly submission form. You’re not sure how to even describe what you’d listened through.)

You eye your dormant computer while you prepare a light lunch in the form of a sandwich, your television playing the news in the background. Nothing too major, just the weather at the moment. It’s a good way to fill the room with some noise when you feel like catching up with what’s going on in the world around you.

You exhale heavily through your nose and set down a dirty knife into the sink to clean later. Something bumps into your ankle, and you glance down to see Dr. Nugget bumbling away from you into the living room, whirring all the while. Those sensors definitely don’t work as they should, poor thing.

No matter how much you want to delay, you have some work you need to get done on your computer. Not only in terms of testing the FazPals program. Your timesheets need to be updated again (much easier to do on your computer than your phone, you admit). There are applications you have to submit to other companies to join their beta testing teams and research you have to do to ensure you don’t completely run out of work anytime soon. One of the more tedious attributes of being a beta tester is the constant cycle of looking and applying for positions. Oftentimes, companies will sign you on to test other products of theirs, though, so it’s not all that bad.

With that in mind, you plop down in front of your computer with your food and power it on. Your headphones go around your neck for the time being. Typing your password with one hand and taking a bite of your sandwich with the other, you get to work pulling up your spreadsheets and the website you use for job hunting.

It’s menial work. You keep track of what companies you apply to with your spreadsheets. Most of them have the same application process and requirements. It’s easy to lose yourself in the repetitive clicking, reading, and typing. With the addition of your headphones blasting music in your ears, you go on autopilot pretty easily.

It’s while you’re making updates to your resume that you get startled, suddenly, by Sun.

“Friend! Hello!” He pops up out of nowhere and makes you promptly choke on the sip of water you’d been taking. Loud! You set aside your water bottle and cough roughly into your fist, eyes tearing up from the abruptness of it all. Your heart gives a harsh, indignant ba-dump. Oww.

Once you’ve collected yourself and paused your music, you take a moment to stare confusedly at Sun, swaying happily side to side in front of the window of your resume. He smiles up at you. How the hell—? You hadn’t clicked on the FazPals icon, had you? No, no, you’re sure you didn’t.

‘hi sun,’ you type slowly into the small window he had automatically opened for you when he appeared. You pause as his smile turns into a beam, then decide to ask him your burning question. ‘how r u active right now??’

“I got tired of waiting for you!” he replies, his rays bobbing in and out in a wave around his head. You wait to see if he’ll elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay. Well. You make a note of that for later.

Sun makes a show of turning around and looking at your resume window. He can’t… read the data on it, right? Wait, no, he probably can if he was able to do it with your computer’s Paint app. You bite the inside of your lip. You’re not sure how you feel about that, but well, it’s not like FazCo doesn’t already have your resume. Just in case, you switch tabs back to your spreadsheet. Better, if marginally.

Sun hums, then turns back to look at you with those blank eyes of his. “What’re you up to, Friend?”

‘just applying to some jobs,’ you reply unsurely. Is this weird? This is weird, isn’t it. Upon pressing enter, Sun moves to look at the little window thoughtfully. And perhaps, with some inkling of annoyance? It’s difficult to tell, but it’s the same look he will sometimes give his dialogue box. One of his hands raises to tap at the bottom of his face. Contemplative. He returns his gaze to you and tilts his head.

“Hey, Friend,” he starts, completely bypassing your previous response, “I have an idea.”

You are wary, but you cannot deny the intrigue. ‘yes?’

His smile stretches at your encouragement. He clasps his hands together in front of him. “Just trust me!”

You squint at him—his blithesome demeanor—but you aren’t able to reply. The textbox window closes, and a different one appears in the center of your screen:

FazPals.exe is trying to access your microphone. Allow?

All your thoughts stutter to a complete stop.

Processing text is one thing, but audio input? You suppose it’s not anything innovative in this day and age, but you hadn’t been expecting it particularly for a program like this. You know the animatronics back at the pizzaplex were pretty advanced with this sort of thing, so it’s not… too unusual for FazCo, right? It’s probably something you need to evaluate, you sigh internally. This is fine.

FazCo, you think to yourself wryly. Enough said.

Apprehension still lining your movements, you click the ‘Allow’ button. The window disappears. Nothing really happens that you can see, but suddenly you are all too aware of the weight of your headphones sitting atop your head. You lick at your lips.

Sun continues his swaying as he waits—expectant. “Friend?” There is a smidge of hope in his voice.

“Yeah?” you respond, wincing at the crackle of your voice. That sip of water had really taken you out. You clear your throat. “Sorry. Yes?”

The beam he gives you is enough to vye against the, well, sun.

“Oh! Marvelous!” He practically leaps for joy, rays spinning up a storm as he wiggles in place. His eyes upturn into delighted crescents. “Simply marvelous! Friend, it is lovely to hear your voice! It has been so long since I’ve heard another.” Something creeps into his gaze that you… You’re not entirely sure you want to decipher it.

“Friend,” Sun begins in a low, nonchalant voice. “I have a request! A simple one, really.”

You raise an eyebrow. You are undoubtedly curious. “What is it?”

“Can you say my name for me?”

Oh. Weird, but okay. You comply, voice lifting at the end slightly. You are not nervous right now, thank you very much. “Sun.”

A glitch rides down the length of his body in a jittering wave—starting from the tips of his rays to the soles of his shoes. His gaze falls into a half-lidded look. “Perfect,” he breathes, so quiet you almost need to strain your ears to hear. “Utterly perfect.”

You blink at him, befuddled. The moment does not linger. He snaps back to his regular sway and bright-eyed expression. “So! You said you’re applying to jobs? What for?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, slightly distracted and disoriented by the whiplash from this guy. Program. Whatever. Your fingers had automatically moved to type your reply in, lingering over your keyboard. This will take some getting used to. You move your hands to rest awkwardly on your lap so you can fiddle with your fingers. “I’m a beta tester so I’ve gotta keep applying for positions in companies.”

“Beta tester, huh?” Sun muses more to himself than anything. He seems to be deliberating something. “Hm. I see. For how long?”

You make a thoughtful sound. “Mm, for a while now. I can’t remember the exact timeframe. It’s enough to pay the bills, so I can’t complain.” You are ever so thankful that the ease in interacting with him transferred so neatly from texting to talking.

“Of course, of course!” Sun bows, then slides off to the right of your screen to nestle himself in the corner with the date and time. He tucks his hands behind his back. “Well! Don’t let me distract you! Carry on!”

“Right…” you trail off, uncertain. You eye him standing just out of the way of your work—enough that you can ignore him if you zone in on what’s directly in front of you. Well, FazCo did say their program is a “virtual desktop friend.” Hanging around your screen when you’re not immediately engaging with it seems like an attribute it should be able to do. You shrug to yourself and go back to editing your resume.

…It’s very quiet.

Oh wait, music! You forgot to start it up again. You mess around with the volume mixer on your computer so you can continue to play your music whilst also being able to properly hear Sun should he decide to start talking. That is, without bursting your eardrums. You lose yourself to the tunes, accompanied on occasion by the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard.

At one point you notice Sun changes the pacing of his swaying. And upon closer look, you realize he’s moving to the beat of the song booming through your headphones. His rays move like a volume meter, raising and lowering around his head in a circular formation depending on the strength of the audio.

“I like this song!” he says like he can sense your eyes on his pixelated form. “Never heard something like this before!”

“Really?” You adjust the volume mixer a little. Better.

“Yep! My music repertoire is rather lacking, I’m afraid.”

“You��re in luck, then,” you say eagerly as you pull up your music player and shuffle through a playlist you think he might like. “This is what I call The Greatest Hits of All Time.” You press play and grin when Sun does a little wiggle in excitement.

He’s content to sway in time with whichever song’s playing as you slowly finish up with your work for the day. You’re a bit surprised at how long he goes without really saying anything. But, of course, he eventually gets bored. Patience, you think, is not one of his core features. Or, well, he is patient to an extent. Something tells you he was not programmed to stay quiet for long periods of time.

In the corner of your eye, you notice he starts juggling. It’s small, at first. Just two red balls that he throws up and down and up and down, shuffling them to opposite hands all the while. Then it becomes three balls. Then four. Your gaze flicks to him from time to time, but you’re determined to get through just a couple more applications and then your timesheets before you call it quits.

You break when he hits eleven balls, his grin curling enticingly at the edges concomitantly. “Bored, are you?”

“Oh, immensely!” He throws up his hands in feigned distress and the plethora of balls come raining down upon him in a move befitting of a cartoon. They bonk him repeatedly on the head and bounce away on the top of your taskbar. You watch in amusement as one rolls across your screen and disappears past the left border. Sun is unperturbed. “Are ya done yet?”

“Not quite,” you say and he groans, tossing his head back. You roll your eyes in good nature.

“You can multitask, can’t you?” he presses, clasping his hands together in a plea. “Let’s chat!”

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce. You’re sure he would keep pestering you otherwise. He cheers and immediately hops right into it.

“What do you like to do for fun? What’s your favorite food? Do you have any other friends? What about your family? Do you like g-glitter glue? What’s the highest education level you have? Do you have a favorite piece of media? What’s your deepest, darkest secret? What’s your opinion on Fizzy Faz? What’s your favorite animal—”

“Whoa, Sun! Slow down!” you yelp, mind spinning with all the rapidfire questions. The text in his dialogue box had been moving so quickly you hadn’t been able to make out a single word.

“Sorry!” he says, though he doesn’t quite sound all too apologetic. His eyes upturn. “I want to know aaalllll about you! How else will we be best friends?”

“By taking it easy,” you reply in what you hope is a meaningful manner. He at least has the decency to look abashed. You huff out a laugh, then do your best to remember what questions he’d asked. You’re already blanking on some. “Okay, well, uhh. I like to read and watch videos. I do have other friends and family, but I don’t live with them. Glitter glue is okay when it’s not literally everywhere. I don’t have any deepest, darkest secrets, sorry. Uhh—”

“Don’t forget about your favorite food!” Sun cuts across you, trying to be helpful, most likely. “And education level! And your favorite media!”

“Right, right…”

You’re not sure how long you spend answering his many, many questions (of which you’re sure he has an infinite amount), but it feels like ages. You have been thoroughly distracted, and you can’t even be incensed about it.

As the evening settles in with a hush and it gets closer and closer to seven o’clock, you find yourself thinking about Moon.

“Do you know what it feels like to b u r n?”

You suppress a shiver.

You take a moment to deliberate in your mind, then eye Sun. He’s busy prattling off his excitement over wanting to watch a movie with you. Gently, you interrupt him. “Hey, is it cool if I ask you a question?”

“Oh!” Sun looks at you wide-eyed, momentarily taken aback before he smiles encouragingly. “Of course, Friend! Ask away!”

“What’s the deal with Moon?”

If you hadn’t been already watching him, you wouldn’t have noticed. He freezes in place for a split second, then resumes his swaying so suddenly it’s almost like he’d forced himself to. Ever so minutely, the corner of his smile twitches. “Why ever would you ask me?”

“Well…” Your fingers tap idly along the surface of your desk. Shouldn’t he know since they’re part of the same software? You resist questioning him further. “He doesn’t seem like he wants to engage with me.”

Sun waves a hand in dismissal. “Ah! He’s being dramatic, probably! Moon is… Well! I will say he is rather….” His grin turns taut, like a wire about to snap. “...Difficult to get along with.” That tautness disappears with a bob of his rays, as though it had never been there in the first place. “Worry not, Friend! You still have little old me to talk to!”

“Yeah…” You’re confused. You thought dual programming with personalities such as Sun and Moon would make them mesh together pretty well. It’s difficult to tell with Sun. He’d made it seem like they both were on decent terms with previous transitions. You suppose not. Is it even possible for their A.I.s to interact with one another? You’re not sure how it works.

“Speaking of which,” Sun says as he makes a show of looking down at an invisible watch on his wrist. “It is time for me to go!” He sighs, faux sadness making him droop down like he’s a melting popsicle. “And after we’ve been having such a good time together.”

“Mmhm,” you agree, something akin to nerves crawling just under your skin with every second that ticks by. Why are you nervous? “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

He grins at you, flicking a hand in farewell. “I bid you”—a dark hole appears near his feet, and you watch as he steps over it with a wink—“adieeuuuuuuu!” He disappears, dropping into the hole with his voice getting fainter and fainter until it’s cut off by the hole popping to a close. Silly.

You let out a breath and look at the time. 7:00 P.M. Right on the dot. You shift in your seat and wait for Moon. You’re not sure what crawled up his digital ass and died, but you’re determined to at least get him to have a proper conversation with you. Not only for your job, you think, as you navigate to your email to open the submission form, but for camaraderie’s sake, as well.

“Camaraderie” with a program, you think to yourself dryly. What a world we live in.

7:03 P.M. and still no sign of Moon. This is fine. You can wait. You try not to waver.

…You call it quits when he doesn’t appear after another ten minutes. Disappointing, yet unsurprising. You should have expected it, really. You sigh and take off your headphones, leaning back in your chair. You rub at the side of your head. Your television drones on in the background with the news, still on after all this time.

Honestly, how are you supposed to evaluate him when he shows up and disappears in unpredictable intervals? It’s a conundrum, truly. Does that not go against his entire code? His purpose? You don’t know anymore. You roll your shoulders and decide to finish up your work from earlier.

Tomorrow, you think resolutely. Tomorrow you’ll try again.

part three

155 notes · View notes

msbigredmachine · 1 year ago

Text

Here With Me - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

As the Bloodline Civil War takes an unexpected turn of events, Reader comes up with the perfect pick-me-up for her Tribal Chief. Post-Summerslam 2023.

PAIRING: Tribal Chief!Roman Reigns x OC

Warnings: SMUT

Word count: 6k

A/N: Dido's "Here With Me" did so much for the writing of this that I had to name the fic after the song.

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

I’m startled awake by the door clicking shut, my eyes remaining closed as he walks into the bedroom of his penthouse suite. I’m laying on my side facing away from him, but he is clear as day in my mind's eye as he tosses the gold title belt on the sofa across the room. His beloved ula fula, the subject of heated combat tonight, follows. The mattress dips as he sits on his side of the bed, letting out a painful exhale.

My eyes flicker to the digital clock on the nightstand. I returned to the suite right after the main event. It’s currently 1.30 am. I have no idea where he’s been for the last two hours, but I let it slide. He’s come back to me and that’s all that matters.

The pointed silence and the hairs that suddenly stand on the back of my neck tell me he’s staring at me. It’s confirmed when I feel his hand rest on my leg over the white sheets blanketing me. His usually assured, confident touch is sad and distracted. Even in the humming quiet, I can feel the turmoil brewing inside him and understandably so.

The last few weeks have been a lot for him to take in. Getting pinned in London; tensions exploding in MSG; putting his entire legacy on the line against Jey in Orlando, and tonight, at Summerslam, victory at Tribal Combat. But it’s come at a price, as his family has all but disintegrated now. He is exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could see it in his eyes backstage after the match in spite of his best attempts to conceal his true feelings. For him, tonight’s win feels like a loss.

The second his hand slips away, I miss him. He stands up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. I twist around the bed to face the partially closed door, and hear the shower start. I wait for a while before getting up and making my way to him. His head snaps in my direction when I open the door.

“Babe?” he calls out.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t panic,” I try to joke, my smile faltering a little when he merely turns back around and faces the wall. I notice the still visible red marks on his broad back, imprints from the kendo stick and leather strap beatings he endured tonight.

"I'm sorry, I musta woke you," he says, as I pull off the baggy t-shirt that belongs to him over my head. I swap my silk bonnet for a shower cap and open the door to the enclosure. Stepping inside, I immediately jump away in alarm when the water beating down on him splashes onto my skin. It’s boiling hot.

“Jesus, Ro! You tryin’ to cook yourself?” I exclaim, quickly grabbing the tap, my wrist frantically twisting the knob to adjust the temperature to a less dangerous degree. He hasn’t flinched once. I steer him away from the water, then slip around to his front and wrap him up in a hug that he clearly, desperately, needs. His body stiffens, hesitant at first, before he sags against me and locks his arms around my waist. His face is tucked in the crook of my neck, nestled comfortably like it belongs there. I can feel the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It’s okay. Just keep holding me until you’re ready,” I whisper, combing my fingers soothingly through damp strands of his hair as his grip on my waist remains tight. Being the macho hypermasculine entity that he is, I know he doesn’t like it when I see him like this. But relationships are about sticking together through the good times and the bad. I’ll always be there to see him through both.

“I coulda sworn you won your match tonight. What’s wrong?” I lure him in with a coaxing peck to his shoulder, hoping to quicken his response time.

After several seconds of hesitation, he gives in. “I warned them both,” he starts to vent. “I knew it would come to this. You saw for yourself tonight what happens when you become selfish and greedy. All I ever wanted to do was keep my family together, elevate them and their careers. Those two ingrates turned against me and made me out to be some kind of monster. Conspired with the Elders behind my back and questioned my place as the Head of the Table. Now they’re at each other’s throats and our entire family looks weak! I warned 'em, I told 'em-”

"Hey, hey, hey,” I gently shush him, lifting his face so our eyes meet. My heart sinks from how despondent he looks. “Breathe, baby, breathe. Deep breath.” I wait for him to do so, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine, inhaling and exhaling. But his mind is clearly still on his cousins.

“This is all on them,” he continues. “They refused to see the big picture and now it’s gone to shit.” He licks his lips and his eyes are glazed. “The family wants me to intervene, but fuck that. Not after they tried to destroy everything I’ve worked my ass off for the last three years. As far as I’m concerned, they’re dead to me.”

"Don’t say that. Families fight all the time. It’s going to be fine,” I vow, even though I'm in no position to promise such a thing. “Come here." I gently prompt him to turn around, and watch for a few seconds as the less scalding shower stream pelts his shoulders with water. The tribal tattoo adorning the right side of his back is majestic and intimidating up close, and I never pass up the chance to idolize the intricate design. “I want you to relax for me, okay?”

He reaches out and braces his hands on the wall in front of him while I run mine up his back to slowly knead his shoulders, working the tense flesh. His muscles are tight and I do my best to ease them up with my amateur masseuse skills, gleefully aware that I love touching him anyway.

I move down to the middle of his back, and he starts to relax under my touch. As I’m about to retrace my route, I lean in and press soft kisses to his back right before massaging that same spot. Roman exhales again, suggesting he is calmer now, but only just. He’s a tough man to crack, so it feels good each time I become more conversant with his…complexities, if you will. Our relationship is relatively new…We only just met in February this year. I was not a wrestling fan growing up, but I’ve since plunged headfirst into the circus-like controlled chaos that only a pro wrestler is capable of living in. In my defense, it’s easy to dive in when it’s with a man as sweet, charming and criminally sexy as Roman Reigns. Of course, it’s not all rainbows and roses; his prolonged absences, our bitter exes and his psychotic fan girls spring to mind. But I won't change a thing as it’s only made us stronger together. Every day I wonder where he has been all my life, and I want to be with him forever. Yes. I’m in that tight of a chokehold. It’s a whole lot sexier when he’s actually doing the choking.

“You know, other people woulda buckled under the pressure and responsibility long ago. But here you are, standing tall despite the setbacks. That says a lot about you, big boy,” I say to him, my hands still at work. “You’re still the Champ, the longest reign in the last thirty plus years. The twins may have turned their backs on you, but best believe I won’t. I never will.”

Roman scoffs cynically and shakes his head. “Right. Everyone leaves me in the end. Seth. Mox. My ex-wife. Sami. Even Heyman abandoned me once. Now my own cousins.”

“Well, I ain’t none of them,” I answer smoothly, as he turns around to face me.

“I'm not a bad person, Y/N,” he insists, his eyes pleading, as though he’s desperate for me to believe him. I do. I take his hands in mine and stare into his chocolate-colored eyes.

“I know you’re not. You’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you don’t take shit from nobody. You’re passionate and you stand your ground and fight for what’s yours. There’s nothing wrong with that at all. In fact, it’s sexy to me.”

His eyes twinkle mischievously at my choice of words. “Sexy, huh?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m learning a lot about this sweet, sexy man I’m sleeping with and falling in love with.”

The sudden silence that follows is amplified by the rush of the shower water. The look in Roman’s eyes is so intense that my knees grow weak. It’s not the most picture-perfect setting to utter the L word for the very first time, but witnessing first-hand the ferocity with which he defends his pride and his legacy has sparked a wave of awe and devotion and yes, love…through me that I can no longer keep to myself.

"I'm sorry I came back so late. I needed to clear my head,” he says softly, his hand lifting to caress my cheek. The anger in his voice has disappeared, while his eyes and demeanor are much softer…My little declaration has penetrated his armor. He looks down sheepishly at his feet and wets his lips before speaking again. “I kinda feel like I’ve been neglecting you, too…” he adds.

He’s such a sweetheart. To be fair, he’s made up for it by flying me to London, New York and now Detroit to be with him. The beautiful part is, I know I’m not the only one in love…His actions and gestures lately have spoken volumes. But if he’s not ready to say it back, he doesn’t have to. I just need him to know that he has my heart and I’ll always be by his side no matter what.

Pressing my body more firmly against his, my arms wind around his middle as I leave delicate licks and kisses all over his tattooed pec, right over the spot where his heart beats. I hope every day that it’s me his heart beats for.

“I know how frustrated you are about what’s going on. It sucks to feel like you’re losing control,” I tell him, staring up at him through my long lashes. “I can do something for you, Daddy. I could give some control back to you. I can make you feel better,” I offer, my voice as soft and seductive and as enticing as what I’m proposing. My mouth applies more pressure to his wet skin, and his breath hitches when I suckle the shell of his earlobe. “However you want me tonight, you can take me. Just say the word and I’m all yours.” My hands slide down to scrape his firm backside, and his dick twitches between our naked bodies, the exact reaction I yearn for.

For a long moment, he says nothing, only stares at me with his smoldering gaze. The energy simmers between us, and it boils over when he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine. Instantly my skin prickles and my heart pounds as we plunge headlong into each other. Our heads tilt from side to side, our tongues dance together as the water cascades around us, and I lose myself to the heat of our embrace.

Feeling dastardly, I break the kiss to slip his finger into my mouth. My lips drag along his long index finger, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. I suck on it like I am sucking something else, bigger, and the memory has him groaning deeply, his erection straining impatiently against my belly.

“Get on your knees and do that with my dick,” he orders.

Now we’re talking.

Leaning in for one more kiss, I trail my tongue along his throat and down his torso until I’m kneeling on the tiled floor. I wrap my right hand around the base of his engorged dick and tug gently on it. He lets out a quiet whimper, and it is a massive turn-on to know I can elicit such a response from this specimen of a man. Watching him succumb to me is always sexy as hell.

His cock jumps in my grip when I roll my tongue around the tip. He inhales sharply, moving his hands behind my head, and squirms as I lavishly lick along the underside, teasing him. I luxuriate in his throaty groan as I then slowly make him disappear inside my mouth. I stroke and suck simultaneously, relaxing my throat to take him in deeper with every bob of my head.

"Fuck yeah," he pants, his fingers sinking into my scalp. “Suck my dick, beautiful. Don’t fuckin’ stop...”

Right now, I’m all about obeying Daddy. Staring up at him with hazy eyes, my tongue twirls around the base of his dick again before I switch to more intense suctions, my cheeks hollowing as my mouth glides hungrily up and down his entire length. His moans and gasps echo around the enclosure, causing my pussy to moisten and throb with lust. Gripping the back of my head, he holds me all the way down on him, my lips touching his pelvis. He withdraws and then pushes back in, rolling his hips to go even deeper down my throat. "Shit, your mouth feels so good, babe," he moans, a ravenous look in his eyes. My fingers slip underneath to play with his balls while I suck and tongue him down, and I’m rewarded with another desperate groan. I’m so aroused knowing I’m bringing him so much pleasure.

Suddenly his pace quickens, his hips pumping, fucking my mouth more aggressively. Saliva spills down to my chin as his long, thick cock slides more easily in and out of my mouth. Roman lets out another moan before holding my head down again, exploding down my throat with a harsh grunt. He collapses against the shower wall, catching his breath as I pop him out of my mouth and pat his cock against my tongue. Once upon a time, I used to be uncomfortable letting my exes finish in my mouth. I talked about it with Roman, and he was fine with it. But there was something in me that wanted to please him to the fullest, and not long after our first time together, I changed my mind. It’s an experience I learned to fully commit to, and I haven’t looked back since.

"That was fuckin’ amazing. Come here," Roman lauds, tugging me up on my feet and sweeping his lips along mine. "I'm so glad you were awake." The timbre of his voice, deep and laden with desire, sprouts goosebumps all over my skin.

"I don’t sleep as good without you," I reply, running my fingers again through his hair. He leans down and scoops my right breast into his mouth. I moan as the sensation zips straight to my loins. His hands glide down my back to squeeze and caress my ass. He keeps me tight against him, pressing himself firmly on my stomach. Feeling him so turned on sends more chills through my body.

"You know we ain’t done, right?" he says, “We just gettin’ started, baby girl.”

"I hope so..." I reach behind him to turn off the shower. Handing him one of the bathrobes, I wrap myself in another one and open the shower door, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom.

We stand at the side of the bed and he undresses me, dragging the robe off my body. I can’t help but blush as he ogles me like he’s seeing me naked for the very first time. He cups my breasts, rolling them in his hands as he kisses me passionately. I tug his robe down his shoulders as I kiss him, my tongue bossily claiming every inch of his mouth as my own. His hands travel all over my naked body, heating me up with his stimulating caresses. He tells me all the time how much he loves my curves, but this is more than that. He’s prepping me for an onslaught. He is about to manhandle me like the sex god that he is, and my breathing quickens and my loins pool with anticipation.

Roman detaches his lips from mine out of nowhere, a devious smile on his gorgeous face. He shoves me onto the bed, flat on my back right on the edge with my legs spread. I can’t hold back my moan as he strokes his dick while stepping between my thighs. The sight of his muscular right arm flexing as his fingers strum his long, hard cock, makes my clit throb.

Ever observant, Roman notices me staring and smiles smugly. “You like this baby? Want me to jack off for you?” he asks, tugging and smacking his dick a little harder, a bead of pre-cum oozing out the tip, and my thighs clamp together to relieve the maddening pressure between them.

“Dude, no! I want it in me,” I practically admonish him, almost offended that he thinks I want anything else. I’m about to bust right now just looking at him.

His smile widens, and he takes my knees and yanks them in opposite directions. He’s enjoying this, torturing me, making me beg for him. “My little slut is so needy. Don’t worry, baby, Daddy will give you what you want.”

As his face nears mine, I instinctively reach up to touch him, but he grabs my wrists and pushes them back down to the mattress above my head.

"Uh-uh. I got plans, baby girl," he informs me with a brief kiss. He searches around for what ends up being his bathrobe and draws the long white belt off, twisting it around his hands and tugging it ominously. We lock darkened eyes, and his tongue swishes hungrily across his lips.

“Gimme your hands.”

I obey. He takes my right hand first, and then my left, crossing my wrists together and winding the belt firmly around them, before pushing my hands back above my head. I’m flat on my back and all tied up with my ass halfway on the bed, legs spread, naked, cunt exposed and at his mercy. I love it. I love that he trusts me and is comfortable enough with me to explore his kinky side. I trust him, too. I’m proud to be the fucktoy of my Tribal Chief.

“Jesus, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he groans, his eyes raking down my prone frame like he’s famished. My breath catches as I watch him tie his wet hair in his trademark man bun. Then, he bends down between my legs, breathes hard on my clit and then sticks his tongue out to lap at my folds. Right away my body jerks, blooming with sensual heat. He starts licking me with longer strokes, working his tongue all over the surface of my pussy lips, then he breaches, jabbing his tongue in and out of me with expert precision. The quiet of our room amplifies the erotic audio between us; my staccato breaths, his lazy slurping, my wet pussy splashing against his deadly tongue. Then, to murder me, he closes his mouth around my clit and starts sucking it lightly. That’s a big ass mouth, and it takes everything in me to not scream from how good he’s working me. He keeps glancing up at me; I know he’s getting off to my moans and my attempts to grind against his face. He takes me hostage, his muscled arms winding around my thighs to hold me down while he feasts. His soft groans against my flesh, the warmth of his breath, the scratch of his beard on my inner thighs…The combined stimulation is toe-curling, with wave after wave of pleasure bombarding me like a thunderstorm.

“Don’t come yet,” he instructs unexpectedly, and I’m about to cry. His mouth feels so damn good. He continues sucking and licking, wreaking havoc on my sensitive core. I grip the sheets tighter as my back arches off the bed. “Fuck, Roman, please!” I cry out, damn near begging for release.

Of course, my pleas are ignored. He twists his tongue inside me, gifting me with more strokes over my pussy and my engorged bundle. The decadent rhythm of his mouth and tongue on me is edging me dangerously closer to a mind blowing nut. Just when I’m certain I’m about to disobey him in the worst way, he pulls away, his full lips glossy and shining in the lonely lamplight by the bedside. I don’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He licks all the way up to my chest and clasps my left breast in his hand, worrying the sensitive nipple between his fingers while sucking my other breast in his mouth.

"Imma fuck the shit outta you," he whispers to me in a rough and raspy voice, his dark eyes gleaming.

His promise is a direct hit to my groin. "Do it, Daddy. Do that shit," I gasp, squirming under his touch.

He brushes our mouths together, and I sigh softly as my own juices melt from his tongue onto mine. Roman stands upright at the bed’s edge, bends his knees and rubs the tip of his shaft along my slick, softened folds. He lunges forward in one fluid motion, his lips parting in a moan as he slowly slides inside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, my eyes glazing over with pleasure when he draws back out, leaving just the tip, before plunging in again with a sharp snap of his hips. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me.

"I'm inside of you, baby. This what you want? Want me to take this pussy?" he asks with another deep thrust, his big dick nestled in my warm wetness, and it’s driving me wild.

"Yes, take your pussy Daddy, fuck me," I plead, my voice catching on the desire and lust washing over me.

With that information, he hoists my legs onto his shoulders and picks up the pace, pushing in deeper and filling me to the brim like he always does. I’ve told him more than once that he belongs inside me, and the pure pleasure in his eyes every time we fuck says he agrees wholeheartedly.

"Shiiit, baby, right there, that feels so good…" I whine, feeling him nudge right up against my hilt. He pulls back for a second, and I watch as he holds my legs open and a thick glob of saliva spills from his mouth and onto my pussy. Before I can fully process this, he slams back into me, more easily now, snatching my breath from my lungs. His fingers grasp my hips as he pounds me, slow and balls-deep, to the point that I’m seeing stars. My restrained hands claw at the sheets above me, searching for some kind of leverage as he dicks me down. He has total control of my body and he’s using that power to make me take every inch of him, literally and otherwise. My eyes squeeze shut, mouth falling open as my chest begins to clog and my head begins spinning from his long, lethal strokes.

His hulking upper body closes the space between us and descends on top of mine, bringing us chest to chest. "Breathe, sweetheart," he tells me, and on command, I draw in a raspy breath, alleviating the discomfort in my chest. His evil little smirk tells me he is enjoying every second of my agony. His arms stretch upwards, brushing over the cotton material of the belt securing my wrists and twining his fingers around mine. His muscles flex and ripple as he keeps pumping into me. He nuzzles the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and bites down on it, making me call out his name.

"Goddamn, this pussy good as fuck. Every damn time," he grunts. His hands tighten around mine as his pounding thrusts switch to salacious rolls of his hips, grinding deliciously against me while he swallows my moans, his tongue slipping inside my mouth for another hot, sloppy kiss. My legs wrap around his waist, my ankles locked behind his back to keep him to me.

"Tell me again, baby. Tell me you love me,” he rasps in the middle of our intense kissing.

“I love you, Daddy, mmm,” I moan back, my heart pounding as hard as he is pounding me. It’s a stunning mix of the emotional high of love and the carnal rush of lust that I’ve never felt before with anyone else.

“Yeah, you love me?” He searches my eyes, as engulfed in the throes of passion as I am.

“I do, Roman, I love you so fuckin’ much...unnhh my god…”

He has moved off of me, seizing my legs from around his waist and shoving my knees into the mattress. There’s no time to miss the warmth of his body as he’s back to his rough, brutal strokes, drilling me over and over, stuffing my pussy with his cock. It’s like the animal in him has been unleashed, months of family strife spilling over and transferred to me via his increasing aggressiveness. As my orgasm builds in my stomach, I flex against my restraints again, my fingers craving to dig into his skin, to sink into him the way he’s sinking into me. With one more suffocating thrust, I break at last, and my eyes roll into the back of my head, my moans ringing around the entire suite as I tremble beneath him. His arrogant chuckle tickles my ears, clearly reveling in the blissful state he’s put me in.

Before I can blink, he grabs my waist and flips me roughly onto my belly, bending me over the side of the bed. Hovering over me, he unties the belt binding my hands, and I assume I’m free. But then, he tugs both my arms behind my back and re-ties my wrists together. I’m still recovering from the shock of my orgasm and this new position when his dick slots back in my cunt, and my mind is wiped blank, a strangled moan escaping my lips. Roman gives a few short, stabbing thrusts inside me before finding a rhythm he enjoys.

"God, you feel fuckin’ amazing, baby, so tight and wet for me. Damn,” he hisses behind me. Using his right hand, he slaps my left ass cheek and jiggles it. I gasp from the pain and the pleasure, making my pussy squeeze around his dick with a force that has us both groaning. My fingers scrape against his pelvis as he keeps his momentum, sliding in and out of me, in and out. Oh, fuck, it feels sooo good! He’s so long and girthy that I feel like I’m being split open, but I melt into submission and take it like the fucktoy that I am.

His husky groans are my soundtrack as he fucks me into the bed at a savage pace, having his way with me. Clutching my ass in large handfuls, he spreads my cheeks open and plunges his dick deeper inside me, forcing me up on the tips of my toes. Using his thumb to scoop up my juices, he circles it around the puckered hole of my second opening, a keening cry tumbles out of me and into the sheets as he pushes it deep into the tight entrance.

“Too bad we forgot the lube, I’da fucked this pretty ass all night long,” he says with another slap on my backside, and I can only whimper in response. Pinned face-down to the sheets, I can feel all of it. His thumb fucking my asshole, his magic cock stretching my other hole wide open, his powerful tree trunk like legs barricading mine against the side of the bed. My body is so riled up that my pussy reacts by leaking all over his cock, the gush of my nectar sending a pleasurable sensation through us both.

“Mm-hmm, make a mess on my dick, baby, keep comin’ all over it,” he taunts me. He lifts both my legs off the floor and onto the bed, arching my back and spreading my knees wide. From there, he wraps his hand around my hip, his fingers pressing into my flesh, and he rocks me back and forth on that big ass dick, making me move with him. We moan together at how good we’re making each other feel. Every sound resonates through my heated body; the inevitable squelches of my dripping cunt, our skins smacking lewdly together, our sex filling the air with a familiar primal scent that belongs to no one but us.

My brain is on sensory overload as he speeds up his thrusts, his balls slapping against my clit as he hammers into my pussy with newfound aggression. The pressure is building inside me at a dizzying, alarming rate, so much so that I use my bound hands to push again at his lower abs. This time I succeed in pushing him off, but only for a second.

“What’chu doin’? Don’t run, c’mere,” he growls, sliding his dick back in me right before it slips out, and I cry out as he impales me hard on his shaft. He spanks my ass hard for my bad behavior. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Take this fuckin’ dick.”

Seizing my wayward hand in one of his, he buries himself in me, deep-diving in my g-spot, making my walls contract around his dick again. My voice is all but gone, I’m that spent. But Roman wants more. He’s an expert at coaxing more out of me even when I have nothing left.

"Tell me who you belong to, huh. Who’s my slut?" he demands, giving my ass an underhand slap.

"I'm your slut," I slur.

"What’chu say?"

"I'm your slut, Daddy," I enunciate with great effort, inebriated in a cocktail of love and ecstasy.

Another stinging smack on my butt.

"Louder."

"I'm your slut!" I bellow, my voice cut off when Roman pins me down by the back of my neck, my cheek pressed into the mattress. This forces a deeper arch in my back, opening me up to be plowed mercilessly by his dick. The pressure of his fingers on both sides of my throat has me struggling for breath. I’m high from overwhelming pleasure right now, and that menacing coil that’s been winding in my belly finally snaps again.

“Ohmygod…ohmygod…fuck, fuck, fuck!” My body explodes again, and I’m shaking like I’ve been possessed by a supernatural entity. I know Roman can feel it too, as he’s moaning and gasping, a handful of my vibrating ass cheek in his grasp because the grip of my pussy is about to break his dick in half. I’m reduced to a weak, moaning mess as somehow he continues fucking me senseless. Then, with a loud, hoarse grunt, he yanks his dick out of me. One squeeze is all he needs, expletives tumbling around my name as he comes all over my ass, warm, thick droplets spilling onto my backside. I can hear the wet, slippery skin on skin contact as he strokes out his nut, and the sound arouses me despite my thoroughly fucked disposition.

“Fuck!” he moans out, leaning tiredly into me, his drained cock mashed against my ass. “Damn, baby. Damn.”

The rest of my lifeless body melts onto the bed, my arms limp on my lower back, my mouth hanging open. I’m barely cognizant of him loosening the belt from my wrists. When he’s done, he seizes my ass cheeks with both hands, slapping them together one last time before walking away from the destruction on the bed. I haven’t moved an inch. My ass is still in the air and my eyes are starting to drift shut. It won’t be the first time he’s fucked me right to sleep. However, before I succumb to the darkness, his deep voice rouses me.

“Don’t go to sleep yet, baby. Come here.”

I force my eyes open and lift my head to search for him. He’s stretched out on the other side of the bed, watching me with unabashed amusement.

“We ain’t done?” I mewl, exhausted.

“Nope. But we’re taking a little break for now. Come sit on top of Daddy.”

That’s a dangerous position to be in, especially as his dick is still hard and covered in layers of my cum. But how can I ever resist my man? With all the strength I have left, I crawl up the bed towards my lover. His brawny arms wrap around my body and ease me on top of him. He grabs his bathrobe and wipes his mess off my backside, before rubbing my back and my thigh with those big callused hands of his. He feathers a kiss on my forehead, my nose and then my mouth, in the sweetest, most tender of kisses. "You're so good to me, baby. I appreciate you so much," he whispers against my lips.

"Anything for you, baby," I remind him, dabbing away the sweat from his forehead with the bathrobe. "Do you feel better?"

"I do." His soft, beautiful eyes gaze into mine, observing me. “I know that you worry about me a lot, and I’m sorry,” he says.

"Don’t ever be sorry. I always worry about the people I love. I just want you to be okay," I answer.

"I know, and that means a lot to me. You have no idea how much you mean to me, baby girl. I think about you all the time...I feel at home every time I’m out there performing for the fans, but coming home to you is always my top priority," he tells me. His eyes shine with emotion. "I love being with you. I love calling you mine and me, yours. I’m so happy you love me, because I love you too baby, so much."

Oh my god. He’s said it. I’m not imagining it this time. Tears spring to my eyes but I quickly blink them away. "I love you, Roman," I breathe, and press my lips to his, grateful to have this amazing man in my life. Our mouths move sensually together as I glide my palms down the side of his face, smoothing out the bristles of his beard. He lets out a throaty moan at my touch, at my kiss. I could stay like this forever, but my baby needs his rest.

“You should get some sleep. You had a long night tonight,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “I think you’ve forgot when I said we’re just getting started. It’s your turn to fuck me.”

“Damn, you were being for real huh.”

“Course I was. You’re my little fucktoy, aren’t you?” Two of his fingers rub across my bottom lip before slipping into my mouth, as he hypnotizes me with his smoldering, effortlessly sexy stare. “I can use you however I want, however long I want, as many times as I want. Right?”

I may be fatigued from the barrage of orgasms he’s blessed me with tonight, but I’ve since realized that no matter how tired I feel, I’m still greedy for that big ol’ dick. He’s turned me out and turned me into a raging nympho in the process. I nod thirstily, gasping around his fingers as I feel his dick stiffen against the swollen mound of my cunt, ready for me again.

“Good girl.” His fingers slide from my mouth to join the rest of their counterparts down south. Together, the ten of them gather the supple cheeks of my ass, molding, caressing, a devilish twinkle in Roman’s eyes at the hunger shining in mine. “Recess is over sweetheart,” he announces. “Ride this dick. And this time, I’m nuttin’ all up in that sweet pussy of yours.”

Fuck, I'm such a slut. It’s almost embarrassing, the way my already battered pussy instantly flutters at his low, husky tone, at the thought of getting filled up with his seed. I reach down to grip his cock, sliding the tip along my wet slit to lube it with more of my juices. The shiver of his big body as I stroke him sends a thrill through me. His big hands envelop my hips once more as I lower myself down on his waiting erection, sending a jolt of electricity through our bodies as we begin the eternal, spellbinding dance of lovers all over again.

THE END

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The good girl in me wants so badly to apologize for writing so much smut, but dammit I’m not sorry! Roman is sexy af lol

Please leave feedback. I love feedback!

Banner made by me. All Roman gifs by @romanreigns. Credit to owners of the other pics and gifs.

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mydigigold · 8 months ago

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Impact Of US Fed Minutes On Gold Prices Last Week - myDigiGold

Gold prices witnessed some relief rally after the release of the US Fed minutes. The demand for digital gold also enhanced. If you are planning to buy and redeem 24K digital gold, myDigiGold is the name you can trust.

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madamlaydebug · 1 year ago

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CRITICAL WARNING!!!! Radio talk show hostess, Kim Komando, did some digging about TEMU and this is what she found!

Seemingly overnight, everyone’s talking about Temu (pronounced “tee-moo”), an online shopping app that boasts deals that seem too good to be true, like $17 wireless earbuds, $1 “gold” necklaces and $23 wedding dresses.

Over 50 million Americans have downloaded Temu since it launched state-side in September 2022, after it gained traction with expensive Super Bowl ads promising to let you “shop like a billionaire.”

Today, Temu is the most popular shopping app in the U.S. behind Amazon. But most of us don’t know much about the app’s true origins. Reader Daniel Mayer asked an important question, “Is [Temu] something we should be concerned about?”

So, I did some digging. And as it turns out, yes, you absolutely should be. Here’s what I found:

Where did Temu come from?

This isn’t some fly-by-night operation. Temu is based in Boston, Massachusetts, by PDD Holdings Inc. (Nasdaq: PDD). PDD is headquartered in Shanghai, China.

PDD also owns the e-commerce platform Pinduoduo headquartered in — you guessed it — China. So, Temu is a Communist China-based app and site.

What you need to know before using Temu

First, you’re buying goods directly from manufacturers in China and other parts of the world. That’s why shipping times are often 12 days or longer. The prices are low because the goods are cheap. The pictures of what you see advertised may not be what you actually get.

Temu’s BBB rating is 2.21/5. Reviews at TrustPilot are interesting, with 38% 5-star reviews and 41% 1-star reviews.

But that’s not the worst of it.

Temu is downright dangerous.

The app is a clever, pervasive digital stalker. As you shop, Temu monitors your activity on other apps, tracks your notifications and location and changes settings.

🛑 It gets worse. Temu gains full access to all your contacts, calendars and photo albums, plus all your social media accounts, chats and texts. In other words, literally everything on your phone. This is scary

No shopping app needs this much control, especially one tied to Communist China. If you’re using Temu, delete the app from your phone ASAP.

On iPhone, Long-press an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App. Tap Delete to confirm.

On Android, touch and hold an app, then tap Remove App > Delete App > Delete.

Pro tip: If you downloaded Temu, to be safe from Chinese spies, you really need to do a full factory reset.

But wait, there’s more! Temu’s sister app was removed from Google Play because of malware.

Do not buy from this company, or use their app!

COPY AND PASTE PLEASE

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bratzkoo · 2 months ago

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back to you | jun

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: jun x university student! reader Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 2.6k Warnings/note: requested by an anon. hope you like em.

summary: you struggle to adjust with your university life abroad and jun just wants to be a lovesick puppy

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist -

The autumn breeze carried a hint of excitement as you hurried across the sprawling campus of Seoul National University. Your backpack, heavy with textbooks and a laptop, bounced against your spine with each step. The leaves, painted in vibrant shades of red and gold, rustled beneath your feet as you navigated the familiar path to your Korean Language and Culture class.

It had been three months since you arrived in South Korea as an exchange student, leaving behind the comfort of your home country for the adventure of a lifetime. The initial culture shock had given way to a sense of wonder and appreciation for the bustling city of Seoul and its rich history. You had made friends, tried countless new foods, and immersed yourself in a language that once seemed impossibly complex but now flowed from your lips with growing confidence.

But despite the thrill of your new life, there was an undeniable ache in your heart – a Jun-shaped hole that no amount of kimchi or K-dramas could fill.

Jun, your boyfriend of two years, had always dreamed of becoming a K-pop idol. You had been there from the beginning, cheering him on through grueling auditions, years of training, and the nerve-wracking debut showcase with SVT. Now, at 26, he was living his dream as the main dancer and vocalist of SVT, a group that had taken the K-pop world by storm and was currently celebrating their 9th year since debut.

You were incredibly proud of Jun, but his success came at a price. The long-distance relationship that had once seemed manageable now felt like an insurmountable challenge. Your schedules rarely aligned – when you were awake, he was often sleeping off the exhaustion from a concert, variety show appearance, or group practice. Your conversations were reduced to hurried video calls and a constant stream of text messages, each one a digital lifeline keeping your connection alive.

As you approached the Humanities building, you fished your phone out of your pocket, hoping for a message from Jun. Your heart sank when you saw the empty notification bar. It had been two days since his last message – a group selca of SVT looking exhausted but happy after a sold-out concert in Bangkok. You knew he was busy, but the silence still stung.

With a sigh, you pocketed your phone and pushed open the heavy doors of the building. The cool air conditioning was a welcome relief from the autumn sun. You made your way to the classroom, sliding into your usual seat near the window. As you pulled out your notebook and pencil case, your mind wandered to Jun.

Where was he now? Tokyo? Manila? The cities of their world tour blurred together in your mind. You pictured him on stage, his graceful dance moves captivating the audience, his voice blending perfectly with his fellow members, his charismatic smile making Carats' hearts flutter. A pang of longing hit you as you remembered the way he used to practice his parts for you, just the two of you in his tiny trainee dorm room, his movements precise even in the limited space.

"Y/N-ssi, are you with us?" Professor Kim's voice snapped you back to reality. You blinked, realizing the class had already started.

"Yes, Sir. I’m sorry,," you apologized, feeling your cheeks heat up as your classmates giggled.

Professor Kim gave you a knowing smile. "That’s okay. Now, let's continue with our discussion on the influence of Confucianism on modern Korean society."

You tried to focus on the lecture, scribbling notes and participating in the class discussion. But your mind kept drifting back to Jun. You missed his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the feeling of his hand in yours. You missed the quiet moments between his schedules when you'd curl up together, watching dramas or planning your future. You missed being able to support him in person, to give him a hug after a tough day or celebrate SVT's victories with more than just a congratulatory text.

As the class drew to a close, Professor Kim assigned a group project on Korean cultural festivals. You paired up with Min-ji, a friendly Korean student who had taken you under her wing since your arrival.

"Y/N-ah, you seem distracted today," Min-ji said as you packed up your things. "Is everything okay?"

You managed a small smile. "I'm fine, just missing home a little."

Min-ji's eyes softened with understanding. "And by home, you mean Jun-oppa from SVT, right?"

You nodded, grateful for her perceptiveness. Min-ji was one of the few people who knew about your relationship with Jun. You had sworn her to secrecy – even though SVT was well-established, dating was still a sensitive topic in the K-pop world, and you didn't want to cause any trouble for Jun or the group.

"I know it's hard," Min-ji said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. "But you're strong, Y/N-ah. And Jun-oppa is lucky to have someone who supports his dreams and SVT so much."

"Gomawo, Min-ji-ya," you said, feeling a lump form in your throat. "I just wish..."

Your words were cut off by a commotion outside. The sound of excited chatter and what seemed like... music? drifted through the open windows. You and Min-ji exchanged curious glances before joining the stream of students heading towards the source of the noise.

As you stepped outside, the autumn sun momentarily blinded you. You blinked, trying to make sense of the scene before you. A crowd had gathered in the central courtyard, surrounding what looked like a hastily assembled stage. The music grew louder – a familiar melody that made your heart skip a beat.

"No way," you whispered, pushing your way through the crowd. "It can't be..."

But it was. There, on the makeshift stage, stood Jun. His black hair was styled in the comma style you loved, a few strands falling artfully over his forehead. He wore simple black jeans and a white t-shirt under a leather jacket – a far cry from SVT's usual coordinated stage outfits. His eyes scanned the crowd as he sang, his voice clear and strong, filling the courtyard with the sweet melody of "Falling for U," the special unit song he had recorded with Joshua.

Your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you closer to the stage. The crowd seemed to part for you, or maybe you were just pushing your way through, oblivious to everything but the sight and sound of Jun.

As if drawn by some magnetic force, Jun's eyes found yours in the crowd. His face lit up with a smile so bright it rivaled the sun. Without missing a beat in the song, he extended his hand towards you, inviting you to join him on stage.

For a moment, you hesitated. This was crazy. Jun was an idol, a member of one of the biggest K-pop groups in the world. There were probably fans in the crowd, maybe even reporters. What about his image? SVT's reputation? A thousand worries flashed through your mind in an instant.

But then Jun winked at you, that same mischievous wink he'd given you on your first date, and all your doubts melted away. You took his hand, letting him pull you up onto the stage as the crowd cheered.

Up close, you could see the exhaustion hidden behind Jun's smile, the slight puffiness under his eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights and intense performances. But his eyes were shining with joy and love as he sang directly to you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

As the final notes of the song faded away, Jun lowered the microphone. The crowd's cheers seemed distant, muffled by the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

"Surprise," Jun said softly, his breath warm against your ear as he pulled you into a tight hug.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely Jun. "What are you doing here?" you mumbled against his shirt, not quite believing this was real.

Jun chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "I missed you," he said simply. Then, louder, addressing the crowd: "Thank you all for listening! I hope you enjoyed this special SVT unit performance."

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, with shouts of "SVT!" and "Jun-oppa!" ringing out. You became acutely aware of the dozens of phones pointed in your direction, capturing this moment for posterity – and potentially social media. A flicker of worry must have shown on your face because Jun squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I cleared it with the members and the company. No more hiding."

Before you could process what that meant, Jun was guiding you off the stage and through the crowd. You caught glimpses of shocked faces – your classmates, professors, random students who had gathered for the impromptu performance. Min-ji gave you a thumbs up and a wide grin as you passed her, mouthing "Daebak!" with an impressed expression.

Jun led you to a quiet corner of the campus, a secluded spot behind the library where you often came to study. Only when you were alone did he finally release your hand, turning to face you with a mixture of excitement and nervousness in his eyes.

"I can't believe you're here," you said, drinking in the sight of him. He looked different from the last time you'd seen him in person – more mature, with sharper features and a new confidence in his posture. But his eyes were the same, warm and full of love.

Jun ran a hand through his hair, a habit he'd never quite shaken despite SVT's stylists' best efforts. "I couldn't stay away any longer," he admitted. "We had a two-day break between concerts, and I just... I had to see you."

"But what about your schedule? The members? Won't you get in trouble?" The questions tumbled out of you, your practical side warring with the part of you that just wanted to throw yourself into his arms and never let go.

Jun's smile turned sheepish. "About that... I may have pulled a few strings. And by strings, I mean I may have begged Seungcheol-hyung and threatened to write a whole album of sad Chinese ballads if they didn't let me come."

You couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Jun! You didn't!"

"I did," he said, his expression growing serious. "Y/N, these past few years with SVT have been amazing. Performing, meeting Carats, achieving our dreams together – it's everything I ever hoped for. But none of it means anything if I can't share it with you."

Your heart swelled at his words. "Jun, I'm so proud of you and SVT. I don't want to hold you back or cause any problems for your career or the group."

Jun shook his head, taking both of your hands in his. "You could never hold me back. You're the reason I've made it this far. Your support, your love – it's what keeps me going on those days when everything feels too hard, too overwhelming. The members understand that. They've been pushing me to do this, actually."

Tears pricked at your eyes. "I've missed you so much," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I've missed you too," Jun said, pulling you close. "Every city, every stage – I kept wishing you were there. That's why I talked to the members and the company. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just friends. I want the world to know how much I love you."

Your eyes widened. "Are you sure? What about the fans? SVT's image?"

Jun's smile was soft but determined. "Our real Carats will understand. They've always supported us in our personal happiness. And as for our image... SVT has always been about honesty and connection with our fans. I'm an idol, yes, but I'm also just a man in love with an incredible person who supports my dreams and my group. Why should I hide that?"

Overwhelmed by emotion, you stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his. Jun responded immediately, wrapping his arms around you and deepening the kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of months of longing, of love that had only grown stronger despite the distance.

When you finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Jun rested his forehead against yours. "I have to leave for Taipei tomorrow night," he said regretfully. "We have a fan meeting."

Your heart sank at the thought of him leaving so soon, but you pushed the feeling aside. "Then we'll make the most of the time we have," you said with determination.

Jun's eyes lit up. "I was hoping you'd say that. I may have cleared your schedule with the international student office. How do you feel about playing tour guide for the day?"

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in months. "I'd love to. Where do you want to go first?"

"Anywhere," Jun said, lacing his fingers with yours. "As long as I'm with you, I'm home. But maybe we could stop by that dakgalbi place you've been raving about? The members made me promise to bring back some food."

As you left the campus hand in hand, you knew there would be challenges ahead. Long-distance relationships were never easy, especially with Jun's hectic life as a SVT member. There would be rumors to deal with, possibly some backlash from possessive fans. But looking at Jun, seeing the love and determination in his eyes, you knew you could face anything together.

The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities. Maybe you'd join SVT on tour during your semester breaks. Maybe Jun would surprise you with more impromptu visits. Maybe one day, you'd stand side by side at award shows, no longer hiding your relationship.

For now, though, you were content to walk the streets of Seoul with Jun, pointing out your favorite cafes and study spots, listening to him talk animatedly about SVT's experiences on tour and the latest antics of the members. Every so often, he'd squeeze your hand or plant a kiss on your cheek, as if reassuring himself that you were really there.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink, you and Jun found yourselves on the banks of the Han River. Families picnicked on the grass, and couples strolled hand in hand along the water's edge. In the distance, the city lights began to twinkle to life, a reminder of the vibrant world you both belonged to.

"You know," Jun said, wrapping an arm around your waist as you looked out over the water, "I think I finally understand what all those love songs we perform are really about."

You leaned into him, savoring his warmth. "Oh? And what's that?"

Jun turned to face you, his eyes soft in the fading light. "That feeling of coming home, even when you're far from everything familiar. That's what you are to me, Y/N. My home, my anchor, my star. Just like how SVT is my family on stage, you're my family off stage."

As Jun's lips met yours once more, the world around you faded away. In that moment, there was no distance, no busy schedules, no uncertain future. There was only you and Jun, two hearts beating as one, united by a love that transcended time and space.

The night stretched ahead, full of promise and the joy of reunion. And though you knew morning would come all too soon, bringing with it the reality of goodbyes and long-distance calls, you chose to live in this moment. For now, Jun was here, solid and real in your arms, a piece of your heart returned from its journey. And that was more than enough.

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