#that's about all the ideas I had for this concept! Took me way longer than I expected but yay it's finally done | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whowrotethenote · 12 days ago

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𝐁𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐧

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

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

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Black Fem OC

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

Word count: 8.9k (sorry lol)

Inspo: Biggest Fan by Chris Brown

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder if the Usos will come out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see,” she laughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Company, huh?” I catch Demi’s smirk.

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

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

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

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

“I— I don't know.”

“You don’t know?” Demi slaps my arm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m expected to stay here overnight?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it's fine.”

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

“Yeah. Y—yeah, no I’m fine.”

“You spoke to Paul already?”

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

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

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

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

“I do,” I answer him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Louder, baby,” he grunts diving deeper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” I whimper in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We got one night only.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You care about your hair getting wet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for last night. Joe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Tribal Chief has requested your services again.

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

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

banner credit: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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yanderes-galore · 1 month ago

Note

Fandom: HOTD

Character: Cregan Stark

Pairing: Romantic

Type of fic: Concept

Extra info: I haven't had the opportunity to watch the finale yet so I hope my man got more screen time other than 3 minutes...

But other than that! Darling could be from wherever you want, you're free to do whatever. I'm just starving for more Cregan content to be honest 🙏🙏

- 🥝 anon

More screen time? That aged well... Anyways! Sure, I'll try my best. Using ASOIAF wiki to help me!

❗️Spoilers For HOTD/Fire and Blood Ahead❗️

Yandere! Cregan Stark Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possessive/Protective, Manipulation, Controlling behavior, Forced marriage/Courting, Mature themes, Violence, Blood, Isolation, Dubious relationship.

The first idea I thought of for Cregan is him with a Targaryen.

Cregan himself is not very involved in the Dance.

He takes pretty much the entirety of the war to gather forces since the North is so vast.

However, that does not stop him from toppling The Greens in areas other than King's Landing.

This concept is going to be a tweaked version of canon where you're a Targaryen on the side of The Blacks.

Your mother is Rhaenyra and you're helping your brothers gain forces to your side.

Now this could go one of two ways.

You arrive in Winterfell with Jacaerys to speak with Cregan... or you go alone.

Regardless of which occurs, you are tasked to convince Cregan to join The Blacks.

Despite being a skilled dragon rider, the winter chill nips at your skin as you land your dragon.

You had come to negotiate, to give whatever you could to get Cregan to aid your mother.

Although... You end up giving a lot more than you bargained for the longer you stay in Winterfell.

Like most Stark lords, Cregan is an intimidating fellow.

He has had a lover before, in fact he's older than you by at least a few years despite you both being around your twenties.

Yet the difference in age is small and you're able to get along rather well with the lord.

Despite being relatively cold to most, Cregan is ironically rather warm with your presence.

You had learned his past love had died in childbirth, leaving him with a young son.

You even take the time to learn more of Stark traditions.

Winterfell is land much different than your own home.

It's cold compared to Dragonstone, your dragon rather antsy about the change in climate.

You were invited to stay a week or two at Winterfell's castle.

Of course you agree, after all the Stark's support is needed for your mother.

Your time spent in Winterfell is used to get to know lord Cregan Stark.

You drink, hunt, train... Your time there includes a large amount of culture training.

The same thing happens if you went with your brother.

Cregan's form of bonding with you is definitely Stark in nature.

The drinks in Winterfell are much different than home.

They primarily drink ale, yet Cregan was able to get his hands on some Dornish wine if that was better for you.

You just took the ale most of the time, wanting to be on good terms.

Hunting was another activity.

Cregan primarily hunted with Jacaerys if he went with you.

However, there's times you get to hunt with the Stark lord.

Cregan was surprisingly cautious of you while hunting.

For the first few days it was most likely due to him not wanting a Targaryen heir to be injured.

However, over time it seems his intentions towards you changed.

The same thing occurs with training.

Cregan carefully observes what you're capable of before showing you ways to hone your skills.

After all, you're a dragon rider, you're used to the skies.

Yet he teaches you how to properly use a sword.

As your visit progresses, you make some good progress with getting to know the lord.

Cregan himself appears fond of you, often greeting you himself every morning to invite you on yet another expedition or meal together.

Unbeknownst to you, Cregan's intentions for you aren't just to be loyal to your mother.

No, the longer you are in Winterfell, the more Cregan ends up falling for you.

You're a strong and fierce dragon warrior.

Having a Targaryen in his family can be a useful thing, he's reminded of that each time he sees your dragon hidden from the biting cold.

Although, not only are you useful...

But he also finds himself falling for you genuinely.

His obsession develops as the days pass.

By the end of your visit, you and Cregan are close.

He makes sure your hospitality is perfect, that you are respected.

If anyone has problems with you, Cregan will remind himself to have them judged (and possibly executed).

Cregan sees you as his dragon and himself as your wolf.

He's smitten by the time your visit ends, eyes unable to part from you.

Of course Cregan plans to pledge loyalty to your family.

Yet he's not doing it for your brother, your mother, or the throne.

He's doing it for you.

The Pact of Ice and Fire occurs differently in this scenario.

Instead of asking to marry Jace's first born daughter to his son... He asks Jace or you something different.

In return for his loyalty to the throne, he wants to marry you.

The deal comes across as a surprise at first.

Granted, you were not betrothed yet, but even if you were it probably wouldn't stop Cregan.

The wolf has spotted what he wants...

He plans to have you one way or another.

Determined to win the Starks for your mother, you take a deep breath and agree to Cregan's proposal.

In return for Cregan's northern men, you will be his betrothed.

Your compliance brings a smile to Cregan's face, good...

That wasn't so hard, was it?

Cregan, while cold to most, is not cruel to his dragon.

The wedding ceremony hasn't even occurred yet but Cregan already plans on arranging you to stay at Winterfell.

You try to tell him to wait, but your new husband doesn't listen.

He's a stern man, shutting you down when you try to reason.

You tell him you'll get married after the war, that you and your dragon are needed in Dragonstone.

Cregan ignores such a thought.

He tells you it will take around two years to rally the needed men.

Until this... He considers marrying you earlier.

Cregan does not want his dragon to fight in the war.

He may not show it, but he fears losing you.

You try to tell him that your dragon is not used to the colder climate.

In response he tells you to dismiss the large flying lizard, telling you to stay here.

Your dragon will return when it is needed.

You, however, are to stay in Winterfell until you're both married... and afterwards.

Cregan does not listen to anyone on this matter.

While he has men sought out to aid your mother, he sends a raven (or Jace), to tell your mother of your bargain.

Meanwhile, back with you, Cregan kisses your soft skin, telling you he'll be a good man to you.

If anyone tries to tell him your need to go back to Dragonstone, Cregan responds harshly.

He does not hesitate to have someone cut down for not agreeing with him.

You are his betrothed, his beloved dragon.

Disagreements often end with a bloody sword and his grip on you tightening.

Cregan is surprisingly affectionate, kissing your lips and skin.

He calls you all sorts of affectionate nicknames, holding you close.

He doesn't share chambers with you until you're officially married.

Once you are.. You learn just how possessive the wolf can be.

You're married a month or two after meeting the Stark.

Your wedding night comes with sharing his bed....

Your mother tells you your dragon is needed.

Yet you respond saying Cregan Stark refuses to let you battle.

You don't properly see your mother again once Cregan takes you as his own.

Even when your mother asks to meet with Cregan, the winter wolf is against it.

Truth is I can see Cregan keeping you at Winterfell until the war ends.

Both Rhaenyra and Aegon II perish, along with your siblings.

You are one of the only remaining Targaryens other than your younger brother Aegon.

It's only then that Cregan allows you to come with him to King's Landing.

You're devastated at the fact you lost your family, survivor's guilt creeping in.

Cregan allows you to reunite with your younger brother and soon even becomes Hand.

During his time in King's Landing, you are allowed to stay beside him.

Yet he tells you once he is no longer needed, you will be coming back to Winterfell.

Part of you does love your husband... He's trying to protect you.

Despite that, you resent him for forcing you to stay back.

But... His winter men did indeed help claim territory for the blacks....

In a way, you guessed this was your purpose.

If you are capable of having children, you most likely have a young babe with him... maybe another on the way....

Regardless, Cregan keeps you close, the wolf watchful of his dragon.

One could argue his possessive behavior saved you...

You still hate it.

It's ironic, dragons are meant to be stronger than wolves.

Yet here you are, leashed to your loyal hound... bare able to mourn your family.

Cregan reassures you this would've happened anyways.

You should be happy he kept you safe....

You may have Targaryen blood... but to him, you're a Stark now.

He's your family now...

Whoever tries to go against this will meet the end of his sword, their blood staining the snow as you're forced to be good for your husband.

#yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #yandere asoiaf #yandere cregan stark #yandere cregan stark x reader

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woozisguitar · 3 months ago

Text

happy fuckin' birthday

pairing: jihoon x reader (afab)

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive towards the end so MDNI, bad bad ideas

word count: 1.2k

a/n: happy birthday to my girlfriend, husband, princess, the real love of my life, lee jihoon. idk what id do without you, my loverboy. everyday im so grateful you and me exist in the same timeline. please always be happier than me <3 (lowercase intended and not beta)

the fast bustling and the faint smell of coffee, which once felt intimidating, now feels like home. it’s been 8 months since you were last here, and god, you missed this. the overseas project took longer than anticipated, but none of that matters now that you’re back with the one you love. you slowly make your way to the floor where his studio is, trying to be as lowkey as possible. see, the thing is, you were supposed to arrive a week later, but the project wrapped up early, and there was no reason for you to stay away from your lover on his birthday. cue a last-minute birthday surprise which only you and his manager knew about.

when the elevator opened on his studio floor, you came face to face with none other than kwon soonyoung. soonyoung is a close friend, but you knew his hyperactivity would give away your plans in a second.

“yn, what are you—”

“shhhhhhhhhhh!” you shushed soonyoung, pulling him into the elevator and pressing the button to the top floor.

“dude, what the hell are you doing back so early?”

“jihoon’s birthday. the project wrapped up, and there was no reason for me to miss it,” you explained and saw a smile creeping up on your friend’s face.

“so, i’m guessing he doesn’t know?”

“nope. i planned this so last minute i’m not even sure if he’s free today.”

“he’s free. working as usual,” soonyoung rolled his eyes, “but i think i have an idea.”

“uh-oh.”

“so your great idea was to tell everyone except jihoon that i’m here? way to keep things lowkey, soonie,” you rolled your eyes, trying to figure out which idea would involve all 12 of jihoon’s members and his manager.

“nooo,” he dragged out the 'o', “the great idea is that we will distract him and sneak you into the studio where you can hide. then, once we leave, you can surprise him!”

“or give him a heart attack and an early death, which would be one hell of a birthday gift,” seungkwan commented, side-eyeing soonyoung.

“well, do you have a better idea?” seungkwan slowly shook his head no. “that’s what i thought. anyways, yn, trust me—he will like this.”

you gave his idea a second thought. well, it’s not like you had something better in mind anyway.

“god, this better work, soonyoung, or i’ll have your head.”

so the idea was indeed stupid.

the plan was that jihoon’s manager would first enter the studio to discuss next week’s schedule, and once he gave you a thumbs-up, the members would all file in and ‘discuss the latest album.’ 12 men filing in to talk at the same time about the same thing? totally not suspicious.

but somehow, this was the best bet you had. so now you were outside the universe factory with the members, waiting for jihoon’s manager to give a thumbs-up. after what felt like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), his manager emerged and gave a subtle thumbs-up.

this was truly starting to feel more and more stupid as the plan progressed.

“everyone ready?” whispered mingyu, and the others nodded in confirmation. slowly, they all started to file in, and you heard them greet jihoon. once all of them were inside, you slowly peeped in to see them form a subtle wall between jihoon and the back of the couch where you were planning to hide.

slowly, you crept in, crouching low and making your way toward the back of the couch. you heard the boys discuss concepts and styles they wanted to try out for the new album. from this angle, it looked like jihoon was undergoing an intervention, and you stifled a small giggle at the mental image. after making sure you were hidden properly behind the couch, you slowly peeked out from the side to see jihoon between jun’s and dino’s legs.

god, he looks so pretty, were your first thoughts. it had been 8 months since you last saw him in person, felt his touch, and kissed his lips. you wanted nothing more than for this plan to be over so you could kiss your boyfriend. you slid back into your hiding spot and texted soonyoung that you were in place. you heard his phone buzz and received a thumbs-up in response.

the members slowly started to wrap up their ‘discussion’ and leave the studio after making some kind of excuse. if jihoon noticed their weird behavior, he sure as hell didn’t comment on it. once all the members left, you slowly peeked out again to see jihoon turned to his computer with his headphones in place. you could hear the loud bass from his headphones and made a mental note to reprimand him about it later.

you crawled from your hiding spot toward jihoon’s chair. from your position, you saw seokmin, soonyoung, and seungkwan hiding behind a partially obstructive door, phones already recording. you quietly rose to your feet, making sure not to touch anything that could alert him to your presence. you leaned down and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

“happy birthday, baby.”

jihoon jumped from his chair, arms raised to fight whoever broke in. his sudden movement shook you off balance, and you grabbed his now discarded chair to stabilize yourself.

“calm down—it’s me!” you exclaimed, giggling at his confused face.

“y/n,” jihoon blinked, lowering his hands, “what..? i don’t...?”

you heard booseoksoon giggling outside and yelled at them to leave you two alone. once you heard the door click shut, you got closer to jihoon, pressing another kiss to his nose.

“yes, y/n, you dork.”

“you’re here.”

“mhm.”

“you’re actually here? i’m not, like, hallucinating or anything, right?” jihoon blinked, trying to figure out what was happening, making you giggle.

“yes, yes, i’m actually here.”

upon hearing this, jihoon grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “what are you doing here? you’re supposed to be back next week.”

“well, you see,” you hugged him tighter, “i finished the project early and had a lovely guy waiting for me on the other side of the world. and i wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.”

“you did this all for me?” he breathed out.

“of course. who else would i do this for?”

jihoon shook his head, falling back into his chair and dragging you to straddle him.

“god, i fucking missed you,” he said, pulling you in for a heated kiss.

all the months of missing, yearning, and longing manifested in desperate kisses shared between the two of you. you slid your fingers into his hair while his found home in the curve of your waist, pulling you into him. jihoon slid his tongue into your mouth while you started to slowly grind yourself against him. he let out a moan, prompting you to keep grinding, feeling yourself heat at the core. jihoon’s moans grew louder as you felt him harden below you.

“wait,” you pulled back breathless, “not yet.”

“mhmm..?” jihoon made a confused sound at the lack of contact. his eyes were blown with desire, and his fingers held you close, almost as if he were worried you’d disappear.

“i want to give you your first birthday present,” you smirked mischievously, getting off his lap and kneeling in front of him.

“what are you...oh.”

jihoon leaned back, a sigh escaping his lips. “well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

and after a series of birthday ‘gifts,’ it was indeed a happy birthday.

a/n: heh sorry for teasing but I really do wish 100000/10 that jihoon gets the best birthday head he deserves one so bad (I volunteer as tribute-)

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lovincherries · 1 year ago

Text

Corio's Pawn

a/n: first of all, I want to say hi! I know it's been a really long time since i've written anything and i wanted to say thank you for your patience. 2023 has easily been the hardest year of my life, and i am so grateful for all your messages and support. it has truly meant the world to me. hopefully you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it. i love you guys! (p.s it's almost been a year since i have written anything, of course snow brought me out of my slump)

NOT PROOF READ! I AM LAZY

word count: 3,735

warnings: taking of virginity, dub con, breeding kink, just smut! corio being corio (bad), reader is curvy (idk actually, i think i only mention it once, but you could really skim those parts. it isn't central to the storyline tbh)

You had loved Corio long before he knew you existed. To you, he was everything you wanted, everything that you desired, everything that you longed for. To him, you were a shy girl, kind, sweet, but shy and rather unnoticeable, or you were unnoticeable. You don't know what did it, neither did he really. He didn't know if it was the harshness of district 12, or the uncertainty (and paranoia) that Lucy gray caused him that made him long for you when he arrived home, or if it were the fact that he really looked at you for the first time. You had the softness that he desired, and the look in your eyes that you would give up everything for him if he said the word. He desired that kind of relationship, one where he held the power and none of the vulnerability. With you, he had nothing to lose. There was no game you were playing, your eyes and quiet smiles held everything he needed to know.

Before he left for District 12, and before the 10th games, Corio considered love a waste of time and resources. After, he considered it a betting game that both sides were bound to lose. While he considered love a waste of time, his desires and needs were still prevalent and crowding his head with thoughts where plans and ideas should be. That's when you fell into his lap, his little rose. It didn't take him long to realize the hold that he had over you, and it took him even less time to put his charm to use.

He knew what you were, a good girl who came from good parents that raised her right. And while the whole world had long since passed the concept of purity, he knew it was something that your parents had taught to you. His little white rose. Except, he didn't want to keep you that way. He didn't have to ask if you were pure, it was something he could almost smell. Your innocence seeped out of your pores like a perfume he couldn't get enough of. Before, he never noticed you, now you were all he desired. He wanted to know all your curves and edges, wanted to fulfill your desires, he wanted to take you. Most of all, he desired to see your cheeks red, your eyes dark with desire, and his cum filling you up.

You and Corio had been seeing each other for a few months, and while you tried to pretend like it wasn't the most exciting thing to ever happen to you, it was. He was all you could think about, all you could talk about with your parents, and he was the only person you wanted to see. You were oblivious to his charm, blinded by everything that he promised to you. You were funnier and more interesting than he originally gave you credit for, he could actually relax around you and laugh, but he would never turn off the person he presented to be. He couldn't wait for much longer though, his composure was slipping, and all he could think about was being wrapped into your legs and diving into you. Your kisses were sweet and genuine, you kissed him with love, but he wanted something darker. He needed it. It was something you didn't intend to give to him though, not that you really knew what you were giving or not.

Your parents had long taught you that certain things were for married couples, after all, if you weren't pure you weren't going to be any good to them to marry off. Even to them you were a pawn, a piece that only furthered their own further interests and success. That being the reason why you were probably oblivious to the games Corio was playing with you. And you didn't know it, but tonight was the night Corio was going to win a game that you didn't know you were playing.

You were getting ready for bed, your light blue light gown skimmed mid-thigh as you sat down at your vanity brushing through your long hair. You examined your features as you did, humming a song that had been stuck in your head all day. You heard a soft knock at your window, turning your head to look for what made the sound, but you found nothing. You quickly brushed it off and went back to the task at hand, your mind getting lost in thought about a certain someone with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was almost like he never really left your mind at all, he was constantly grazing your thoughts. He seemed to appear everywhere that you went, in the color red, in roses, in the fallen snow on the ground. It wasn't till you heard another knock at your window, this one much harder than the last, that you actually went over to check what was making the noise.

When you looked you found your lover waiting for you, his nose and cheeks tinted pink from the cold wind that bite at his face outside. An instant smile flew to your face when you saw him, a white rose clutched in his hand, waiting for you. You quickly opened your window to let him in, he had never done this before. You quickly tried to fight the nervousness in your stomach while you lifted the window as you almost sang his name with excitement. The cold air bit at your nipples, making them hard in an instant as it flew in from the outside. You quickly shut the window after he made it inside, a smile so big on your face that your cheeks hurt from the strain. You were so excited to see him, that you didn't notice the darkness that clouded his eyes, or his gaze that kept falling down to your almost see through dress.

"Corio!" You sang again, your arms hugging around his broad shoulders, you stepped on your tip toes to be able to reach that high. You laughed gleefully, his arms wrapping around your waist. He lifted you up so your legs wrapped around his hips as you giggled in excitement, your night gown riding up to the point it almost exposed your white panties. Corio quickly put you down after the initial excitement, softly kissing your lips after your feet touched the floor.

"My rose!" He laughed purposefully, looking down at you. Your innocence and excitement gleaming up at him through your eyes, and all he could think about was taking it from you. Unbeknownst to you. Corio's height gave him an advantage to look down at your swollen breasts in your night gown. It caused his dick to strain in his pants, he wanted to audibly groan from the pain, but he knew that tonight he was going to get what he wanted.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your smile radiating through your words. He picked up the rose that had slightly gotten crushed in your big hug.

"I was thinking of you when I saw this, and I just had to come bring it to you," he said as he brought the rose to your hand. It was beautiful, even with some of the petals fallen onto the floor. Your heart melted at the thought of him thinking of you, if only you knew the ways he thought of you.

"Thank you, Corio, it's beautiful!" You gleamed as you took the rose, "I don't have anything to put it in here though," you quickly frowned. You knew that your parents would hear you if you began clattering about through your house looking for a vase. He brought his hand to smooth the lines of your worry, lifting your chin to look up at him.

"It's okay," he soothed. Even while he was comforting you, power radiated off of him, "I can always bring you more." You quickly set the rose on your vanity where you had sat moments before. You were so comfortable with him; it didn't even register in your mind what you were wearing and how inappropriate it might be.

Corio walked over to your bed and sat down, not bothering to ask for permission. He admired you from a distance, your curves prominent in the night gown. Your nipples poking through your dress, begging for his attention, begging for his lips. He would get down on his knees and beg now (something he would never admit to), if it meant that he could suck on them. You turned around fully to face him, looking at him with so much love and admiration.

"Come here, love," He stated, not giving you an option to say no. You did as he demanded, your hips swinging in an unknowingly alluring manner. He grabbed your hands when you were stood in front of him, pulling you onto his lap. You gasped at the action, attempting to pull away from the shock of the sudden closeness but his grip stayed firm. Your legs encased his hips, his hard dick pushing into your folds. You weren't necessarily used to this type of intimacy with Corio, but he had been getting you prepared for what was to come. Heated kisses whenever you two were alone, his fingers would always brush your most sensitive parts without getting too close. He knew how to make you long for things, without you even necessarily realizing what you were longing for. You didn't even really process what was poking into you know, all you knew was that it shot tingles up your spin.

"Corio!" You gasped again when he slightly pushed his hips into yours, an uncontrollable movement on his part, but he longed for a touch that he hadn't felt in so long. His head fell into the nape of your neck, landing soft kisses from your exposed collarbone to your jaw. You giggled at the ticklish feeling of his lips, but it also sent a familiar warmth through you.

"So beautiful," he murmured, still planting kisses on your neck. You brought your hands to his face and made him face you as you planted fast kisses all over his cheeks in face in a girlish manner, giggling softly. Corio smiled at the action, letting it warm his cold heart for only a minute. The guilt of what he was going to do tinged his thoughts for a second before he thought about what he wanted, what he needed. He knew he didn't love you, but you were something he wanted, something he possessed. He liked his possessions.

You both stared at each other for a minute, your hands still cupping his cheeks and his hands held your hips firmly. The light feeling from before replaced itself with something heavier, something you couldn't quite place, and you weren't sure if you wanted to. You saw Corio's eyes fall down to your lips, your hands fell from his face and landed on his chest as the tension weighed down on yours. Corio gripped your hips tighter, squeezing him impossibly closer to you as he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss started off sweet, his lips brushing against yours softly. This you were used to, you quickly fell into the groove of his lips. Finding your home in the way he touched you. There was something different this time though, something new. Corio quickly made the kiss faster, harder, and you tried your hardest to keep up. He licked your bottom lip, asking for permission. You parted your lips, trying your best to match his fast aggressive pace. His tongue edging yours. Your hands now gripped his face out of instinct and his right hand trailed to grab your breast. You gasped into the kiss; he had never done that before. He squeezed as he pushed his hips into yours, eliciting a moan from your lips as his dick pressed into your clit. You had never felt this way before.

Corio pressed himself harder into you, he could feel the wetness from your cotton underwear staining his red pressed trousers, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. All he wanted to find himself was deep into you, pounding into you, he wanted to feel you quiver around him. His lips were still attached to yours, the rhythm long gone, it was all teeth and tongue. He was surprised at your ability to keep up with him, but he noticed your hesitancy. He moved back from you, separating the kiss harshly. You gasped at the lack of contact, subconsciously pushing your hips into his. Longing for that pleasure that he was giving to you.

"Y/N," Corio said sternly, causing you to look at him. He could see the desire in your eyes, and he knew he had you right where he wanted you. "I need you." He said, with as much desperation he could allow himself. Corio wasn't above begging you for what he wanted, although he would never admit it.

"You have me," you said softly, attempting to smile at him. You leaned back into the kiss, attempting to regain the passion, but he stopped you.

"No, I need you," he emphasized the need, pushing his hips into yours. Your face held the confusion that you were thinking. That was another thing he liked about you, if you wouldn't say it, your face would. It made it extremely easy for him to understand you.

"I-I don't get what you mean," you stuttered, your lips making a slight o shape when he pushed into you again. He moved his hands down to your vagina, eliciting another gasp from your lips.

"I need you here," he said as he moved your dress to your hips and pushed your panties to the side. His fingers grazed your soaking folds, both of you looking down to find a dark wet spot on the crotch of his trousers. "It feels like you need me to, my rose," he said softly, as his fingers dived in between your folds. He quickly found your clit, pressing into it as he watched your sweet face change in pleasure.

"I don't understand still," your voice cried out in pleasure and confusion. He could almost hear the tears in your voice, it should have made him stop, should have made him quit, but it only made him want to take it further.

He used his spare hand to grab yours, he slowly pulled it over his hard chest. You felt the bumps and ridges of his ab muscles and then felt the hardness of his dick. He forced you to squeeze him with your hands, still circling your clit in a harsh manner.

"Y/N, I need you," he emphasized by pushing into your clit, causing you to throw your head back, "here." He said using your hand to squeeze his dick. You didn't respond, you couldn't from the shock waves his fingers were sending through your body.

Corio moved his pointer finger from your clit to your entrance, your wetness coating him even more. He didn't know a girl could get so wet, but God was he grateful for that. All he could think about was you encasing him, your heat squeezing him till he forgot all about District 12 and that Lucy Gray. He could imagine a life with you, a real life, one with happiness and love, but that thought quickly disappeared from his mind.

He could see a life with you though, maybe not a real one but a life. One where you were constantly swollen with his babies. The thought of that caused him to groan as he pushed his pointer finger into you. As he felt you squeeze his finger, all he could think about was how good you were going to feel.

"Please, Y/N," Corio begged, you had never heard such a neediness in his voice before, not that you were aware enough to pick up on it. All you could think about was his finger in you and his thumb grazing your clit.

"O-okay," you agreed. Not even exactly sure what you were agreeing to, but you had a feeling it wasn't necessarily good.

Corio let out a sigh of relief at your agreeance, as much as it shamed him to admit, he would've gotten on his knees for that affirmation. He quickly threw his shirt of his head and gripped your waist. He pulled you in for another kiss, pulling you down onto him once more. Your exposed folds felt even more of him. He quickly tossed you around, laying you on your back as he stood in front of you.

He sat you up, lifting you light blue dress over your head. Your swollen breasts now bare for his viewing, but not an ounce of insecurity ran through your head. You trusted him with everything you had in you. You truly believed he would never hurt you.

"God," he groaned as he looked at you. He couldn't waste another second not being inside of you, he quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down his legs. You admired his muscular form, which only sent more waves of warmth down you. You gasped as he pulled his dick out from his pants, it looked terrifyingly huge for a moment. He laughed at your expression but swelled up with pride as you looked at him with amazement. He quickly pulled your white cotton underwear off of your legs, looking down at your glimmering heat. He needed to be inside of you.

He crawled on top of you, kissing his way from your torso to your breast. He licked at your nipple before fully enveloping it with his mouth and sucking on it. This caused you to let out a loud moan, the tingle that you felt from this sent shockwaves everywhere. He released it, but not before biting it harshly.

He then moved up more, bringing your legs around his waist and his dick in between your folds. You let out a sigh of relief from the contact and he kissed your lips. This time, much softer, gentler than before. He began to grind himself into you, properly getting himself coated in your wetness.

He guided the tip of his dick to your entrance, slowly poking himself in. He maintained control of himself in this moment, even when you moaned from the pleasurable contact. He just put the tip in and you already felt so full. Corio had to separate himself from the kiss and his head found its home in the nape of your neck. He was breathing heavily as he maintained control, slowly pushing into you. Even though, all he wanted to do was wreck you.

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch. Stopping every few seconds to make sure you were okay, and not hurting. Before long, you were gasping at the fullness of him bottoming out into you. You two stayed like this for a long time before he lost control and started moving again.

"God damnit Y/N," he groaned, the sweat of losing control falling onto your skin. His words flew past you as the fullness was all that crowded your mind. "So fucking tight," he cursed as he drew himself out and back into you. He pivoted ever so slightly and was now making you see stars.

"Corio, corio, corio," you moaned as he now began to pound into you. Any sense of self control he had, was long gone as he heard you calling out his name with such need.

"So big," you moaned, drool coming out of your mouth as your grasped your breast with your hands. His hips stuttering inside of you as he watched you fondle yourself.

"Fuck, Y/N, fuck," he repeated, slamming into you harder. It should have hurt you, should have made you cry from the pressure, but it didn't. It drove you nearly as mad as he was. His words were lost on you, anything he said was tuned out by the feeling of being so full of him.

Your pussy let out squelching noises from how wet you were and hard he was pounding into you. Corio began to kiss to your ear and let out breathy whispers that you were too out of it to notice.

"Fucking hell, tightest pussy I've ever had," he murmured more to himself. Corio thought in his head he should have taken this from you long ago, you were handling yourself so well. He practically cursed himself out thinking of all the months he missed out on this feeling. You moans were fuel to his fire, your sweet soft voice paired with the debaucherous noises of your body colliding made him impossibly harder than he already was.

"Gonna fill you up," he moaned again, driving himself deeper into you. He was barely leaving you now, all he wanted was to be completely encased in you. "Wanna see you swell with my babies, want everyone to know that Coriolanus Snow was here," he talked in circles. One of his hands moving to press into your clit, this sent you into over drive. Your pussy began to squeeze him impossibly harder and your head was thrown back in the pleasure he was sending through you, you didn't know it but this was your very first orgasm.

Corio was trying his hardest to maintain his composure, to hold onto the feeling of driving himself inside of you like a mad man, but he quickly lost control when hearing your voice. "I love you, I love you, U love you," You repeated, pulling him closer to you with your legs. You squeezed him so tightly, he thought that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to leave your tight hole.

This only drove him further into you, and this is where he released his cum. His hips stuttered into yours for a solid minute, filling you up with everything he had been saving for you for the last few months. He came so much it began to spill out of you with him still inside of you. He looked down and saw how swollen your vagina was around him, the white semen leaking out around his dick, and for just a moment he wanted to say I love you too.

a/n: shit man. that took me two and a half hours.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #corio #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the hunger games smut #hunger games smut #gale smut #peeta smut #haymitch smut #smut #tbosbas smut

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fatuismooches · 2 years ago

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a lesson in napping.

It was a beautiful day in Inazuma. The sun was shining brilliantly, not too hot either, just the perfect temperature, with a slight breeze to keep you cool. Perfect for doing nothing, best for relaxing and enjoying life. It was on days like these when your eyes began to droop much earlier than they should be. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. But Kabukimono was questioning why you were already slipping into the futon when it was so early into the day.

“[Name], what are you doing? Are you sick?” Kabukimono worried over your early retirement to bed.

“No, don’t worry, Kabukimono. I’m just going to sleep for a bit.”

“But… it’s not ‘bedtime’, yet, isn’t it?” You chuckled at his use of the new term you taught him.

“You’re right, it may not be bedtime… but it is naptime,” you replied, having to stifle a yawn, wanting nothing more than to just drag your lover under the sheets and just sleep already. “I’m feeling sleepy, so I’m just going to sleep for a little while. A nap,” you explained.

“Ah, ‘naptime’...” Kabukimono repeated. “So a lot of humans not only sleep during the night but during the day too?” The puppet was still learning about the concept of sleep. He did not need to sleep and found the idea of it fascinating. But before, when you left him to sleep by himself, you would be awoken by quiet sobs, and him curled into a ball. You wondered what he dreamed about that made him cry so much, but you never pushed for answers. But now that he lay on your chest whenever he dozed, it seemed that he was no longer plagued by those frightful dreams, at least not so frequently.

“Of course, Kabukimono,” you giggled. “Though most people here sleep during the night, there’s no set time on when a person should sleep. You can sleep whenever you want.” With that, you held your arms out, inviting him to come join you.

“Come here, my love. Why don’t you try it? Won’t you take a nap with me?” Immediately a smile grew on his face, happy to be invited to the activity. Kabukimono shyly slid under the blankets with you and then looked up at you with puppy eyes, hands close to his chest.

“Can you… can you hold me, please?” His cheeks grew to a faint red as he asked. The puppet loved affection but sometimes was scared to ask for it. He’d even get nervous while asking you to accompany him for simple things, leaning from foot to foot with hands behind his back. As if he thought you did not want to be in his presence.

Perhaps he had been rejected in the past, and that hurt his fragile heart.

But no matter, you were here to relieve all of his worries and make him feel wanted. You smiled in response and watched as Kabukimono’s face lit up. “Of course, dearest. Here, turn around,” the boy eagerly followed your instruction and softly giggled as his back pressed against your chest. He really loved being the little spoon.

You briefly thought back to the time when you first spooned him. It was a lovely experience, and he was a joy to hold. But you had felt playful at the time, and what better way to surprise him by tickling him? Your arms were in the best position for tickles too - snug around his middle.

Unfortunately, Kabukimono was not ticklish. The only thing you got out of it was a hot, embarrassed face while Kabukimono looked at you with a confused expression as to why your fingers were dancing around his tummy. It seemed like the puppet really didn’t have any weaknesses. At least not physical ones.

Quickly snapping out of that little memory, you took pleasure in the way Kabukimono was practically glowing in happiness. You wouldn’t have it any other way. It really felt like only the two of you existed in the world right now. Nothing else mattered.

“Good night, [Name]! Oh, I actually shouldn’t be saying that, right? Since it’s still daytime-” The puppet began to correct himself but you kissed him before he could continue, catching him off guard but he quickly reciprocated.

“How about ‘sweet dreams’?”

“Sweet dreams… I like that. Sweet dreams, [Name].”

“Sweet dreams to you as well, Kabukimono. Maybe we’ll have connected dreams, too.”

“Connected dreams? Is something like that even possible?”

“Sure is! Dreams are very, very powerful, love. Don’t forget that. Now hurry to dreamland, before we lose our sleepiness,” you finished, pecking him on the cheek for good measure. Kabukimono settled into the comfortable position once more at your words, comforted by the calm in and outs of your chest. His eyes fluttered shut, as his body succumbed to the surrounding warmth.

The deeply loved puppet soon drifted off, dreaming of a happy and beautiful future with you. You two even adopted a cat! It was a bit grumpy, but that was okay. It would come true, right? After all, if dreams were so powerful, they should become reality eventually.

Right?

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kabukimono x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche headcanons #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche angst #wanderer fluff #kabukimono #wanderer #kunikuzushi #scaramouche genshin #wanderer genshin

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sysmedsaresexist · 9 months ago

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Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.

#syscourse #not syscourse #pro syscourse conversation #anti endo #pro endo #anti plural #pro plural #debunk #endogenic safe #system safe #pro system

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inawickedlittletown · 4 months ago

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What Do You Mean, A Plane (BuckTommy) - 8x03 coda

Read on Ao3

“I really hope those idiots get a huge fine,” Tommy said.

Lucy bumped her shoulder against him. “I think they will.”

“How many incidents like this is it going to take before people figure out that it isn’t a good idea to use a freaking explosive to find out the sex of their baby?” Tommy asked.

Lucy sighed. “In premise it’s a cute concept if it’s like a cake with pink or blue frosting inside but it has gotten out of hand.”

“And what if the kid is nonbinary? Or trans? Then what, the parents went through all this trouble just to then realize that they were wrong the whole time. I just don’t get it. And considering how dumb they and their offspring are likely to be, what if they go and have a different gender reveal and set off another fire even when they’re told that the dry climate isn’t the time or place to do something like this.”

“You’re just a grump today, aren’t you,” Lucy said with a grin. “Lighten up, I think we should be good to go home in a bit. And hey, at least now I know I’m not expecting a gender reveal party whenever you and Buck wind up having kids.”

Tommy decided to ignore her second statement. It was way too soon to think about kids even if Tommy could picture it.

Lucy gave him a nudge. “Too early?”

“We haven’t even moved in together yet. Yes, too early.”

“Yes, but you want him to move in, don’t you.”

She was not wrong. Evan was at his house all the time as it was, but the times when he wasn’t it felt emptier and far more quiet than Tommy preferred.

“That’s not a denial,” Lucy said. “Come on, Kinard, this was not that bad.”

It wasn’t. Tommy had been in the air to start dropping retardant and also helping smokejumpers get to the fire from the inside. Then, he’d been told to bring the copter down and join the ground crew. He’d found Lucy there.

“Any idea why they brought us down?” She’d asked.

“I guess they needed more hands down here,” Tommy said, but took note that there were no other helicopters or jets flying over the fire.

It had been a long day, but the fire was basically out, some smoke still rising into the sky. He really did think going home sounded perfect. It’d be even better if Evan was there, but Evan was on shift probably still dealing with calls related to the killer bees. Evan had said the weather had likely sent them on their way and Tommy supposed the smoke from the forest fire had calmed them too. Probably. No more bee-nados.

When they did get cleared to go, Tommy just let out a huge yawn. Maybe it was the lack of sleep making him feel grumpy. Except that he would still be pissed at stupid people and gender reveal parties if he was fully rested. He and Lucy wound up hitching a ride with another company and they were all far too tired to talk to each other.

Tommy checked his phone instead of making small talk. There were a few emails. Promotional garbage, a couple of bills that were on autopay and a few other random things. Nothing that required his attention. Evan hadn’t called or texted since the morning, but Tommy had seen and responded to that text.

Evan: I don’t know what’s bothering me more today, Gerrard or the noise from the construction.

Tommy: Tune them both out? Hang in there.

When they got back to Harbor, he ignored the way that some of his coworkers seemed glued to the tv in the break room in favor of going to get cleaned up and out of his sweat drenched clothes. By the time he was done, they all seemed to have scattered again. The last he saw was a helicopter going up into the sky.

He made it out to his car and found that there was way more traffic than should be normal especially when he wasn’t getting on a highway, so he put on a podcast and didn’t mind the longer drive. He made it home in one piece and then after warming up some of the leftovers went straight to his bedroom, got out of his clothes, and climbed into bed. He sent Evan a text before putting his phone on do not disturb.

Tommy: Fire’s out. I’m home. Come over when you’re done with your shift, I’ll probably still be asleep when you do. Be safe out there.

Then, he passed out.

Tommy woke up when he heard his front door open, but stayed in bed until Evan made it to his room, sitting up slowly and blinking at him.

“Shit, did I wake you?” Evan asked, voice low.

“It’s okay. Hi, Evan.”

“Hi,” Evan said and he crossed the room to lean over to kiss Tommy.

“What time is it?”

“Little after two,” Evan said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m actually surprised we were allowed to go. They’re still working on clearing the plane. I guess if you call out half the firehouses out they had too many of us to keep all of us.”

Tommy blinked a few times. “What do you mean, a plane?” he asked.

“The one that landed on the 110?”

“What?” Tommy asked. “A plane landed on the 110?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, “why do you think everyone was grounded? Weren’t you? Anyway, Athena landed the plane on the 110 after Bobby and I cleared it for her. Everyone made it. Well…not the Captain I think they said she was pulled out through a hole. The co-pilot had a heart attack.”

Tommy was at a loss for words. And then, it hit him…

“Did you just say Athena landed the plane?”

Evan nodded. “But don’t tell anyone. Bobby says she wants to remain anonymous. She’s happy to just be the passenger that saved the day.”

“Evan, we’re going to have to backtrack to the beginning. I haven’t heard about any of this.”

“Oh,” Evan said, eyes widening. “How? It was on every news station.”

“I was at a fire,” Tommy said.

Evan went through it. An in air collision that wound up with Athena of all people in the pilot’s seat with a kid that was at most twelve. How the 118 had spent most of their day talking people on the plane through triage and first aid for other passengers. How Evan had been trying to reach Bobby the whole day and then just went to get him instead. Lucky decision as it turned out.

“Who talked Athena through all of it?” Tommy asked.

“ATC got a flight instructor on the phone,” Evan said. “It worked even when the plane couldn’t be turned.”

“The plane had no rudder?” Tommy asked.

“The plane had at least two holes and caught on fire after landing,” Evan said. “Sure add not having a rudder.”

“Evan,” Tommy said because it was not the time for joking.

“Bobby, Brad, and I were on the phone with Athena trying to get to the airport when she found out it wasn’t going to turn, so we wound up clearing the highway for her to land. It all worked out.”

Tommy let out a breath and he reached for Evan’s hand. It did work out. Tommy had clearly missed the whole thing, but it had worked out and that was very important to him especially because it meant that Evan had come home to him. Still, a small part of him did wish he’d been looped in. Tommy had never flown a commercial passenger plane or anything, but he did know how. At one point he’d even considered that a possibility after the Army. Tommy didn’t know how much help he could have offered from the ground, though, and Athena had already been connected to a flight instructor. Still, that didn’t meant that he didn’t feel a little left out maybe.

“Wait, you said you had to clear traffic on the 110,” Tommy said. “How’d you manage that?”

“Borrowed a motorcycle,” Evan said.

“Borrowed a motorcycle,” Tommy repeated.

“Needed to get there somehow,” Evan said. “Bobby and I already stole a truck from the set of the show.”

Tommy let out a small laugh at that. “What?”

“How do you think we were at the right place at the right time.”

They talked a little more about it. How Bobby had taken a firetruck off the set of Hotshots and how they were joined by one of the actors. How it took a while for anyone else to arrive. How Buck had felt the windstream of the plane as it came down.

“It was so good to see Bobby take charge. I missed him so much, Tommy.”

“I know,” Tommy said. “I know you do. Where was Gerrard during all of this?”

At that, Evan pulled away, he turned so he could look directly at Tommy.

“He was — probably still is — in the hospital. They never did get back to us on how he was.”

“The hospital? What happened to him?”

Evan went stiff. “Uh…so he got in my face again. Started just ranting at me and then I heard one of the buzzsaws come loose. Well, no, I don’t know if I did. I pushed Gerrard so hard he hit his head on the ground. There was so much blood, Tommy. Hen thought he was concussed.”

Whatever he felt about Gerrard, and whatever that man deserved, he didn’t like what this was doing to Evan. Tommy sat up a little more, letting his sheet pool at his waist. He pulled at Evan until Evan scooted next to Tommy, leaned into him.

“The buzzsaw would have hit him?” Tommy confirmed.

Evan gave a nod. “I just acted. Pushed him. But I was so angry so I don’t — I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know if I did it to save him. I don’t know.”

Tommy wrapped an arm around him, brought Evan right into him and kissed the side of his head.

“I know you, Evan, and Gerrard has been taunting you and driving you crazy for months, and while I think he can hit nerves — he’s good at it — you wouldn’t turn to violence even against him. I think you saved him.”

Evan groaned. “I’m going to get fired, aren’t I?”

“Why?” Tommy asked. “You saved your Captain’s life even if you did injure him and you were instrumental in saving a whole bunch of people both on and off that plane. I really can’t believe I missed it.”

“Well if not fired, then how much worse is Gerrard going to be?”

That Tommy couldn’t predict. Gerrard was a loose cannon, a bigoted one that didn’t approve of anyone and had certainly had it out for Evan from day one. Tommy hated how powerless it made him feel, but he could be the shoulder that Evan leaned on.

“Hey, whatever he does, I know you can handle it. Now, tell me again about you stealing a prop from a set, how does that even work?”

“Apparently they use real trucks even if they’re not outfitted with the right tools,” Evan said.

“And the motorcycle. And why is this the first I’m hearing about you knowing how to drive one.”

Evan laughed, leaning into him. “Tommy, I’m so glad I could come here after all that madness.”

“Me too, Evan. Me too.”

The next morning, when he finally got around to watching the footage of the whole thing he figured it was probably better he hadn’t known until after the fact, when he already knew that Evan was alright and that so was everyone else.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #911 abc #911 fic #buck x tommy #spoilers #911 spoilers #coda

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playedcrowd5610 · 1 month ago

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Danny Phantom x Creature Commandos Concept

Okay, but like... hear me out. I just finished watching Creature Commandos and am so hyped about this idea.

Let's say that Danny because he is half human, may get slightly more rights than other ghosts in the anti-ecto acts. Or maybe Jazz managed to publish enough papers on ghost psychology that they are no longer experimented on. Instead of being taken by the GiW, Danny could have ended up in the non-human prison and a part of the Creature Commando program.

Like Waller said, they aren't allowed to use human prisoners, but Danny is only half-human. They would totally use an OP powerhouse like Danny for government missions. They decided that they needed someone who could fly and had similar energy powers to Circe. So they pulled him out, maybe even from a GiW lab, to bring him there. (If he didn't get those rights after all. for extra angst factor)

They also used electricity to control the Commandos, something that Danny has a known weakness to. I could totally see him fitting in with the team and being pulled into it due to his powers and experiences. and I think he would be such a chaotic addition to the team.

They act very similar to lots of the ghosts he knows, and he would totally just hang out with them and ignore any threats or insults they throw at him cause he is used to it. He would also become such quick friends with GI, and he would totally respect Weasel and not really treat him like a dog.

Imagine:

---

Dr. Phos: I was atomized; my body disintegrated before my eyes, it was the most painful thing I ever experienced.

Danny: No way, you too!? We can be disintegration buddies. :0

Dr. Phos: Uh... Sure kid.

----

Danny also would just hang out with Phos and wouldn't care about touching him because, like, the radiation wouldn't affect him. And Danny is used to hanging around glowing green skeletons all the time in the GZ. Phos is no different to him. It might be sweet to see them interact.

Rick might be torn about the fact that they have a 14-—to 16-year-old with them. He might have concerns about recruiting kids into the military and might even think about his own son, who died fighting for his country. Danny doesn't really have a choice here. Especially since he seems so human, we could have an empathy moment with him.

Danny would also be such a good friend to Nina! OMG, she needs a really good friend. Danny would be so nice and understanding with her, and he wouldn't even really care about what she looks like.

With the ghosts in the zone, he's seen so many different people and personalities that he wouldn't bat an eyelash at anyone. And as someone who looks so human, it may be very eye-opening for them. especially if they see him being treated like a freak for being a ghost, maybe even more so than them because ghosts are declared "non-sentient" by the government.

He is also totally OP, and it would be so funny to see all of their reactions if he just like took down Circe or even then just turned intangible and avoided everything, shield to protect them from a blast, something.

But legitimately, if anyone else has any fun scenarios or ideas for this, please share! I'm honestly so interested. and love this idea so much.

#danny phantom #crossover #creature commandos #concept #dr. phosphorus #idea #brainstorm #nina mazursky #ghosts #halfa #rick flag sr #danny fenton #the bride #gi robot #the weasel #crossover idea #wrote this at 3 am so I may be a bit out of it

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ms-demeanor · 1 year ago

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Atheist condolence card like "sucks that your grandpa no longer exists and you'll never see him again, oh well"

I mean, I'm looking for a condolence card for a Jewish family (found a pretty good one, will be adding a note about a shared memory of the deceased and hopes for the mourners that their memory may be a blessing).

But also I have no idea why people find the concept of an afterlife comforting. Legitimately, that is unappealing to me and the idea that I would be artificially separated from the people that I love and reintroduced to them after a period of separation if there was no need for that time of mourning and loss seems. Bullshit? It seems like bullshit? Capricious and cruel at best?

Anyway when my grandpa died we got a phone call when they tossed is ashes into the ocean and we never saw him again! Being reminded that we wouldn't see him in an afterlife wasn't the sad part, the sad part was knowing that we wouldn't know him anymore, that we'd be on one side of a growing divide, that there was a before and an after and we had left him behind while we had to move forward. It wouldn't have been comforting to think "well perhaps someday when I have lived my life without him, I will see him again in a place where nothing from this life (all the things that I have done, all the things that he taught me) will matter because they were worldly and unimportant."

What was comforting at that time, and after the very many family deaths that I have experienced (and I've experienced a lot! I've been comfortable with the idea that I'll never see my loved ones again when they're gone since I was a very small child!), and what I suspect is comforting even for religious people who have experienced a loss is to be reminded of the people who are still on the same side of that dividing line, who we can still love and adore and support and make memories with.

Anyway. I'm an atheist at least partially because of my grandfather, who was a magician and a skeptic and took great joy in skewering the supernatural. It would be an insult to his memory to think that he was an angel lighting up a star in heaven or whatever the christian condolence cards say.

My grandpa did a sexy comedy magical immolation of my grandmother in front of crowds; there was a devil on the flier.

(grandma's the one on the right)

Pictured: Not someone who had much reverence for death or much patience for the supernatural:

(Funny story, when my dad came to visit this week he saw a 2-post 52U server rack on the driveway from a distance and asked me "where did you guys get the guillotine? Did I leave that here?")

But my family is probably *unusually* atheist and irreverent.

For atheists in general I don't know why people think that it's more upsetting to acknowledge the truth (that once people are dead you won't see them anymore) than to be told "comforting" lies (that you will see dead people again at some mystical place that you have no access to or proof of).

I *hate* hearing "they're in a better place" when I'm mourning someone I loved because that's something that's comforting for a religious person to say but dismisses both the way that I mourn and (frequently in my family) the beliefs of the deceased. They are not in a better place, they are *gone* and I don't want to imagine that they're somewhere waiting for me to join them again, I want to remember them for who they were and accept that they aren't in my life anymore.

"They're in heaven now" "they're with the angels now" "they're with their maker" - none of those things are true and they reflect an extremely limited worldview that I don't share and find pretty insipid actually! Thank you for trying to comfort me you are doing a poor job of it I'm going to go hang out and talk to someone who actually knew them and we'll share stories of what an asshole they were and what kind of crazy nonsense they got up to and what a big, important part of our lives they were and we'll start trying to make sense of how to fill the hole left behind with something practical and joyful and fun and honest that they would have loved instead of cardboard angel wings.

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utilitycaster · 1 month ago

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thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

#critical role #cr spoilers #answered #i am maintagging this one bc i think it might be the best summary i've done #and bc i maintain the issue isn't a lack of faith it's a lack of brains and empathy

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spider-stark · 2 years ago

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Sweat & Spandex

PETER PARKER X READER

Summary - You tell Peter about an idea you had, he makes it a reality.

Warnings - idk, just poorly written smut about getting fucked by spider-man i think?? mentions of him breaking into ur room? i’m bad at warnings i’m so sorry pls tell me if i should add something here

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

WHEN YOU first approached him with your little idea, Peter hadn't been sure of it.

Actually, to be perfectly honest, when you first decided to swallow your pride and bring it up to him, he immediately began to worry about your well-being; a response that only furthered your pre-existing embarrassment.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" He asked with a nervous chuckle, leaning back against your headboard and jokingly moving his hand to your forehead, pretending to check for a fever. "You sick or something?"

You quickly flopped over onto your stomach, evading his touch as you buried your face into the pillow, trying to hide your mortification. It took every ounce of confidence you had to share the thought with him, and his sarcasm wasn't making it much easier. "I just think it would be nice!"

The innocent wording only made him laugh harder. "Okay, so you think it would be nice if I fucked you as Spider-Man?" Confusion laced his voice, and you only groaned in response, frustrated by his teasing. He continued, "I mean, you're kinda already fucking Spider-Man, right?"

Another cry fell from your lips. "It's different!" You stated matter-of-factly, the words slightly muffled against the cotton fabric of your pillowcase. "I just think you look hot in the suit, alright? Sue me!"

Peter shook his head, amusement still reverberating through his chest. "So it's about the suit?" He knew it was about the suit, but he wasn't quite done teasing you yet. "Men in spandex just really get you off, huh? So I just put the suit on and thats it?"

Silence suddenly swept through the room, an unusual reaction. Peter quirked a brow at you as you lifted your head, just a few inches, but enough that he could see the red-hot blush spreading across your cheeks. "Yeah." You confirmed sheepishly, "And maybe, sorta, ya know—break into my room and fuck me when I'm not expecting it!"

The last bit of your sentence essentially blurred together, the words spilling out of your mouth at a record pace before you shoved your face back down into your cotton refuge.

Peter's jaw dropped, shooting up from his relaxed position as the words registered in his head. "You want me to do what?!"

Luckily for you, the conversation didn't last much longer than that. After a few minutes of relentless teasing, Peter let you off the hook and changed the conversation, letting your humiliation at your admission fade into the background until eventually you forgot all about it.

Peter, however, couldn't forget about it.

Despite his initial reaction of concern and hilarity, he couldn't help but become intrigued by the thought. In the past he had never considered bringing his vigilante identity into the bedroom, yet now the more he thought about it, the more he started to like the thought.

There was a certain thrilling factor to it all, of sneaking into your house and having his way with you as Spider-Man. He liked the concept of not having to be a hero, of not having to do anything but use you in whatever way he wanted—and more than that, he liked that you wanted that too. And so, he eventually decided to take you up on the idea.

Your heart nearly stopped beating as you suddenly collided against your bedroom wall, your hand instinctively reaching for your pocket so you could call Peter, but it was pinned in place before you could even get close.

When you looked towards your wrist you were comforted by the sight of a familiar red fabric covering the strangers fingers, your breathing beginning to even back-out now that you realized who the intruder was. "What the fuck are you doing, Pete?" You asked him gruffly, attempting to pull your hand from his grip. You expected him to let go, but he didn't, keeping you pressed firmly against the wall.

You almost spoke again, almost told him that whatever joke he was playing wasn't funny and to let you go—but then he leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear through the thin material of his mask. "Should've locked your window."

From there, things escalated much faster than you had anticipated. In a matter of minutes the two of you had moved from the wall to the bed, your clothes already discarded on the floor as he mercilessly stripped you down to nothing, likely tearing the fabric as he pulled it from your body.

You had always thought Peter was hot, but seeing him like this? Was downright pornographic.

His hands were rooted on either side of your hips, the mask lifted just above the tip of his nose, his gorgeous dark eyes still covered by the whites of the fabric. His sweet lips were latched to your neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin, leaving little bruises in his wake.

"Tell me what you want, baby." It burned as his dug his nails into your flesh, his hips moving painfully slow as his cock pressed up against your already soaked pussy.

He refused to fuck you, not until you asked, and so you desperately tried to move your hips against his, finding some pleasure in the feeling of the tip of his dick rubbing against your clit. "Want me to fuck you?" He asked again, more specific this time, "Want your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man to fuck this pretty little pussy?"

You could only whimper in response, nodding along in a state of pure delirium. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave a bruise, the sensation eliciting a lewd gasp. Peter moved to your ear, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he traveled up your neck. "I asked you a question, sweetheart." He purred.

"Yes!" You cried out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your frustration built. He was holding you in place, refusing to let you move against him, not letting you find the friction you needed to quell the burning feeling building in your stomach.

You'd never experienced this side of Peter before; having gotten used to the slow and passionate version of him that you loved so much. Under the 'guise of his secret identity, though, he seemed to gain an unfamiliar sort of confidence, a roughness he had never unleashed on you before. And you liked it.

"Good girl." Peter praised, and with super-human agility he quickly flipped you over, taking your place against the mattress as he placed you on top of him.

He didn't give you any time to adjust, a single hand sliding down your thighs to forcefully shove your knees further apart, burying his full length inside of you with one swift movement.

You could barely hold up any of your own weight, falling against his chest as pathetic whimpers poured from your mouth as he bounced you up and down on his cock, his hips sloppily meeting yours as he attempted to drive himself even deeper.

"So good," he murmured against slick, salty skin, drunk on the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, "feels so fucking good."

He was definitely gonna do this again.

a/n - this is some seriously poorly written smut that i 100% didn’t proof read and i wrote in like less than half an hour because it popped in my head and just UGh i could definitely make it better, more detailed, etc. but i have better and more important ideas to work on and i don't want this in my drafts so please just take it thank you

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five

summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 3k

a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part four | masterlist | part six

You’ve been avoiding his calls all day.

After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?

You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him.

Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today.

It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?

“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms.

Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right.

You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever.

“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”

“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”

“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”

“Merde,” she swears in French this time.

“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day.

“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”

You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time.

“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice.

She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.”

You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth.

As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:

“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”

“Luca?”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully.

You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer.

“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”

Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.

“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears.

She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station.

“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.”

You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder.

“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?”

You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you.

“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen.

It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do.

You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to.

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca.

“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again.

“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse.

Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping.

Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca.

“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile.

“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other.

Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit.

“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even.

“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place.

“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again.

“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”

“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end.

“Um…” you trail off, looking around you.

As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers.

“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door.

“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.

You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant.

“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.

“Hi,” he says back, simply.

“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.

“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation.

It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:

“I’m sorry.”

Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:

“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say.

“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”

“Luca-.”

“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now.

“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”

“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues.

Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.

“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.”

You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing.

“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”

He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:

“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”

“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”

“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”

Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you.

“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”

“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”

“Because I?” he questions you.

The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank.

“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.

“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere.

Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve.

The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again.

With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.

The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling.

“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead.

“Please.”

“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you.

“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”

It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder.

“How?”

“What?”

“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question. “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”

Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind.

Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways.

You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his.

You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:

“Holy shit.”

Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”

You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again.

And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’

This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does.

“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”

“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door.

“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca.

“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.

You and Luca exchange another laugh.

“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head.

“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker.

Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen.

He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:

“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”

“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.

“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues.

“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”

“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call.

It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.

“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”

“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.

You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again.

“Oh, and Luca?”

He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. .

“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss.

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a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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