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caramelcleopatraa · 5 months

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Needy

pairings : Roman Reigns x Black/Shy Reader

plot : you are having a calm night in while roman is on the road. while watching one of his matches, you start to get hot and bothered. Unbeknownst to you, he's already come back from his trip.

wc : 1,800~

x : a drabble I came up with a few days ago. shouts out to the lovely @harmshake for motivating me to post this / excuse any errors that you see :( I've practically been writing all day.

In all honesty, you weren’t a needy person. “I never need, I always want” was the motto that your friends came up with that perfectly describes you. You’ve always taken what you got and never complained, no matter the circumstances. Sure, you knew your boundaries and what you loved to see, hear, and experience. But you never found yourself asking for more of someone or something. So you questioned yourself on why you were lying in your bed, lightly massaging your folds, trying to string together incoherent thoughts and words, with the image of Roman replacing all thoughts in your mind.

Let's back track

It’s a calm Friday afternoon. You finally got a day off from your job, and you weren’t going to do jack. shit. Instead of being productive, your day is filled with the smell of popcorn, and the large tv in your living room playing a show you kept promising your friend you’d give a try. You took the time you had to catch up on everything, in fact. You already decided that this whole weekend would be you catching up on shows and anime you are majorly behind on. Meanwhile, Roman is still on the road with his cousin and the wiseman, which is something that you grew used to. He was scheduled to come back on Sunday, so you were left with an empty house. You loved the off chances you got an empty house though. But your mind couldn’t help but think about how he’s been doing. Which led to you going on peacock and rewatching his crown jewel match with LA Knight. You were always his number one supporter. You honestly loved watching your man work, commanding and demanding with every step inside the ring.

You can’t help yourself as your eyes drift over his bronzed torso. His broad shoulders, his beautiful arms, and his sturdy hands. You observed him as he took his time toying with his opponent and the audience, always flashing his irresistible smirk. You find yourself shifting on the couch to get comfortable, and fidgeting with your ring, trying to give your hands something to do. As soon as you get comfortable and lift your head to look at the screen, Roman has Knight in a headlock while smugly smiling and saying “I call the shots. I call the shots baby.” Your thighs unconsciously rub together at his baritone voice. You missed hearing his voice. On the other side of the house, next to you on the couch, directly in your ear. Of course you miss him. You couldn’t go a day without missing his presence, his hypnotizing and tempting presence.

Your hands slowly rub your thighs as you watch the match transpire. You adjusted yourself one last time, letting your thighs part under your fur blanket. You tease yourself by running your hands from your knee to your inner thigh, never taking your eyes off the screen. You didn’t dare to look away. An exhale you didn’t know you were holding exited you as your fingers slowly ghosted over your clothed heat. You continue letting your fingers lightly feather against your core, until your finger presses against your shorts, resulting in a small gasp. You started to make your way to your pulsing clit, rubbing yourself through your shorts. Your hips move and grind to match the pace you were setting, along with small mewls and whimpers that left your mouth while roman raised his title in front of the crowd. You always found it sexy when he did anything with his title. Him swinging his belt, him showing it off by raising it above his head, him caressing and adjusting it. Hell, even him just putting it on did something to you.

Your right hand stayed busy on your clit while your left hand trailed up your body to your breasts. Softly kneeling them and pinching your nipples, like he would. You wanted to call him. see him, hear him, anything. You felt around the couch for your phone and clicked his contact to facetime him. Your phone laid propped up on your coffee table decor while you impatiently waited for your sexy ass man to answer.

Facetime Failed

Fuck

You reached out to call again, but you stopped yourself. You figured there was a good reason why he wasn’t picking up. He was always one to answer his phone. To say the least, you were horny. Honestly embarrassed that seeing him in a match made you such a mess. You grabbed your phone and pranced upstairs to your room. You settled comfortably in your shared bed while you picked up where you left off. You didn’t even need the tv to encourage you anymore. You were already imagining what he was going to do to you when he got home. How his calloused hands would caress you gently before pinning you to the bed. How he would lick and suck every inch of your body. The daydreams in your head made you dizzy with arousal. The first time you ever felt needy. To say that you wanted him was an understatement. You needed him here, laying beside you, touching you, kissing you, fucking you.

Your hands worked to pull your shorts and your panties off, discarding them somewhere around the room. Your fingers impatiently rubbed your clit and massaged your slick folds. Soft moans occupy the space around you, making the tension in the room rise. Your fingers gravitate to your pussy and easily slips through your folds. Your hands are already setting the pace that makes you go crazy, as you could no longer try to stay quiet. A second finger is added and your hips buck to meet your fingers halfway. “mmmh fuck”, Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you go faster, using your other hand to rub your aching clit. You were already so worked up, that you could cum at any moment. “aaahh- oh shit!” You tease yourself, playing with the place and adding little slaps to your clit, just like he does. Your stomach starts to tighten, and your well formed words become babbles and whines. Normally you would be ashamed that you got to this point all by yourself, but you didn’t care. You craved this feeling more than anything, and you were willing to chase it. “oooohhh- fuck i miss you babbyy. uughh shit i’m cominngg!” Your back arches off the mattress as you feel yourself getting close. Your body starts to shake and your pussy tightens around your fingers as you cum. A mix of screams and whines leave your mouth as you start to feel high from the orgasm you just had. Your chest visibly rises up and down, desperately trying to catch your breath.

“Damn mama, you miss me that badly?” A voice that you know too damn well. You quickly sit up and see your husband leaning on the door frame, wearing his irresistible smirk. You’re fumbling to try and cover up what just happened, not knowing it was too late for that. ‘What do I tell him? What lie can I make up that makes sense in this situation?’ Mentally you’re freaking out, but you’re wearing the same surprised smile since he announced himself. “umm- how are you- you were supposed to be back on sunday- umm- shit, is today sunday?” Your sentence were cutting off one another. You nervously giggled while pretending to look for your phone. To no surprise, he caught your bluff immediately. “Sweetheart, I don't know why you’re shy. I’ve already seen everything under those covers.” He said seductively, walking towards the bed to join you.

The bed dips as he slides next to you, teasing you with a smile as he closes the gap between you two. “So, what’s got my wife all hot and bothered? hmm?” He chuckles while lightly stroking your face. You almost forget that he asked you a question and melt into his touch. Your eyes shy away from him as you answer “just missed you, that’s all”. His hand comfortably wraps around your neck as he inches closer once more, pulling you into an intoxicating kiss. Your lips moved in harmony with his. It started off gentle, interrupting long kisses with playful pecks. Roman’s grip on your neck loosens and his hands rest on your full hips, pulling you to his body and deepening the kiss. Your arms snake up his body and around his neck, removing all options to back out. His lips trail down to your jaw and slowly inches towards your neck, his warm breath coast over your neck before harshly sucking on your sweet spot. You bit your lip in hopes that you could silence your moans, but roman wasn't having that. Roman’s right hand kept you in place while his left hand snaked down the small of your back down to your plush ass. The combination of him squeezing your ass and sucking on your neck made you go crazy.

You couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, he was making you feel too good. “Missed hearing you baby.” He said breathily, watching you unwind from his touch. Your leg hooked onto his as you grinded against his length, making a mess on his pants under the sheets. He pulled away to observe the marks he gave you as you stared at him in awe. You could never get over how beautiful he was. His hands slipped under your arms to your back to unhook your bra and pulled it off you to expose your chest. You were completely naked, but felt bold. Your small hands pushed his shoulders down to lay flat on the bed. You took the opportunity to straddle him, tracing down his arms and guiding them around your body, caging you in. Your faces were barely an inch away from each other. You lose yourself in your husband’s facial features, scanning every part of him. You catch eyes lingering on his beard. His salt and pepper beard always caught your attention. He catches you staring at him and you were unable to stop him before he made a smart remark. “You like it?” He smiled, showing off his pearly whites. Your eyes connected with his chocolate ones. You felt needy again, he didn’t have to do much and yet, you felt like you needed more of him. “Like what?” You said, mirroring his smile and lightly giggling. He followed suit, chuckling along with you, his laugh vibrating through his chest. “You’re staring at it like you like it mama.” You felt your heart flutter at the nickname. You were experiencing so many feelings at once. You wanted to make him feel what you were feeling. You wanted to make him feel good. You started to roll your hips against him again, earning a deep groan from him as you kept eye contact with him.

“How ‘bout i show you how much i like it?”

( so I was thinking about making this a part one and a part two. later on, would post the full version of this. I just wanted to post this as my first "long fic". lemme know what you guys want me to write next lovelies 🪴🤎

~ your hippie author )

#roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x chubby reader

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love-islike-abomb · 20 days

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The perfect drug

Roman reigns x Jade (OC)

I stole the pic from @foreverlyjay so thanks to her for the inspiration for this fic!

Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, exhibitionism, Errors I may have missed

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mzv11 @pittieprincess22 @romanreignshairdresser @mandeelemons @herwickedlittlesins @helensanders92 @haloexile @jstarr86 @rrsexybeast @tribalauthor @undisputedjf @weirdgirl16355

_____

She looked out the huge windows overlooking the beach from their condo. The view was amazing! The heat from the Florida sun was only matched by the heat pooling between her thighs, seeing her massive man of a husband sitting in a chair that seemed almost to tiny for him. All she could think about was riding him in that chair. His massive hands caressing her skin, his lips attached to her's as she moaned into his mouth.

"baby?" He said snapping her out of her thoughts "what's on that mind of yours?"

She bit her lip, making him smirk knowing it was something naughty "seeing you sitting in that chair" she smiled, walking towards him "has me thinking about riding you in it"

He let out a low groan "we might be able to make that happen" he smirked. The a&e crew had left already so it was just him and her in the condo. He pinned her against the window, his massive frame almost engulfing her. He lifted his shirt over his head, revealing the intricately detailed tattoo on his chest. She reached for his belt, unbuckling it, letting his pants fall to his feet.

Her maxi dress and his boxers were all that stood in the way of them being one. He grabbed the first loop of her dress, letting it fall, revealing her curvy frame beneath. She skin was flawless and soft as velvet. One of many things that he found attractive about her. He reached for the other loop, pulling it slowly away from her, revealing her perky pierced nipples. In his eyes she was the most beautiful woman on earth!

She reached for his boxers, the last thing standing in the way of her fantasy being reality. Kneeling before him, she pulled his boxers down his thick thighs, taking him in her mouth. Her eyes locked with his as she took his full length in her mouth, his head falling back at the feeling of her warm mouth. He reached for her hair, taking a handful, and using it to move her head up and down his length. "Fuck baby!" He groaned before pulling her off him with a pop.

Lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist, walking to the window, pressing her against it. Neither of them cared if anyone saw and he was even more turned on by thinking about someone seeing him fuck his wife. He rubbed himwelf between her folds, teasing her already aching core.

"Roman please!" She groaned, aching for him to fill her up, like no one else could. Hearing her beg was music to his ears. He slowly slid himself inside her, both of them letting out groans "fuck! Its so big!" She groaned.

"so fucking wet!" He groaned, grabbing her thick ass and using it as leverage to pound into her "oh fuck!" She groaned.

"that's it baby girl! Let the whole complex know how good I fuck you! Let them know how good your tribal chief pounds this pussy!" He growled. His words sent her spiralling into ecstasy. "Uhn! Yes baby girl! Milk my cock! Make me fill that pussy to the brim!" His own orgasm following hers mere seconds later. A deep, primal growl escaping his lips. A few last eratic thrusts and he stilled inside her, giving her a sloppy yet tender kiss. "You're incredible!" She whispered, still trying to catch her breath.

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers "I love you baby girl!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #big daddy uce #wwe smackdown #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns smut #wwe smut #wwe x oc #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns oneshot

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thecapodomme · 17 days

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THE MUSE 🎨🖌️

Paired Up: DOM! Trevante Rhodes As Zyair Malloy x SUB! Black Fem/Plus size Reader!

Background Music/ Song Inspired by @kittehkwrites

Word Count: 4,390 (Yikes, but not counting the lyrics)

WARNINGS: Mature Audiences: 18+, Minors DNI -(HEAVY Daddy kink, BDSM, SMUT, SMUT, MORE SMUT! PROFANITY!, Established Relationship, , Some use of AAVE, The N word, light Bondage, Breeding kink, Tease and Denial, Wax play ,Choking, Grabbing, Hair Pulling, spanking, Praise, Smacking of the face ,Fingering (F), unprotected sex , A BIT OF A LONG READ, Some grammatical errors because IDK WTF i'm doing! (Capo say sike..Right now. lol But Im deadass) ... and all over Nastiness. Did I miss anything?

DISCLAIMERS:

-DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK.

-DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Synopsis: In the glitzy world of art and indulgence, Zyair and Y/N reign as the epitome of a power couple, their magnetic connection sizzling with untamed desire. Their love story ignites from the ashes of Zyair's artistic stagnation, sparked by the fateful encounter at a decadent sex party. From that moment, their lives intertwine, fueled by passion and creativity, leaving behind a trail of whispered rumors and envious glances.

As their anniversary dawns, Zyair prepares for his long-awaited art show, his first since meeting Y/N. Yet, his thoughts stray not to the gallery's pristine walls but to the allure of his beloved, whose presence electrifies every inch of his being. The clock ticks away as Zyair's anticipation grows, his yearning for Y/N eclipsing all other distractions as he finally comes home.

But time slips away in the tender embrace of their love, their passion threatening to consume them whole. As the hours blur into a haze of whispered promises and heated caresses, Zyair and Y/N find themselves ensnared in each other's arms, oblivious to the outside world. They are late for the grand affair, yet in the realm of their intimacy, time holds no dominion.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @henneseyhoe @browngirldominion @melaninpov @hwadam-stories @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @westside-rot @tvchi @kittehkwrites @kindofaintrovert

A/N: first off ... I'M RUSTY OK. Also I'm a bit upset because my older brother was like "who writes fan fics anymore they're so passé." 🥹 I said am I not a writer? Did I not get a journalism degree? Did my teachers not push me to do this and saw something? He didn't have anything to say back. But anyway! Is this self indulgent? YES. Are you still going to enjoy it? YES! BRAIN ROT....? YEAH IM GLITCHIN'! Be easy this is my first Fan fic/Smut I'm nervous. I love yall! It's real nasty because... I want him to do this to all of us! Do you hear me?! Slight delay because I was transfixed with the dialogue. I was really trying to get the essence of Zyair. If this gets positive feedback There may be a Prologue, a part 2 , and a part 3 if y'all feelin' this! Like, comment, reblog.... if your heart so desires! 🫶🏽

It's been four years since Zyair's trial, and it was his first art show since then. Mea was long gone and probably still with her pinhead ass husband, and to think he really wanted to like her. He was breathing new life into his art, his name was cleared, and he was getting into his first real relationship. He found his ONE.

Touring London and France during the summer months. His nights were long, and his days were short. You missed him whenever you hung up from talking with him all night or if he sent you a cute text. You knew he was premiering his new pieces from home tonight, and anything was possible with you on his arm.

Daddy: I'll be home later than usual. The show starts soon. Be dressed, be ready, and wear those heels I like. I'll come to collect you. You've been such a good girl. I can't wait to see you! This tour has been hectic.

You: Yes, Sir! I miss you more. Come home to me. ❤️🥺

Daddy: That's my Big Girl. I'm on the way.

You gently placed your phone beside the claw foot bathtub on the vanity chair you'd drug over. The plush afghan carpet ruffled as you moved it to where you wanted it. The master bathroom on the first floor was spacious yet cozy.

An open shower in the back is made of dark marble and granite, and Zyair's closet is off to the left, surrounded by suits, ties, and his wardrobe. Although the loft was Gargantuan, unlike most places in Chicago, it had a makeshift industrial vibe that made it mysterious enough, you thought to yourself.

'It really needs a woman's touch.'

Drums and soft piano flooded your ears from the huge vinyl and Bluetooth sound system; you rifled through Zyairs' music collection all day. It was impressive, spanning from 70s soul to 90s R&B, which was very prized to his heart and his favorite genre. As you prepare to get ready as instructed by the love of your life, it always helps soothe your soul and set the mood for a night in the city.

You peeled out of your I murdered my husband's robes, Pinned up your waist-length Goddess locs, and began to run a bubble bath. Candles illuminated the floor, glinting your umber skin into the floor-length mirror beside the vanity.

You carefully sluiced a toe into the roaring torrent to test its temperature. With a satisfied grin, you plunged into its warmth and shut off the water; the suds were cloud-like and steamy, clinging to every part of you, and the scent of damask roses filled the air. Toni's contralto caressed you.

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Whoa-oh, whoa-oh Oh-oh oh-ooh Baby...

Relaxation couldn't even begin to explain the euphoria encircling you. You've bagged the hottest artist in Chicago, are engaged to be married, and have much to look forward to as you start life with Zyair.

You hum along with the song as you grab your pink African exfoliating net, scrubbing from top to bottom. Occasionally, you slump your hand out to hold your phone in case he calls, or any texts from his art assistant flash across your dimly lit iPhone 15.

Head Bopping along to the beat and your legs kicking water onto the floor as you half danced in the tub. You were so bewitched by your daydreaming and bathtub concert that you couldn't hear a pin drop.

Arriving into the lot and slowly turning the corner, shined chrome and black wheels approached the entrance and parked, with a thud from the door to the Range Rover, where his driver let him off.

Since you been gone I been hanging 'round here lately With my mind messed up

Zyair stepped out of the vehicle in all black as usual; A pin stripped, short sleeved, button down shirt, noir wife beater, Prada slacks, and matching boots.

He quickly approaches the gate to the elevator, which was now broken. He shook his head in annoyance, and a frown curled at his lips when he realized. "Always on some bullshit," he scoffed.

A flick of his wrist, he checked the time. The gold bracelet draped on his wrist, twinkling in the light from the cars going in and out. He began descending up the inside stairwell to the third floor toward the loft.

With solid traces, he rose from the staircase. Slowly, he closed the exit door, hoping you didn't hear it squeaking to lock. Crossing the downstairs living room floor, he passed leather chairs, scattered and unfinished art pieces, and an acrylic-adorned curtain. He crept behind the curtain and into the room.

Jumped in my car Tried to clear my mind, didn't help me I guess I'm all messed up now, baby

His gait was slow yet boisterous. His hand behind his back, and he bounced a little with one foot pointed firmly in front of the other, walking straight and tall. His presence was always known in a room. He held a box of two dozen long-stem roses and a rounded, substantially sized jewelry box.

---

Meanwhile, you'd already gotten out of the tub as the first verse goes into the chorus. The Whirl of the water rushing out of the tub feels loud against the empty room. You check your messages once more and check the time yourself: 8:30 p.m.

As soon as I jumped into my ride Those memories start to play, yeah A song comes on, on the radio And there you are, baby Once again!

Rubbing your body in Fenty butta drop lotion for an unforgivable glow, you look into the long-length mirror to the side of your makeshift vanity.

You pull on your raven-colored thigh-high stockings, bra, and Lacey panties with the corseted back, putting your talons into your mouth as you turn and take in yourself. The finishing touch is a generous dab of merlot lipstick and a flick or two of eyeliner and mascara after setting your foundation.

Nodding as if to say, 'Im that bitch.' You slipped on your coveted Dior patent calfskin sling backs, carefully lifting each foot to get each one on. Admiring your supple breasts, hips, and bountiful assets. From all angles.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me And it's all because of you...Hoo!

Zyair's panther-like proximity took you by surprise. He cocked his head to the side while taking in the sight of you setting down his gifts for you on the counter of the bathroom.

You didn't hear him stride up behind you. His hands gliding up your hips, and his luscious beard cuddling into the crook of your neck. Taking in your scent and his full lips, kissing your clavicle.

It made your heart palpitate. You felt his hands snake up past your bra as you relaxed into his embrace, letting your tensions melt into him. That familiar cologne of sandalwood and pimento that you adored wafted into your nasal cavities as his hand gripped your neck ever so gently but slightly, applying pressure.

"You look incredible, Y/N. Stay just like this." Zyair says in his full-bodied baritone, sounding like heaven to you after so long. Nibbling your ear into his mouth with a playful bite.

He was watching you in the mirror, hunched over you a bit as he towered above because of how short you were compared to his six-foot stature, hugging you to his manhood.

Your ass pressed against his inky slacks. You turned around out of his grip and held his high cheekbones into your manicured, blood-red nails, Sucking his bottom lip into your mouth as he gripped and massaged your ass from above, making you stand on your tip toes and your breasts heaving into his Adonis-like abdomen.

Since you been gone I keep thinkin' about you, baby It gets me all choked up This heart of mine keeps dreamin' of you And it's crazy, babe

"I missed you. You were gone all month. I thought we'd never have alone time."You sighed into his parted lips, trailing butterfly kisses from the pronounced girth of his neck down to his Aureate-colored chains that sat right on his sternum.

Zyair respired, and his massive pectorals flexed in unison with your smacking lips as you kissed every inch of his chest through his open-collared shirt. Looking at you in the mirror, he stopped your assault of smooches by holding your hand.

"I know I miss you when I'm gone too,Baby girl. A nigga can't stop thinkin' bout you." He gently pulled you towards him, giving you that boyish grin and a flash of those to-die-for ivories as he clasped your lower back.

His bulging frame surrounded you as he stood back with your hand in the air, making you twirl like a Princess.

Before he sat down causally onto the vanity chair and embraced you in a hug between his thighs and a gentle kiss on the forehead, he bent over to grab the things he'd laid on the counter, brandishing them before you. He gave you the rounded jewelry box first.

Sitting back, his posture was relaxed and confident to the side, and his right foot bore the weight as he man spread all alpha, chocolate, and delicious.

You'd think I'd had enough, yeah Soon as I get you out my head I'm in my car again, ooh darling Just one request from the radio I'm back in love, sugar Once again!

"Mmh, Look at you girl. "He breathed in satisfaction, looking as if he could eat you right then and there. His tongue glides over his bottom lip, and his eyes darken with lust. You giggled and rubbed his thigh as you looked into his face.

You squealed with excitement and vigorously shook the box, dancing in place. "What is it!?" touching it to your ear as if you could guess from the sound.

Zyair huffed a chuckle and looked at you, shaking his head. "You goofy lil' mama." he stroked his hand down his beard while looking at you.

Once you were done playing the guessing game, you unwrapped the thing like it was Christmas and you were the luckiest girl on the planet.

Wrapping paper, bows, and cards with the company name on them flew up in the air and scattered onto the bathroom floor. You got to the gilded piece.

It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me

"You like it, Baby?" Zyair cooed, his voice deepening.

"Baby, I don't need this. I have so much alr- "He stopped you before you finished.

"Nah... nah... this is totally different. Unique even. You've earn't it, haven't you? "He says with a slight Louisiana drawl, his shoulders moving as he laughed.

"Y—You're going to collar me, Daddy? "You flung your hands around his thick neck and embraced him. Your eyes watered from his compassionate actions.

"You're the only one I think about and want to be with. I said why the hell not? " He smiled and played with your hair, twirling it between his nimble fingers.

Zyair took the collar from your hands, holding it carefully in the box. He took out the skinny key and unlocked the seamless hinge to open it. You stood in front of him, back turned toward him so that he could put it around your neck.

His hands gently placed the jewelry around your neck and shut it closed using the same key. Tracing it with his finger and mouthing "Mine" while you both look in the mirror.

You looked into his dark eyes with love, facing him as he leaned in to lick your lips and kiss you.

His fingertips turned white as he gripped onto your curvaceous hips, picked you up, and set you atop the stand-alone double sink vanity. You pull him into you by his belt loop and wrap your thighs around his muscular waist.

And it's all because of you It's just another sad love song Racking my brain like crazy (Like crazy, babe) Guess I'm all torn up And be it fast or slow It doesn't let go Or shake me (Whoa, baby)

The both of you all tongues and slobber each other down until you feel his long fingers curling under the silky crotch of the fabric of your lingerie.

You felt the sting of his teeth latch under your jaw as he bites into your neck. You hiss in want.

"Ahh, Zyair..." You breathe into his neck, rubbing down his back.

"Take this shit off. You ain't gonna need it."

He growled as you heard the sharp rip and crack of the cloth coming away as he tugged them off of your body.

His hands fondle and squeeze you until he finds your clit; your body bows from his encircling rhythm as he massages your nub with the fingertips of his index and middle fingers.

The cold from his ring on that finger makes you tense up and sigh. He licked from head to toe with his enormous tongue covering you.

He stops suddenly at your waist. You whine and squirm, but he's holding your arms above your head and looking straight into your eyes.

He licks his lips and winks at you, curling them in that bad boy fashion as he unbuckles his pants achingly slow with one hand, standing up slowly.

You watch, sitting straight up as he holds you, watching him pull pleasure from your inner depths against with your back against the tile of the wall.

His dick threatened to poke you through his Black and Gold PSD briefs. He moaned as he pressed against you. You moaned and purred back at him.

Here come the strings Then somebody sings Only takes a beat And then it starts killin' me, darling Only takes one note, I tell ya From that radio It's just another lonely love song

"Let me take it out, Daddy... please..." you said through gritted teeth, never breaking eye contact. Your breath hitched in your throat and went dry from his persistent teasing.

"Beg for it, and don't waste no time." He looks down at his growing and tenting hard-on, bites his lip, and raises his brow at you, looking back at you with the same taunting look.

You looked confused and in need as you ached for him. Smirking and pressing his lips to your ear as you struggled.

"Use your words. Or we're going to be late."

You begin to break into a cold sweat as droplets appear on your forehead. Trying to comprehend how to get out of this predicament, you slowly open your mouth to say something.

Still, by that time, Zyair was already bringing you down to your knees and grabbing your Goddess locs while ordering you to keep your hands behind your back.

He didn't hesitate as he stood over you, his slacks and boxers down his muscular physique. All you could do was look up at him, mouth drooling at the sight of him.

"Gon' come over here and Suck me," he said mercilessly in a dangerous tone. His voice echoed through the bathroom and made your chest vibrate. You did what you were told.

The way he only emphasized SUCK with feeling made your lower limbs thump with elation. You were already dripping but tried to hold out.

Your breathing increased with each moment that you realized you weren't filled up with his dick. Veiny, beautiful, and thick. You lick your lips in anticipation.

"Mmh, that's my BIG GIRL. What you gonna do with it?" His moans send you shock waves as he insists on teasing you. You use both hands to wrap them around his thick member not sure if it's a rhetorical question or if he was using it as a mind fuck.

Damn.

Zyair snaps your head back against the marble of the vanity. "I can't hear you, Bitch. "He snarls. "I asked you a question."

You squeal at the force and nearly yell from your tummy. " What Daddy told me to!!!!"

He chuckles that deep, devilish laugh again as he releases your hair. Your breathing becomes even more ragged, and you shudder at the sound.

Before he's even done, he grabs the back of your head and forces his hard length deep into your throat. The mere shock causes you to sputter and choke.

With no room to run or breathe, he fucked into it, fisting your hair, making you bend over on all fours as he leaned down over you, smacking your ass precisely on your cheek, leaving it fiery, making it ache and jiggle, gripping your supple flesh as he went to trace a finger down your drenched slit at the same time. He moans, watching the recoil.

You gently swayed your hips from side to side as he played in your wetness, not wanting him to stop as you tried to keep up the pace. He was enjoying being sadistic with you, but it was a first that he hadn't been gentle before.

"Take it all, Mama. Don't stop."

Sucking in a sharp breath at your failed attempts to come up for air.

Coaching you as you did so, using your hair like a lever, tugging at it to make you go deeper and deeper by the inch.

Your legs automatically closed onto his wrist as he sucked his fingers and dipped a few inside you, your essence pooling around your opening.

He dipped his middle finger, then the second finger, taking his sweet time alternating. Making you writhe below him. Soaked and needy was the name of the game.

He twisted and pumped his fingers inside, leaving you leaking around them.

You glucked and gagged on his dick and hissed as he inscribed you just enough to make you whine.

Your gurgling and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, and he wouldn't let up. Looking down at you, biting his lip in pure bliss.

"That's it...Just. Like. That." eliciting a low moan from his lips. You looked into his eyes as your eyeliner smeared down your face from the tears. Making it hard for you to see.

The constant smacking, gagging, and slurping made you close your eyes tight.

The twinkling flames of the candles melting onto the floor and his chiseled face coming in and out as you tried to stay alert. The noises turned you on more than the act. Until you felt a welting smack to the face.

"Look at me. I don't want you focusing on nothin' else." his breath shuddered, and he kept up the same pace until he got tired.

You whimpered from the sudden flush of pain. But kept going, your hands still behind your back. His strokes became less frequent as he slowly slid his dick out of your mouth to the tip.

He was done using your mouth for now. Removing his fingers from your pussy, sucking them clean like he hadn't eaten in days, and cupping a hand under your chin as he stood up at his full height, looking intensely into your eyes like he'd never seen you before.

A soft kiss to your mouth, and You popped him out with a plopping noise and began to jerk and stroke him. A chain of spit latched from your crimson lips to his thick manhood.

"Hold that thought, Princess." He smiled as he walked to the other side of the bathroom. You watched, still in the same position he left you, as he gathered up a slow-burning candle from the floor.

Walking back over to you, he tested the temperature on his inner arm. Nodding and pleased with the degree, he approached you.

"Down." He commanded gruffly.

You used your hands to lower yourself onto the floor on your stomach and breathed in nervously as Zyair stood above your head.

Looking up, he looked even more Godly as you viewed his body from this view below.

You settle, and he crouches beginning to pour some wax onto the middle of your back.

You groan in pain, but as the sting settles into a numbing puddle, your senses begin to awaken.

Some beads down into your ass cheek. He waits to pour more onto the back of your neck and shoulders. You flinch with each interaction.

"Mmmh... " You softly moan; you fidget with anticipation of the next drip.

"You Aight Pretty? " He asks.

"Oh, that feels so good. Daddy," your eyes closed, and your mouth slung open.

"It's been a minute." He says with amusement. "I knew you'd like it."

He pours two more burning spots onto your ass cheeks, stands, and blows the candle out, placing it onto the vanity.

Turning his head so as not to blow any ash or soot into your face, and gently pulls you up.

He sat you back into the plush red and gold vanity chair, his lips meeting yours once more, kissing you down your body, and His tongue engraving tiny circles over your neck and down your breasts. slipping off your bra down your shoulders. You trembled from his touch.

His hands cupping one after the other, his skilled tongue lapping and suckling onto each as he goes from one to the other. You groaned as he bit down and tugged with his front teeth.

"Mmh... Fuck.." you shuddered and gasped at him playing with your body in this way.

Suddenly he lifts you up into the air and parts your legs, holding your weight onto his broad shoulders, suckling and licking your clit into his mouth and greedily scooping his tongue over your soaked folds.

Shoving his tongue in between, you yelped from the sudden waves of pleasure hitting you, and just when it started to get good. He denies you yet again.

Sitting you back down in the chair, he pauses as he lifts each leg and purposely slings your thighs over his shoulders.

Anchoring you by holding the chair, leaving wet kisses down your ankles, and spreading your inner thighs to give them some love, too.

Your eyes closed again, and you rubbed the back of his burst fade as you yearned for him to be inside you.

Reaching out to touch his stomach, his dick poking that triangle made between your legs. You subconsciously thought about shoving his dick inside you. But knew better than to try him.

"Oh fuck baby... Please." You tried to stop him from toying with you, but he only glared at you.

"Please, what? PLEASE WHO?" He asked with a flair of arrogance, tipping your chin up.

" ooouuue.. Daddy..." You whispered.

"Yeah, Be a good girl, Y/N, and be still fo' me." With fervor, he lined himself up at your entrance, stroking himself a bit, holding your head from above to make you watch him slide into you.

"Sssss.... Fuck I missed this pussy, and I missed you so much." He entered you tip first. Forcing himself out and plunging in again profoundly, making your head go back.

"Z-ZYAIR!" you cried out in response to his torture.

Repeatedly dipping himself into you again and again… he was halfway in and hadn't even begun to bottom out this time.

He wrapped his large hand around your neck, and both of you groaned in unison. as he made one swift pump into your creamy nectar.

"Mhm, You feel allat baby? "He coaxed.

You grimaced and blurted out, "Fuck, just fuck me....!" you said, almost screaming. You couldn't take much more as you needed him like water.

smugly looking into your soul he swooped up the chair with you in it, and your body went limp as he slammed into you, filling you up like never before. Leaning into you just enough at an easy tilt that was nothing for him.

The man pressed 350 pounds or more, and this was light work. Your walls clenched down in unison with his pounding strokes, your calves flailing out from over his inner elbows but holding you in place just the same while he kept you right where he wanted you by the seat.

A gut-wrenching moan came from the depths of your stomach as you held onto his shoulders; you leaned into him, the chair leaving the floor as he powerfully thrust into you at the same time.

"You so fuckin' pretty like this." He grunted and praised you as all life had left your body, and nothing was left but the room spinning. You gave way to him, and moans started to escape you.

"Yes, Daddy. Fuck! Daddy! YES," You pleaded and panted in pleasure as he bounced into you non-stop. Through hooded eyes, he watched you getting so close.

Zyair being the pleasure Dom he was is paying attention to how your body heaved and pulsated around him. He slowed, pounded, and roughly used his hips to kiss your cervix as he continued to try to break into your walls.

With calculated potency, he taunted you as you pushed him away, scratching at his abs.

"Na, this is what you wanted, right? Take it," He whispers.

hitting your hands away with one hand. He bucked his hips, going upwards and faster by the second.

In a swift motion he's putting you down on the floor in the chair as your body convulsed in complete surrender.

Your juices gushing in a splash of release. He grunted as your walls cradled his length, still deftly stroking into you, But he wasn't done with you yet.

Zyair moved you from the chair and bent you over in front of him while clutching your neck, his fingers curling on your throat. Dog walking you around the bathroom while pinning your ass to his hips.

He kisses your cheek lovingly as your moans echo throughout the room.

"This shit is mine, Hm?" He asked.

"FUC- FUCK!..."

Your gaze followed Zyair's as you looked back and moved around the bathroom.

You mewed and tried to hold onto anything your hands could find. Rough, long, and hard thrusts make your thighs quake with ecstasy.

You felt his hard abs and balls hit against your clit as he dug into you. His hands squeezing yours comforted you yet made you weak for him as he took control once more.

The squelching and wetness from you only fueled him as he tried to fuck the shit out of you.

"Look atchu creamin' all down my dick and enjoyin' this shit, little girl."

Your eyes fluttered as his words did something to you. You saw stars behind your eyes as you felt wobbly and tense. Your orgasm growing near.

You found the wall to hold yourself up with, looking out into the living room, your claws digging marks into his palm as you grunted.

He chased you with his own release by going harder, pounding, swiveling his hips, and moving his hand to the back of your head, keeping your makeup-stained cheek pressed against the cool cement of the wall.

"SAY IT! " He hummed in your ear.

"ZYAIR! " You came instantly.

You screamed as you squirted all over the floor of the bathroom, making it hard for both of you to stand. Inaudible cursing and degrading remarks flew from his mouth as he nodded in gratification.

You felt warmth rush over you as he sprayed your walls with his seed. He purposely fucked it into you as you tried to squirm away. Removed his hand from your face to open your ass and watch as he made you take all of his kids.

His strokes slowed as the last of your leaking subsided. Both sigh in relief, Holding you by your hips and kissing over your neck as if he couldn't breathe without you. He smiles, holding you against the wall.

"I guess we're late ain't we." He laughs through a smile, his eyes crinkled at the ends as he looks at you.

"Aht, Aht! Fashionably." You taunted.

"You've been in my collection again?" He says with amusement.

"AND WHAT ABOUT IT!? " you rolled your neck in a comical attitude.

"I told you what that does to me, girl. You know nothing about that. My momma gave me those albums. "

"Let's shower before we miss our anniversary party".

With a hard smack on your ass as he grabs towels from the hooks on the walls running playfully after you, your laughing excitedly getting a head start as the last notes of the song come to a staccato.

So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, darling) So sad, sad love song Ooh, I heard it on the radio last night So sad So sad, so sad (Sad, baby) So sad, sad love song (Ooh) You got me singin' another love song all night, darling...

P/C: If you'd like to be added to my Tag list just say so it's MAD OPEN! i'll be glad to add you. I really do hope ya'll enjoyed it. Lord knows I had a time writing it for ya'll!

Special Shout out and a thank you to: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @melaninpov @browngirldominion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes For bullying me..... (Nah just kiddin!) For making me see this through. all inspirational to me and incredible moots!

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abyssruler · 2 years

Text

fool’s hope

yandere dottore x gn!reader

character death, mentions of blood, dottore being a bastard, yandere

There was once a clone of his who loved you — genuinely, truly loved you.

You’ve seen him at his most terrifying, seen him grin and cackle as he dissected a live person, even seen him in a quiet and solemn state. You once thought you had seen all his expressions and moods he was capable of showing — but it was the way that clone looked at you with such softness you didn’t know he could possess, touch featherlight as it held you gently. And it was then you realized you’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be touched with kindness.

It made your weak heart beat with newly found hope.

It had the most charming laugh and a smile that could make anyone swoon. He’d always been attractive, eyes gravitating towards him even against their will. But he was also cruel and needlessly condescending. The clone was an anomaly, an error to his calculations that he so highly thought of.

You didn’t care about abnormalities and mistakes, didn’t care that this small slice of happiness would soon be ripped away, because for once in your life, the sight of those red eyes brought a sense of fondness instead of fear and hate.

He killed that clone before it was even two weeks old, watching you cry over its corpse with barely hidden interest shining behind those horrid eyes.

“Would you cry for me if I died?” He asked, more out of his own twisted sense of amusement than any true desire to know the answer. His own way of mocking your grief.

The answer you gave was full of vitriol and loathing.

“Never.”

“You contradict yourself.” He laughed, crossing his arms behind his back and peering down your tear-stricken face. “The clone I had just killed could be, in a sense, considered as ‘me’, no? And if I’m not mistaken, those are tears running down your face. Unless you’re actually crying about getting blood on your clothes, then by all means, you’re welcome to watch as I cut open my ‘self’ to study the lapse in its behaviors.”

You had never wanted to hurt anyone as much as you did then.

Silence reigned over the dimly lit room he called a laboratory, the blood had seeped through your clothes but still, you didn’t say a word. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your composure again.

“Pity,” he finally said after it became clear that you won’t provide the reaction he wanted. He gestured a hand to the corpse of his clone, not sparing it the barest of glances, dismissive even to his own self. You wished he cared as little about you as he did his other halves.

You watched the Fatui grunts haul the body away with a detached feeling, not quite processing it yet so aware of every little detail happening in front of you.

At that moment, you had wondered, a foolish little notion that you couldn’t quite snuff out, what it would have been like had it managed to keep its promise of overthrowing the prime and treating you better than he ever would.

“I realize that, given who I am, such words wouldn’t give you much assurance, let alone evoke an emotion one could akin to happiness—not that I would know, being what I am and what I am not allowed to feel. But when I’m with you, I… I feel as if my mind begins to program itself differently from the way it should. It is confusing, and I’ve never been one to deal with confusion in a healthy manner. I should think it’s beyond me to feel sympathy, let alone this anomaly the signals in my brain are creating, but… it is not something I would consider a mistake. A breakthrough, perhaps, in the loosest sense of the word. I understand now why the prime would rather not deal with these emotions—they are much too tiring—but it brings with it a sense of satisfaction I don’t believe I’ve ever felt before. How strange. You make me feel strange.”

Dottore does not make mistakes — or so you once thought.

He once mentioned how each clone is a fragment of his self, everything they are and ever will be has already been achieved by him.

That is why I am the prime, little one, he told you with a grin that raised the hairs on your skin.

But you did wonder, in a fit of impulsivity and a delusion-spurned thought to imagine a better life for yourself, if somehow a minuscule, almost infinitesimal amount, part of him once felt the same way that clone of his did for you somewhere deep within that heartless cavity he calls a chest.

It remains unclear to this day.

But sometimes you wish he did, if only to see those eyes of his look at you with tenderness and longing just once more.

#do yall even realize how creepy it was to write dottore as ‘gentle’ and ‘soft’#a version of him but still #>_<#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere dottore #yandere dottore x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore #il dottore #gn reader

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cinnamonglrls · 7 months

Text

all the pills that you take to keep me at arms length don't work [rr.]

pairing: roman reigns x fem!reader.

warnings: asshole roman. toxic work relationship. injury. angst. sunshine jey.

summary: an accident that occurs backstage seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back for Isabel.

wc: 2.6k.

an: the idea for this story literally made me create this account i kid u not. happy reading & leave some comments if u liked it. ♡🦋💗💞

—————————

MONDAY NIGHT RAW.

It was the reverberation of your shrill cry once your body weight leveled out on your ankle that spared you his once-over.

He’s been a complete dick to you since he’s met you to say the least, and even more so since creative pitched the concept between you two. But this?

This is absolutely unacceptable.

Just five month ago in Seattle, you were apart of a promo segment where Roman, Cody, and his entourage get into a heated debacle. Roman was supposed to clear the premise and you were supposed to slide out the bottom ring at the first sign of trouble, but instead you remained in the ring— stuck in a corner due to missed timing. Gradually you found yourself in the center with your back facing his and then simultaneously you two turned to faced one another, chests heaving at the adrenaline of destruction and the electrifying energy zapping throughout the arena.

To the camera, you were a deer caught in headlights. A damsel in distress, the seemingly next prey of wrestling entertainment’s most notorious apex predator.

In reality, you were a deer caught in headlights. An amateur who’s incident of pure human error just so happened to unfurl on live television and in front of wrestling veterans.

However, to your luck, the twenty-two second clipped segment went ultra-viral and not for the reasons you feared it would.

It was the smoldering smoke and fire between you two the clip unveiled that sent it globetrotting. A furrowed-brow herculean Roman, wet hair curtaining the frame of his face as he’s stopped dead in his track of demolition because of the presence of a sultry femme fatale a mere handful of inches before him.

Roman — like a seasoned professional — ended up slowly backing away before exiting the ring without removing his eyes from yours with The Wiseman hot on his tail, as if this was the exact way the segment was supposed to conclude. But this would kickstart the beginning of an extremely hostile and deeply uncomfortable work relationship between you and him.

He’d made it no secret that he was no fan of yours.

He was cold in every sense of the word. He’d spend majority of his free time backstage and in the lounges with your co-workers, chatting it up and cracking jokes. It was merely the addition of your presence in any room that would sour his demeanor. At first this was very unsettling for you especially due to your deep unrealistic desire to be liked by every human you cross paths with, but eventually Becky clued you in to the rumors that creative had pitched him an idea about a potential romance between you two after keeping a close eye on the brewing demand and spiked viewership. Apparently, out of respect for his wife, when he was negotiating his contract he’d requested a clause stating that he would be excluded from any future romantic narratives.

Still, stomachs grumbled for the story and viewership was gradually skyrocketing as a result of even crumbs of you two in the same frame. Roman’s wishes be dammed, according to management.

So then it began. Five months of a meticulous slow-burn. Five months of animosity. Five months of him disregarding your entire existence if there wasn’t a cameraman within a ten-foot radius. Five months of zero rehearsals despite your persistent request to prevent another blunder like that night in Seattle. Five months of snide remarks and passive aggressive comments beneath his breath. Throughout it all you made sure to hold all your grievances close to your chest and take it all to the chin, as its simply your nature to do so. Everyone knew you as the roster’s sweetheart, too reserved to really hold your ground. It was the what made those around you want to protect you so adamantly.

Ultimately you made peace with the state of your turbulent relationship with your coworker.

But there is nothing quite peaceful about the agonizing white-hot sensation shooting up the tendons in your right calf right now.

You messily crumble to your feet, your hands immediately cupping the compromised heel as your shrill cry perks his ear, stopping Roman dead in his tracks.

Tonight’s segment was supposed to be swift and hurried, you were supposed to be approached by Cody and a couple women backstage. The gist of the idea was Cody would sic the women on you as he’d know Roman was quite fond of you and they’d do some damage. Roman would then soar to your rescue, brawl with Cody and scare them off and it would end with him carrying you away bridal-style as one of the women would have fucked your leg up pretty badly.

Tossing you off of him the millisecond the camera stopped rolling was never apart of the script.

Your voice is a wail yet still a burning red-hot flame, “what the fuck is wrong with you!” You can tell both by the shocked expression written on his face and the hesitant step forward he just took that he doesn’t exactly know what to do at the moment and that he didn’t intend on causing you any harm, but that doesn’t quell the hell you’re about to raise.

You’ve had it up to your wits end.

He tries to say something that you can’t quite hear because the radiating pain shooting from your ankle is too distracting to do anything but heave and whimper as your hands hover over your ankle as if doing so will prevent any further damage. Roman tries to lower and sit on his haunches, looking immensely out of his element as this is the most concerned he’s ever been about you since meeting you, “hold o-,”

Gathering the courage to apply your body weight on your other foot as you stand, you immediately scurry to your feet, inhaling a tight gust of air and squeezing your eyes shut. Desperate to distance yourself away from the catalyst of this debilitating pain. Your thunderous voice is the flame to curious moths, attracting stray eyes backstage, “get away from me you piece of shit!” your hand clutches onto a black equipment box for dear life to support your frame in staying upright despite the fact that you’re in no condition to do so at the moment.

You can see Naomi and the twins quickly approaching with concerned expressions at the commotion past Roman’s shoulders as he too begins to stand from his lowered stance. But you don’t allow that to deter your fury-driven tunnel vision, “why is it that you think you’re the first married man who’s had a romance angle? are you and your wife that insecure that a fictitious tale for television would shake the foundation of your weak marriage?”

You can hear a few distant gasps as Naomi and Becky rush to your side once they see the state of your hunched stature and how your hand keeps gravitating back towards your sorry ankle, only half-way overlooking the appalling confrontational tone of your voice as it’s the polar opposite of the timid person they’ve always known you to be. They place each of your arms around the necks and grab your hip, “cmon. Cmon. Medical’s right there on the left Beck.”

His face hardens, his jaw still locked.

“You just sprained my fucking ankle. Answer me!”

“Aye, aye, aye. What’s going on?” Jey stands between you two, placing his palm to Roman’s chest to deescalate the situation. When Becky and Naomi turn you to help you to medic, you mumble something inaudible beneath your breath and wince as everyone who tuned in due to the commotion from wrestlers to venue staff watch you limp away.

Jey turns around to catch the tail end of a brooding Roman flexing his right hand before walking the opposite way.

—————————

Chest heaving and lungs aflame, both of your hands cup your kneecaps when your torso bends forward as you slow down to catch your breath, “shit.”

“You sit on your ass for a couple weeks and lose two decades off your knees? Up.” Becky stalks up to you, kissing her teeth when you breathlessly shake your head and sink your back into the nearest corner of the ring. Since your debut, you can’t count on both hands how many times Becky has consistently either shown up for you and or has taken the fall for you— whether that’s been through showing you the ropes when you were just a new hire or filling the holes during ambiguous social interactions with others backstage. She’s a constant through and through.

You run your tongue over your bottom lip as you glance over your shoulder and scan the empty arena hours before showtime, “you said you’d take it easy on me.”

“I am,” she alters her stance in a fashion that commands your compliance and you sigh out of your nostrils in defeat before pulling yourself out of the corner, bending at your knee and meeting her posture in the middle of the ring. You two roughen each other up for another solid twenty-five minutes before you decide to take another brisk break to take some pressure off your recovering ankle for preventative purposes.

“Izzy motherfuckin’ Osbourne! Say it ain’t so.”

In typical Jey fashion, you hear him before you see him. He’s halfway down the ramp when you and B turn your heads and his direction makes you believe he came from the side stage. The human manifestation of sunlight, you have no choice but to cheese at him, “there she is. That’s what we like to see.” You slide out of the bottom ring and he meets you at the bottom of the ramp with open arms that you just sink into, your arms wrapped around his back. He rocks you two back and forth so sweetly it’s reminiscent of a warm older brother.

You pluck the end of his cropped top when he releases you from his bear hug, “I thought I told you to stay out of my closet.”

His eyes widen, his index finger pointing at you as he looks at B past your shoulder, “she got jokes!” His attention gravitates back to you and specifically your heel— his tone less comedic than the second before, “how she doing?” You nod and spend a minute catching him up on your progress and recovery. He crosses his arms and listens attentively when you detail what your doctors told you and he double checks your confidence about your match later tonight.

—————————

A month and a half.

The fact that it’s been a month and a half since you’ve been overwhelmed by the deafening roar of the crowd is all that you’re mulling about as you walk past the ramp and crossfade backstage after your first match back since your injury, your fingers mindlessly playing with your wristband.

“Isabel.”

You toss a quick glance over your shoulder at the mention of your name, never once stopping your stroll.

You almost want to laugh at the audacity once you see Roman using his back to push himself off the wall near the curtains and if you didn’t know any better you might even say he were waiting for you. You turn around and continue walking, “uh oh. What’s next? My wrist?”

“Can we speak?” his tone is so authoritative that even his questions sound like statements.

“We’re speaking.”

The close proximity of his voice clues you in to the fact that he’s definitely following you and as agitated as you are, last month’s confrontation diffused almost everything you were internalizing since that first night in Seattle. You don’t have anything left to say to him. Roman sighs at your stubbornness when you push the door of your locker room open as you finally reach it, “please.”

Begrudgingly, you enter the dressing room— blind to the way his vigilant eyes swiftly scan the hallway clear of wandering eyes before he follows after you.

He’d never admit it out loud but he’d recently formed a nasty habit of bitting his fingernails raw in an unhealthy attempt to relieve tension he doesn't seem to want to pinpoint the source of. In fact, he’s formed a scroll of destructive habits here recently if the bags beneath his lower lash line are any indication. He hovers near the arm of your black velveteen sofa when you gravitate to your vanity and push your hair behind your ears, briskly removing the backs of your earrings.

“You got a haircut.”

Your fleeting eyes meet his in the reflection of your vanity mirror like a lock and key, your hands busy at your ears. Silent at his observation.

“You didn’t answer my message.”

You hum in acknowledgement. You didn’t. Why would you? You didn’t have anything left to say to him and everything you had bottled up prior, you unloaded like a sniper the second you landed on your ankle wrong due to his negligence. You’ve never been a fan of apologies anyway. What’s the point when the damage is already done?

“I know.”

“Why?”

You don’t answer.

“I didn’t mean to do that. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Isabel.”

His tone is different; nearly pleading. You don’t answer.

He sighs out from his nose and you watch him lower himself to sit on the couch, his dark fitted-cargos enveloped burly thighs spread and his elbows settled on his knees. He’s spent longer than he would ever like imagining how this conversation was going to pan out when you’d return. The depth of his regret is far greater than his ability to ever express it, “I’m trying here.”

Your stomach contracts at the intensity of his gaze that you can just feel so you keep your lips sealed. Your don’t know if its because you don’t know what to do with yourself or because you want to see him suffer a little longer. Or both.

“Why’d you cut your hair,” he tries again, his voice softer.

“Why’s it matter?”

He shrugs, “I liked it.”

“Then thank god I cut it.”

Roman chuckles, his index finger and thumb glides across his chiseled beard.

He can see you struggle to stifle a smile at your corny joke in the reflection of the mirror as you roll your wristband off your forearm.

“… Twins won’t shut up about you.”

This compels you to turn around, your arms crossed on your chest. The less-than-impressed look on your face makes him shrug obliviously, “I don’t know how to act. My bad. This is weird. I’m sorry. Man. I mean it. Even if it wasn’t my intention, you didn’t deserve that shit. That made me feel like shit for a long time. Tried to reach you after but you weren’t receptive and I get it but… you gotta know. As coworkers in an organization this hazardous, our trust and faith in one another is critical. That’s the bottom line and I fucked that up. I did.” He looks at his phone when it rings it and mindlessly silences it.

You take a deep breath at his vocalized stream of consciousness, a little startled at his honorable regard as the only regard he’s ever reserved for you before the incident were short sentences and cold withdrawn interactions. Your stomach tightens at his first genuine acknowledgement and accountability for his transgressions. You look at the floor as your fingertips flex against your arms, too intimidated to meet his eyes again for reasons unbeknownst to you.

“Thank you.”

—————————

pt 1 <3. ♡

#roman reigns #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe #roman reigns one shot #poc writer #roman reigns angst #wwe one shot

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dancing-with-the-madmen · 2 years

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The Massive Aggression of Calico Jack, redux

Several kind souls have complained brought it to my attention that my failure to use cut tags is, in fact, not optimal. I don't have any good reason that I don't use cuts - mostly I'm just throwing these thoughts out here so they don't endlessly rattle around my brain. Frankly, I'm endlessly astonished anyone but me can be arsed to bother wading through them at all. So, after a truly epic tantrum thoughtful consideration, I've decided to edit my longer posts to add cuts. If you've already read them, (may endless blessings rain down upon you) there's no new content (vile lies and calumny. I'm going to take this opportunity to fix errors and add a line here or there, but nothing major). Just making it more scroll-friendly. You'll know it when you see the word "redux" in the title. So without further ado...

I’ve been trying for a while to put my finger on exactly what it is about Our Flag Means Death's Calico Jack that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and smother him to death with my own abandoned ecdysis.

I mean, I normally love me a spurned admirer/cock-blocking ex. Romantic comedies have their beats, and there’s obviously no serious danger the love interest will end up with anyone other than their intended, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the machinations. After all, the course of true love never did run smooth, and these bitches are here to rough some shit up for sure. I also love Will Arnett. Hands down favorite recurring character on 30 Rock. The second best Batman after TAS (fight me). I can even cheerfully bear his Reese’s commercials if I must bear commercials at all.

Real-life Calico Jack? One of my v. favorite pirates. He wore floral-printed cotton from India as a fuck you to the British tax man. He had an affair with Anne Bonny and offered to purchase her divorce when her husband found out. The two ran away together into piracy when Bonny’s husband refused to quit her and had her whipped for her infidelity. Mary Read was part of Jack and Anne’s crew, and possibly their lover. We love a hopeless romantic, possibly polyamorous king.

So what is it about OFMD Calico Jack that makes him so acutely punchable?

I’ve rewatched the episode several times (oh my v. dears, I really hope this write-up is worth it. I am SO BRAVE to subject myself to this), and I think I’ve finally got it. It’s not just that he’s a loud, vulgar, hectoring, drunken jackass of a bird-murderer. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have as little patience for his brand of mindless destruction and violence-for-violence-sake as Stede does, but that’s not all. It’s that he’s also a master of passive aggression.

Jack does the little whisper-y “Sorry! Sorry!” when Stede wants to know what’s with all the cannon fire, but immediately starts grinning like an unrepentant varlet as soon as he drops his hands.

And then accepts Stede’s introductory handshake with clear derision.

When Stede says he wasn’t expecting guests and there’s only two settings at brekkie, Jack doesn’t wait for Stede to sort things out, and he’s already lowering himself into Stede’s chair by the time Stede invites him to take his spot. He then purposefully keeps steering the conversation to topics that exclude Stede from participating, and cuts Stede short when he tries to reign the conversation back.

He insinuates Stede is less of a pirate for being “store bought”

He refuses to get Stede’s name right, even when corrected. Twice.

And is just SO insincere when calling him back.

And, just, the whole pissing contest scene.

But so what? We’ve had other passive aggressive assholes on the show; Badminton with his cracks about Stede’s tiny dick ship, the French captain’s slurs, Gabriel simpering about Jeff the Accountant’s dining manners. I’m not shedding any tears for their respective fates, but none of them made me want to crawl through the screen and sew all their face holes shut. Because Jack isn’t just passive-aggressive (and aggressive-aggressive), he might just be the most savvy reader-of-rooms we see on the show, and purposefully and systematically leverages his passive aggression to manipulate the actions of those around him for the purpose of making Ed and Stede betray their better selves and make them do the work of driving a wedge between themselves. That was a lot in one sentence. Let me break it down.

Jack uses passive aggression to achieve one of four goals: to nettle, to undermine, (seemingly paradoxically) to reinforce connections, or to coerce. And, if he can manage to achieve different goals for more than one target with the same attack? So much the better. And he’s frankly just astonishingly good at doing so. Like, I’d admire him for it if it didn’t also make me want to make him swallow all of his own teeth.

The basic gameplan goes thusly (this is not a strictly chronological list, a lot of these tactics take place concurrently and recurrently): Stede is the primary target, so Jack nettles him with passive aggressive comments, which puts him on the back foot and undermines his self-confidence. He reinforces his relationship with Ed in ways that excludes Stede and undermines Stede’s relationship with Ed and Ed’s relationship with Stede. Jack uses coercive tactics with Ed and the crew, which undermines Stede’s relationships with them, isolating and othering Stede, which further tanks his mood, which leads him to self-isolate. When Stede eventually lashes out at Ed for falling for Jack’s bullshit, Ed has no idea what’s got Stede so out-of-sorts; Jack has so carefully lead Ed to making the choices that have alienated Stede that they seem like they were Ed’s ideas in the first place. And if Ed has made the choices to do these things, then they are clearly just a reflection of who he is, which, if Stede is lashing out against them, then Stede is rejecting him. Wedge set and match.

So let’s look at the specifics.

Jack’s interactions with Ed are like a masterclass in neurolinguistic programming for evil. First, he plys Ed with booze from the very start. Just look at the bottle in this shot from right after they blow up the dresser drawer.

That bottle or rum is over half gone, and the sky in the background is the peachy-pink of sunrise. This isn’t the bottle Jack had with him in his dinghy; that one he drained and then threw in the air and tried to shoot before coming aboard the Revenge. Which means that they’ve consumed over half the bottle between just the two of them in a very short amount of time. Alcohol, of course, is a social lubricant - the physical warmth it produces mimicking the “warm, fuzzy” feeling of true comradery, and, more importantly, decoupling the decision-making process from inhibition (that is to say, Ed isn’t necessarily doing anything he absolutely wouldn’t otherwise do, but he might otherwise think twice).

But it’s more insidious than just having a few drinks with an old friend. Jack specifically gamifies the consumption of alcohol to reinforce the coupling of the feeling of inebriation with the comradery engendered by teamwork and excitement of success in order to encourage Ed to drink more than he necessarily otherwise would. Ed confirms to Stede during his apology that the idea to use the drawers of the armoire for target practice came from Jack, and we saw that a bullseye meant that Jack had to take a drink, but Ed didn’t. Presumably, there would have been some consequence for a “miss”, and it seems likely that it would be Ed has to take a drink and not Jack. In this way, Jack is able to exert a measure of control over how much Ed is drinking (by missing on purpose) while making it look like the responsibility lies with Ed and his skill as a thrower. This pattern of sneakily controlling Ed’s actions while making it seem like Ed is the one who made or is responsible for the decision will pop up again and again during their interactions.

After the apologies for waking Stede, Jack steps into the space where Ed is gesticulating to make himself readily available to be touched, reenforcing the bond between them, but letting Ed be the one to instigate the touching.

At brekkie, he pours rum into Ed’s teacup without asking or being asked while Ed’s attention is diverted by getting food.

Jack’s collaring of the conversation does not just function as a means of making Stede feel excluded, he’s also refreshing and reinforcing the bonds he and Ed forged under adversity. Talking over Stede also demonstrates that what he has to say is more important than anything Stede might contribute.

Note that just before Jack cut him off, Stede had referred to Ed as Blackbeard (“Blackbeard and I met on a ship”). This may be innocently explained away; if you meet a person from a facet of a close friend’s life with which you do not intersect, you might refer to said friend by their given name instead of a nickname that the other person might not know, for the sake of common frame of reference. But this is the opposite of that - referring to a friend by a nickname instead of the given name that you both presumably know. That suggests to me that the seed of the Ed/Blackbeard dichotomy has already been planted in Stede’s mind by the morning’s shenanigans. And when Jack invites Stede back into participating in the conversation by talking about something he knows Stede would find upsetting (the wanton cruelty of Ed purposefully trapping people to be burned alive, couched in what sounds like sincere admiration for his friend’s piratical prowess), Jack has picked up on that distinction and is leaning into it HARD. He WANTS Stede to see Ed as a collection of behaviors he finds palatable, and Blackbeard as a collection of behaviors he finds repulsive, and then coerce Ed into performing those “Blackbeard behaviors” in order to coerce Stede to drive the wedge by rejecting him. Fucking diabolical.

When Jack is calling Stede a “big girl,” or “store-bought,” or purposefully getting his name wrong, he’s not just throwing barbs that play on Stede’s insecurities (and with such harrowing precision, too; calling on the effeminacy for which he was tormented as a child, his body image issues that we’ve also seen him struggle with under the tender mercies of Badminton - both brain-ghost and original flavor - and the authenticity of his claim to piracy, which we’ve seen him confess that he fears he’s ill-qualified to claim to Jim, Oluande, and Ed. I mean,triple bullseye for this fucking guy). He’s also using these public declarations to undermine Stede’s authority in front of his crew, and establish himself as the real authority on things like piracy and masculinity. He further reinforces this idea by withholding the story of how he saved Ed’s life under the guise of false modesty; people never want something more than when they’re told they can’t have it. And what they’re being told they can’t have is the story of how Jack was so amazing that he even managed to save the life of the coolest, most legendary pirate they know. This withholding primes the crew to think even more highly of Jack and hang on his every word.

This puts Jack into a position where he can pressure the crew into things that sound fun at first blush (like diving off the yardarm or having a snowball fight, but with coconuts), but end up hurting more than anything. Of course, within this dynamic, no one wants to admit they aren’t having a good time, or don’t want to do it; to do so would be tantamount to admitting you are less of a man or not a real pirate. So when Stede refuses to participate, or admits his discomfort or disgust with the proceedings, he’s doing Jack’s work for him, and further alienating himself, and solidifying the roles Jack had put into place where Jack is the fun, cool guy, and Stede is the killjoy that no one should listen to.

Stede unwittingly plays right into Jack’s design when he tries to stand up for himself and wrest back a modicum of respect before things get too far out of hand. He’s well-versed in the world of passive aggression, and sees what Jack is doing. He also knows that you can’t call it out because passive aggression comes with a built in cover of plausible deniability gaslighting. So instead, he tries to push back with a little passive aggression of his own, suggesting that a real pirate has a ship and a crew. Sadly, Stede is not nearly so adroit at wielding passive aggression as Jack is. Jack uses the story (and we know that Izzy sent him, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole mutiny thing is just a story; I could even easily read that slight hesitation after Stede asks his question as Jack deciding on what would be the most effective cover story, instead of hesitancy to admit to something shameful) of his crew’s mutiny to casually re-sow the idea of mutiny on the Revenge. It’s played for comedy when the crew starts talking about how they almost mutinied on Stede and probably will again, but you can’t tell me this hasn’t been a major concern for Stede ever since the first episode. So Jack’s not only got the crew trying to buoy his spirits by assuring him that his crew mutinying on his doesn’t mean he’s a bad person; it’s just something that happens! He’s also got them low-key committing to a future mutiny WITHIN EARSHOT OF STEDE.

Additionally, while Stede is well-steeped in the ways of passive aggression, his crew and Ed are not. They are not particularly sophisticated at identifying passive aggression on its own merits as opposed to the reaction it provokes, which can make it look like they don’t care when it’s being leveraged against Stede, undermining his ability to trust they will look out for him. Stede stoically putting up with Jack’s jibes makes them even more difficult to identify as hurtful. Jack’s (fake) emotional reaction to Stede’s sally might make him look momentarily weak, but allows Ed and the crew to unequivocally identify who is in the wrong and react accordingly. By positioning himself as a victim, he villainizes Stede, further undermining Stede’s authority, and placing him in a position where he owes Jack recompense. Thus, Jack is able to manipulate Stede into the trap of Dead Man’s Cove and make it look like it was Stede’s own idea. I mean, the Xanatos Speed Chess of it all.

What’s heartbreaking to me is how Jack’s wedge-driving and othering of Stede is working so well that at this point we start to hear it from other sources. As they approach the island and Stede suggests going for a swim or taking a nature walk, Ed is the one who tells him, “I think with this crowd, I think they want something a little more…” Not Jack would want something more exciting, this crowd. Jack’s exclusionary rhetoric out of Ed’s mouth.

Which is exactly the time Jack decides to up the ante.

I want to take a minute to look at the immediate lead up to yardies, because I think it’s an excellent illustration of how Jack looks like a lumbering boor, but his actions are actually so carefully considered and nuanced. He runs up from behind Stede and Ed and throws his arms around them shouting “Yardies!” literally insinuating himself between them, which interrupts anything that was going on between them, puts them off balance, and focuses the attention on him. Then, when he says “Who’s up for yardies?” he makes eye-contact with Ed - the implicit social expectation being “You, Ed, are up for yardies.” When he turns to Stede, it is to literally laugh in his face. I mean, the absolute cheek.

Until this point, the crew of the Revenge have been passive participants in Jack’s hooliganry. They watched him perform whippies, and got whipped at without encouraging him to do so. They listened to his and Ed’s stories. But now Jack is cashing in on his established expertise of what real pirates do to coerce the crew into taking part in a dangerous stunt. It’s more of the “Blackbeard behavior” dichotomy he started sowing in Stede’s mind at brekkie, but now he’s extending it beyond Ed to the whole crew. He wants Stede to feel like he’s all alone in a sea of idiocy, but he wants him to come to the conclusion on his own by making it seem like Ed and the crew are doing things of which he would disapprove of their own accord.

Once we get to the island, we see the activities take a turn from the careless Jackass-ery of whippies and yardies to the abject cruelty of turtle vs. crab. There’s no saying that Jack organized the fight, but we do see the crew handing him various trinkets to be used in gambling on a winner, which certainly suggests he was the central figure in how the game was established. We also see that, though he has been presenting himself as a drunkard, there’s no bottle in his hand or around him in the sand. There is, however, one in Ed’s hand, who is directly to his side. I can easily see him handing it off so he could handle the gambling stakes, the real intention being to keep Ed readily supplied with booze.

And then we have the pissing contest. Jack’s got Stede literally and metaphorically isolated, and now it’s time to really drive it all home. Every moment of their interaction is designed to drive Stede to distraction; the amount of derision he lays on the phrase “Your good, close buddy,” the insinuation that he and Ed are just alike, and then being as rude and crass as possible. And because he’s read the room - the intimate breakfast for two, Ed’s little touches and the way Stede smiles at them, the way they keep going off together for little chats - of course Jack’s just got to twist the knife and allude to his and Ed’s former sexual history. So now that he’s got Stede primed, it’s time to name the fear: “Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

At this point, Stede is left to wonder: does he? Blackbeard’s reputation preceded him, after all. And he’s been acting so differently since the appearance of one of his oldest friends. It’s not the violence qua violence, per se; Stede is by turns delighted and impressed by the violence he’s seen Ed and his crew employ in the heat of battle in the pursuit of piracy. It’s the cruel and senseless violence that Stede objects to, and that’s exactly the brand that Jack has been peddling, and which Ed has gone along with so enthusiastically. And it’s not JUST the violence; Ed apologizes for Jack when he recognizes Jack has crossed a line in a typically agro way (destroying Stede’s belongings, and insulting Stede to his face), but it never occurs to Stede that his insistence on persevering with quietly aggrieved dignity in the face of Jack’s slights would make it nigh impossible for Ed to identify that Jack has crossed all sorts of other lines, and Stede is hurting because of it. For Stede, it must be frustrating and mystifying why Ed keeps letting his friend get away with his passive aggressive bullshit. Doesn’t he care?

Is it any wonder that one more failure to notice how Jack has riled him, and one more act of coconut-flavored Jackass-ary is enough to break the dam, and for Stede to spill all that built-up hurt on Ed? Is it any wonder that Ed is bewildered at where all this is coming from? I’ve talked before about Ed’s tendency to fawn on people, and how, as an emotional chameleon, he would have difficulty identifying when the motivation for his actions is self-directed or externally dictated. Jack has further confounded this distinction by manipulating scenarios to make it seem like participation in all the Jackass-ary he has instigated was voluntary instead of coerced. When Stede says “I don’t like who you are around this guy” what he means is “I don’t like how this guy is able to manipulate you into acting on your very worst impulses”, but what Ed hears is “I don’t like you”. For who is he, if not the collection of behaviors he chooses to exhibit? And were those choices not entirely his to make? With the rift clearly established, if in its infancy, of course Jack is going to do everything he can to foster its growth. So again, he interrupts Stede, again implicitly signaling that Ed should pay attention to what he says and not Stede. By lobbing the coconut at Ed at that moment, he forestalls any possible clearing of the air between Ed and Stede, and causes Ed to literally turn his back on Stede, in the way Ed feels Stede has emotionally turned his back on him just moments earlier. Jack reinforces this idea of turning his back on Stede again moments later when he says “Don’t go!” and immediately turns Ed around by the shoulders.

I know that I’ve been laying it on a bit thick and prolly sound like the written embodiment of the red string conspiracy meme, but I’m about to get a whole lot worse, and I’m going to ask you to stick with me, oh my v. dears. I think Jack killed Karl on purpose.

I know, I know. It was an accident! He was flailing drunkenly! But was he?

Have we seen him take so much as a single drink since the cannon fire at the beginning of the episode? Even though he’d been drinking earlier, did he not have devastating precision and accuracy when he first demonstrated Whippies - shattering every glass, snapping the cards from the Swede’s fingers, and ball-tapping Ed without permanently maiming him or even splitting the leather of his pants? In fact, while nearly every other crew member on the deck has a bottle in hand, just like on the beach, Jack does not.

Jack knows he has to get Ed off the ship before the British show up, but he can’t just say “Let’s ditch these losers” and expect Ed to agree, especially since he’s spent most of the day roping the crew into his schemes. The most effective way to get Ed to follow is if Jack is rejected for just being himself and doing what he does, just like Ed feels he was earlier by Stede. I think the original plan was to goad Olu into seriously hurting the Swede, the fallout of which would be recriminations that Jack made them do it, and Jack getting aggrieved that he was just trying to show this ungrateful lot how to have a good time, skulking off and leading Ed to follow him and reassure him that he’s really a good guy - how could he have known it would turn out like that? But when Buttons calls a halt to the proceedings and it looks like everyone is going to pack it in, Jack has to think fast. If HE maims a crew mate, that would be a bridge too far, painting him as the bad guy. But Karl? He’s just a bird. And if Jack can get a little revenge on the weird bird guy who made him change his plan, so much the better. AND, as people with far fewer auditory processing issues than I have pointed out, Jack mutters that he expected there to be more feathers. Could the evidence be any more damning?

Of course the whole ship turns on him, and then here’s Stede to order him off, explicitly rejecting him the way he metaphorically rejected Ed. But when even that isn’t enough to get Ed to follow him, Jack pulls out one last, desperate manipulation - the debt of life.

Jack’s tragic flaw is that he can’t turn it off. Once he and Ed are alone, he turns his passive aggressive assault on Ed, pressuring him into drinking the morning away by sarcastically saying he didn’t know he had an audience with the pope when Ed expresses disinterest, and, ultimately, giving up the game when he mentions with casual derision how he’d heard of Ed shaking up with Stede, and then deriding Ed for his failure to spot Jack’s machinations.

Too bad Jack didn’t know that the punishment for passive-aggressive fuckery on this show is death…

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #calico jack

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writingseaslugs · 2 years

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Idia Shroud x Reader: Thighs - Part 2 (NSFW)

Hahahahaha so decided to just go for it and write part 2 today. Dunno how it turned out. For navigation, there will be an AFAB and AMAB version in this post. The intro will be gender-neutral, then there will be little banners for AFAB and AMAB (AFAB goes first, then AMAB)

Please do enjoy. Honestly, I had no idea the first part was going to pick up traction, but it really motivated me to do part 2. Also, this was written in one sitting and was not beta read, so if anyone sees errors feel free to DM me.

Part 01

Word Count: 2,858

Idia Shroud x Reader: Thighs - Part 2

Warning: This is NSFW so if you’re under the legal age or uncomfortable with content like this, please skip over this one!

You looked around Idia’s bathroom, surprised by how clean it appeared. The counter only had a few things on it, and it was large enough for you to crawl on and sit, although you had to jump up since it was a touch taller than you expected. Idia muttered something under his breath while he opened one of the closets and found a clean, black towel. He walked closer to you, pausing as he saw your position,

You sat with your legs spread open, no pants on, and your arms resting behind you on the counter. You swung your legs lazily as you eyed Idia. The poor man stopped functioning for a quick moment as he realized exactly what situation he was in. He slowly reigned in his control, walking over and wetting the towel down.

Without a word, he began wiping the splattering of cum on your thighs, blushing as he realized just how much of it there was. You hummed, moving your legs further apart so he’d have a better angle.

“I appreciate you doing this, Idia.” You said, your voice a bit lower than usual. Seeing the blushing boy in front of you always did things to you. This moment was no different. You were already turned on by the show earlier and trying desperately to push it back, but his reactions were making it harder by the second.

“I uh…no problem…” He all but whispered the last part as he finished wiping down your legs. It was then that he noticed the wet spot between your legs. His mind went haywire as he began trying to mutter out something. The words weren’t forming and you watched as he looked around for his tablet.

You reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand.”You can tell me what’s wrong.” You said, trying to calm the man down. Idia still didn’t know how to word it. After a few moments of pondering over words, he finally decided to speak up.

“I uh…got it on your underwear.” He said, looking anywhere but at you. You bit down hard on your lip, trying not to laugh at his apparent mistake. You shook your head and snapped to get his eyes back on you.

“Idia, that’s not from you.” You assumed that was all you’d need to say, but clearly, Idia’s self-depreciation went further beyond what you thought.

“The lube?” He asked, and you shook your head again. Finally, it dawned on Idia exactly why your underwear was wet. You were turned on…because he used your thighs to get off. Idia didn’t even think that was possible for someone like you to be turned on by him sticking his dick between your thighs, but apparently, you did.

You could see the confidence boost it gave him as he realized how hot and bothered you really were. His hand lifted your shirt to see more of you, the wet patch apparent as he trailed a hand over it. You gasped, almost flinching back at the sensation. Idia looked up at you, ensuring he didn’t do anything wrong. He was greeted by your blushing face as you bit on your lower lip.

“Idia…” You breathlessly call out his name, and his eyes widened, loving this effect he had on you. He didn��t realize just how much you were into him before. Still, this was like a solid wake-up call for him, and he had the urge to do something to you. He wasn’t sure what, but the thought of making you a mess was on his mind. The question was, how was he going to do this?

His hands went up your sides, playing with the hem of your underwear, his thumbs slipping underneath the fabric. “Can I…?” He began, and you nodded feverishly. At this point, you’d let the man do whatever he wanted to you.

“Please, Idia, you can do whatever you want to me. Just please touch me.” You begged the man. Idia felt his cock coming back to life, but he pushed that down. You were kind enough to let him use you, so he would try and return the favor. He had seen hentai; he kind of knew what he was doing. Not to mention the copious amount of fanfiction he had consumed over the years. He was fairly certain if he just followed what he remembered reading, he would do a good job.

He slowly slid down your underwear, blushing as he saw your shining cunt. You were far wetter than he thought you’d be, and he actually licked his lips. He wanted to taste you and see you squirm from just his mouth alone.

“Idia…?” You muttered, noticing how he had stopped while looking at you. You almost closed your legs, being self-conscious about your appearance. It wasn’t like you had any reason to be, but him staring at your most intimate areas without blinking was worrisome. Your voice seemed to help snap him out of whatever stupor he was in, and he shook his head. He finished sliding your underwear off your ankles and tossed them over his shoulder.

He placed one hand on either thigh and pushed your legs further apart so he’d have better leverage. He took a finger and slid it up your slit, noticing that your slick was a very different consistency than what he was used to in a lube. He brought his hand away and pulled his fingers apart, noticing how it looked.

“Idia…stop playing with it.” You said, covering your mouth. He looked like a kid who had just discovered something new. Then you watched as he placed his finger into his mouth, tasting your essence on his tongue. His eyes closed as he groaned at the taste. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on what it was, but he liked it.

Finally, he brought his face closer between your legs, his breath fanning over your entrance. You squeaked in surprise at how fast he was. His warm breath over you was making your brain whirling with thoughts. The main one being how badly you wanted him to just eat you out already.

His tongue peeked out from between his lips as he licked up your cunt, making you gasp and move to grab his hair. Your hands threaded into the warm locks; Idia didn’t seem to mind as he continued licking up all he could. Your head was thrown back as he snuck his surprisingly long tongue into your entrance. You let out a small curse under your breath, your legs twitching as you fought the urge to clamp them around his head.

His tongue slowly trailed up until he came across what he could only assume from all his reading, your clit. You felt a jolt of pleasure go through you as he swirled his tongue around the nub before giving it a harsh suck. Your legs twitched again, and this time Idia noticed.

He groaned into your cunt; one hand going between your legs and wiggling a finger into you. Your hips involuntarily bucked up into his mouth. Idia slowly lifted off you, licking some of your slick off his lips. “You need to stay still.” He said, a shit-eating smirk appearing on his face. You could only nod, tugging a bit at his locks as you silently pleaded for him to just continue.

He dove right back between your folds, adding another finger, and began curling them into you and hitting just the right spot. His deft hands seemed to know exactly how to play you. You could feel a familiar warmth coiling in your stomach as your climax was fast approaching.

“Almost there, please, Idia.” You begged, trying to stay as still as you could. Idia decided to oblige you, picking up the speed with his fingers. He sucked on your clit, rolling it on his tongue. That was all it took for you to cum, clamping your thighs around his head and squishing his face.

Your moan was far higher pitched than you thought possible as your body quivered in his grasp. The constant abuse on your g-spot made your mind whirl, and you swore for a moment you blacked out. You were gasping for breath as you finally came down and looked at Idia.

His face was flushed red as he stared at you, his tongue laving over your clit as much as he could while being squished by you. You let out a small squeak as you opened your legs, letting the poor man breathe.

“S-sorry.” You muttered, still a bit breathless. Idia slowly raised off you, grabbing the towel next to him and wiping his face. You could see the cogs in his mind churning as he realized exactly what he had just done to you. He made an absolute mess out of you with just two fingers and his mouth. His face was bright red, and you could see the flickering pink in his hair.

“Idia?” You asked, and he squeaked, covering his face with the towel as he tried hiding from you. You couldn't help but chuckle, going over and pulling the towel from his face. Idia looked around the room, and you sighed, tugging at his shirt to move him closer. “Idia, you just fucked my thighs then ate me out; I think it’s a little too late to be getting embarrassed now.”

“I uh…” Idia said, and you pulled him closer, locking your lips with his. You slowly pulled away, and Idia looked at you with hazy eyes, “Can we do this again sometime?” he finally got out.

“Of course, we can, anytime you want.” You said, giving him a peck on the nose. Idia paused for a moment more, processing the words you said.

“Anytime?” He asked, and you knew immediately you might’ve made a mistake.

“...Yes…?” Sometimes you forget just how strong Idia could be. Genetics be damned; he picked you up and off the counter, both hands under your thighs, and you realized what was happening, “N-now?” You managed to squeak out.

“You said anytime.” He said a small pout on his lips. You were certain your face was red at this point, and you knew damn well you couldn’t say no to the man.

“Ya, I did.” You finally said before relaxing a bit in his grasp and laughing, “But can we do it somewhere that’s not a bathroom counter?”

Idia made quick work of pulling your underwear down and swallowed a lump in his throat when he saw your length pop out, almost hitting your stomach. It was leaking pre, and the tip was red and swollen from you holding back for so long. Idia stared in amazement for a moment, licking his lips as he thought of what to do.

“I-Idia?” You began, feeling a little self-conscious as he looked you up and down. You wanted to use your shirt to cover your cock, feeling embarrassed as he did nothing but stare. Thankfully your voice seemed to break him out of whatever trance he was in. His eyes flickered up to yours as he brought his hands over to your thighs and spread you out a bit more.

With one hand, he grasped the base of your cock. You hissed at the sudden contact and fought the urge to thrust up into his hand. He was warm; Idia was always warm, and to feel his calloused hand against your throbbing length after all this time fantasizing about it was almost too good to be true. You bit down on your lip, watching Idia slowly, dragged his hand up the length until he got to the tip.

His thumb pressed against the tip, smearing some of your pre-cum. This was more familiar territory to Idia, having jacked off more than once in his lifetime. He used some of the precum there to help slick his hand as he dragged it back down your length. You looked down at him with half-lidded eyes, wondering exactly what he was doing.

His movements were too slow to get you off properly, and Idia also knew that. He brought his mouth closer, licking his chapped lips again before his tongue poked out. He slowly licked a strip up your cock, making you gasp at the sensation. You wanted to just grab him by the hair and fuck his mouth, but you decided that could wait for another day.

You still found your hand trailing into his warm locks, grasping them slightly. Idia moaned at the feeling of you playing with his hair, his tongue lolling out as he laved at the head of your cock. “Idia, st-stop teasing, please.” You pleaded, wanting something more than just kitten licks. Idia’s eyes shot up to you as his hand gave a rough thrust on your cock.

Your mouth hung open in a moan as he registered the amount of pressure he was using. “You told me earlier I could use you.” Idia reminded you. You nodded your head, recalling your words. Damn, if you had known it would bite you in the ass, you probably wouldn’t have worded it like that.

Idia still seemed to take mercy on you as his mouth engulfed the head of your cock now. You groaned as his warm, wet mouth began taking you down. You noticed just how careful he was being and were thankful. You had always imagined Idia sucking you off, but a part of you was always worried about how sharp his teeth were. Looks like all your worries were misplaced, as he was almost overly cautious with your cock in his mouth.

Anything Idia couldn’t reach with his mouth was wrapped in his hand, slowly pumping you in time with his mouth. You almost came the instant he had hollowed his cheeks out around you, the suction creating the perfect stimulation.

“F-fuck Idia, just like that.” You groaned, the warm sensation filling your stomach. Idia looked up at you, your cock buried in his mouth, and you could see just how smug he was. He began bobbing his head lazily, going just slow enough that you felt like you were on the edge the entire time.

Then his free hand went under you, pressing against your puckered hole, and you groaned again. Idia collected some of his drool that seeped off the sides to help lube his fingers while he put one finger into you. It was tight, and Idia could feel your hole sucking his finger in. Idia humped the air slightly, imagining his finger being his cock.

Idia curled his finger, looking for just the right spot. He got a reaction immediately, feeling your hand tighten in his hair and your moan being so loud he was sure everyone in the dorm would be able to hear it. You whimpered, feeling Idia suck harder on your cock. You knew you were a goner and tried warning Idia, but the man seemed determined for you to cum in his mouth.

You came with a gasp, holding Idia’s head on your cock as you thrusted into his mouth without thinking. Your cum splattering all over his tongue, and Idia tried not to gag around your length. His eyes watered as they looked up at you. You were breathing heavily and felt Idia tapping your thigh, and you finally realized you were suffocating him. You let go, and Idia popped off your dick, gasping for breath; you could see some of your cum still coating his mouth as he breathed in. Idia noticed this, too, as he grabbed the towel from earlier to wipe his mouth.

“Idia?” You asked, and he squeaked, covering his face with the towel as he tried hiding from you. You couldn't help but chuckle, going over and pulling the towel from his face. Idia looked around the room, and you sighed, tugging at his shirt to move him closer. “Idia, you just fucked my thighs then sucked me off; I think it’s a little too late to be getting embarrassed now.”

“I uh…” Idia said, and you pulled him closer, locking your lips with his. You slowly pulled away, and Idia looked at you with hazy eyes, “Can we do this again sometime?” he finally got out.

“Of course, we can, anytime you want.” You said, giving him a peck on the nose. Idia paused for a moment more, processing the words you said.

“Anytime?” He asked, and you knew immediately you might’ve made a mistake.

“You said anytime.” He said a small pout on his lips. You were certain your face was red at this point, and you knew damn well you couldn’t say no to the man.

“Ya, I did.” You finally said before relaxing a bit in his grasp and laughing, “But can we do it somewhere that’s not a bathroom counter?”

Now for some tags, since a few people asked on the original! Also tagging those who just commented, as I wasn't sure if they also wanted to be included. Let me know if you want me to take your @ off!

@treysimp (AKA the one who inspired me to write this at all. Please check 'em out! There's this couch series that's to die for.)

@kiwibirdmother @bumblebeedraws @solemn-soliloquy @sugaarquoted @student-in-devildom @inana-mm @meowiemari

#idia fic #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twst x reader #twst idia #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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inagetawaycarxo · 9 months

Note

Roman reigns “crying” that’s the theme! Yandere reigns fake crying when his darling tries to break up with him but she feels guilty and changes her mind. If you do this, thank you 😊

oh... I love yandere! Roman ;) I got you.

*gif is mine Yandere!Roman Fake Crying To Get His Darling To Stay After She Breaks Up w/ Him

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: roman being a psychopath, yandere!roman, yandere themes, angst, manipulation, errors I missed

AUTHORS NOTE: I DO NOT give consent/permission for my work to be copied and pasted on other platforms. However, I highly encourage feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments.

Roman is manipulating among other things, so shedding fake tears to get his darling to stay after she utter the word "I can't do this anymore, I want to break up with you," wasn't out of the cards.

At first, he would feel the anger build up inside him, how dare you leave him after all the things he got you, after all the love he gave you, but he would control that anger and let out a sob.

Sure, he could have said some venomous words and found another woman to manipulate, but he isn't done with you yet.

Roman's crying shocked you. What shocked you more was the fact that he got on his knees. Holding onto your hips. Tears fell from his eyes.

"Please don't leave me," He begged. Voice breaking. He could see you giving in. So, he begged some more.

"I will be lost without you," He sobbed. Not really.

You looked away from him. Tears blurring your vision. Trying not to give in to him. His love was suffocating. But his crying was causing guilt to build up inside of her. It wasn't his fault for acting this way, it was all to do with his past relationship, how she treated him, how she left him.

"You're the only one I want, the only one I need, I love you, I can't live without you," He spoke. He could but you didn't need to know that.

That seemed to be the nail in the coffin for you because you gave in. Looking back at him.

Your trembling hands cupped the side of his face. As you kneel in front of him. You were so easy to manipulate.

"If I give you another shot, will you promise not to be so clingy, give me more freedom, not get jealous of everyone I hang out with, not blow up my phone, not stalk me, trust me a bit more," You sobbed. Roman nodded his head.

"I'm sorry, I just... I thought you were going to leave me like she did," He sobbed.

"It's okay, I get you've been through hell with your last relationship but I'm not her, I would never cheat on you," You spoke in a soft tone. Roman just nodded his head. He might have told you a fib about how his last relationship ended, you didn't need to know he killed his last darling.

Roman's head rested against your chest. Your boobs felt soft against his head. As he hugged you tight. You hugged him tightly, as he cried. With his head turned to the side you didn't see the wicked smile gracing his lips.

He was going to have to be stealthier about how he keeps an eye on you...

I highly encourage feedback, please leave a comment.

#wwe x reader #wwe x you #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x reader #wwe headcanons #roman reigns headcanon #tw yandere #yandere!roman

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ao719 · 11 months

Text

Best Kept Secrets

Best Kept Secrets - Maybe There’s No Making It Now (Chapter 13)

Characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: An unforeseen encounter with the past proves that even the best-kept secrets eventually make their way into the light.

Title inspiration: It Is What It Is - Lifehouse

Book/Pairing: TRR; Liam x F!OC

A/N: I ended up splitting this chapter in half because there was a lot going on. The good news: I split it after I wrote the entire thing, so the next chapter is already done. Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warning: This series will contain NSFW material. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Sitting inside his study, Liam continued to stare at Amara, feeling his body thrum with a mixture of emotions at the confirmation of what he already knew to be true. He was a father. He had a child, a little girl. Sophia. And knowing he’d missed out on so much of her life already, that those moments and that time had been stolen from him, that he was purposely and mindfully kept in the dark about her existence … the resentment coursing through him was unlike anything he’d felt before.

Finally glancing away from her, Liam let out a breath, trying to reign in everything he was feeling as he sorted through the dozens of questions that filled his head. He cleared the lump from his throat and furrowed his brows as one question in particular shot to the forefront of his mind. “Is that …” He looked at her again. “Is that why you left? Did you … did you know? And you left because of her?” Amara stared at him, shaking her head in response, but he didn’t register it. He stood from his chair, moving to his bar cart; he didn’t care that it was a little after 10 in the morning. “I mean, it would make sense. Perfect sense,” he began muttering, more to himself, as he poured a finger of scotch into a crystal tumbler; he tossed it back in one gulp.

“No, Liam,” Amara finally choked out. “I didn’t—”

“How it came out of the blue. The way you left so abruptly, your entire demeanor that night … if you knew, and you panicked—”

“I left because your father fired me,” Amara interrupted.

Liam went rigid at her words; he slowly turned to face her, furrowing his brows with a look of sheer disbelief. “What?”

Amara sighed, wiping her cheeks. “Your father … he found out … about us …” She stared at him, seeing the question fill his expression. “He found — he found my necklace in your room … the morning after the end of summer festival,” she explained through hitched breaths as she wrapped a hand around the anchor charm that hung from her neck; it wasn’t to gesture to it but for her own sense of comfort. “He called me to his study earlier than I was supposed to meet him … and confronted me about it. He said that he knew that you … that for you to be carrying on with me … you had to be in love with me. And he fired — he fired me on the spot. And then he …” She trailed off, shaking her head as she tried to compose herself. “When I told him I wasn’t going to leave … that I was going to talk to you … he threatened to ruin my name … my business … if I didn’t just go …”

“No,” Liam shook his head adamantly. “He wouldn’t — my father wouldn’t do—”

“How do you think Madeleine found out?” Amara bit out as she wiped more tears from her cheeks; her question caused him to stiffen. “He told her. He told me he told her. And she confirmed it …”

Liam looked shell-shocked as he let out a breath. Hearing that his father was behind her leaving was just another blow. His father had no right to involve himself. If anything, he should have come to him about it, but to confront Amara with not only his suspicions but threats … It was a betrayal from someone he never expected. That didn’t negate the fact that Amara should have come to him and told him about it, however. And Liam wondered if she had, how much of what he was dealing with now could have been avoided. Would she have stayed? Would they have been together? Raised their child together? He’d never know now.

Liam shook his head. “You should have told me,” he said in a broken whisper.

Amara closed her eyes as more tears fell, hearing the slip of the restrained emotion in his voice. “I didn’t want to leave you, Liam,” her breath hitched again. “None of that stuff I said to you that night … none of it was true,” she cried. “But he said that I needed — that I needed to say goodbye … that I had to make you believe we were over …”

“I don’t care!” Liam spat as he glanced at her. He’d spent the last two years replaying that conversation with her from that night in his head, trying to understand her sudden change of heart and feelings for him, the love she said she felt, wondering what he could have done differently, blaming himself … only to find out this. “You should have told me! We could have figured it out! Instead, you made me think — for two years I thought that you just — I was willing to give up everything that night to be with you! I told you that! And you walked away like it meant nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing to me! And I-I didn’t want to walk away, Liam, but I had to!” Amara cried. “For both our sakes! He was going to ruin me and everything I worked for!”

“It’s so good to know your business was more important than me and what we had,” Liam scoffed as he turned back to the bar cart.

“It wasn’t just about me, Liam! You would have ruined yourself had I told you! Had I chosen to tell you and stay, and you were truly willing to throw everything away—”

“It was my damn choice to make for myself!” Liam shouted as he turned back to her. “Not yours! But apparently, there are a lot of choices you like to make on my behalf! Because that certainly wasn’t the last one you made for me, now was it?” Amara bowed her head, pressing her palms against her forehead; she didn’t blame him for being angry and upset with her, but nothing she said — about anything — was going to conciliate him, not right now, not when he was like this. He turned away again, pressing his forearms to the wall as he leaned against it; once again, he needed to get his emotions under control. “When did you find out … that you were pregnant?”

Amara sniffled as she lifted her head. “I had been back in New York for a couple of months. I went to my doctor for my first visit since being home … they ran standard tests … and that’s when I found out. I was … I was eight weeks along.”

Liam closed his eyes; he took in a breath and slowly let it out before he turned and walked back to his chair, lowering himself down. His foot quietly tapped against the floor where she couldn’t see as he again tried to reign in everything he was feeling. “I want to know … everything,” he said just above a whisper as he looked at her. “All of it. From the beginning.”

Amara let out a breath … and then began telling Liam about the pregnancy and each appointment that followed that first one. Despite the pregnancy itself being uncomplicated and the way she made it sound as though she just went through the motions, those months leading up to Sophia’s birth were far from easy.

Amara shut the door to her apartment and leaned against it as she closed her eyes and let out a breath; she had just returned home from a holiday party she’d been invited to by a former client. Thankfully, she’d been able to slip out early; being tired was just as much of a truth as it was an excuse, however. She was tired. And her feet were throbbing.

Kicking off her nude heels, Amara stretched and arched her feet to try and rid them of the burning ache before she pushed herself off the door; she tossed her purse onto the counter and started down the hall. When she entered her bedroom, she flipped on her light, meeting her reflection in the floor-length mirror across the room. She stared at herself for a moment. You can’t tell from the front … She then turned, sighing as she ran her hand over her growing bump.

Amara was now five months along in her pregnancy, and to say she was struggling would be an understatement. And because of that struggle alone, she felt a disconnect between the life growing inside her and the journey she was now on. While that natural maternal instinct was there to keep them safe, there seemed to be some barrier that wouldn’t allow her to feel beyond a certain level of attachment.

Amara went to her appointments every month to make sure both she and the baby were healthy, but she kept them to the bare minimum. She wouldn’t look at the ultrasound monitor when they checked the heartbeat and growth. When the time came and they asked if she wanted to know the gender, she told them no. And after every appointment, she found herself in tears.

Daniel, who knew she was struggling despite her refusing to open up or allow him to help, offered to come to her appointments for moral support, but Amara declined every time. He also wanted to throw her a baby shower, but she refused. She hadn’t bought a single item in preparation for the baby’s arrival; the only things she purchased were the maternity clothes she had no choice but to buy once her regular wardrobe started to become a bit too snug.

This was supposed to be a happy time, but Amara was feeling anything but. She was still reeling in heartbreak and missing Liam, her guilt over not telling him about the baby was weighing heavily on her, and she was slowly spiraling, becoming more detached as the days and weeks went on.

Amara knew all it would take to pull her out of the place she was in was a phone call to Liam; she knew if she called it would assuage that guilt and that he would be there for her without hesitation. She couldn’t bring herself to make it, however. Every day she thought about calling him. And every day she talked herself out of it.

The more time that passed, the more Amara convinced herself she was protecting both him and their child. The more time that passed the more afraid she became of telling him the truth.

*******

“What are you doing?” Amara asked as she stood in the threshold of the spare bedroom of her apartment. She had gotten out of the shower that morning, readying for another doctor’s appointment later that day, and heard a noise coming from down the hall.

Daniel had let himself in. A plastic drop cloth was spread on the floor. On top of it were several cans of paint. And on the wall, swatches of colors were brushed side-by-side.

“This one,” Daniel pointed to the first, “is called Alabaster. Then we have Dover White, Pure White, Origami White, Greek Villa — my fav,” he smiled. “And Fleur de Sel … which sounds fancy … but just another white.”

Amara gave him a look. “They’re all white …”

“They’re all variants of white, and neutral shades since you don’t want to know the sex of the baby, and they all flow with the rest of your apartment’s scheme,” Daniel said. “Now … pick one … preferably Greek Villa. I think it looks the best.”

Amara sighed. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do. Because you’re not.” Daniel looked at her. “You’re seven months along and have done absolutely nothing to prepare. So I’m going to paint this room in Greek Villa, and then you’re going to go to your appointment and I will be coming with you to hold your hand whether you like it or not. And then you and I are going down to that baby boutique in SoHo.”

“Daniel—”

“No,” Daniel bit out in interruption. “I don’t want to hear it. Now pick a damn color.”

Amara stared at him, and Daniel hated what had become of his friend since their return to New York. Even in the two months before she found out she was pregnant, Amara wasn’t the same person once they left Cordonia. Before he found out about her relationship with Liam, he thought it was because of Riley staying behind. Once he found out the truth, it made more sense. And since finding out she was pregnant, she had only become worse. She was as closed off as the day he first met her.

“I’m not going to sit by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. I know this is hard. I know that you’re scared, whether you want to admit it or not. And I know, whether you want to admit it or not, that you’re struggling to grasp onto the reality of this because you’re angry with yourself and because you haven’t told Liam — which I still think is a mistake, but your choice. But you’re having a baby, Amara. Another choice you made. You’re going to be a mom and your whole life is about to change whether you’re ready or not. That baby needs you to pull yourself together and prepare for them to enter this world because they’re going to depend solely on you. And I’m going to need you to pull yourself together because this isn’t you. And because I love you and care about you even when you don’t love and care about yourself.”

By the time Daniel finished, Amara’s tears were falling as she leaned against the door frame, resting her hands on her prevalent bump as she stared down at it, feeling the tiny kicks against her palms. He was right. About everything.

Amara wasn’t just scared, she was utterly terrified. And she was angry with herself for a multitude of reasons: for putting herself in this situation to begin with, for not being more mindful … for falling in love. And she was struggling with facing the reality of her circumstances because she hadn’t told the one person who deserved to know; despite her reasons, she was alone in this by choice because she didn’t feel as though she had another option. And Daniel was right in saying that she needed to pull herself together, if not for her own sake, for that of her child.

****

Later that afternoon, after Daniel had finished painting, he and Amara were in the room at her doctor’s office. He held her hand as her doctor applied the cold gel to her stomach before gliding the transducer across her skin. Daniel noticed that Amara was looking away from the screen, even when they heard the sound of the baby’s heartbeat; he shared a look with the doctor, who offered a sad smile, which told him this wasn’t the first time she hadn’t looked.

Daniel leaned down, meeting her tear-filled gaze. “Look.” Her lip trembled, and he gave an encouraging nod. “Look at it, Buttercup.”

A breath escaped Amara when she slowly turned her head and saw the black and white image on the screen. When the doctor noticed, he smiled. “If you’d like to know what the sex is now, I can tell you …” She didn’t take her eyes off the screen, taking in every detail she could; registering Daniel’s hand gently squeezing hers, she simply nodded in response to the doctor. “You’re having a girl.”

****

Later that day, Amara was standing in front of a nursery display inside the boutique Daniel dragged her to after her appointment.

The wood of the furniture was an ivory shade of white paired with a simple yet elegant cream-colored crib bedding set. What caught Amara’s attention, however, was the mobile above the crib that her eyes were locked on. Hanging from the small gold halo on strings of circles designed to look like pearls were fabric clouds with tiny sailboats. And at the center of the mobile … a gold-colored ship’s wheel with a compass at its center.

“This is a very cute set.”

Amara turned to see the woman working the boutique approaching her. “It is.” She glanced back at it, her eyes falling on the compass once again as her hand went to her neck, clutching the charm of her necklace. “I’ll take it …”

Amara didn’t go into grave detail about her headspace during those months. She didn’t believe it really mattered now; not only did she think Liam wouldn’t care to know, she didn’t want him to know how detached she had truly become.

Liam listened quietly as she spoke. He was glad and thankful the pregnancy was easy, but he kept thinking about all of those moments he missed. The first ultrasound; the first sounds of the heartbeat; watching Amara’s belly grow with this life inside her that he helped create; the first time feeling her kick. All of those things that she didn’t seem to think he should have been privy to. His chest tightened with more sadness and anger.

When she paused, Liam rubbed his hand over his mouth, clearing his throat. “And … and the birth?” He looked at her. “Was anyone there with you? Was she ok? Were … were you ok?”

Amara dropped his gaze, feeling her eyes sting with more forming tears; for some particular reason, him asking if she was ok almost severed that thread she was barely holding onto to not completely break down. “Daniel … he was there,” she whispered. “I was … in labor for about 13 hours …” She wiped her cheeks, thinking back on that moment she first laid eyes on Sophia.

Despite Amara’s fears that her mindset surrounding her circumstances would keep her from bonding properly with Sophia, she’d never known a love that powerful. From the moment she heard that first tiny cry, what was left of her heart was no longer her own; the rest of it was with the man that helped her create that precious gift. And the moment she first held that baby in her arms, that purpose and light that had been snuffed out came back into her life.

Liam noticed the way Amara had fallen quiet; staring down at her hands resting in her lap, she struggled with her emotions, and he felt his own control starting to fray as he watched.

“May seventh …” Amara whispered through a hitched breath as she said her birth date. “She was … she was six pounds, nine ounces … and perfectly healthy … we were both ok.”

Closing his eyes, Liam sighed. “Do you … do you have any photos?” Amara nodded, reaching down into her bag on the floor by her feet for her phone; she pulled it out, unlocked it, and brought up the photo album before handing it to him.

Liam took the phone from her slightly trembling hand; she had scrolled to the top of the album that was full of hundreds of pictures and videos throughout Sophia’s life thus far, from the moment she was born to just one day ago. He started at the very beginning, not caring how long it took him to get through them all. He saw everything. Her grand debut, laid skin-to-skin against Amara’s chest in the hospital bed. Her first night home, looking minuscule in her crib. Her first bath, first smile, first laugh, first tooth. The first time she sat up, crawled, and pulled herself to stand. He scrolled through every moment he missed … every moment and milestone he’d never be able to experience … every moment that was robbed from him as a father.

By the time he finished, Liam had lost that battle with his emotions entirely. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbow on his knee as he bowed his head and covered his eyes with his hand as the other clutched her phone. Amara pressed her fingers to her lips to hold in her sob when she heard his breath hitch as he cried.

All of what Liam had just seen were memories that he wasn’t a part of. He’d been deprived of being a part of those moments, of his right to be there. He’d been taught his whole life to bury any feelings of pain and hurt, but this was too overwhelming, causing him to feel as though he was drowning on dry land.

After several, torturous minutes, Liam sucked in a sharp breath and wiped his eyes as he sat up. He dropped her phone on his desk and pushed it back to her before standing and walking to his bar cart again.

Amara’s breath hitched as her eyes filled with tears, only able to imagine what was going through his head at that moment. “Liam, I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” her voice broke. “I never meant — I was only trying to …” She trailed off, subtly shaking her head. “I thought — I thought I was protecting you … both of you. I wanted to call,” she cried. “Every day … from the moment I found out … I wanted to call. But I was so scared … of what you would say … of what your father would do … of what would be said about Sophia. I was terrified.” She couldn’t control the tremor in her voice with every word she spoke. “I know … I know it doesn’t excuse it. It doesn’t make it better or fix it. But I need you … I need you to know and believe how sorry I am …”

The grip on his crystal tumbler was so tight, Liam thought it might shatter in his hand. There was a piece of him that understood or, at least, wanted to understand. If his father threatened her over their relationship, he could see why Amara would be worried about him finding out about a baby and what he would do. And he could understand her desire to protect Sophia from scrutiny; he’d only just found out about her and that instinct he had to keep her safe from every form of harm had taken over him full force already.

What Liam couldn’t understand is that despite all of that, she still should have reached out to him. She knew what this would have meant to him; she knew it was his dream. She knew he would have done anything to keep her safe … both of them. He had every right to know, to be there for and with them, to be a part of their child’s life, and to help her make these decisions. She knew she was in the wrong … but she did it anyway. And because of that, he missed out on the most important thing of his entire life.

No role, title, duty, or responsibility that Liam had was ever going to outweigh that of being a father, and it was stolen from him with what felt like no regard for him or Sophia, the two people that choice affected the most.

Liam turned, and his jaw tensed as he stared at her; he believed her words, and he could see the remorse and guilt etched in her expression, but he couldn’t get past the resentment and anger he felt toward her at that moment. “I don’t doubt that you’re sorry, Amara, but I don’t … I don’t think …” He trailed off, glancing away again as he shook his head, dropping his voice. “I don’t know if this is something I can forgive.”

Another breath escaped Amara as she bowed her head. “I was only trying to protect you,” she cried. “I didn’t — I didn’t think … I had another choice …”

“There are always choices, Amara …” Liam ground out. “And you made the wrong damn one.” She closed her eyes as her hand lifted to cover them. “I need to see her … to spend time with her, to get to know her.” Amara nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat. “I need to move some things around on my schedule, but I’ll let you know when I get it situated.” Again, Amara nodded. “There will be a guard placed with you and Sophia for her protection, just as any other member of the royal family. And until we get the situation with the alliance figured out, and put some form of custody and visitation in place, you are not to step foot outside of Cordonia with our child.”

Amara’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. “Liam, you can’t —”

“I can, and I will,” Liam interrupted, keeping his stone-cold gaze locked on hers. “By all technicality — because of who I am, who she is, and where you happen to be right now — I have every legal right to keep Sophia with me. I don’t want it to come to that, but if you try to leave with her, I will do what I need to do to not only ensure the safety of my child but that I maintain a relationship with her as well. Do not put me in a position where I have to show you how much power I truly wield, Amara, because you will never look at me the same again.”

Amara let out a shuddered breath as she stared at him. She’d never heard him speak that way before, so hard-hearted and ruthless. And it was very clear from his tone and unwavering expression that his words were no mere threat.

They were a promise.

Liam reached down and hit the small call button on his desk. “We’re done here for now. I’ll be in touch once I figure out my schedule. Bastien will walk you out.”

Without another word, Liam strode across the room and exited through his private door, leaving Amara there, alone.

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yuri-on-cards · 7 months

Text

Yuri!!! On Cards: The Final Master Post

And so it concludes. With the work of so many artists and writers from the Yuri on the Web Discord server, working together across time (zones) and space (continents), the full deck has been assembled, both as art and stories. This post will include links to everything.

A big THANK YOU to every artist and writer on this project for participating and letting all us mortals enjoy your wonderful works. It's been such a pleasure to do this project. And thank you to everyone who indulged my dumb idea initially. Me making an entire deck by myself would've been dumb (my poor hand) but with all your help this became such a fun group project where no hands were lost.

A special thanks to Lil for being the co-admin on this project, managing everything AO3 because I am useless at that and being there for me to ping pong ideas and desicions off of. I'm not a very desicive person on my own so I really appreciated having someone to share my thoughts with.

Another special thanks to Nic for also being co-admin assembling the entire deck, including making the frames used on every card and making them look damn good. And also for making all the non-picture cards to complete the project. I bow down to you, bestie.

Also, to any curious tumblrinas who have followed along, thank your for your interest! We're glad you like our silly little ideas. And to any new curious tumblrinas, thank you too! The works in this post are made by many different artists and writers and while they're all made from the same outlines, don't expect one big connected universe with no continuity errors. The reigns for this project were pretty loose and it's all just for fun and we hope you'll have some too.

Further information about the outlines and prompts for this project can be found in the main outline, the artists outline and the writers outline.

And with that said, here's the list of all the works, devided by kingdom and character:

The Kingdom of Spades, Realm of Dreams King Yuuri, Wanderer of Dreams Artwork by Arrow Story by Mair Queen Minako, Tamer of Minds Artwork by Arrow Story by Mair Knight Mari, Protector of Innocence Artwork by Nic Story by Mair Ace of the Kingdom Minami, Soul of Symphony Artwork by Tony

The Kingdom of Hearts, Realm of Desires King Viktor, Reflection of Truth Artwork by Riki Story by Arrow Queen Mila, Driver of Passion Artwork by Gront Hat Story by Lil Knight Michele, Carrier of Pride Artwork by Cami Ace of the Kingdom Christophe, Allure of the Soul Artwork by Tony Story by Tony

The Kingdom of Clubs, Realm of Stories King Phichit, Weaver of Legends Artwork by Riki Story by Bakubro Queens Axel, Lutz and Loop, Keepers of Tales Artwork by [user] Knight Sara, Borrower of Sorrows Artwork by Gront Hat Story by Lil Aces of the Kingdom Phichit's Hamsters, Critters of Song Artwork by vicchan

The Kingdom of Diamonds, Realm of Treasure King Yuri, The Orphan King Artwork by Nightmare Story by Levi Queen Georgi, The Broken Star Artwork by Gront Hat Knight Jean Jaques, The False King Artwork by it is i Story by Levi Ace of the Kingdom Otabek, The Deep Shadow Artwork by Arrow Story by Levi

Assigned to no specific kingdom are the Jokers: Makkachin, Joker of Companionship Artwork by Jasper Story by Arrow Vicchan, Joker of Memory Artwork by David Story by Levi

All of the written works can also be found in the Yuri on Cards AO3 collection.

To finish, I want to reiterate my thanks because WOW, y'all did not disappoint with your commitment, I am floored. I mean, have you seen these works? I have no words, at least not any that would suffice and y'all know I never shut up. Thank you so much for indulging me and doing it so wholeheartedly, I'll love y'all forever.

#yuri on cards #yuri on ice #yoi #yuri on ice fanart #yuri on ice fanfic #yoi fanart #yoi fanfic #collaboration

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romanreignsistheonlydaddy · 4 months

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Go the distance

Roman reigns x y/n

Warnings: comfort fic, bullying, possibly a part 2🤷 . Errors I may have missed

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @mindfulofmani @niknakbucks92 @pittieprincess22 @windhamsrotunda @wrestlezaynia @lonewolfy45 @shadyprincesslife @salirophiliac

_______

They always made fun of me in the locker room. No matter how hard I tried to show them I belonged here they always found ways to show me i never fit in. It didn't matter if I was myself or if I went along with what they wanted me to be. I gave up. I gave up hope thinking they were ever going to accept me for me.

A song most people would take for granted had helped me through so much self hatred. It meant the world to me. Sometimes when I was super upset and on the verge of tears I'd sing it to myself. "I have often dreamed of a far off place where a heroes welcome would be waiting for me! Where the crowds will cheer, when they see my face and voice keeps saying..."

I hadn't noticed him standing behind me while I was singing and his deep voice joined in my singing "this is where you're meant to be!" I turned around and something told me to keep singing "i will find my way! I can go the distance! I'll be there someday! If i can be strong! I know every mile will be worth my while!" I stopped and looked at him, tears on the verge in falling "I would go most anywhere to feel like I ... Belong"

He grabbed me in a hug, his strong Arms protecting me from the world around me. In that moment no one and nothing else existed except me and him. "Baby girl, dont let them get to you!" He whispered. I don't know why but hearing him say those words let the flood gates open and the pain i felt came pouring out of my eyes. "Shhh its ok. Let it out. Im not going anywhere!" He cooed.

As if fate has seen fit, one of the female superstars who had bullied me came around the corner and started in her usual bullshit "eww! Roman why are you holding her?!" She said laughing.

He pulled away just enough to whisper in my ear "I'll handle this" before turning around And looking at her "nattie! Haven't you had enough plastic surgery for all of Hollywood?" He smirked "how dare you!" She yelled and went to slap him but I step in and grabbed her arm "doesn't feel so nice when someone does it to you now does it? How's that taste of your own medicine feel bitch?!" I said before pushing her to the ground. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" She yelled.

"I'm the woman you bullied long enough and I'm tired of crying because your plastic ass doesn't have the confidence to be real and not a fucking Barbie! Get fucked nattie!" I said.

She stood up and turned on her heels "that was amazing!" Roman smiled at me "I knew you could do it!"

"it's thanks to you!" I leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek but The last moment he moves his head and our lips met. I blushed and he smiled "let's go to dinner tomorrow?" He asked.

"I'd like that!" I smiled "do you want me number?"

He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me and I put it in before handing it back to him "here I'll give you mine to" he said and i gave him my phone.

He handed me my phone back "I'll pick you up at 6!"

"I can't wait!"

#Spotify #roman reigns #comfort fic #fluff #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fluff #roman reigns x y/n #wwe smackdown #wwe fluff #wwe x y/n #roman reigns comfort fic #big daddy uce

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love-islike-abomb · 4 months

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Dreams

Roman reigns x y/n

"so baby dry your eyes, save all the tears you've cried! Oh that's that dreams are made of!!"

I'm in my make Seth the bad guy era🤷

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut!! Errors I may have missed.

Word count: 1.7k

Tag list: @reignsangel444 @acknowledge-reigns @heerah34 @marchm-langdon @mindfulofmani @mandeelemons @niknakbucks92 @queengreenarrowmia89 @thesamoanqueen @vintage-pvssy @weirdgirl16355 @windhamsrotunda

_______

"y/n we aren't done with this discussion! Sit your ass down!" Seth yelled "If you haven't noticed im the one whos kept the shield together!" He yelled.

Dean got in his face just then "the fuck you are! Its been me, y/n and roman holding it down while you go off and do whatever it is you do with those strippers we see leaving your hotel room everyday and you're so drunk we have to make excuses for you!"

"dean dont!" I said trying to seperate them but it was no use. All 3 of them were arguing now and hearing it was just to much for me. I grabbed my coat and purse and headed down to my car. They wouldnt even notice I was gone and if they did would they even care?

Romans POV

I turned around to walk away and noticed y/n wasnt on th couch. She must be in her room. I went and knocked on her door but got no answer. I walked back out to the living room "if you 2 would shut up!!" I yelled "y/n is missing and I think its because of us!"

"who cares! Let her go! It's not like she matters to us anyway!" Seth said with a smirk

"seth that's not funny! You know how sensitive she is to us fighting! Arguing terrifies her!" Dean said.

"oh well!" He said with little weasel laugh he does. I picked him up by his shirt and shoved him against the wall "if anything happens to her i swear i'll-"

"you'll what? Kick my ass? I'd love to see you try big dog!" He laughed "aww someone's in love!" He mocked and I drew my fist back but felt Dean grab my arm "he's not worth it!" He said.

I lowered my fist "you're right. He isn't. But she is!" I said grabbing my car keys and wallet.

I had let her go once. I wasn't about to again.

Y/n's POV

"another one?" The bar tender said "don't you think you've had enough?"

"i'll stop when I stop! Besides its not like i can't call an Uber" i said glaring at him.

He poured me another shot of tequila and i downed it without even blinking "y/n?" A voice from behind me said. I recognized it almost instantly "what do you want Roman?!" I spat.

"y/n are you drunk?" He asked.

"I'm fine!" I said trying to stand up only to lose my balance because of the alcohol.

"Clearly you're not fine" he said catching me before I fell to the floor. I was angry at Seth not him. I hated Seth for putting me through this shit. I should've chosen Roman but Seth said all the right things. I was young and naive. I had started drinking to drown my troubles away but I had hidden it so well that none of them knew. Roman hd held my heart for a long time but I was to afraid to tell him. what if he didn't feel the same anymore? What if he hated me now?

"Let's get you back to the hotel" he said "I'll even tuck you in" he smiled. His smile brought back so many good memories of when I was happy. When all was right in the world. My heart ached for it all to be what it once was but I had the feeling it wasn't going to be.

Romans pov

I put her in the car and buckled her in. She passed out half way back to the hotel. A number of things went through my head as I drove. Did she still feel the same way? Was she over me or was the spark still there? I would have to wait until she sobered up and ask when the time was right or let her bring it up. The thought of losing her again terrified me.

When I pulled into the hotel parking lot dean was in the walkway waiting. Seth was no where to be found. I got out of the car, went to y/n's side of the car and pulled her out and carried her into the hotel "what happened?" Dean asked. "She's drunk!" I said.

"Ro, Seth left and took all his stuff..i don't think he's coming back!" Dean said "I called Steph and told her what happened. She's gonna talk to hunter and Seth is gonna face disciplinary action possibly even termination"

"As much as I don't want the shield to split up I think it's for the best!" I said "I'm gonna get her into bed. She's gonna have. Massive headache tomorrow"

I had Dean grab my key card to my hotel roomoit of his wallet and open the door. He had an extra just for this very reason. "I'll see you in the morning Dean" I said walking in with y/n and shut the door with my foot. I carried her to the bed and laid her down and covered her up. Taking my shoes off I pulled the couch bed out and laid down.

I didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but I hoped it would be ok. I was still madly in love with her and I could only hope He felt the same.

The next morning

Y/n's POV

I woke up and surprisingly didn't have a headache. Then I looked over and saw Roman on the couch bed "still the gentleman I remember" I smiled. He was the total opposite of Seth. A gentleman, loving, romantic, caring, and an animal in bed! I sighed thinking about the fact that there was always the possibility that he wasn't in love with me anymore but I would cross that bridge later.

I got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Still no headache. I turned the water on to wet my toothbrush "still so noisy!" I heard and nearly jumped out of my skin before realizing it was Roman and laughed at myself "i wasn't expecting you to wake up" I smiled "I was just gonna brush my teeth and get a shower"

"Before you do there's something I wanna talk to you about" he said. My heart started to race "what's that?" I asked.

"I know you probably don't remember but you told me you still loved me last night" he said. My heart dropped. I'm never gonna see him again. "Was that just the alcohol talking or?"

I swallowed hard. I was scared I was about to get rejected by the one person I still cared about. Better to get it over with now so I can move on with my life "i- i still love you but if you don't feel the same anymore i under-" he cut me off pressing his lips to mine and without even thinking I kissed him back instantly. my heart pounded in my throat tasting his lips again before he broke away "I hated seeing you with Seth!" He said "I was afraid you didn't love me anymore!"

"Seth said all the right things to swoon me but I'm still in love with you!" I smiled.

He rested his hand on the side of my face giving a few soft small kisses before a needy passionate kiss took over. He ran his tongue across my bottom lip, asking for entrance which i gave him. Our tongue danced for dominance before he lifted me up and carried me to the bed before gently laying me down on it.

"I love you so much baby girl! I never wanna lose you again!" He said.

I ran my hands through his long, jet black hair "I love you to and im not going anywhere!" I smiled "I need you!"

"I fucking need you to baby!" My pajamas were soon torn off and his boxers came off and landed in a pile on the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he slowly slid inside me, both of us letting out groans of pleasure "uhn Fuck! Still such a wet, tight pussy!" He growled.

"You're so big ro!!" I groaned. His thrusts soon formed a rhythm as our skin slapped together "uhn fuck baby girl! You're already gripping me! Don't you cum yet! We've barely started! I'm gonna fuck you all night! The whole hotel is gonna know my name!" He growled. The husky voice I loved so much combined with his dirty talk nearly sent me over the edge. He got a smirk on his face and grabbed my throat "fuck!" I moaned out.

"You thought I'd forget you liked to be choked didnt you?" He smirked. His thrusts got faster and harder "what's my name baby?" He growled before lifting my legs over his shoulder allow him deeper access "what's my name baby girl?"

"Daddy!!" I groaned.

"That's my good girl! You're mine!" He growled his hips snapping against mine even harder "oooh fuck!!"

"Oh yeah I can feel that pussy gripping my cock! Cum for daddy baby girl! Milk my cock! Milk it dry!"

His dirty talk sent me over the edge and my orgasm rocked my body before he started snapping his hips faster "oh fuck baby I'm gonna fill that pussy! Oh fuck yes! Take it you whore!" He growled before spilling his hot cum deep inside me. A few more sloppy thrusts and he Stilled inside me, letting my legs down, leaning forward to give me a kiss. "I love you so much beautiful! I'm so glad I have you back!"

He slowly pulled out of me and collapsed to the bed. An idea popped into my head And I got on top of him, straddling him "nice view" he smiled before I ground my pussy against him "oh fuck baby!" He groaned and I felt his cock harden again "you aren't gonna be able to walk by the time we're done!" He smirked.

"Who says I'm going anywhere?" I smiled.

"That's daddy's good girl!!"

#roman reigns #big daddy uce #the only daddy☝️😩🫦#roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns imagine #romantic #roman reigns x y/n #wwe x yn #wwe the shield #dean ambrose #wwe #wwe angst #wwe smut #roman reigns angst #Spotify

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mactavsh · 1 year

Note

I am once again asking you to hear me out. Headcanons (again) of Ghost and reader (platonic of course) like, reader is his shadow almost and she sometimes messes up because she tries so hard to impress him and it always seems to never meet his standards (it does, she just can’t read him well so she goes above and beyond) and this time she messes up really bad and Ghost yells at her and she just is like "i just wanted to help" all tiny and broken and he’s like "damn" 😭 this is very specific but I’m in an angsty mood

pour vous! I am so sorry this took so long 🥺

relationships: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Gender Neutral Reader (Platonic)

warnings: swearing, disappointed dad energy (but not really)

Ghost used to be a guy who wanted to be left alone, not to say he didn't reluctantly enjoy company at times. Now he found himself gravitating toward certain people, found he was unable to rid himself of them.

He wasn’t sure what to make of his new shadow at first. You wanted to be like him, he wanted you to be better. He knew the world didn't need more Ghosts.

It was the case most of the time if Price was looking for you all he had to do was find Ghost and vice versa.

Years ago Price put Ghost in charge of your training. Since then you worked hard to impress the Lieutenant, you didn't know that you already had.

Today’s training exercise had to do with explosives, specifically breaching a door with them. It was not your first time doing this so you were confident Ghost would finally acknowledge your skills.

Ghost instructed you with a careful eye. Each time you tried there was something off, not enough of the charge, not placed just right.

There could be no room for errors with explosives so Ghost wanted to be sure you knew them well, though he could see you already did. He was just fine-tuning your skills at this point, he was proud of how far you’d come.

Ghost’s insistence to reset so many times started to weigh on you, your anxiety got the best of you and you made a mistake. You just wanted to show him you could do it but a little too much of the charge, a little too close caused you to go flying into the opposite wall.

He didn't mean to, he really didn't. He always tried not to give in to that side of himself but his fear for your safety took over and he couldn't help it. He yelled at you, cursing your carelessness but they were all empty words.

After he finally took a breath and was able to reign himself in the sight before him made his heart break. You stood in front of him, eyes turning red, and looking at him with an expression akin to fear - an emotion that you’d never directed at him before.

He apologized immediately. Making sure you heard every word.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have reacted like that, don’t listen to arseholes like me. You’re smart and you’re good at what you do.”

“Thanks, big guy. You’re not an asshole though.”

His shoulder's visibility relaxed right after yours did. You understood him well enough at this point to understand why he reacted the way he did and easily accepted his apology.

Ghost patted your shoulder. “Come on we’re done for today. Let’s eat Soap’s ice cream he thinks no one knows about.”

That day he vowed to spend as much time as it took to make sure you knew your value to the team and to him.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader (platonic)#mactavsh

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kristinamae093 · 8 months

Note

Hey There! I saw this, and I couldn't agree more! Nothing says I love you more than "I'm willing to try this for you." And this works for all kinds of relationships: romance, friends, and family, too.

Would you be able to create something showing this for one of your characters or pairings? It could be a drabble, fic, edit, art - anything at all!

NO PRESSURE AT ALL - only if you want to, but I'd love to see what you could come up with!

Hey @jerzwriter! 👋 Thank you so much for sending this my way! This was a lot of fun and I hope you enjoy this silly nonsense I came up with! 🙂

Baking Memories

Everything else can be found here.

Book - TRR

Characters - Constantine, Liam.

Warnings - There's like, one bad word.

Word Count - 2489

A/N 1 - This is a one-shot from my HCTS AU, but this can absolutely be read as a stand-alone. The only thing you really need to know is Constantine didn't die as he did in canon and beat his cancer, but has been diagnosed a second time. Kyla (F!OC) is mentioned but not present, so I guess this takes place sometime between the previous chapter and the next.

A/N 2 - I slipped in the third @choicesflashfics prompt — “Why are you being so weird?” that will be bolded.

A/N 3 - (last one) - thank you SO MUCH @ao719 for reading through this for me and your suggestions! Any errors found are mine and mine alone, and I didn't really edit this a whole lot to be honest, so...... There's your warning lol 🙃.

Most characters belong to Pixelberry.

Constantine Rys was once a hard man; born and bred for royalty, he never got to enjoy and experience the little things in life. It never bothered him before, considering he was the reigning monarch of an entire nation with the world at his fingertips. However, since his retirement he found himself longing to experience all the things he missed out on. Today specifically, he wanted to learn how to bake; not just anything, a very specific recipe.

His first wife was clueless in the kitchen and Regina knew very little, but Eleanor spoiled him with various baked goods consistently while she was alive. When she found the time for it Constantine never understood, but she always had warm cookies for him and the children to enjoy. He'll never forget the memories of retiring to his quarters after a long day and opening the door to hear the boys and Eleanor’s laughter, accompanied by the sweet, heavenly smell of whatever she prepared for them that day.

Now, especially since his time left on earth was limited, he wanted to learn all these things he never had the opportunity to experience before. He found an instructor and Bastien vetted the person before scheduling a private lesson right in his quarters. His intention was to set everything up so Kyla could join him, but the teacher was only available on a specific day and Kyla was off. He knew she would still come if he asked, but he didn't want to impose on her personal time. Regina was his backup, but unfortunately, that day was a no from her as well.

Even so, Constantine was still excited about his lesson. It may only be a class of one, but he was looking forward to putting his new skill to use.

A knock sounded on his door and he quickly scurried over to answer it. On the other side stood Bastien, a woman who he assumed to be his 'teacher', and Liam, who Constantine hadn't told. It wasn't that he was trying to hide anything or keep secrets; he initially wanted to recruit Liam for this venture to begin with. However, he knew all too well how busy a Friday afternoon was as a solo monarch and figured it would be of no use to ask. However, his unexpected presence made Constantine hopeful that perhaps they would get to share this experience after all.

"Son! What're you doing here?"

"I just so happened to be taking my lunch when I saw Bastien with Mrs. Finch." Liam motioned to the woman with a polite smile. "Care to explain to me why you're having bakers come to your quarters?"

"She's going to teach me."

"You want to bake?" Liam asked with an arched brow.

"Precisely."

"Why?"

"Do you remember those cookies your mother would make? The molasses ones?"

Liam's mouth involuntarily started watering. "I do… That's what you want to make?"

"Eventually I'd like to try other things, but that's where I’ll start. I haven't had them in years and the staff just can't make them the way she did, anyway. I was hoping if I took some lessons, perhaps I could give it a go." Constantine stopped talking as he took in Liam's nostalgic expression. "Care to join us?"

"I don't bake, or – haven't in quite a while."

"Then this is the ideal time to perfect your skills!" Constantine hopefully suggested.

Liam's face instantly fell at seeing him so excited. "I really wish I could, but I have a meeting soon."

Constantine was trying his hardest to smile, but on a few occurrences he realized Liam was doing what he'd done to him and Leo for years; putting the crown first. He never realized how much it truly hurts to be left alone when the person you're longing to spend time with is occupied. Of course, he understood Cordonia does ultimately have to come first, but perhaps since his time was limited he was beginning to develop a love-hate relationship with the word duty.

"Ah, I see... No worries, son." Constantine sadly smiled and motioned for the woman to come in. "If everything goes right, perhaps I can bring you some."

"Thanks…"

The woman stepped inside and disappeared with Constantine. Liam remained outside the door, suddenly feeling guilty for leaving. His whole life all he wanted was a genuine relationship with his father, and now that he'd been blessed with it he often had to put the crown first. However, now that his father's time left was dwindling, he found it was practically impossible to walk away.

"Bastien," Liam started, "Clear my schedule for the day – no, the weekend. I'm unavailable unless it's an emergency."

Bastien smiled and bowed. "Of course, sir."

Liam made his way inside his father's quarters to the in-suite kitchen and couldn't help but laugh as he saw his father wearing a white, puffy chef's hat. When Constantine looked up and saw Liam enter, the pure excitement radiating off of him was enough to fill Liam’s heart so full he was sure it would burst any moment.

"Liam! What're you doing here?"

"As it turns out, I had a cancellation." Liam winked.

"Get in here, then! You need a toque as well."

"I don't think–"

"We are pastry chefs right now; it's absolutely necessary." Constantine held out a hat to him.

Liam stared at it for a long moment before he took it and reluctantly put it on. "Happy?"

"Elated. Now, Mrs. Finch, what are we doing?"

"First we'll start by creaming the sugars and butter together." She showed the pair her measurements, as well as how to soften the butter. Using a hand-held mixer, she swirled the bowl until the task was completed before continuing, "Now, the eggs. The biggest thing to remember is don't over mix, or your cookies won't turn out properly."

Constantine nodded and picked up an egg from the supplies laid before him. “I’ve never done this before…” He held it up with furrowed brows as he intently studied it. "How do we get – inside?"

Mrs. Finch laughed. "We have to break it, sir. See? Like this." She gently cracked an egg on the counter and emptied it into the bowl. Liam silently chuckled at Constantine's flabbergasted expression; something so simple was blowing his mind, and his elation was incredibly contagious. "It's easy, you just need a hard surface. You try."

Constantine nodded and tried to mimic her by using the counter, but that resulted in multiple yolks in his palm after a number of failed attempts. Finally, he looked around the area searching for a different surface to try when he got the perfect idea. He took the egg and although he intended to lightly tap it, he ended up smashing it against Liam's forehead; the egg splattered but thankfully most of his hair was shielded by his new accessory. However, the yolk and slimy membrane started dripping down his face, accompanied by the remaining shells.

Liam squeezed his eyes closed as the goo slipped over them and his mouth fell open in shock, but he quickly closed it to not ingest anything. He felt something soft on his forearm and blindly reached out to accept a towel someone offered him.

After cleaning his face, Liam turned to Constantine with narrowed eyes. "Seriously?!"

"I guess I do still have some strength left." Constantine nervously chuckled before he added, "I apologize, son, I had no intentions of being so… brute."

"Why my head, though?!"

"She said a hard surface…"

"Ha. Ha." Liam grabbed an egg and without breaking eye contact used one hand and cracked it perfectly against the side of the bowl. "Gently, grasshopper – and it goes inside the bowl."

Constantine’s mouth fell open. "You may be upset, but you will not refer to me as a bug–"

"It's – Nevermind… Mrs. Finch, please continue."

She did as instructed and walked them through the various steps to make the cookies, plus gave them tips and tricks along the way to help make sure the recipe turned out correctly. They sifted their dry ingredients together in a separate bowl and were preparing to combine everything together, but Constantine insisted he wanted to be the one to use the hand mixer this time. Liam was absolutely reluctant, but ultimately caved after a five-minute debacle.

Liam stood beside him watching Constantine's every move; so far, he was doing incredibly well with this specific job. Mrs. Finch was slowly adding their dry ingredients and Liam started to relax, thinking that things were smooth sailing from here on out.

His phone rang and he stepped away to answer it but remained in Constantine's line of sight. Liam spoke with furrowed brows, his face red, and Constantine could tell he was speaking sternly; it instantly piqued his interest.

The conversation was short and Liam reappeared a moment later completely unfazed. "Who was that?" Constantine practically shouted over the mixer still whirring in his hand. Liam answered, but Constantine couldn't hear him. "What?!" Again, Liam said something, but Constantine couldn't make it out.

There was text beside each button on the machine, but they were so small Constantine couldn't see which one was labeled power. He ended up increasing the speed to the maximum setting, causing the mixer to shake and vibrate in his hand. Liam walked back beside him and spoke again, but Constantine paid him no attention as he was trying to read the tiny prints. Instead of leaning over to try and find the correct one, he decided to bring the mixer to eye level.

It happened in slow motion; everything was fine one second, and the next their still very thin batter was flying all over the front of Liam’s suit. Constantine naturally turned his direction to Liam instantaneously as he held the mixer at arm's length, away from his own body. The machine continued to forcefully whirl until the beaters were clean, all its contents now covering the front of Liam’s face, body, and a little of the surrounding area. Liam could only stand there in shock; mouth agape, arms raised, completely flabbergasted.

Constantine finally pushed the correct button and the mixer slowly stopped. He had a sheepish smile as he lowered it back into the bowl before speaking in a soft, timid voice. "The good news is there's still plenty left…"

Liam only stared at Constantine with narrowed eyes. Constantine nervously chuckled and swiped his finger across Liam’s cheek before licking the contents. "Mmm – delicious indeed." Liam opened his mouth to speak, but Constantine quickly added, "Don't be mad, son… It was simply a mistake…"

Liam took a deep breath and slowly let it out to keep his composure. "I'm not upset," A vengeful, mischievous idea struck him. He smirked and said, "matter of fact, perhaps we should hug this out."

"I don't think that's–" Constantine tried to protest, but soon found himself engulfed in Liam’s strong arms. He looked down and saw Liam rubbing his face on his shirt, thoroughly cleaning it, and couldn't help but chuckle. "I suppose I deserved that."

Mrs. Finch was quick to take over and simply talked them through the rest of the process to avoid any more mishaps, although they did help form the cookies. The sweet, heavenly aroma that filled the air as their delicacies baked brought back memories for both. Their goods came out of the oven and Mrs. Finch was dismissed, paid very well for her services, and Constantine even insisted she take some with her.

Now, they were simply relaxing on the couch, enjoying the product of their work, and reminiscing with a cup of hot tea. Although they were missing Leo and Regina, it was nice for just the two of them to relive moments they’d shared while creating new memories at the same time. Constantine expected his ‘class’ to be rather boring but informative; never did he think it would turn into a chaotic, beautiful memory for him to relive for the rest of his limited days.

"Liam," Constantine started as he sat forward and grabbed another cookie. "Thank you for joining me today. I know things didn’t go quite as smoothly as they could have, but I'm thankful you were here… I had fun."

Liam smiled. "I’m glad… There were definitely some mishaps–” He stopped to rub his forehead. “–but I had fun too. And, these cookies turned out amazing."

"I concur. Mrs. Finch did an excellent job and I have to say, they are quite close in comparison to your mother's."

"Here, here," Liam agreed whilst holding his cookie up to Constantine, which he returned before they both took a large bite. Liam swallowed and spoke again, "Listen… I know I'm busy, but I'll always try to make time for stuff like this – especially now…" He trailed off with a sad expression.

Constantine signed and patted Liam on the knee. "I know. But I'm also aware of how demanding the Crown is. I don't want you canceling obligations on my account – again." He gave Liam a knowing look.

Liam held his free hand up in surrender. "It wasn't that important! Neville comes here and bitches consistently, I'm sure he'll be back in a few days."

Constantine couldn't help but chuckle. "Perhaps I could give you a warning next time, then… So you can try to pencil your old man in." He playfully grinned.

Now, it was Liam’s turn to laugh. "You don't need 'penciled in', but a notice would be appreciated."

"Done," Constantine suddenly stood and extended his hand. Liam shoved his last bite into his mouth and took it, confused, but Constantine was quick to pull him into a tight hug as Liam rose. "I love you, son."

"I love you too."

Their moment hung for a few seconds before Constantine stepped away with a bright smile. "Let's plan our next endeavor! It'll need to be during Kyla's work time, which proves beneficial to the both of us…" He stopped talking to wiggle his eyebrows. "Actually... What would you like to do? Perhaps something to woo her? We could go to a massage–"

"Why are you being so weird?” Liam interjected. "You decide what you want to do and we'll figure everything out from there."

"Hmmm…" Constantine trailed off, deep in thought. He snapped his finger a moment later. "We enlist Duchess Olivia and–"

"I'm going to stop you right there; anything pertaining to Olivia means weapons and that's an automatic no." Constantine tried to retort, but Liam held a hand up. "Do I really have to pull the King card again? Think of something else, and we'll talk."

Constantine opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head and mumbling something as he sat. "What was that?" Liam asked with an amused grin.

"I said you can be a bit of a hard ass sometimes."

Liam smirked and confidently replied, "I learned from the best."

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@choicesficwriterscreations @ao719 @queenrileyrose @tessa-liam @angelasscribbles @kingliam2019 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @bascmve01 @busywoman @belencha77 @mysticalfangirl @nestledonthaveone @lovingchoices14 @lunaseasblog @malblk21 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @emersyn-in-cordonia @walkerdrakewalker @tinkie1973 @queenmiarys @choicesflashfics

#the royal romance #king liam #liam rys #choices the royal romance #trr #choices trr #trr au #choices #here comes the sun #constantine rys #father son #baking #beautiful disaster

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gachats · 1 month

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Gods of ancient slavs: Perun and his imaginary friends

Let's deal with what gods in Ancient Rus' were, and what were not.

The gods of pagan nations are a rich and interesting topic. Their images, in some ways unique, and in some ways similar in different nations, inspire many modern authors. Including in the genres of fantasy, sci-fi, and magic realism.

Back in the 19th century, attempts were made throughout Europe to reconstruct ancient beliefs and understand what gods were worshipped by ancestors. And, of course, the myths of ancient Greece were taken as a model.

The only thing is that we were usually talking about non-written cultures, which left behind very few sources. And if the Scandinavians, for example, had the Eddas, written down already by Christians, but quite early, as well as inscriptions carved in stone, then with the Eastern Slavs everything did not work out so well. We have no recorded epic stories about the gods, and we have to rely on fragmentary evidence in chronicles and denunciations against the pagans, as well as scanty archaeological data. That is why there is so much speculation and outright fiction about the gods of the Eastern Slavs.

In this text, let's try to figure out what we really know about them, what we can assume, and what is quite far from the truth.

The Pantheon of Knyaz Vladimir

The most famous source of information about the gods worshipped in Ancient Rus is the enumeration of idols installed by Knyaz Vladimir in Kyiv, from the "Tale of Bygone Years":

"And began to reign Vladimir in Kyiv alone, and put idols on the hill, outside the palace yard: wooden Perun with a silver head and golden whiskers, Khors (and) Dazhbog, Stribog, Simargl and Mokosh."

Vladimir puts idols of gods in Kyiv. Late 15th c. Radziwillov Chronicle, Library of the Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg

It should be kept in mind that Vladimir pursued quite specific goals: he tried to unite Rus around Kyiv through a single set of beliefs. That is, it would be wrong to say that the erected idols are an exhaustive list of gods or that all popular gods got there. For example, we are talking, apparently, about Slavic gods, and on the territory of ancient Rus lived also Finno-Ugrians, Turks, Balts.

In addition, it is important to understand that any paganism (even Greek) at the level of practice looks not as the veneration of a once and for all definite pantheon, but as the worship of numerous local deities - patrons of rivers, hills, forests, cities. People turned to them for any reason: for good luck in war, for a rich harvest, and for protection from evil forces. Different gods could merge in one area, and in another, on the contrary, one god was divided into two characters or more.

We do not know on what principle idols were selected in Kyiv. For example, Veles (Volos), often found in other sources, is not mentioned among them. In addition, the "Tale of Bygone Years" was preserved in lists XIV-XVI, not in the original, and the lists were often made with errors. And Nestor did not aim to accurately convey the pagan ideas. But we have what we have - there is nothing to choose from.

So what do we know about the 5 (or 6) gods mentioned in the Tale?

Perun

We know relatively much about Perun. He is often mentioned in various sources, he was worshipped by the Western Slavs, about whose customs we know a little more. He is also close to the Baltic Perkunas, and many of his features and related legends were attributed to Ilya the Prophet and remained in this form until the Revolution.

Perun is a thunder god. The very word "Perun" in Russian, Ukrainian and Belarusian is used as an obsolete and poetic name for lightning. This was an important god for the inhabitants of Ancient Rus, commonly known and honored. He may well be considered the supreme god, if it is necessary to emphasize such a figure. The Byzantine Procopius of Caesarea wrote back in the 6th century that the Slavs (it was about the South Slavs) above all venerate an unnamed thunder god to whom they sacrifice bulls. The connection of Perun with warriors and militancy, oaks, weapons - all this is characteristic of the gods-thunderers - looks quite plausible.

Worship of Perun among the Muscovites. Engraving from the book by G. A. Shleizing "Ancient and New Religion of the Muscovites", 1698

Later sources mention rituals in honor of Perun. For example, Novgorod fights were described, which were associated with the commemoration of Perun. There is also a mention of the rafting of Perun's idol down the river, similar to the description of the overthrow of his idol from the Tale of Bygone Years. Some researchers suggest that the chroniclers simply incorrectly conveyed the regular ritual. The motif of such funeral-conductions is rarely associated with thunder gods, it is more characteristic of the gods of the sun and fertility. This may mean that Perun had such functions as well.

Various assumptions about Perun's family ties, specific features of his veneration, sacrifices, temple construction, etc. should be treated with caution: they are based on controversial scientific data.

The overthrow of the idol of Perun in the painting "The Trampling of Old Russian Gods" by E. Shtyrov

But one can look at the peculiarities of popular veneration of the "formidable saint" Elijah the Prophet. His image began to converge with Perun even before the official baptism of Russia, as pagan and Christian legends converged (such a merger is more than characteristic of the pagan picture of the world). Most likely, this is what made Ilya one of the most revered saints in Rus'.

It was believed that the prophet rode across the sky on a golden or fiery chariot and struck devils and various creeps with lightning arrows. In some regions it was believed that Elijah should pray in a thunderstorm all the time, so that a demon would not enter a person, because then the prophet would strike him with lightning. Caution should be observed on Ilya's day at the end of the harvest (August 20): on this day it was forbidden to work in order not to anger the saint. In addition to striking devils and people with lightning, Ilya also sent down rain and drought. These legends about the saint probably go back to the image of Perun.

Elijah the Prophet on his chariot

Various Peruns by lugvelesasrz, A. Klimenko, Mikado13

Mokosh-Makosh

Makosh by Viktor Korolkov

Mokosh is the only female goddess in Knyaz Vladimir's pantheon.

The romanticist researchers largely invented her cult from the folk veneration of St. Paraskeva Pyatnitsa, associated with weaving and needlework. From weaving made the transition to the threads of life, and Mokosh turned into the goddess of fate. The problem is that unlike Perun and the prophet Elijah, we do not know anything about Mokosh at all, except that she was a woman. For example, we have no data that she was depicted with a spinning wheel. So there is simply nothing to draw parallels between her and Paraskeva.

Sometimes the figure of Mokosha is brought closer to such a folklore character as Mother raw earth. This is a common image in bylinas and fairy tales, and we can conclude that in the Slavs' ideas the earth occupied a very important place. But it is hardly worth talking about the personification of the earth in the form of a goddess. Most likely, the earth as a living element was meant, which reminds ancient religious ideas, for example, the Chinese. However, it is possible to correlate Mokosh with Mother raw earth. This is much less of a stretch than many other theories about the Slavic gods.

Who else could be the only goddess included in the new unified pantheon? For example, the goddess of women, patroness of childbearing and women's crafts. Or the goddess of fertility, possibly acting as wife of Perun. Or maybe a warrior goddess like Ishtar, the embodiment of power and luck in battle. Such a woman could well be on the princely hill, where, judging by the "Tale" did not take the "cattle god" Volos, despite his great importance. Historical data in no way limit the flight of our imagination.

Mokosh by BirnaAlicja

Khors-Dazhbog

Khors by Igor Ozheganov

The further things are worse. Between the names of Khors and Dazhbog in the "Tale" there is no union, but between the other names there is. This may be a reproduced mistake of the scribe. Or it may be an indication that these are two names of the same god (Khors-Dazhbog). In other sources both gods appear separately, but are never mentioned together.

In the "Conversation of the three saints" there is such an answer to the question where lightning comes from: "There are two thunder angels: the Hellenic elder Perun and Khors the Jew - these are the two angels of lightning". What it means and why these national epithets - who can tell. Some researchers believe that this is an indication that the cult of Khors came to Russia from the Jewish Khazaria, but this is a controversial statement.

Khors by Andrey Shishkin

There are also questions with lightning. This is the only mention of Khors with its functions. But there is a popular theory about the etymological connection of Khors with the Iranian-language root "khur", "khvar", meaning "sun". Linguists dispute this point of view, but so far it remains dominant, and the idea of connection of Khors with lightning, which does not fit into this concept, is often rejected.

In the "Tale of Igor's Campaign" there is an ambiguous phrase: "in the night trotting wolf: from Kyiv to Tmutorokan kurs, to the great Hrsovi the way was broken". Interpreting "Hrsovi" as "Khorosovu", romantically inclined researchers conclude that the "Khors' way" and consisted in "trotting wolf". And so Khors was actually connected with wolves, werewolfism and acted as a dark god of wild beasts and witchcraft. But it should be remembered that the only direct indication of Khors' functions is connected with lightning, and in the "Tale" it is quite possible that he was not meant at all.

In short, the god Khors was, but what he was doing - we will never know.

And what about Dazhbog? Let's see what Wikipedia calls the most informative source about him - "Chronography" by the Byzantine John Malala. He wrote, however, about the Egyptians, and the name Dazhbog was used to translate the name of the sun god Helios mentioned there, which in turn symbolized Amon Ra. From this we can conclude with some tension that the translator associated Dazhbog with the sun god. Also the word "Dazhbog" is mentioned in Ukrainian songs, including as the one who ends winter and begins summer. This also confirms the solar version.

In "The Tale of Igor's Campaign" knyazs or all Rus' people are called "Dazhbog's grandsons". Although there are different opinions about what this means, perhaps it is about the fact that Dazhbog was perceived as the forefather, the god-grandfather of the nation or humans in general.

Dazhbog by Andrey Shishkin

Stribog

Stribog by Igor Ozheganov

Stribog is another character about whom we know nothing. Practically the only mention - in "The Tale of Igor's Campaign" it is said about the winds as "Stribog's grandsons", who direct arrows against Igor's army. On the basis of this not even a passage, but a sentence, theories were built that Stribog is the god of winds, as well as an evil god, an opponent of men, who was opposed to Dazhbog (mainly because both words are arranged in the same way).

From here went the identification of Stribog with St. Kasyan - a very curious character of folk Orthodoxy, evil, hostile, crooked (oblique) in one eye, guarding hell and sending winds and diseases. Kasyan deserves a separate story, but the grounds for his correlation with Stribog are very shaky.

Worship of Stribog at the Muscovites. Engraving from the book by G. A. Shleizing "Ancient and New Religion of the Muscovites", 1698

Simargl

Semargl by V. Korolkov

And the most mysterious character of Vladimir's pantheon is Simargl. In the "Word of a certain Christ-lover and zealous for the right faith" there is a quote: "believe… in Sim and in Rjgl (Erjgl)". But in other manuscripts Simargl or Semargl is written in one word. Who this person or persons were, what they did, is unknown. At some point his name was correlated with the Iranian Simurg on the basis of the similarity of the words. Simurgh is a mythical king-bird whose image probably (probably!) derived from Senmurv, a half-bird half-dog. The odious researcher Rybakov suggested that it was the half-bird-half-dog that stood on the hill in Kyiv, that he was the messenger of the gods, and was also associated with fertility and much more. All this does not stand up to criticism from a scientific point of view.

Simargl by Irdeorum-III

Who wasn't taken to the hill?

Volos / Veles

Veles by baklaher

Volos, judging by frequent references in sources, was a popular god of Ancient Rus. His name was sworn along with the name of Perun. He is often called the "cattle god", i.e. the patron of cattle, and therefore of wealth. That is, we even know what functions he had.

"The Tale of Bygone Years" does not mention Volos among the idols of Knyaz Vladimir's "pantheon". Much later "Kyiv Synopsis" mentions, but there and all the rest of the list differs, except for Perun. And in "The Life of Vladimir" it is said that the idol of Volos was thrown into the river, where in the "Tale" the idol of Perun was thrown. And here it is not clear: the idol of Volos was, but stood separately, as some researchers claim - for example, at the market? Or stood together with all, and Nestor did not mention it? Or some of the gods described by him is actually Volos?

Veles by Milica Cvetic

All information about Volos besides the fact that it was an important god of cattle looks extremely shaky. There is a theory that he was an opponent of Perun. It is based on the correlation of Volos with the Baltic Vels and Velnyas, a spirit connected with the underworld and cattle, and the opponent of Perkunas the thunderer. However, it should be realized that the sources telling already about this character are rather late and of ambiguous authenticity.

When contrasting Volos and Perun, it is sometimes said that Volos was the earthly god of gold and the common people (apparently, farmers), and Perun was the heavenly god of war and the rulers' retinue. This idea is based largely on the text of the oath, which mentions both Perun and Volos, as well as gold and weapons: "let us be cursed by the God in whom we believe, Perun and Volos, the cattle god, let us be as yellow as gold, and let us be cut with our weapons".

But, first, there is no obvious distinction here. Secondly, gold is mentioned in the context of yellowing of the skin and speaks rather of disease. It would be more accurate to conclude that these were powerful gods ruling over life and death. Hair was indeed most likely associated with wealth, but expressed primarily in livestock . And the possession of wealth is not very peculiar to the "common people" who are usually poor.

Perun fights with the serpent by A. Fantalov

The further development of the idea of the enmity between Perun and Volos turned him into a serpent, because the motif of the battle between the thunderer and the serpent is archetypal and is found in many peoples. The opposition of heavenly birds with earthly snakes, "creepers", in the culture of the Eastern Slavs occupies a very important place. But there is no reason to believe that it goes back to Volos.

"The Tale of Igor's Campaign" contains an indirect reference to Volos. Bayan, the legendary narrator, is called Veles' grandson. This can be understood as an epithet referring to his gift of words. And on this basis Veles is sometimes considered the god of poetry.

Veles by A. Klimenko

A more creative interpretation says that it refers to the gift of sorcery or volkhovanie. The idea of Veles as a god of wisdom, as well as many of his other attributes, entered popular culture from the "Book of Veles", a forgery from the 50s of the 20th century. For sure we can only say that there was such an important god Volos, and he had power over cattle, and thus welfare.

Veles by Andrey Shishkin

Svarog and Svarozhich

Svarog by Igor Ozheganov

Svarog is mentioned in the "Tale of Bygone Years", in the above described "Chronography" of John Malala. There, I remind, we are talking about the Egyptians, and the word "Svarog" is used to translate the name of Hephaestus (which is called, apparently, Khnum). Other sources mention Svarozhich, and it is probably the same character. Svarozhich was honored by the Western Slavs and was associated with fire. Whether he was honored in Ancient Rus is unknown.

Even if he was, a fire god is not always the same as a smith god, as Svarog is usually represented in popular culture. A fire god can be a god of hearth and sacrifice, a mediator between gods and humans, like the Indian Agni.

All others

Rod by Maxim Kuleshov

For example, Trojan is the demonized emperor Trajan. His image is found in the folklore of the South Slavs, but it is more of a fairy-tale character. In "The Tale of Igor's Campaign" Trojan is also present, but there it is said about "time" or "trope" of Trojan, so it is not very clear whether it is about some ancient ruler-man, mythological character or deity, or whether there is some mistake of the copyist or translator.

It is also known as Dyj or Diy. Sometimes it is mentioned among the gods worshipped by pagans, but more often it is used to translate the name of Zeus in the retelling of ancient myths.

Pozvizd by Andrey Shishkin

Rod and the Rozhanitsy are not infrequently mentioned. But usually in the same lists, where in addition to gods it is said about the worship of vilas, ghouls, bereginas. Which, undoubtedly, were important characters in Slavic folklore, but they are rarely called gods, singling them out as a separate category (like nymphs, alves and other spirits). How far this is actually legitimate - the question is debatable, but this is the tradition. And it is quite possible that under Rod and Rozhanitsy meant the worship of ancestors and patron spirits.

The "Kyiv Synopsis", compiled very late, in the 17th century, gives an alternative list of idols erected by Vladimir. In addition to Perun, called the god of thunder and rain in human form, Volos, the god of cattle, as well as Pozvizd, Lado and Kupalo are mentioned.

All of them are associated with the book tradition: the authors of later sources, in imitation of the Greeks, invented gods themselves and then copied them from each other. Sometimes they relied on parallels with the same ancient mythology, sometimes - on grassroots folklore, folk rituals and festivals. And when odious researchers began to study such sources, Lado or Uslad, appearing in several later sources in the male gender, turned into the goddess Lada. That is, here we see layers and layers of fiction.

To such a mythology invented by scribes belong also Lel, Lelya and Polelya. The last three are chants like "la-la-la-la-la" deified in a desperate attempt to find some pagan gods.

Marena was hardly a goddess either, no matter how attractive her image in popular culture as a strong woman who commands winter and death. In fact, she is a ritual character, an effigy or tree burned when winter is spent, like Maslenitsa - or ritually mourned in later spring, like Kostroma. The latter connects it with the death-rebirth cycle: it is a metaphor for the sowing of seeds into the ground ("funeral") and their subsequent germination ("rebirth").

The second reason for the appearance of the image of the goddess of death is the similarity of the name Marena to the Latin root mor: "death", i.e. the fact that Christian authors and early researchers were engaged in folk etymology (this is when words are attributed a similar meaning because they sound similar, a headache for any linguist). But of course, the gothic ice maiden is beautiful.

Another popular image popularized by Gaiman's American Gods is Chernobog, the malevolent god of evil. The character is also very spectacular, moreover, most likely, really former god. It is described, however, in the Baltic Slavs, but in Russia and Ukraine there are toponyms referring to this name. We do not know much about him, except that because of the ominous name of Chernobog very much loved Christian authors, boldly writing him in the devils.

Often he is mentioned together with Belobog, his antagonist and embodiment of good. But in recent times, the opposition between Chernobog and Belobog has been attributed to the fantasy of authors impressed by Manichaeism (a dualistic religion that asserted that evil and good were equally powerful).

Chernobog and Belobog by Maxim Shukharev

As for Chernobog himself, if he was not invented by Christian authors, it is not a fact that he was such a villain. Black color does not always mean something bad, it can be associated, for example, with black soil - fertile land. It is not excluded that the black god could be called different characters depending on the area or specific idols made of black stone or wood.

Of course, it is a pity that we are not left with at least our own Edda to learn more about the gods worshipped by the Slavs in the territory of Ancient Rus. But this is not a unique situation - in many countries, ideas about the pagan past are also based on romantic speculations, controversial etymological constructions and Christian or Roman sources.

And if you want to learn more about mythological representations of Russians, Belarusians and Ukrainians - turn to the rich grassroots folklore, folk orthodoxy, fairy tales and songs. There you can find a lot of beautiful and interesting characters, images and themes that are undeservedly overlooked in attempts to find gods like those of the ancient Greeks.

Original by Maria Solntseva Translated by me :)

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