Tumgik
#lmao is this too much xD
febrberryy · 1 year
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I made a pokemon Contest/showcase oc ( Coordinator /Performer)
I have finished her pokemon and her appearance. I decided to show the pokemon and her on the internet (I hope is not too bad 🫠) ( I didn't talk much about her because she didn't have a backstory and a personality yet) (she don't even have a name lmao)
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The First pokemon!
this is the first pokemon that she have.
is a female Lumineon called Lumi, Lumi is more shy and docile.Lumi has been with her coordinator partner for the longest time.
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Lumi's moveset and ability
Lumi's ability is swift swim, it make lumi become very fast when it rains. her moveset are Hydro pump which lumi learn from a TM,Icy wind also learned from TM,Rain dance and confuse ray.
The second pokemon!
the coordinator got him when she was traveling in galar.
he is a male galarian rapidash, and his nickname is Prince.he is a big show off, but he has a big heart, and he loves his teammates and his coordinator very very much!
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Prince's moveset and ability
Prince ability is pastel veil that he can prevent himself and his teammates from being poison.Also cures teammates of poisoning when it enters the battlefield.his moveset are Dazzling gleam,flare blitz,healing pulse and psycho cut.
The Third pokemon!
the coordinator meets flaaffy in a random forest.
is a male Flaaffy called cotton candy. He is very chill, but he sometimes just slack off. He also he loves to daydream and take naps everywhere.
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Cotton candy's moveset and ability
his ability is static, which has a chance to make the opponent paralyzed when he gets hit, so no, you will not get paralyzed when you pet him.His moveset are electroweb, power gem, electro ball and thunder punch.
The fourth pokemon!
Meet her in the dark forest that said is haunted.
is a female chandelure that nickname flare, she is a cheerful and happy go lucky chandelure that love pranks, people are always surprised of her cheerful nature.
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Flare's moveset and ability
her ability is Infiltrator which can make her ignore protections and stat boosts caused by the moves like substitute, reflect, light screen, and safeguard. her moveset are flamethrower that she learns from a TM, shadow ball, night shade and hyper beam that she also learned from a TM.
The fifth pokemon!
come from an egg the coordinator and her team cares for and protected from other predators.
is a male noibat that called buzz. he is still a baby, so sometimes he will have tentrums and like shiny things, doing pranks with flare, also he is very cute. (hehe)
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Buzz' moveset and ability
his ability is frisk, which he can know the foe's held item.his moveset are acrobatics,wing attack, Draco meteor which he learn from a TM, and x-scissor, which he also learns from a TM.
The final and sixth pokemon
got her from a pokemon PC trade
is a female lurantis that nickname orchid .She is kind of standing off - ish at first, as she warms up to them.She starts to be the caretaker of her teammates, especially buzz the noibat. she is kinda introverted, so sometimes she just wants some time alone.
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Orchid's moveset and ability
her ability is leaf guard, which prevents her from being afflicted by status conditions during strong sunlight.Her moveset are petal blizzard,sweet scent, magical leaf, and giga drain.
here is the coordinator appearance.
(What do you think? 🙈)
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15 notes · View notes
blu-ish · 10 months
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and then he gets arrested lmao (dumbass/affectionate)💙❤️
(Part One)--(Part Two)
790 notes · View notes
retro-rezz-the-est · 1 year
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Don't Leave - Roman Reigns/Female!Reader
Summary: Immediately after his devastating loss to his cousins Jimmy and Jey at Money In The Bank, Roman finds you in the back as he looks for an outlet for all of this newfound pent-up energy…but this may lead to something else as well.
Word Count: 14,197 (jfc that's more than I expected)
Warnings: degradation, choking/throat squeezing, biting/marking, hair pulling, spanking, oral (male receiving), fingering (female receiving), edging (for both parties involved), unprotected P in V action (please be safe and wrap it before you tap it irl tho), Roman being his Tribal Chief self (because that’s a warning all on its own), a bit of manhandling here and there as well….y’know, the works :3
A/N: All of this comes from three connecting factors: 1) Roman being the sexy ass WHORE that he is, 2) my own brain finally starting to work in tandem with my damn writing fingers, and 3) an all-caps DM from @stargazerofgoldenwords demanding that I write this so full partial blame goes to her. So here y’all go…for the bitches and the bros and for all the non-binary hoes ^3^ (I also haven’t written a full-fledged smut in I believe over three years so….I hope I did good lol)
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Oh, no.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
This…This can not be happening.
How is this even possible? What’s going to happen now?
These thoughts and more rush through your mind as you stand board stiff in the back, your eyes seeming to be permanently glued to the large monitor in front of you while gasps and cheers from the remainder of the locker room fill your ears alongside the blaring bass of The Usos’ theme.
Roman told you to stay in the back for a reason, to only come out after he’d won and embarrassed the hell out of his cousins for ever turning their backs on him, so he could make examples out of them as a reason to never and not turn your back on the Tribal Chief.
He wanted them to remember this night, to remember the ache in their bones, the wear and tear of their joints as he slammed them against the mat over and over again, the blood and sweat staining their skin as he and Solo dug into the twins with everything they had left within them.
They would learn their lesson tonight, and they would learn it well: you do not mess with the Tribal Chief because if you do, you will feel a pain that you have never known before.
He was going to show everyone why he and he alone was the head of the table, why he was unstoppable, and why only those who followed him and his lead would prosper in the end.
But, none of that actually mattered in the end, not as you stand staring at the monitor, hands covering your mouth in shock.
They…They did it.
They actually managed to do it.
Jey pinned Roman, pinned him for the first time in over three fucking years.
Blow after blow to the foundation of The Bloodline, week after week from the cracks being exposed to Sami’s turn at the Royal Rumble that set everything in motion to the goddamn explosion that occurred during Roman and Solo’s Night of Champions match.
After all this time, The Usos finally got one over on the Tribal Chief, they won the Bloodline civil war.
They beat the Tribal Chief, destroyed his so-called “Island of Relevancy”, showed the world that he is still just a man and can be beaten just like the rest of them. Roman Reigns is not as invincible as he claims to be!...
….but Roman?
Roman is pissed.
You can see it all processing in his eyes in real time, all of the noise around you fading into the background along with the roaring cheers from the London crowd: his loss, being pinned, the fact that despite being a champion he has lost his stance, his placement at the head of the table.
Because what use is there of an Island of Relevancy if you’re the only one standing on it?
Your hands drop from your mouth and fall to your sides; how the hell…? What the hell is happening? Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as those around you celebrate his demise, hands clapping shoulders and drinks beginning to be passed around as the show draws to a close.
You can practically see the floor falling out beneath Roman’s feet as he slides out of the ring, dejected and defeated with a raging inferno blazing bright and hot behind those fierce eyes of his; his entire world, perfectly constructed with seemingly no flaws whatsoever, has shattered in front of his very eyes.
Rage twisted and contorted Roman’s facial features into something unrecognizable as he sat on the floor ringside, kicking his feet and screaming his anger out into the universe like a temperamental child. Baring his teeth, hissing and gnashing his jaw like an uncaged animal…
Frankly, it scared the shit out of you to see live.
He’s shaking, actually shaking with all of the hate and virtiol that courses through his very veins. The bright lights of the arena, hot and beaming down on his skin? The way his hair sticks to the sides of his face and the heavy furrow in his brow? The way his entire body aches from the brutal punishment of the match?
None of that matters now. None of it will ever matter now.
His anger, his regret, his disappointment with himself as he comes to terms with the true loss of yet another faction of his, people who he loved and cared for turning their backs on him again…his mind was a maelstrom as he gripped his face and pulled at his temple, and not even the pain from that could distract him from the truth in front of his very eyes.
His own family, his own blood, has betrayed him, the image of Jimmy and Jey standing above him displaying on every and all of the large screens inside the arena. His heart pounds in his chest and hs blood boils; they can’t just get away with this. They will pay for their crimes against him, against their family, against their Bloodline!
The blood, the sweat, the tears and the pain he had poured into their family, all the work that he had put in to make sure that they all ate, that they all got opportunity after opportunity after opportunity….all for nothing.
You watch as Solo picks himself up from the floor and stumbles his way over to Roman, Paul’s face a complete mess and whirlwind of emotions as he rushes over with Roman’s smorgasbord of titles cradled like infants within his arms. You can barely hear what the latter is saying to the Tribal Chief over the cheers of The Usos’ celebrating and their theme blaring through the speakers, but it’s most likely some sort of consolation and a promise of revenge due to the bright red of the shorter man’s face.
Even after all of this, after everything that these men have just gone through, Jimmy still attempts to reach out to comfort Roman as he sits ringside on the floor, you watching as Jey pulls him back to his own side; Roman is a lost cause to them now. In their eyes, they’ve destroyed his corrupted faction, they’ve cut off the hydra’s heads, and now?
Now, they’re done with him, with all things Bloodline-related as the descend back into being “the ones”.
They are the new Tribal Chiefs around these parts, not Roman.
Not anymore.
After what feels like an eternity of the fallen party sitting in stasis outside of the ring, they all stand, Roman wrapping an arm around his midsection and another hand around his shoulder as they all walk backwards back up the long runway.
His eyes stay locked onto his cousins as the camera pans from him to them and back again, Solo’s eyes filled with an incoming storm and Paul’s lips seeming to move at a mile a minute with how quickly he seems to throw insults the way of The Usos.
But the two in the ring just smile.
They smile and embrace each other after a hard won victory as the entire WWE Universe embraces them as well, and all that does is piss Roman off even more.
Your body somehow finds the will to move, your feet ungluing themselves from the floor beheath them before you begin to move your way through the small crowd of those watching from the back.
You tear your eyes away from the monitor you were watching and beeline it straight to the guerilla position where they’re set to return, and you can still hear the thunderous cheers coming from the fans as Jimmy and Jey continue to celebrate the fall of the Tribal Chief. Maneuvering your way through throngs of people, past production, past *everything*...you have to find him.
You have to find him, and fast.
It’s like your feet barely even graze the ground with how fast you walk, the light tapping of your heels echoing off the walls around you as you make your way closer and closer to Roman and…oh.
You can just barely see him over the heads and past the shoulders of the cameramen, the interviewers waving their mics in their faces, over the glinting bald heads of Pearce and Hunter that’re shining with sweat as they attempt to get a word in with Roman before they try to rush him in the direction of where the press conference is being held…but it’s as though he doesn’t see any of them, his eyes dark and filled to the brim with something nasty.
You’re not even the prime target of his glare, steel-cut and piercing all that come across it, and even you feel the brunt of it, shivering where you stand behind the cloud of people vying for his attention as he moves his way through them. For the reporters and the interviewers, their mics in shaking hands as cameras flash in his face, all of their questions die on their tongues the second his eyes sweep over them.
“Roman. Roman!” you hear Pearce call out to him, Hunter, Solo, and Heyman in tow close to his heels. “Damn it, Roman, listen to me!”
“We need to get you out there, Reigns. Just give a quick statement about the match, about The Usos, and then-”
Pearce and Hunter’s requests fall on deaf ears as you move to the side, the crowd of people following Roman’s path as he walks down one of the arena’s large halls.
“Excuse you, Hunter? Did you not just see the utter and complete farce that was the match our Tribal Chief just had?! There will be no statement to be made, and no appearance at any press conference shall be had unless it involves the absolute dismissal of what was clearly a farce of a loss!”
Paul’s demands make his face grow a bright red as he follows Roman, clutching his titles as his head seems to grow three sizes from the fury written across his face. “Jimmy and Jey, they’re cheaters! Conmen who have embarrassed your Tribal Chief in front of millions of people time and time again! We demand retribution! A rematch to set things right again! Do you know how much Roman Reigns has brought to this company? How much prestige he’s brought to these titles, to these championships?”
Paul jostles the titles in question in his arms, brows furrowed and steam practically pouring out of his ears. “This is an outrage! This is a scam! You two should be ashamed of yourselves for even allowing this to happen to a force like Roman Reigns-”
His incessant, constant stream of words and potential curses are paused by Solo’s hand slamming into his chest, Heyman’s eyes going wide as his mouth falls open before quickly closing it and stepping back to Roman’s side.
Roman pauses his stride, eyeing Hunter and Pearce so viciously that you yourself are shrinking into your own skin; he very clearly doesn’t want to be bothered right now, so why even try to ask him of anything at all?
The look he gives both men, the silent communications that occur between them seems to be more than enough for them to back off in their pursuits, stepping out of his way as their phones begin to ring constantly.
“We have to get some sort of response out of him, right? I mean, he’s the champion right now, we can’t just let him leave-”
“Let him cool off for a second, Pearce,” Hunter tells him, running a hand over his own stressed face. “He’s in no mood for any of that right about now.”
Roman continues to shove past and maneuver around those in his way, his steps as loud and threatening as his demeanor. Through and through, seconds by seconds that seem to stretch on forever until his eyes finally, finally gloss over your figure leaning on a nearby wall, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as your mind begins to turn.
And the very second that his gaze locks onto yours, time slows to a screeching halt.
There’s something in there that you rarely saw in him before, but that you’ve been seeing a lot more of recently.
That anger, that frustration, all of that adrenaline mixed all that hate and vitriol coursing through his veins…he needed to get all of it out, every last drop before he makes another misstep.
He needs you.
Shouldering his way past various sports reporters and camera people, he quickly makes his way across the hallway to you, his large figure towering over you as you begin to shrink further and further against the wall. He’s panting, partly from the resulting emotions following his match and partly from how rough the match in question ran his body.
His hand finds your wrist, gripping it tightly and without a single word from him, he pulls you from the wall and begins to walk away again, Solo and Heyman striding behind him while the media frenzy behind you all follows along.
“Roman, wait-”
He turns his head to the side and makes eye contact with you again, the look in his eyes telling you everything you need to know.
Not now.
All the words you were going to say fall right back down your throat and you gulp, the intensity in his eyes making your knees weak as you try your best to keep up with his pace. It doesn’t take long for your group to head back to his larger-than-anyone-else’s locker room, Solo being the last one inside as he shuts everyone else out besides himself, Heyman, you and Roman.
Paul quickly sets the championship belts aside on a nearby table while Roman runs a hand through his hair, running a hand over his face before taking a seat on one of the benches.
It’s quiet in here, all too quiet albeit for the clamoring noise outside…and this silence does not make you feel hopeful at all.
You all just…sit in that silence for a few minutes, stewing in it as the reality of what had just occurred mere moments ago finally sinks in for all parties involved.
“Wise man…”
All eyes fall to Roman as he stands to his full height, the sound of his voice booming like a lightning strike. This is the first time he’s spoken anything since initially leaving that ring. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?” Paul asks, somewhat shaken still.
“Leave us.”
That seems to garner a reaction from Heyman, the shorter man wringing his hands in front of him before clasping them together. “But…But, my Tribal Chief, we need to deliberate, come up with a plan for this Friday night on Smackdown! We need to strategize, to concoct a plan for how we’re going to deal with those nuisances that are The Usos…we cannot just-”
“I said, leave us. Or do I have to ask you again, Paul?”
His words send a stream of ice down Heyman’s spine, causing the man to stand upright as Roman turns to face him. His aura, what he radiates from within…you do not want to find yourself on the other end of that; it feels like a wall slamming into you at mach 10, wrapping its edges around you until you’re damn near suffocating in it.
“I…I understand, my Tribal Chief. I will leave you two to yourselves.” Paul bows out when he says this, his eyes flickering to the ground and away from Roman’s face before standing and quickly waddling back towards the locker room door, opening it to a barrage of sports media and cameras all vying for the chance to ask Roman even one question.
“The Tribal Chief will not be taking anymore of your unimportant questions at this time as he begins to take his rest after his extraordinary showing in tonight’s match. All questions, comments, and concerns shall only go through the Tribal Chief’s wise man - that being myself - and I shall relay them back to the Tribal Chief in due time. Thank you, and good evening to you all.”
Heyman’s words just spark another wave of noise from the now growing crowd of individuals at Roman’s door while Roman looks on at Solo who stands in the corner by the door, looking on at the onslaught with a scowl permanently tattooed onto his face and his arms crossed over his chest.
Roman nods at Solo, jutting his chin towards the door in a silent request for him to leave and luckily, the other man follows his order without another word, though you doubt he would have spoken otherwise. He throws a look in your direction, but not one of malice; this one has more…hurt lingering within it, a nature of distraught that you’ve never seen within him before he takes his leave after Heyman and slams the locker room door behind him…
…which leaves you alone, finally alone, with the unhinged beast that is Roman Reigns.
Being in a space with Roman Reigns, you can feel how much of himself fills it: his aura, his stance, his voice, his demeanor…no matter how big or small a room, you can damn well tell that Roman’s in there. You could practically sense it in the air when he arrives, hairs rising on your firearms as all around you grow silent. However, as long as you are not his prime target, you will most likely walk out of that room unscathed - emphasis on most likely.
But being alone in a space with Roman Reigns?
All of those feelings? All of those senses get hiked up to an eleven, the very room that the person is in feeling as though it’s shrinking around them as it seemingly pushes them closer and closer together.
And you, right now, are that poor soul in question.
Your hands grip the hem of the shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, the one that he gave to you and told you to wear once you were supposed to come out after the match was over…after he was supposed to win - nervously, your eyes falling to the floor and sticking to the shoes that you wear.
You see Roman’s feet walking towards you before they pause, then moving in the opposite direction as they head towards the locker room door as well…only this time, your heart rate rockets straight to the moon once you hear the sharp clicking of the door’s lock turning, that noise bouncing off the walls of your mind like an echoing cavern.
The silence in the room is unbearable with a tension so thick, you can cut right through it with Roman’s steely gaze. It’s all too warm, too stuffy, too suffocating while you stand there, your teeth making a home in your bottom lip as you shift from foot to foot.
What do you say to him? What do you say at all? Do you commend him on a match well performed? Do you take Heyman’s route and curse Jimmy and Jey’s names until the breath runs clean from your lungs and you’re all hot in the face as well? Do you take Solo’s approach to things and just say…nothing? Nothing at all?
What can you possibly do to even try to rectify things for him? Make things any better than they are at this moment in time?
All of these questions and more surround your brain and hold it hostage, unable to think of anything else. Is there anything that you can do to make him feel better? You’re supposed to be his, his girl…but with something as monumentally damaging to him as tonight was, so is there anything that you can do?
You don’t even notice him making his way towards you until he’s almost directly in front of you, watching your every movement like an unbound predator stalking its oblivious prey. The room around you grows way too hot way too fast as he continues to move your way, his footsteps soft yet booming as loudly in your ears as your own heartbeat.
As he takes one step forward towards you, you take an equal one back. One step forward, one step back.
One forward, one back, and this little game of yours goes on and on and on until you’re cornered up against the furthest wall, Roman’s hands pressing against the wall at the sides of your face. His chest nearly touches yours in the process and its rise and fall nearly matches the way your own does but you hold your breath and pray to the gods.
For what, you wonder?
For solace? For comfort? For a way out from his grasp, or a way to sink further beneath it? Space to breathe or to suffocate in all that is Roman Reigns? Entirely everything from him and absolutely nothing of him all at once? You don’t even know for sure but unfortunately, those prayers are left unheard and unanswered.
You hear him call your name, the syllables he speaks wrapped in a depth that twists and turns your very core. He doesn’t have to say much to grab your attention, after all.
“Look at me.”
But, can you? Can you really?
You can’t even bring yourself to do that, lest you wish to crumble beneath his unwavering gaze.
However, Roman is not one to take no for an answer; he never really has, especially nowadays. So when he speaks to you again, the very atmosphere of the locker room seems to shift and change under his words, underneath the dominance that is just solely and utterly him.
“I said, look at me.”
His fingers are suddenly underneath your chin, thumb and forefinger gripping it with just enough force to pull a strained noise from the back of your throat as he forcefully tilts your chin up so that you have to look up at him.
The soft gasp that you let out when you finally look up at him, into those dangerous eyes of his…you can see what it does to him by the roll of his shoulders as he stands to his full height, towering above you so much so that the too-bright lights that illuminate the locker room get blocked out.
You didn’t really get the chance to truly look at him through the monitor you were watching the match from and not even as he stampeded his way through the throngs of people all vying for his attention…but now?
Right here, in this moment, any and all words you could have possibly said to him evaporate on your tongue as your feet remain glued to the floor, your pulse thrumming through your entire body.
The wide panes of his chest stretch with each and every deep breath that he takes, his heart beating so damn loud that it fills the room and suffocates all other noise besides it. You feel the leather of his glove brushing against your chin where it wraps around his fingers, the force behind his grip being just strong enough to let you know not to mess with him.
Roman’s entire form from the waist up glistens with sweat and you can already see the soon-to-be bruises on his shoulders, his arms, his chest, his abdomen already begin to show.
His eyes are dark, darker than they have ever been before as he towers above you, slightly panting while his aura threatens to swallow you whole. There’s an obvious anger lingering within them, the deep-set betrayal and agony over losing his family and his undefeated streak finally sinking in along with the newfound uncertainty of the future to come…but there’s something else there in those eyes of him, something that makes sweat bead out along your brow and has your thighs clenching together as you dig your teeth into your lip so hair that it nearly bleeds.
Something more.
Roman sees this, what he does to you, and has to resist the urge to crack a smirk; you’re so easy to toy with. He can barely say a word to you, can just look at you only to have you a trembling, whimpering mess before him.
It’s reasons like these that drives his need for you so through the roof, and tonight means no different to him at all.
Just as he thought, you let out a whimper when you meet his eyes, your body threatening to go limp in his hold. His presence is just so much and it does so much more to you than you’re ever willing to say, but you absolutely love it either way.
You don’t notice him beginning to lean in closer to your own face, too stunned to even think of moving before he’s all that you can possibly see, his hair almost framing your own face as he tilts his head slightly to the side.
You can feel the warmth of his breath as it fans out over your face, spicy and hot and smelling of the cinnamon gum you saw him chewing earlier in the day. He tilts your face in the opposite direction, sighing as his eyes leave yours before he leans forward to press his face against the crook of your neck, burying his nose against the skin while the hand that remains on the wall curls into a fist.
Another gasp leaves your throat when he steps forward again, your hands unchelching themselves from where they rest at the hem of your - his - shirt as his chest presses against yours, warm and built and smothering in all the right places. When you raise your arms up from your sides to run your fingertips up his chest, over his shoulders, over his forearms, you can feel him just barely shiver beneath your touch.
His body calls out for you just as yours does him, and you can feel the buzz of all the energy still coursing through him, driving him up the wall as he leans further into your touch. And when you flatten your hands against his skin, the groan that he lets out rolls through our entire body, his chest vibrating against yours.
You feel him moving against your neck and you stretch further to the side to give him room, his lips forming into words that he wouldn’t dare say aloud with others nearby as his gloved hand moves from your chin to grip the base of your neck.
You know what this is, you know what this means; you’ve been here in this position before with him, especially much more recently with all of this newfound familial drama that’s dropped itself at the other end of his table.
With the seemingly endless amounts of adrenaline crawling beneath his skin, the cinching, tight feeling of his skin and the burning sensation that bubbles deep within his core, it’s no wonder why he’s cornered you like this, why he’s closing in on you, why he’s so bent on draping you in him.
I need you, baby, please.
Those spoken yet unspoken words he uttered into your skin make your eyes widen as a similar heat begins to spark within your own core, Roman trapping your leg between his own and pressing his cock against your thigh. It makes your skin crawl in the best ways possible, what he does to you, the anticipation mixed with everything that he just is making your mind hazy.
Your hands rise from his shoulders up the base of his neck, curving further up towards his hair before wrapping your fingers through it and gently pulling his head back up to face you, your eyes meeting his once more (how the hell did they manage to get even darker?).
Despite the fear that runs through your veins, despite your hands being in his hair and on his skin as you lead him towards you, he’s still the boss around here.
Roman still calls all the shots, no matter who or what stands before him - including you.
And even despite that as well, your body still wants him just as much as he wants yours.
It’s not even a want anymore; your body needs him, it desires him.
As for Roman, your body, your comfort calls out to him like a siren’s song, wanting him to pull you deeper and deeper into whatever’s going on within his own head until your entire body knows nothing but him, nothing but your Tribal Chief.
The fatigue that you know he feels is beginning to set into his bones, into his soul, but he doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care because he needs you, more so than he ever has in the past.
The sparks are beginning to show between the two of you; there’s nothing in this world like spending a night with someone like Roman Reigns, and you’re about to experience that firsthand once again.
You see the slight raise of his brow as he scans your face, that miniscule action asking you for permission, for your go-ahead, for you to allow him to lose himself within you and to use you as he sees fit for the time being…
…and the nod that you give him right back is all that he needs to see.
It’s the only thing that he needs to see before surging forward to plant a searing kiss to your lips, the fist that’s curled against the wall, moving down to grip your waist as tightly as the hold he has on your neck, digging his fingers into the soft material of his shirt that adorns your figure.
You only get about half a second of realization before you notice that he’s on you, completely covering you with his body as he presses you up against the wall even more. Your hands move from his hair down his neck, grazing his jaw lightly before your nails begin to dig into the exposed meat of his shoulders.
He’s actively stoking the fire that’s now beginning to blaze within you, and you absolutely love it.
The leg that’s not actively trapped between his now finds itself wrapped around his waist right as Roman’s tongue slides between your lips, curling with and against your own before quickly taking over the kiss. And you let him, of course; he needs this, he needs you, and you’re willing to give him whatever’s necessary to satiate his incessant energy.
The way he knows how to pluck your body like a finely tuned instrument with the way he pulls moans and gasps from you, the drag of fabric on skin, the way his body seems to move perfectly in-sync with your own, pushing and pulling until the two of you radiate more hear than the core of the sun…there’s just something about kissing Roman that makes your toes curl and your cheeks ripe with heat just by thinking about it, let alone actually doing the deed.
It’s all fiery passion and full of the aggression he shows in the ring, the possessive nature he has over you to keep you close and a part of him always, the need to show you exactly who you belong to as he pulls you in so damn close that all you can even think to experience is just him and him alone…it’s a conglomerate mixture of beauty and pain and pleasure and you're drinking in every single drop of it.
You feel his teeth begin to sink into your bottom lip, the contact against the already red and raw flesh making you jump in his arms as he tugs on it harshly before letting go. Your eyes, hooded and blown out, meet his again, and you can practically read the words in his mind as his thumb reaches up to lightly brush over it.
You don’t get to do that, anymore. Only I can do that to you.
You watch as he thumbs over your lip again before coming back in for another kiss, your teeth nearly clashing against each other from how harsh the two of you collide. It’s messy, a battle of tongue and teeth that turns in his favor so damn fast, and you can’t resist the urge to just crumble beneath it.
Your arms loop around his neck and hold him as close to you as possible, not wanting to part from him for even a second until your lungs burn from a lack of oxygen so you’re practically forced to. But even that isn’t enough to stop the contact between the two of you, your nails digging into any piece of his exposed skin that you can possibly reach.
The smell of him fills your brain and flows through your very veins, hands holding onto you for dear life while his kiss steals all sense from your mind. Roman has always been able to do this but tonight, you lower your guards and have him take the reins (no pun intended), have him lead the way, follow his motions.
And his motions lead him to start moving backwards, pulling you away from the wall as your leg falls from his waist. Lips still furiously locked with yours, he effortlessly maneuvers the two of you away from the corner and towards a nearby bench, wrapping his arms around your waist before pulling you down harshly onto his lap.
You thought you could feel him before while he captured you in his stare against the wall, helpless to anything but exactly what he wanted to do with you?
Well, think again.
Your pelvis presses right up against his and the two of you let out a combined moan, your breaths mixing together before he shifts you over his thighs to press you against him even more. You start rocking yourself back and forth on his cock through the dark cargo pants that he wears, feeling it throb and jump with every pass. And your desire for his grows as well, the space between your thighs growing more damp by the second with your juices beginning to now stain your inner thighs.
The small shorts that you wear underneath Roman’s large shirt soon grow more uncomfortable than you’re willing to bear and Roman seemingly notices this as well, running his thumbs over the skin above your ass before not so gently pulling them down your legs. The second you feel the hit your ankles you kick them to the floor below, not giving a damn where they land as your lips remain slotted with his own.
Your hands run down the planes of his chest and circle your fingertip over the space above Roman’s heart, feeling the thrum of energy coursing through his being. His own hands run over your thighs, over the curve of your ass and up your spine as you shift even closer to him, the feeling of your soaked panties as they rub against the bulge in his pants making you pant against his mouth.
You feel his hands drift under the hem of your shirt, the mix of his skin and the leather of the glove he still wears making sparks fly. His lips move from your own down your jaw, the force behind the action making you gasp. Across your skin and over the curve of your ear, down the expanse of your neck and over your collarbone; there’s nowhere that’s left untouched by his eager mouth while his hands roam the heated skin beneath your top.
His teeth graze your skin lightly, causing your entire body to tremble with anticipation right before you feel the sharp stinging of his teeth digging into your flesh, a moan much louder than you should have let out escaping you. Roman’s tongue joins the fray as well, soothing the sting of his bite with each one that he gives you.
One by one, one after another he lays claim to your skin, a reminder to the entire world that despite everything, that despite everyone in his life…he still has you.
He still has you and you’ve let him have you.
The need to feel him, to feel his body even more so consumes your entire mind, your soul, your being, so you take the initiative and grip the hem of your shirt and raise it up your body, pulling it over your head and tossing that to the floor alongside your discarded shorts.
The bra that covers your chest is a lacy one, the same shade of bright red that adorns the glove on his right hand that matches right along with the panties that just barely cover your ass. ‘Figured that you might need a distraction in hindsight. I hope you like it…”
Your voice is small in volume but loud in its tone as you speak, quickly glancing down at his chest where your nails dig into the meat of his pectorals as he raises his head from the crook of your neck, your skin alight and buzzing from him marking it.
Oh, he likes it, alright. He fucking loves it.
Roman’s hands reach up to trace the details in the fabric, his thumb brushing over your nipple and making you arch into his touch. His brows slightly raise with intrigue; this was probably a surprise for him later, for when he won his match…well, not anymore.
Now, the sight of you in this number, one that you had put on just for him, mixed with the need lacing your voice and the lust swimming within your vision…it’s all so much, damn near too much for him to bear, his cock now actively throbbing and throbbing in the confines of his pants.
He needs you now.
“On your knees.”
His low tone shakes you right out of your lust-fueled haze, your eyes snapping open as you pant on his lap.The darkness swirling around within his eyes shows he means business and what Roman wants, Roman gets in spades.
You try your best to move from him, to escape the warmth and desire he’s so graciously provided for you in his own time of need but your methods of moving prove too slow for his tastes, Roman’s non-gloved hand reaching up to yank your head back by your roots, you yelping at the sudden pain.
“What is with you all not fucking listening to me today? I said, I want you on your goddamn knees, now.”
You try your best to nod with his hand in your hair, swallowing down the pathetic noise that threatens to break free before scrambling off his lap and sinking to your knees on the locker room floor, never once breaking eye contact with him as you begin to watch him tear his glove off. The sharp ripping of the velcro cuts through the thick fog that’s filled the air , leather being pulled between his teeth until finally, the damned thing is off and is tossed aside as well, his hand returning to the back of your neck.
Spreading his legs for you as slowly as he possibly can, he keeps your head solely directed at the intimidating bulge that lies within his pants, watching as your eyes flicker back and forth between his own eyes and what lies ahead for your future.
Roman’s nothing if not a beast, both in and out of the ring, and you can’t help but shudder when you gently plant your palms on the outsides of his thighs, looking up at him with the widest eyes you can possibly muster up.
You lick your lips nervously, your heart beating even faster in your chest as he literally talks down to you, your hands beginning to nervously run up his covered thighs as they make their way to his zipper.
And with each notch of its teeth that come undone, with every second that passes that turns into a minute and then to an hour, you manage to push past the nerves that run wild through your veins and undo his pants, slipping your fingers beneath the dark boxer briefs he has on and tugging them down along with his pants to reveal the true monster that lies before you.
Roman’s cock falls from its confines with a dull thud as the head connects with his stomach, leaving a clear splotch of pre-cum where it lands. 
The shape of his cock, thick as a tree trunk and just as heavy and absolutely perfect as it is…the space between your thighs aches with the countless memories you have of him fucking you senseless with it,pounding into you and making you see stars over and over again-
“I’m not gonna tell you what to do here, princess. Or, are you too much of a dumb whore to even think for yourself now?”
You blink once, twice, three times as heat rises to your face, wiping the spit that threatens to fall from the corner of your mouth before you move forward, dragging your nails along the smooth skin of his upper thigh.
And as much as he loves to mark you and lay his claim to you, you love doing the exact same thing to him as well.
You live for the hiss he lets out from the pain of your nails, your teeth on his skin and grazing his pelvis as you move closer to his cock.
Such a man, such a being before your very eyes, and he’s all yours tonight, just as you are all his.
You let your nails and the tips of your fingers drag up the sides of his shaft, the length almost as long as your entire forearm. It’s a beautiful thing to see first hand as you admire him, your touches light and fleeting as your wide eyes continue to pierce his. You watch his abdomen clench and ripple when you catch his more sensitive spots, his hips bucking when you run your hand over the large vein that runs up the side.
A smile begins to grow along your lips as you watch him, his other hand running over his face and jaw. You can’t help but to admire him like this, slowly but surely as though you have all the time in the world to do so.
But, based on the absolute storm lingering within Roman’s eyes, you can tell that he’s in no teasing mood, the hand at the back of your neck squeezing threateningly before you finally get the hint to keep fucking going.
So, you do, tightening your grip around the base of his cock and stretching your lips around the head, letting the warmth of your breath wash over it before slowly beginning to sink your mouth down on him.
And, oh, what a sight he becomes before you.
“Fuck, that’s it…” he moans, watching through hooded eyes as you manage to slide the first few inches down your throat. With your smaller hands, you can barely wrap one of them around him fully - let alone two - but you try your best anyway, making sure to jerk the parts you can’t quite reach yet.
The ache between your legs becomes too much to bear as you begin to bob your head up and down, lustily taking him in while your eyes begin to close. With skin sensitive and hot to the touch, you take one hand off of him and begin to run it down your body. Over the curves of your breasts and as they threaten to spill from your bra, down the line of your abdomen, over your pubic bone and thumbing the lining of your panties, you let out another moan when you start to grind your clit against your fingers.
You don’t think that Roman notices it, the shift in your demeanor and the way your shoulders tighten up when you slip your fingers beneath your panties, the way your breath catches and your hips jump as you tease yourself…but he does.
He always does.
“Aww, are you that desperate, baby? You couldn’t help but touch that needy little pussy of yours? I can hear it all the way up here, you’re so wet for me.”
You can practically hear his smirk while he talks, but it still makes you hot all over. Spreading your wetness over your lower lips, you spread them and rub the pad of your finger over your bare clit, your body jolting at the pleasure it spikes through you.
“You want to touch yourself, fuck yourself with those tiny fingers of yours?” he asks, seething at the feeling of your teeth grazing the vein along his shaft. “Then, go ahead. Get yourself nice and ready for me…”
“..and don’t forget about me either, sweetheart,” Roman chides, briefly pulling you from the head with a soft pop before thumbing your lower lip. “Don’t make your Tribal Chief play second best to your needy fucking cunt.”
Your thighs clench and close in around your hand, a soft “yes” falling from your open lips before he presses your face right back against his cock as you begin to take more than you did before. You try to make your mouth as slick with your own saliva as possible, stroking his shaft in tandem with the swirling of your tongue around the head.
His hand lightly connects with your cheek. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, my-”
“And don’t speak with your mouth full, baby. You’re better than that.”
He glares at you as you rise from his cock again, panting softly. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”
“There she is, that’s my good girl,” he tells you, patting your cheek condescendingly. “Now, get back to work.”
The copious amounts of spit from your mouth mix with his pre-cum as your hand glides along the warm skin, the sound just as loud and slick as the ones coming from between your legs. It doesn’t take long for him to take back control, roughly guiding your lips back to his cock before letting you do what you do best.
As your throat grows accustomed to his girth, you shift yourself on your knees and slip a finger between your folds, circling your hole with it and gingerly slide it in, choking around Roman’s length in the process.
A bright flush begins to run wild under his skin as he tilts his head back, the soft sounds of his huffs and groans making the space between your thighs almost uncomfortably wet as you continue to touch yourself. His other hand runs through his hair, pulling at the roots while his face scrunches up in pleasure when you twist your fist around the head just right.
It fills you with a feeling that you can’t describe, seeing what you do to him in moments like these.
“Shit, princess, keep going…” Roman’s near breathless now, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his hips buck into your eager mouth. Eyes hooded, his attention stays on you while your own remain closed, focusing all of your energy on making sure your Tribal Chief is as primed and ready to go as you are.
You ease another finger in between your folds along with the first one and curl them as they drag along your inner walls; it’s not enough, it’s never enough when it’s just you because your fingers aren't his, your touch isn’t the same as his. Roman’s fingers fill you twice as much as your own do, the phantom feeling of them stretching you to the brim as they graze along that one spot wracking your body with shivers.
The room is brimming with the wet sounds of your motions, your juices dripping down the hand that remains at your core while your eager lips and tongue schlick up and down his throbbing cock, the noises coming from the both of you getting swamped in the mess of it.
The sight and sound of you struggling to take his length seems to light a fire under his ass and his grip at the back of your neck grows tighter, Roman starting to force the visible stretch of him taking over your mouth and throat even more so, bucking his hips against your face and making sure that you take what you’re given.
“Oh, you wanna please your Tribal Chief, baby? Well, then, take all of it.”
With that, you feel him wrench your head further down his shaft, your throat closing in around him and squeezing as you choke on him. The hand in your hair tightens the further down his shaft you go, your throat tightening with each and every inch you take, your gag reflex fighting for dear life as you struggle to take him fully.
The few inches you have left to go get wrapped in your fist, your fingers shiny with your spit and noisily stroking him until he presses down on the back of your head just that much more for you to 
He needs this, he needs you, and you’re going to take everything he has to give you, just like he asked.
So you brave through it, tears in your eyes with your lungs burning and begging for air, you bare through it for Roman, and the loud moan that you get from him in response makes the fire licking within your core burn all the more brighter.
You try to speak with his cock in your mouth, your garbled attempts at calling his name making him shove you further down. “Do that again, princess. Moan for me again while you get that pussy nice and ready for me.”
And moan for him you do, hearing your blood rushing through your ears as the sensing the heavy press of his hand on your neck squeeze tighter and tighter, Roman intently watching and feeling the length of his cock stretch against the walls of your throat.
It’s not long at all before you feel the telltale signs of your own orgasm approaching: the tightness coiling within your core, the curling of your toes and the pulsing in your abdomen, the sweat beginning to bead on your brow, the way that the pace of your hand around his cock and the hand between your legs seems to uptick bit by bit as the seconds go by…
You’re not at all shocked that Roman catches whiff of this too, hearing the now sped-up sounds of your fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, over and over again as you soak your panties clean through. “Don’t you dare cum, don’t you dare fucking cum. Only I can make you do that, you got that? Me, not those pathetic fucking fingers of yours.”
“I won’t, I promise.” Your voice is muffled and your throat strains while you attempt to speak as you try your best to breathe through your nose, feeling lightheaded the more you try.
But his words make you feel not and sensitive all over, the hairs on your arms raising as your heart beats rapidly in your chest, gasping when he lifts your head from the base to tightly wrap his fist around it.
“Fuck!” you hear Roman yell before his hand tightens around your hair again, yanking your mouth clean off his cock, drops of spit and his pre-cum dripping down his shaft and catching the too-bright lights of the locker room. You sit before him panting and wheezing, taking in precious breaths of air as you cough and open your now tear-filled and blurry eyes for him.
Your throat and your chest burn from the abuse they’ve taken, the back of your head and neck sore from all of his manhandling while your knees ache from the carpet on the floor of the locker room digging into your skin…but you know that he still needs you, because he’s not done with you yet.
You try to wipe your mouth clean of the mess, your makeup now completely smudged and running down your face as the mix of your saliva and his cum drips from your chin and stains the bra you wear but he doesn’t allow it, taking your chin in his hands and leaning forward off the bench to steal your precious breath away once more with a kiss so fiery that it ignites a fire within you from the inside out.
“Get on your back,” he growls, hand creeping up the sides of your neck and giving it a tight squeeze. “I need to see how ready for me you are.”
Slowly, you pull your hand from your ruined panties and tug them off your legs, kicking the damp scrap of fabric to the side where the remainder of your clothes lie just as he stands from the bench, towering over you and staring down at you menacingly. You reach around your back to unclasp your bra and shimmy it down over your arms, the nearly ruined item soon following all of the other clothes you’ve discarded until you’re finally exposed to his wandering, hungry eyes.
That’s the push that he needs to trail after you as you spread your legs for him, the sounds of him languidly stroking his cock to the sight of you teasing yourself with the wetness that stains your hand.
And what lies in front of you is just as godly, the sight of him shuffling his pants down his thighs and exposing the beautiful tanned skin that you just had your palms running over, stroking himself to the sight and sound of you pleasing yourself with flushed cheeks and the marks from your nails covering his chest and shoulders…the whine you let out cuts through the air and you can’t resist the urge to reach out to him, to call to him and bring him to you-
“You get what I give you, baby, when I want to give it to you and how I want to give it to you. Not when and how you want.”
Roman kneels to your height, his knees hitting the locker room floor with a dull thud and begins to stalk towards you, sirens wailing off inside your mind right as he crawls over your body looking every inch the beast that he claims to be.
“Roman,” you mewl, feeling him run his palms up the flushed skin of your legs. His hand latches onto your wrist and pulls it from between your thighs, holding it up to the light and watching your juices drip from your fingers before slipping them into his own mouth.
You watch as his lips close in over them, his tongue swirling around them to catch every last drop of your essence before slipping them from his mouth with a dark grin. Your aroma, now more potent than ever, fills his lungs with every single breath he takes, even more now with the taste of your arousal staining his tongue.
Every nerve and thought in his body roars at him, screams and demands for him to bend you over and fill you with his cum, to take you over and over again until everyone in this entire goddamn arena knows exactly who the hell you’re with, you’re spending your time with and who’s dealing with you.
Paul, Solo, Jimmy, Jey…they’ll all know exactly who the fuck runs things in this little circle of theirs, this fight for true and utter control.
And it will happen, you just have to wait a tad bit longer for it.
You’re so warm as you lie beneath him, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs as you wait in ample anticipation for his next move. Brushing his hair back with one hand, he slowly runs them up your body, over your plush thighs and past your dripping core that beckons him in closer.
Over your waist and up your chest until he takes your breasts in his hands and rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pulling on them and twisting them until you cry out his name.  The pain makes sparks ignite in your core and Roman refuses to let up on his hold despite the noise, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and biting down on it as he plays with the other one.
Those hands of his, the same ones that bring you pleasure are the  same ones that have brought his own family pain, and that thought is not lost on Roman as he continues to play with you, reveling in the litany of pitiful noises leaking from your trembling lips.
He will not show you the same pain that his cousins brought onto him, nor that he had brought to them.
For you, things are…different.
You’ll never leave his side at the head of the table, never abandon him for some other, higher purpose; you’ve said so yourself before tonight many a time.
Your legs wrap around his waist and lock him in as you dig your nails into the carpet you lay on, it already starting to dig into your skin. But you need more from him; more of him on you, around you, more of his touch and his mouth and his cock, just more.
With your feet, you try your best to shove his pants down further over his ass and down his legs, only managing to get so far before he stops you with a firm yet quick slap to your ass.
He doesn’t even have to remove his mouth from your breast to tell you anything, glaring up at you while his tongue laves away at your nipple before moving away from it and suctioning his mouth onto the other.
Your entire body trembles; what does he have planned next for you? What more could he possibly pull from you as he manhandles your body, squeezing and grasping at you like you’re going to somehow sink into the floor if he removes himself from you?
And then all of your questions are answered when you see him rise from your chest, his lips plush and a shade of bright red as a thin line of his saliva connects them to your breast before it snaps. You feel him press down on your waist, making you relax further against the floor until he wraps his hands around your ankles and begins to fold your legs into your chest, your knees grazing your face just so.
“Hold them,” you hear Roman say damn near under his breath, the depth in his voice making you whine as you wrap your hands under your knees to keep your legs raised. The trembling of your body increases as your anticipation grows and everything in your body tells you to close your eyes and look away from him, but you just can’t.
He’s beautiful in the way he gazes down at you, zeroing in on the way the walls of your cunt clench around nothing and shine with your arousal under the light, licking his lips like a caged animal. He might as well be one anyway with the possessive nature that consumes him when he has you, when he’s with you.
A hitch in your breath comes and goes when he moves even closer, gripping his cock firmly with one hand before using the other to spread your lower lips, the sound of him spitting on them reaching your ears before you feel it. It’s slick, it’s obscenely nasty as he swipes his cock head through the glistening mess, spreading the wetness around even more so as to get you as well as possible before you feel the hefty warmth of the head slapping against your folds.
The weights of it, and the thought of what’s to come have you arching your back into the sensation, desperate to reach your hands up to grip him and pull him into you, to have them just get it over with already and to make you see stars. And you do flex your fingers in his direction, squeezing the space beneath your knees and spreading your legs further for him to tease and prod at you while he just stares on with a smirk slowly beginning to grow along his face.
“Patience, baby, patience,“ Roman murmurs, sliding the head of his cock through your folds and nudging your button with it. The action sends a bolt of lightning jolting up your spine, causing you to dig your fingers into the flush of your lower thighs, and toss your head to the side with a small whine.
“Please, Roman, I need it. I need you, just fuck me, please –“
He shushes you, placing a finger to your lips before slipping his thumb between them. You instinctively wrap them around the digit and pull it in deeper with your tongue, swirling the muscle around it before he slowly but surely post it out. “I said to have patience, baby girl, so don’t be greedy. Just lay back, be a good girl, and take what your Tribal Chief gives you.“
He ends his sentence by dragging that wet thumb over your lips, down your chin, and rests harshly against your clit, grinding his shaft against your folds as he plays with you. You feel like your heart is about to fly out of your chest with how fast it’s beating, watching as he moves even closer to you and presses himself even harder against you.
“Nice and wet for me, princess…you did good for me back there.” You revel in the small bit of praise, a ghost of a smile floating over your lips until you feel the blunt head of his cock brushing up against your entrance. “You still ready for me?”
You can’t nod your head fast enough. “Yes, please. Roman, I’m ready for you, I’m ready-”
At the feeling of him finally stuffing you full of his cock, his chest keeping pressure on the backs of your legs and folding further into yourself, tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes at the newfound pressure.
The familiar burn of Roman pushing into you but by bit, inch by gloriously thick inch, has you itching to latch onto him in any way that you possibly can - and you eventually do, removing your hands from holding your legs to placing them on Roman’s shoulders as soon as he gets close enough.
That fire he had stoked inside of you now grows to an inferno the more of himself he bullies into you, stretching you out to fit his cock just right is making your mind hazy. The quick and constant fluttering of your walls around him makes him groan, dropping his head to your knee.
Your nerves fry and your eyes cross as he continues to move, every single wall within you absolutely crumbling because of it. And It feels like forever and a day has passed before he eventually bottoms out inside you for the first time tonight as you nearly lose your mind on his cock, your toes starting to curl and your thighs flexing.
The guttural moan that leaves Roman’s chest rocks you to your very core, the sound of the wetness between your legs and the pressing of him against your ass turning your insides to mush. One of his hands rests at your waist and keeps you close, his body leaning on your own so much that his nose just barely brushes against yours.
You whine his name, the shrill noise and the desperate look in your eyes turning all dials up to eleven. The huffs and small moans leaving your throat, your body already run ragged before he’s really gotten the chance to fuck you senseless yet…it all just makes him want to ruin you even more.
He can’t figure out where to keep his eyes; he wants to look at all of you, from the way your chest heaves and your breasts move from your breaths to the way your pulse jumps at the vein in your neck to the apex of your thighs where your arousal stains and sticks to the skin of his pelvis, there’s almost too many options for him.
But when you squeeze down his shoulders and bring his attention back to the feeble look in your eyes, he can’t help but toss his head back and sigh because look at you, with your lip quivering just as much as your cunt is and the way you gently thump your head against the carpeted floor as his hand runs over your abdomen and presses against the outline his cock made inside you.
His ears fill with the sounds of your sex, your legs seemingly permanently glued to his chest while he wraps an arm around them, keeping you right where he wants you as his hips begin to move.
And the slide of him moving back and forth along your walls, his hips pulling back from your ass and dragging the head of his cock back towards your clit before moving back in just as slowly causes your entire lower body to twitch.
“Roman…Roman, please,” you beg him. You don’t even know what you’re even begging him for anymore: for more? For him to pick up his achingly slow pace? For him to close the distance between his mouth and yours so you can taste him all over again?
But he doesn’t appeal to your cries nor does he break when you seem to grow even wetter for him as he begins to thrust in and out, back and forth, dragging your hips higher into the air and folding you even further into yourself.
He still, however, refuses to look anywhere else other than at your face, in your eyes as he rolls his hips into you, dead set on ever single noise and jerking movement your body gives him.
His brow furrows; how could he not look at you when you’re like this, mouth wide open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth, pointed in the air as it tries to lick at his lips while you fan the flames of the fire you’re sparked inside of him?
You try your best to rock your hips in tandem with his own, bucking them as best you can whenever his pelvis meets your own and he bottoms out inside you. You can feel the head of his cock grazing that sweet spot along your walls, almost kissing your cervix every single time he bears down on you. His weight strains the muscles at the back of your legs when he pulls forward every time but you don’t care, you don’t care because all that matters is him and how well he fills you.
Roman doesn’t speak a word to you, only letting out groans and grunts with the occasional low-toned moan for your ears only, but everything that you hear makes your entire body vibrate with a deeper need. 
Eventually, his pace does begin to increase, the erotic melody of his hips tap, tap, tapping against yours growing into him beginning to use his true power to make you cry out. And cry out you do, your brain now clouded with innsense waves of pleasure as your screams for more grow in volume.
You don’t even attempt to lower your volume and neither does he, not caring about whoever may be listening in from outside the no-that-far-away locker room door - and in the back of your mind, your last shred of sentience thanks Roman for preemptively locking it when everyone else had left.
The force behind his thrusts leaves you absolutely breathless as you stare helplessly into his eyes, moans and huffs flowing from your lips like a waterfall while the pleasure in your core ticks up bit by bit.
The faster he pounds into you and the longer he goes on, the more your walls close in around him like a warm, silken vice, your cunt tightening in around him and not letting him go at all. Your pleasure spikes when he moves his hand down slightly to pinch your clit, making you jolt as you arch your back as best you can.
The rug beneath you scratches against your skin as he runs you ragged on top of it, your shoulder blades and the top of your back taking the brunt of the burn. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when you squeeze them closed, but the sharp sting of Roman’s hand coming down on your clit snaps them right back open again.
You hiss at the pain but it all just melts right back into pleasure all over again and it doesn’t escape his keen eyes, his flat of his hand coming down on the button over and over again. And you can’t resist the urge to rake your nails down his arms as your nerves flare all through your body.
The telltale signs of your impending orgasm are clear to you both: the dilation in your eyes, the way your thighs stretch and quake as he presses down on them and how quickly you begin to pant.
“Fu-uck, Roman, I need…I need-”
The feeling of Roman’s hand sliding up your chest and around your neck cuts you off, your breath hitching and your eyes widening. “You need what, baby? Don’t go all shy on me now? Or have I fucked all the sense out of you already?”
He sneers and squeezes the sides of your throat, making you gasp. “You get to cum when I say that you can, when I give you the go ahead…you understand me? Hmm? Nod your head for me, baby girl.”
You follow his orders to a tee, staving off your looming orgasm by trying to focus on something, anything that’s not the pulsating feeling between your legs or the way he drives his cock into you, the build-up in his pace doing absolutely nothing to stop it.
“R-Roman…” Your voice is weak behind the grip of his hand, his thumb brushing along the front of your throat and pressing down.
“Not yet, baby girl. I didn’t say you could cum yet.” Each word he speaks is enunciated by a powerful thrust of his hips, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each one. “Don’t you want to be good for me? Don’t you want to please your Tribal Chief?”
Your voice is soft when you attempt to answer him, crying out “yes, yes I do” as he plows into you harder than before, your back now actively rubbing against the coarse carpet every time Roman’s pelvis connects with yours.
He groans when he looks into your watery eyes, your cheeks stained with your tears and spit leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your face is a mess, your entire body is flushed right with heat, you look a mess, and it’s all because of him.
Your blubbering and the tears that flow from your eyes do something fierce to him as his own orgasm begins to crest, the way your walls grip his shaft driving him absolutely mad with desire. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from letting go, the sharp pain making him curse as his hips begin to stutter.
“Shit!” he yells, abruptly tearing his cock from you with a wet squelch, your arousal dripping from the head and staining the carpet. Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he grips the base of his cock in his fist again before leaning in to plant a furious kiss to his lips, stealing what little breath you have left away once more.
It’s all teeth and tongue and fiery passion that stokes the already blazing inferno within your soul and when he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and tugs on it, it hurts so good that you whine against his lips and arch into his touch when he pulls away.
Your voice is weak and slightly hoarse when you ask, “Roman?”
“Over the bench, baby. I want you on your hands and knees when I cum inside you.”
That steely gaze from before makes its return and you visibly cower beneath it, standing on shaky legs as you make your way over to one of the nearby benches before draping your weary and sensitive body over it. You feel exposed in this position - even more so due to the fact that you can’t even see him when he pulls the globes of your ass apart to gaze at how slick and messy you’ve become due to his actions.
His hand comes down on the skin and you jolt, scrambling to grab the cold wood of the bench before he does it again…and again.
And again and again as the sharp, stinging pain rings proud and true all over the meat of your ass, heat blooming beneath the skin and radiating off of it. Roman’s hand comes down on one, then the other, and then spreads them with one hand to deliver another blow right to your sensitive folds, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream that has you nearly bolting off the bench.
“Stay still,” he tells you, his chest rumbling as he lays a more firm slap on your ass, another whimper slipping from you. “You only move when I tell you to move, baby girl.”
Roman continues to lay blow after blow to your ass and now to your achingly wet folds, rutting his cock against you as you grind back against him, More tears leak from your eyes as the stinging pain begins to melt into aching pleasure, a litany of broken moans and sobs passing through your lips right before he slides his cock right back inside you.
He meets no resistance and his hips meet yours damn near instantly, picking up his brutal pace right where he left off while you gasp for air. It’s like you can feel his cock all the way in your lungs with how deep he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin hitting sticky skin bouncing off the walls of the locker room.
Your chest presses firmly against the bench, your breasts aching from how firmly he holds your hips against it while his pace goes into overtime. Everyone outside be damned, the noises leaving your mouth couldn’t be silenced even if the damn door was broken down.
The sounds of his name and cries for more fill his ears and he drifts a hand up your back, trailing his fingers up your spine before wrapping his hand in your hair and yanking your head back against his chest.
“That’s it, scream for me,” you hear him say in your ear, the drop in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You feel his lips trace the shell of your ear, biting down on it and then moving down to your jaw. His other hand grasps your chin and pulls your head to the side, his teeth grazing the side of your neck before he sinks his teeth into it.
And the yell that you let out because of it almost rattles the very walls that surround you as you weakly reach your arms back behind your head and wrap them around his own neck, keeping his head there as he plows into you. Your hips ache, your ass fucking burns from his pelvis colliding against it, everything on your body stings and aches and hurts but you love it, you love it all.
You can feel the marks and bruises that his hands,his lips, his teeth leave on your body already begin to bruise, and you can already tell that the ones staining your ass are going to make it hard to sit down or even walk for days to come…
But you’ll wear those marks, those bruises, you’ll wear everything with your head held high and with pride in your eyes because despite all that Roman’s faced these past few months, he still has you willingly and wholly and wholeheartedly.
The sweet kiss of your orgasm comes to fruition again and you can feel that wave begin to crest over; you won’t be able to last much longer if he keeps going at the pace he’s at right now, your toes curling as you dig your own nails into his scalp to pull his head from your neck. You instinctively squeeze around his cock, feeling his balls slap against your clit over and over again and making you jump and jolt around.
“R-Roman, please, ’m gonna…, I need to, please-”
He can’t help but groan as he roughly kisses the side of your head, holding your beginning-to-go-limp upper body close to his chest. “Fuck me, baby, you’re gonna cum? You’re gonna soak my cock and stain the floor?”
You feel him smile against your cheek when you nod. “I feel you clenching around me, princess, so why don’t you be a good girl for your Tribal Chief and cum for me? I want this pussy sloppy fucking wet by the time I’m done with you.”
The weight of him against your back side, the way he slips a hand between your legs and begins to play with your clit again, furiously rubbing the bud between his fingers as he pumps his hips even faster…it has your tongue lolling out of your mouth as you pant like a bitch in heat, Roman playing you like a finely tuned instrument and pushing all of the right buttons.
It all comes to a head when he starts to murmur in your ear,words and wishes of how he’s going to fill you up just like how you want and leave you dripping full of his cum all over the floor by the time the night ends, firmly grasping your breast with his other hand and twisting your nipple fiercely.
Blood rushes to your ears so damn fast that you can just barely hear the words that leave his lips but once you do…oh, the reaction that he gets has him cheesing something fierce, those sharp teeth of his bared for the whole world to see.
Your entire body shakes, completely vibrates with the need to cum as you fly closer and closer to that edge, clinging to Roman for dear life - but not before he tilts your head to the side and kisses you so passionately that you fall limp in his hold, his tongue meshing together with yours.
“Don’t hold yourself back anymore, baby girl. Cum for me, cum for me now-”
He speaks against your lips and your inner walls give way to your orgasm, that wave cresting and your body bending along with it as you soak his cock with a cry so loud that it rings louder in your ears than your bloodrush does. Your heart feels as though it’s about to leap through your chest and out of your mouth, your hands drifting from his hair and your arms wrapping around his neck behind you.
You can feel his heartbeat racing in his chest as it presses against your back and it’s just as fast as yours, and a final high pitched moan escapes your mouth as you soak his cock completely, his hips stuttering against yours while his thrusts begin to slow.
You audibly moan at the warmth that fills your core when you feel him jut his hips against yours and stays there, fully inserted within you as his own climax takes the reins.
It feels like a punch square to his gut when his cock throbs against that sweet spot that lines your walls, his resolve crumbling and his mind going blank for a few seconds. “Fuck,” Roman groans, the sound rumbling through your whole body as you feel him paint your walls with his cum, the head of his cock pressing snugly against your cervix while he grips your flesh and digs his fingers in wherever he can put them.
Your thighs, your chest, your waist, your neck, it doesn’t matter; at the end of the night, your entire body is going to be covered in his marks, whether you like it or not.
Your brain is scrambled and he rests his head on top of yours, massaging your clit to get the final jitters of your orgasm out of you before he finally lets you breathe. Your vision remains blurry from a mix of how tightly you squeezed your eyes shut and from the tears that still linger within it, your face remains a stained mess from your destroyed makeup, and you don’t even want to talk about the state that your hair resides in…but in this moment, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.
But, he’ll tell you that soon enough.
For now, he simply cradles your trembling body to his chest, his cock still snug along your inner walls as he rocks his body against yours; over and over again, calming the rocky waves of your climaxes - both yours and him - as he begins to take his own breath and takes the first seconds of the night to finally think about the events that have occurred.
His blood, his closest family has betrayed him, left him in the dirt and dust and tossed him aside…and now all that he has left is you.
You and the strength, the stability, the everything that’s left of his Bloodline reside within you, and he can’t let you go.
He just can’t.
He won’t let you go, not now and not ever…not after everything tonight.
As time passes and when he doesn’t speak, you take the first steps. “...Roman? Are you okay?” you ask, your voice hoarse and your throat dry from all of your screaming.
“Please…” you hear him whisper against your back, pressing his lips to the back of your neck as he pants, still coming down from the force of his orgasm. “Please…don’t leave.”
Please don’t leave me.
And hearing that, hearing his voice crack slightly as his lips move from the nape of your neck upwards, curving up towards your jawline and around the shell of your ear…it breaks you, it utterly breaks something within your soul.
As you think back to the previous weeks, you could already see the threads of dissension within the eyes of Solo, the traps being laid by The Usos to bring the young man closer to their side and away from Roman’s.
The true and final nail in the coffin of the Bloodline, the removal of the Samoan Enforcer, the last shred of foundation that holds this entire empire of Roman’s together…you can feel it in his every motion, every single press of his fingers against your skin, every pull of his arms as he brings you in further and further to his own body: he’s terrified of losing everything, everything that he has left, everything that he is.
“I won’t, Roman,” you tell him, curling your body against his, allowing him to surround you with everything that he has and everything that he’s willing to give you. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave, I promise.”
A few moments pass, and what precious moments they are. No words are spoken, barely any movements are made aside from the slight rocking of his hips against your own and the heaving of your chests as you both breathe, just…nothing.
A good nothing.
A good nothing that allows you both to just be in touch with yourselves and with each other.
After those few moments pass, you speak to him again, gently running your fingertips over his forearms. “Look, we’ll forge a new Bloodline, okay? Together. You and me and Paul and Solo-”
Roman buries his face in your hair at the mention of Solo’s name, taking a deep breath in of a scent that’s just entirely you mixed with tinges of him…a perfect combination, the perfect combination.
“If we can’t rely on your family to maintain this faction, this dynasty…then we’ll make a new one of our own. Bigger and better and more powerful than Jimmy and Jey could ever comprehend.”
A tense silence follows your words before Roman finds his own to respond.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
You feel his lips curl into a smile against your head, another kiss being pressed to your hair as he thinks. You’re right, after all.
If his own family won’t stand at his side, if he can’t rely on his own bloodline…then you two will create your own dynasty…together.
And together, the two of you will take down and dismantle whatever is left of Jimmy and Jey, for all of the new hell that they’ve now brought upon themselves.
And that’s not a threat, Roman thinks to himself as he curls his body around yours against the cool floor of the locker room, not wanting to get up nor remove himself from the comfort and relief that you provide him.
That’s a fucking promise.
“So..can I get my clothes now? And, are we gonna get up and unlock the door, or…?”
You feel his chest rumble as he chuckles, his smile against your skin growing just that bit wider. “Nah, they can all wait a few more minutes. Besides…”
“...I’m not finished with you just yet.”
Oh, fuck…
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cuubism · 2 years
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I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream
[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]
Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.
Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.
“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”
“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”
Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.
Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”
Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”
The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”
“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”
Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”
Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”
“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”
“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”
Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.
Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.
Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”
“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.
“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”
Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.
“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”
The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.
“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”
“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”
There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.
There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.
“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”
Dream glares at them, but does not speak.
Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”
Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.
Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”
Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”
Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”
I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.
There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.
“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”
Then he storms out of the Threshold.
“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”
--
When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.
Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?
It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.
Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.
He has now, quite royally, messed it up.
He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.
He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.
He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.
Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.
Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”
Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.
Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.
Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.
His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.
“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”
His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.
Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.
Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.
Instead, he kisses him.
It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.
Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.
“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”
“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.
“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”
Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.
“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”
Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.
Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”
Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.
Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”
He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—
catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.
“What happened?”
His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.
Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”
What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.
“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.
Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.
Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”
He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.
Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.
“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”
“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”
Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.
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Books of 2024: THE GREAT CITIES DUOLOGY by N. K. Jemisin.
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magnusbae · 4 months
Text
Second half in under 2 minutes? Is this a joke to you aspect of Momus, are you serious??
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ywpd-translations · 8 months
Text
Ride 760: Kiji, flying
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Pag 1
The MTB Emperor is taking part in the road racing Inter High!!
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Pag 2
1: As expected!!
2: The groups from Kyushu, like Fukuoka or Kumamoto are in quiet places close to the course and the main office
3: and close to the water supplies too!!
4: Well, they're from here after all
5: On the other hand, we're towards the end where there's so much noise
6: And above everything, they clearly.... forgot
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Pag 3
1: only our tent and they added it in a hurry, fou!!
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Pag 4
1: Hmm, that could be
Is it because it's our debut? That's discrimination!!
2: It's handwritten!!
And it's even spelled wrong!!
3: In this kind of situations, you can't do anything even if you get so worked up about it, Ichifuji-kun
Isn't it enough that we have a roof?
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Pag 5
2: Should I fix that writing with magic later?
3: Sonomoto-san!!
4: The place is a problem too!!
We're close to where they're holding the bicycles exhibition, so there's a lot of people passing by and they can see us since we have no tent
5: And when we're changing clothes? We use the bath towel like this, that's what they do on elementary schools' pools!! Fou!!
6: During MTB races you either do it in a car or in the wild
It's not like the management just conveniently forgot about us, either
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Pag 6
1: But the truth is that we're being treated unequally....?
What about you, Kaida!? What do you think!?
Should we go tho the management tent and say a word to them now? Fou!!
3: I've never got any results in MTB and never participated in the Inter High, so for me it's sufficient enough that I'm able to participate in the road racing Inter High
4: Stuff like the tent aren't important
Ugh.....!! You're kidding, I have zero supporters in this situation!!
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Pag 7
1: And isn't it nice to have good ventilation?
2: And also... if you have to say something to the management
Don't you think it would be more persuasive
3: if we first ran in the race
4: and brought results?
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Pag 8
1: If we brought results.....!!
2: Fou!! (Yessir)
Now, if you're ready
3: Should we all go for a trial run?
Fou!!
Yeah!!
Yes!!
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Pag 9
2: Excuse me! This is a pedestrians crossing!
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Pag 10
4: Hello
Are you maybe? A kid from here?
How.....
5: do you stand on the bike like that?
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Pag 11
1: Are you interested in bikes?
Even though your feet aren't connected to the ground, you're still in one place
2: Do you want to try?
4: I guess you won't be able to do it right away, but this is the theory
5: Bikes have a center
I'm standing there
6: A center?
7: It's different depending on the model, but a little before the saddle there's the center point of the bike
8: The technique is that you feel for it, find your balance, and then you find your stability if you properly position your body
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Pag 12
1: It's called “standing”
Ohhhh...!!
2: Furthermore, if you can put your center of gravity firmly there
4: you can also let go of your hands while standing still, yon
Amazing.....!!
5: Amazing, amazing..!!
6: Yes yes, that's right, Kiji-san is amazing
Why does this guy looks so self-important
7: What's the heaviest thing on a bike?
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Pag 13
1: Uh... uhm... the helmet?
3: It's your body
4: When riding a bike, the most important thing is to be conscious of where we put this “body”*, yon
Ah, when you're holding a bucket, if you're holding it with one hand you stagger, right?
(*NdT.: written as “heavy object”)
5: It's the same thing
6: “Weight” is power, yon
Ehh?
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Pag 14
1: When you stop thinking “that's obvious”, “I know that”
2: That's when it's over for you
3: Discovery lies in common sense
4: The essential thing when handling a bike.... remember
5: is the “load” and the “unloading” to get ahead of it!!
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Pag 15
1: Maybe it's faster if I show you?
2: Ah, that's good
Look at that fence
3: The movement of the “load”, and the “unloading”... and....
Use the same method as when you jump to take a picture at the beach
5: I'll jump over that fence!!
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Pag 16
1: No, isn't it better to stop!? Onii-chan!!
2: You'll run into it!!
Just look, boy
3: Hayaaaa
That guy
4: is a guy who jumps over common sense!!
Yaaaaa
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Pag 17
2: Don't miss all the multiple techniques he uses in an instant!!
Fou!!
He looks so self-important
3: First, he moves his body back and so he unload the weight from the front wheel
6: “Unloading”!!
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Pag 18
1: He's really going to cras-
He's not!!
2: Then, he lowers his body's center of gravity for a moment
3: Then he stretches!!
And pulls the frame!!
5: He's not high enough!!
This is the moment when you jump when taking pictures!!
6: Pull up
7: your knees
The technique of skillfully using your “load” to jump over obstacles
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Pag 19
1: is called “bunny hop”!!
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Pag 20
1: There are people who have mastered the technique and can do it, but it's at most 30cm.... but Kiji-san
2: can jump 80cm!!
3: Who's that guy!
Did you see that just now
4: He jumped that fence with a road racer
His bike floated!?
The fence!?
5: I've never seen something like that
The jerseys' of the guys who are with him say “Gunma”....!!
6: It was ama.... amazing....
That.... if I practice... will I be able to do it too one day?
Of course
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Pag 21
1: If you fall a lot, and skin your knees a lot, and eat a lot....
2: Okay?
3: Well now, since we're participating in the Inter High, come see us!!
4: I'll cheer for you...!!
Thank you!
5: The cyclists will soon gather at the starting line!!
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yuckyfunk · 14 days
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lethalhoopla · 2 years
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imagine you're getting a rare research-and-liquor-based sleepover with your bestie after you've had to split ways across the continent to further bear the responsibility of entire nations/peoples when your other best friend and the love of his life/literal Champion of a city-state bust in and inform you that yet another Big Bad is in fact Bad At Staying Fucking Dead
or, I finally came up with an excuse to riff on this post:
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blushblushbear · 3 months
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Fck it- let’s get some ANGST rolling
All the boys reacting to their S/O dying right in front of them, and they are partially responsible for it.
Doesn’t matter how; freak accident, prank/date gone wrong, ppl who have a personal vendetta against them and want revenge- I want to know how they react and how they move on from that moment onwards (if they do at all)
DO.YOUR.WORST!!!
(I’m new to this fandom btw. Hi!! 👋🏼 I rly like your writing :)
AHHHH THANK YOU! I try weirdly hard to do a decent job
but yeah okay *cracks knuckles* let's get into it B)
SHIT'S UNDER THE CUT CAUSE IT'S A LOT AND IT'S DEPRESSING
tw: character death, death in general, violence, gun violence, depression, grief, guilt, heartbreak
Nimh
So I think Nimh's is a freak accident
I think you two are just walking along the side walk together and it's nice and normal and peaceful
and then a car swerves off the road and right towards you two
let's sad for added against you pushed him out of the way on instinct
I think his vision is actually blurred at first when he looks up from his spot in a bush
he does have a heart condition so that amount of shock is gonna make him legitimately dizzy
he almost dies right there when he looks over and sees you unconscious on the ground surrounded by blood
he is full on having a panic attack and can't breath and honestly everything is a dizzy blur for the next few hours
he falls over again just running over to you and is lost to the world as the rest of the scene unfolds around him
he's full on not seeing or hearing anything as he holds you bleeding in his arms
he doesn't even notice how badly he's hyperventilating
you actually don't die right there on the spot
you're put in an ambulance and rushed to the er and then to the icu and Nimh is in the hospital with you
They're also taking care of him as well since he is actually pretty banged up and is clearly having a serve panic attack and might legit pass out if not tended to
when you finally get to the hospital and start to wheel you away to the icu as other er staff are looking over him as a patient he pretty much starts loosing his shit
he wants to go with you but they need to make sure he's okay too
he's sobbing as they take his vitals
you last a few days and he never leaves your side
his parents come by to bring him food and clean clothes and a blanket but he's not leaving you once he's found you again in the icu
it's terrifying to him how still and hurt you look
he talks to you while you're out
honestly for all 3 of those days, he still had hope
no matter what the doctors said
but when he woke up on the morning of the 4th day to the sound of your flat line he watched all his hopes and dreams crumble in front of him
his happy future he saw for himself died with you
he's honestly a depressive mess and his body has not taken to the stress well at all (heart condition and panic attacks)
it's made even worse by the fact that he keeps having dreams about you
that always turn into nightmares where he relives holding you lifeless and bleeding in his arms
I'm going to be honest
I think due to the mix of the stress this puts on his already frail body
and the fact that he's sort of lost his will to live
he actually only lasts a few months after the accident
he was already lucky enough to make it this fair into his life, lucky enough to find the strength to always keep trying and make his body better, lucky enough to find you
but I guess his luck ran out
for what it's worth, I do think he goes peacefully in his sleep
dreaming about you
but a good dream this time
it's just tragic all around
poor Nimh
Volks
Volks' is another nice day turned tragic
You guys had gone out hiking, and he had helped you climb a tree because he really wanted to show you the view
it was taller than you had ever climbed but he promised that he wouldn't let anything happen to you
and as you too are looking at the view--- well, YOU are looking at the view, Volks is looking at you pretty much the whole time (like he always does)
but for a brief moment he took his eyes off you to also look at the view with you
and in that moment a strong wind shook the branch and made you loose your balance
your security tie failed and you went tumbling
that split second moment went by like an hour to Volks
the sudden realization that you weren't there
then looking down and seeing you falling
it took all of his will power to not instinctively jump after you
but when he saw you hit the ground he never scrambled down a tree so quickly
every part of him was shaking and his heart was pounding in his ears
he came up to you and you were still alive, but badly hurt
he gently cradled you in his arms and noticed you had blood coming out of your head
he pulled you onto his back panicking
calling 911 with his shaking hand
he met them on the side of the road and rode with you in the back of the ambulance
the whole time he was just staring wide eyed and pale at you
you were alive and moving but you were so out of it
the ems said you had definitely hit your head on something on the fall (probably a rock) and that you had several broken bones
you got none of that
Volks heard every word of it loud and clear like the worst was being confirmed for him
and he was responding to none of it
just staring at you
when you got to the hospital, his mom was already rushing out to meet the paramedics
you had met her a few times, she really liked you a lot, and especially liked how happy you made her son
she was taking charge since you were already like family to her
when they wheeled you back she told Volks to follow
your vitals were starting to tank and you've lost too much blood
the er room was a panicked frenzy that you were too out of it to comprehend
and the whole time Volks just kept staring at you
in your state, you were trying to make anything out
then you looked over at Volks
and when you looked at him there was this look of recognition and almost like relief
he stared back at your eyes, dull and distant but fully seeing him, the blood running down your forehead ruining the tenderness this look would've otherwise brought him
he didn't realize it yet, but he was tearing up
you reached out your hand to him weakly
he practically jumped forward, walking to you and taking your hand
your grip was weak and there was dirt and blood on your palms
you squeezed his hand as best you could manage
and you smiled at him
gazing lovingly into his eyes
and as he gazed back into yours
he watched as your bright eyes went dark
and then unfocused
he heard the single note of you leaving
and felt a panic he'd never known before as your hand slipped from his
his vision blurred as he just stood there shaking in disbelief
he couldn't find any words or form any thoughts as tears streamed down his cheeks
in a distance he heard his mom's voice
he heard his name
she was saying something
she felt her hand numb on his back
but he couldn't take any of it in
he just stared at you
for maybe the last time
you were just here and now you were gone
he
his contact finally broke when his mom pulled him away into a hug
she was crying on his shoulder, and holding her baby boy so tight
Volks blinked and it all hit him at once
and he broke down in his mothers arms as they crumpled to the floor together and sobbed
months went by
and he barely left the house
he went back and forth between staring at the wall and looking back over pictures you took together and texts you had sent
then crying
then back to the wall
his mom checked in on him a lot
but he's barely there anymore
on one visit she brings him food and notices a rose in a vase with fresh water
it's one he brought home from your funeral
it's long dead but he keeps watering it
for the millionth time Volks' mom preaches the helpfulness of grief counseling and invites him to join her this week at the group meeting
he refuses and she goes back to unloading the food she brought him into his fridge
he's not eating much though
on her way out she kisses his forehead and tells him she loves him
she stops at the door
and looks back at the rose
then her son
'you know.... they would've wanted you to be happy... that's all they ever wanted...'
Volks is silent for a while
his mom sighs and gets ready to leave again
'hey mom....'
she turns
'...what time is the therapy group?'
Kelby
Ya know, weirdly enough, I think Kelby actually handles all this the healthiest of all the boys??
also before I give an actual death lemme just say it's really hard for me to think of something for Kelby that's not Final Destination levels of insane lol
but no, okay okay
ahem
I think with Kelby it's just a regular ol' run of the mill daily tragedy
You're driving together, he's at the wheel, you guys are probably headed to a nice day at the beach
or back from a nice day at the beach
it's late but he's careful
but the sad truth is careful doesn't matter when other people drink and drive
your car is hit head on by someone going twice the speed limit, and your side of the car takes the main impact
I think unlike the previous two guys, you don't get a hospital goodbye
you are most likely dead on impact
and Kelby's not looking too hot either
I think he passes out in an ambulance and wakes up a few hours later to a few new injuries and the shocking news that you didn't make it
pretty sure everyone can hear his wails from down the hall
He's actually basically crying off an on for the next few years
he spends time with family
time with friends
looks at pictures
reads old texts
cries and cries and cries
he goes to therapy and goes through the moitons
but no matter what he can't fight this new hole he feels
the one where all his love for you went
I think he actually becomes an advocate for safe driving
and joins a lot of support groups
He actually helps a lot of people work through their pain
and that helps him work through his
the sad truth about this kind of thing is that it really is a mundane tragedy
that feels like an oxymoron but this sudden heartbreak happens everyday
but through the proper channels, Kelby has found ways to cope
though every now and then the loneliness does get him
how can it not
but if he can't spend the rest of his life with you
then he'll dedicate the rest of it in your memory
and help others do the same
also he keeps your picture by his bedside and talks to it frequently
telling you good morning and good night and such
He never stops missing you
Eli
I feel like with Eli, it really is something outlandish
Like he convinced you to go romantically dancing in the rain and you got struck by lightening
and to other people he laughs it off
'ain't life a bitch, at least they went out in a blaze of glory, they always were electrifying,' etc etc etc
but the truth of the matter is he's deeply and unbelievably upset about this
at his core, he's inconsolable
and he probably jokes about that too
'haha I'm dead inside actually! :)'
he has started seeing a therapist
he's got a lot to unpack
also I know there's not super explicit alcohol mentions in the game
but we know Eli is a party boy
and he's def developed a drinking problem over this
he doesn't know how to handle his feelings so he stays out all night partying like he would do with you
tearing shit up and drinking his feelings away
all so he can stumble home alone and pass out immediately so he doesn't have to contemplate how utterly empty and pointless his big fancy apartment feels
or how empty and pointless he feels
he's also dabbled in some drugs but he's trying to be real careful about that since he doesn't wanna wake up in an alley way (at least not cause of drugs-- he might a few times over booze though)
I think there was a time Eli had a lot of self hatred growing up followed by full self acceptance and self celebration
but he doesn't feel like celebration himself right now
he's pretty sure you'd be disguised with what he's become in your absence
hence the going to therapy
he hasn't found the right therapist just yet but he's going to keep trying
he liked the good things about himself, he liked the good things about you, and all the good things you saw in him, even the stuff he didn't always see as good himself
he wants to like himself again
the way he did when he had you loving him
he truly felt the happiest with you around
but now
he lives in the club
and drinks till dawn
he wakes up in a haze
feeling sick as shit
slowly gets himself together-ish
and ends up wondering what his life has become without you
has a coffee
and a headache
reads some poetry or listens to a song that reminds him of you
ulgy cries for a bit until his headache is worse
calms down enough to eat (well, less calm and more too burnt out)
rinse, repeat.
He doesn't plan to do this forever
he doesn't want to do this forever
someday he's gonna find a way to be happy again without you
though nothing will ever compare to the great love of his life that surprised him out of nowhere
Anon
okay here me out this might be a little too real BUT
bitch I think he got swatted
he messed around with the wrong dude and he got swatted
it got messy
you were there when it happened
he is pressing SO MANY CHARGES
he is a wreck
there's a movement online to try and help and support him through this trying time but honestly
he sees very little of it
he's sort of logged off for a while
actually a long while
he moved houses cause he was just too scared and traumatized
he couldn't stay in the house he watched you get shot in
he's going to so much therapy but it's not helping much
well, it is actually
just not in ways he's seeing or feeling
normally he'd get his revenge asap but like
that sort of thing is what got him into this mess
he is still taking all the legal action he can though
got the best lawyers on his side
SOMEONE is going to jail hell or high water
but it doesn't help fill the hole
he spends a lot of time lying in silence
or going outside
or staring at a blank screen that isn't turned on
he's actually not sure he'll ever get out of this whole
he looks at his phone from time to time but only to look at pictures of you
it's not connected to the internet or anything
eventually he finally feels up to trying to be online for an afternoon
maybe check his socials a bit and play a game
that's when he finally sees the out pour of condolences people have left for him
it actually makes him feel better
you know that bit in that lil nas song 'strangers make you feel so loved, ya know?'
that's him right now
he will never get over this
not even a little bit
and I think he's done using his powers to fuck around
I think eventually he will get to something resembling his old self but
you're still his desktop background
and he's never not going to feel that void you left
or the crushing guilt that flows
Garret
oh man
what to do with Garret
GEEZ uhhhh
I think with Garret, he just wakes up one morning with you in his arms and you're pale and unmoving
I think for him we're gonna say brain aneurysm
you just had one in your sleep overnight and there was nothing anyone could do
he was a panicking sobbing mess the whole time he waited for emergency services with you in his arms
and he wasn't much better while riding in the ambulance with you (he refused to leave your side)
you were barely breathing the whole ride and stopped breathing before you even made it to the hospital
despite the fact that literally none of this was his fault and absolutely there was nothing anyone could do he still blames himself
you died in his arms
he should've been able to do something
I think after a few years of group therapy he finally manages to get back to something like his old self
but he still breaks down in a sobbing wreck every now and then over this all
and he misses you every day
I think he constantly goes back and forth on whether to get rid of the bed you two shared on the night you died
on the one hand you died in that bed (sort of)
but on the other that's the last place you were together
either way he still hasn't gotten rid of it
and he has a locket with your picture in it that he never takes off
Dmitri
I'm running out of way for you to die guys
I think let's go with you were visiting him at the coffee shop and one of the espresso machines exploded, injuring 3 and killing 1 (that's you) (.....shut up I'm trying)
a coffee bean was launched right into your heart
so tragic
he like all the others go into a depressive state but he does very melo-drama about it
lots of tears and wilted roses and sobbing while draped across a sofa holding a framed photo of you
love poems, robe, tissues, ice cream, empty bottles of wine
his sister comes to visit him every day but it doesn't help
I honestly think he never lets this go
he wears this sorrow on his sleeve like a memorium to you
he vows he will never love again and he keeps it
there's a lot of talking to his main framed picture of you (he has a lot) and telling you about his day or his family or how much he misses you
that last bit usually comes up
he's definitely drinking more wine than before
he's not full Eli binging but he definitely gets it down
If he had a ring he was going to propose with (and he probably did let's be real), he wears it now around his neck
a reminder of the happy ending with you he will never get to see
Ichiban
I think this one actually is a prank gone wrong
or at least a video gone wrong
he actually quits his channel for a while out of guilt
he just can't stand running it
he eventually comes back for the fans but it takes like a full year before they hear from him
he spends a lot of time being depressed in the dark
playing games and sometimes talking to himself like he's talking to you
he has a really great therapist that helps him a lot with the guilt and grief
when he does eventually come back, he has a much greater boundary between his online life and his personal life
he also doesn't do stunts/pranks EVER
he actually only updates here and there cause he's putting his focus into more artist projects
the first one is an exploration of grief and how it can change a person
he's got a lot of guests from all over the internet who are here to share their stories of loss that were going on behind the camera
it's very soul bearing all around and it actually is seen as an over all good
it made a lot of people feel seen and less alone
including him
nothing will ever replace you
but he's using his fame now to let people know they aren't alone, so hopefully that's something
William
I think with William you were at the clinic visiting him and something venomous bit you
most likely a snake
you were rushed to the hospital and given anti-venom, but it was too late, the damage was already done
I think he is actually the most functional of all the dudes after the fact
like he's very much Not Okay, but he's trying his best to get through his day
the moment he gets home though he enters into the most mournful slump
he puts a record on and drinks a glass of wine and stares at your picture and just
mourns
he finds himself missing you throughout his day but the second he gets home it's a little all consuming
he's honestly kind of resigned to spending the rest of his life alone mourning you
maybe in a few years from now, he'll try for love again
but he already knows it's not going to be the same
he's always going to feel the weight of your loss on his heart
Myx
I think with Myx it's probably a very sudden yet terminal diease
he puts everything on pause to be with you for as long as he can
he gets about a few months (it's still not enough)
after another few months away from everything spent mourning he finally returns to the stage
he has basically a whole new albums worth of songs
each one of them was him working through his loss and pain
you know those albums you listen to from an artist, and you're just like 'who hurt you???'
yeah, this one is his
except the answer is life
or more specifically death
the amount of times he cries on stage performing some of these songs is unsurprising
a lot of fans send him letters of encouragement and condolences
and flowers
so many flowers
your funeral was actually a sea of flowers
some from friends and family
some from Myx's fans
but honestly mostly from Myx
his next album isn't quite so consumed with grief but honestly-- the subject always comes back up
there's also a few songs for you in there that are really sweet
it's not all tears and heartache
a few happy memories immortalized in song
though a lot of fans and critics consider the ones he wrote during that first year without you some of his most compelling and heartfelt bits of work
and it only cost him everything...
Stirling
Let us pretend my previous post about the reader gaining immortality does not exist
Stirling loses you to time
like so many things before you
and many things after
your loss stings the most though
he stayed with you until the end of your life
loving you every moment he could find
and even making some himself
but he's learned the hard way that all good things must come to an end
and frankly you were the best thing, so your end left the biggest shadow
he misses you every moment of his eternity
so many paintings and portraits of you throughout your years hang in his walls
but none of them ever did do you justice
he's found ways, like this, to surround himself with some version of your presence
though it never fully chases away the loneliness
he embraces the end gracefully
though every so often, when the night is clear and the stars are bright
he can't help but look into the heavens
think of you
and weep
Scale
Scale lost you to an enemy assassin
He doesn't know if they were going for him and just missed
or if they meant to target you just to get at him
but either way he watched in horror as a dart flew into your neck, and you fell to the ground motionless
He never stops blaming himself
He knew he was no good for you and he stuck around anyways
and look where that got you
he spends months hunting down and killing the assassin that did you in
but even bringing justice to your end doesn't make him feel any better
okay, maybe it helps a little, but it's still not enough
he sort of slinks into solitude for several years following your death
he also takes a vow of silence (for some reason--- he won't say why)
he frequently visits your grave and mourns you
he also reads over your old text convos
and he cries
a lot
he kind of lost his heart on that day
and it's truly doubtful he'll ever get it back
not with you gone
Sven
I think this one is another car
I know it's very sudden at the least
he doesn't really know how to process it at all
he's actually in quite the downward spiral for the next few months
going back and forth between trying to remain positive and being a sobbing wreck
bruh, I think your loss kinda broke him
he's seeing like 3 different therapists
they're helping a little
he still sobs uncontrollably at least once a day
honestly, I don't think he ever truly gets back to his old self
he just can't anymore
Cole
heheheheh *CRACKS KNUCKLES*
He's not sure how it happened
all he knows is that he came to on the floor next to you
He was holding you
and there was a lot of blood
you were already cold, your warmth long gone
and his head was spinning
everything was a fog
what had he...
he remembers feeling jealous
and helpless
and angry
he sort of blacked out in a spiral
there's vague flashes
you pinned behind him as
no.
no no no no no no no.
he couldn't have.
he wouldn't have.
h-he didn't mean to.
you can't be.
he staring down at your still body, limp and lifeless in his arms.
all the pieces are coming back together.
it's all coming back to him.
he let's out a nervous laugh as he shakes you gently and says your name.
It all had to be a bad dream.
That was all a dream.
He could never have...
please wake up...
he's so sorry...
please wake up...
...just be a bad dream...
Poe
I think for Mr. Poet we're gonna have to go Byronic on his ass
that's right, it's Consumption baby! Aka tuberculosis!
basically meaning you get real sick
and he's with you every step of the way
staying by your side as your body gives out
documenting ever turn with a new bit of writing or poem
he's never been so prolific
nor so heartbroken
he doesn't share any of the poems about you
He actually might pull a Dickinson and never share them
only to have them found and published after his death
he doesn't know how many pages he filled sitting by your bed side as you slept
he keeps a book of pressed flowers from throughout your decline
flowers he brought you, or ones given by the hospital or friends, a few flowers from your funeral
He probably spends the rest of his life even more listless than before
definitely more heart broken
he moves on in his writing (at least for the stuff he shares publicly)
but he never moves on in his heart
Cashew
I'm unsure how this one happens, but the follow up is the same
I think after a month or so, he tries to go back to his usual life
tries to get up, go to classes, go about his life
but he can't really care anymore
he's just going through the motions
he reads a lot of books where there's a character death to cope
also a lot of romance
and a lot of crying
he's kind of a shut in off and on for about a year
he slowly but surely bounces back
learns to be happy again
be he always knows he would be happier with you
there's a lot of pictures of you and him still floating around
he likes to try and remember you always
even if it hurts, seeing your face still makes him feel a little better
he's also def a member of the talks to your picture a lot squad
one of your pictures is his good luck charm
he got it laminated and uses it as a book mark so you can still kinda 'read with him'
Seth
OH BOY
he thought he wasn't going to care much since he deals with souls all the time
but he truly forgot what this was and now he's pissed
cocky fucker legit forgot that he lives in hell
and that's not where you end up
he doesn't really mourn like the rest of them cause you're not really gone
but he does still miss you
and is trying to tug at every string he can to try and either get himself up there or you down here
it's his new main goal, but it's gonna be a tough one
he keeps trying to trade your soul for others but the folks upstairs ain't buying it
this honestly feels like more of a set up for a rom com manga than anything else lol what is this even doing here IT'S NOT SAD ENOUGH
Logan
oh okay his can get very sad
I think his is going to be learning the hard way that you can't save everyone
and that no matter how hard to plan for something, things can still go wrong
(maybe he should be spider-man...)
but yeah, he was definitely one of the emergency services that responds to yours
he heard your address and got there so fast
but it wasn't fast enough
this loss legit takes him the majority of his life to get over
he was honestly planning to spend the rest of his life with you and that future went up in smoke
he goes to a lot of therapy, both group and one on one
and it helps
but not by much
he's definitely a different person after this all
a little less cheerful, a lot more serious
and hard to believe it but a little better at his job
he went from eye wide newbie with a hero complex to grizzled vet who knows how bad it can really get
and hey look another member of the pictures of you everywhere and he also talks to them squad
keeps a picture of you in the pocket of his fire jacket, near his chest
I mean, he already did that but now it hits different
also wears the ring he had gotten for you around his neck
(though not while working, fire fighters tend to not wear jewelry on the job cause metal hot)
lots of tears
lots of cuddle puddles with the rescue animals
occasionally names one after you
you were the love of his life
still are
Reece
Reece's is definitely a wacky space adventure gone wrong
he's shaken by the loss of you
I don't know how it happened but I know it was very sudden
spends a while in his ship just staring into the middle distance
he can't believe your gone
he spends a lot of time traveling around licking his wounds
also marshaling his forces to go face down whatever entity took you from this universe
tried to go back and save you but it always ends the same
after his last attempt he actually goes back in time to before you two even met and watches you from a distance
you look so happy, you have no idea what's about to happen to your life
he doesn't regret meeting you but he wonders often if things would've been better for YOU if he hadn't
flies solo for a few centuries
every now and then stops by and visits you in a time where you two still hadn't met
admittedly he's stalking you a bit but just in small bursts
it hurts a lot, but it also makes him feel better
try as he might, there's just some things he can never change
and the closer to home it hits, the more it hurts
Aki
WHOO BOY another immortal/semi-immortal character!
I think for all the fox boys we're going to just have you go of natural causes, no immortality for you
it's both hard for him to be sad about this and equally as impossible to not be devastated
on the one hand, you two had a beautiful life together
and having you in each others lives made them so full
but Aki's learning for the first time that part of being a kistune is seeing all good things end while you have to keep going
honestly I think all Kistune to some degree are like Aki, then Haru, then Fuyu as time goes on
like they all start to some degree young and wild and mischievous, then eventually calm a bit more and chill as they mature, and then being a live for so long matures them to such a level they're almost un-reacting cause they've seen it all
everyone's a little different but it's always roughly the same path
and this is Aki's first
you're Aki's first
his first everything
his first great love
his first great life mate
his first great loss
like all kistune before him, this is an aging mark
he's going to be a different person on the other side of this
he's still going to be Aki, just a different version of Aki
one that knows what it means to hurt on this level
he takes about a century to get over it--- well as over it as he's ever gonna get
he may one day have another mate or take another lover
but it will never be like how it was with you
I'm actually not sure if he ever pairs off with someone else for good (I'm honestly not sure any of them do)
and no matter how much time and experience changes him
or how many years pass
he still thinks back on his time with you often and gets all warm again
Haru
SO!
Natural causes, no immortality for you, you just get old and die
so they way I was talking with Aki and how all kistune probably have a similar life path as they age visa vee experiences and firsts
Haru actually is the way he is cause he was trying to AVOID that at all costs
he ran through life trying his damnest to not let anyone get too close cause he doesn't wanna deal
ESPECIALLY humans
sad, pathetic, emotional, short lived little humans
but then you actually managed to break through
and he kind of like--- got it then
like he gets it now
he understands how a connection can be worth the risk of pain
though I will say he does start the relationship fully in denial about the inevitable
he doesn't want to talk about loss, he doesn't want to think of you dying, he doesn't want to have to figure out what a world without you would be like
I think the biggest slap to the face Haru has ever gotten is when he gave you one of his 'I'm gonna spend the rest of my life pleasing you' and you kinda gently threw out 'well.... the rest of MY life anyway...'
I think hearing it from you made him actually like--- hear it ya know???
he generally doesn't loose his cool much but he def looses it then
or anytime someone brings up that you're mortal
I think all of the kitsune do at some point try and find a way to make you immortal but with Haru it's low key a thing he never gave up on
he's not always actively searching, but he's searching on the down low
weirdly I think the person that helps him cope the most with your death is you
YOU knew what you were getting into
and you're not afraid to talk about it with him
especially cause he has a hard time staying mad at you so you can kinda say whatever
he takes a lot of solace in the fact that he made your life very happy
and he enjoys the fuck out of every moment you two have together
he tries so hard not to dwell on it
but once it actually comes and is in front of him
he has a hard time processing
he's not good at processing big feelings okay
I think he might become a drunk for a while
just a grumpy depressed drunk
he actually goes back and forth between a picture of you being the last thing he wants to see and the only thing he wants to see
he's another person whose going to come out different on the other side of the loss
I think he tried at one point to take another lover but he ended up getting upset, and kicked them out before anything could happen cause he just wanted you
and now he's alone and drunk and crying, look what you've done to him
ngl I think he becomes that like--- emotionally wounded, grizzled, often drunk samurai type (like Yasuo back at the star of his story)
he went from fuck boy to lover boy to grumpy older dude whose a little stand off-ish but honestly he's actually very sweet he just has a lot of pain to work through
also even though your face is sometimes the last thing he wants to see (partly cause he's ashamed at what a wreck he's become without you), he still keeps a picture of you near his heart
Fuyu
I'm so tempted to have your end be violent with Fuyu cause he's mr. war crimes but honestly
I think growing to trust again and learning the lesson that violence was never the answer is not only Fuyu's character arch, but low key all of the kistune boys character archs????
but yeah, so no, despite my temptations
natural causes, old age, no immortality for you
so Fuyu is no stranger to death or loss
and he has seen people he cared about die (fandom headcanons, one of them WAS Natsu and I am behind the idea that he didn't wanna do it)
but you just hit differently
he truly never met anyone like you
nor has he loved anyone as deeply
nor will he again for that matter
he tries his best to mourn your death with grace
but behind closed doors he's a sobbing wreck
I think the full time line of Fuyu at least for the parts that we see him are as follows
Angy, deep down Very Sad and Lonely, Uptight, RAWR -> Learns to chill and love and repent and be more open and is just generally still kinda stuffy and stiff but a lot more warm and happy -> still not the monster he once allowed himself to become, still a bit stuffy but also still chill, very solemn, very sad
so he didn't loose his gentleness that his time with you taught him
but he did get back his sad and lonely
He thinks about you everyday
and talks to your spirit in his moments alone
( not actually your--- you're not a ghost, making that clear--- more your memory)
you honestly made him a much better dude
and your company lead to him being able to open himself to more people
but none of them are you
and they never can be
he still writes you poetry
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yuriyuruandyuraart · 10 months
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"BLOODY HELL, WHAT A MESS!"
congrats on 400+ followers @its-paperd!!! >:Dc you deserve that and so much more muah muah<333
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hirazuki · 1 year
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So, you have an interest in moles...
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stormbreaker-290 · 2 months
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pst
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"just checking in on ya, how ya doing?"
Oh my god hes so CUTE-
Hdjshd I'm doin good, a little meh but good enough to draw still :3c
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thedeafprophet · 29 days
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Josephine getting involved in the red honey palace drama, things are gonna get real
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i'm currently writing the sabbat focused part of the chapter and it's giving me the worst bing&larry brainrot imaginable. sorry but y'all will have to suffer with me it's bing&larry week now
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art-freakazoid2 · 1 year
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did art that a lovely commenter gave me UwU
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