#Fiend Arena | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sluttywonwoo · 9 months

Text

love the heat || h.wj

pairing: hong woojin x reader

summary: you indulge your boyfriend in his biggest fantasy

warnings: swearing, blood mentions, smut (18+ ; minors dni)

additional warnings: a lil exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), face sitting, cumming untouched, absolute pussy fiend woojin

word count: 3.2k

“Hey, Champ!”

Your voice echoing throughout the empty gym makes Woojin perk up and turn around, eyes searching the arena for you. He spots you by the door and his face lights up. His trainer, on the other hand, looks significantly less enthusiastic about your unannounced appearance. Woojin doesn’t seem to notice, though. He beckons you over, lifting the ropes so you can duck into the ring with him.

He wraps you into a hug, despite your protests of him being sweaty, and only releases you once you return his embrace.

“Don’t call me champ when you know I got my ass handed to me yesterday,” he mumbles.

“You’re my champion. Doesn’t that count for anything?” you ask.

“Of course it does,” Woojin surrenders momentarily, swooping down to kiss you chastely on the lips. “But ranking first in your heart doesn’t do much for sponsors.”

You put your hands on your hips, trying to look stern. “Weren’t you only practicing yesterday? What’s with the dramatics? It’s not like it was a televised fight.”

“And even so, Geonwoo still hit me so hard I blacked out for a couple seconds.”

“He what?”

Woojin hadn’t mentioned that part last night in the debrief of his day he always gives you when he calls to say goodnight.

He shrugs it off. “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to hit me that hard.”

You frown, cupping his face to get a better look at the damage. “And he split your lip? Jesus, Woo, do I need to have a chat with him?”

“No, no. It’s fine, babe. It happens all the time.”

“Still, he needs to be gentler when you’re just sparring. I don’t want to taste blood every time I kiss you.”

“I guess only one of us doesn’t mind the taste of blood,” Woojin quips with a smirk, pulling you closer to him by slipping two fingers into a belt loop on your jeans.

“Woo!” you scold, shoving him away. You nod in the direction of his trainer who is still standing less than ten feet from the both of you.

He holds up his hands defensively. “What! I was talking about my own blood.”

“Yeah, ok,” you mutter before turning to the other man in the ring. “Hi, Jimmy.”

He nods. “Always a pleasure.”

You manage to keep yourself from snorting at the blatant exaggeration, if not flat-out lie, and nod politely back to him.

“I’ll be over on the bench until you’re finished,” you say.

“I can be finished right now,” Woojin blurts.

“No, you can’t be. I heard Jimmy saying ‘three more sets’ when I walked in. And you have to cool down after.”

Your boyfriend’s smile wanes but his trainer mouths a silent thank you to you behind his back.

“I’ll make them quick, then,” he promises.

“I’m not in a rush.”

“Well, I am,” Woojin murmurs, pulling you close again. “You smell nice, by the way.”

You drop your voice to a whisper and will yourself to take a step back. It’s so tempting to just yank him out of the ring and drag him to your car but you’re the one with more restraint between the two of you so you have to keep it together for both of your sakes. “Keep it in your pants, Hong. I’ll be over there.”

He pouts. “You’re not going to give me a kiss for good luck?”

“Isn’t this just practice?”

“Wow, so you hate me.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the conclusion you were meant to draw from that,” you deadpan.

“Can I get a kiss or not?”

“Yes, you can. But next time just ask for one. Don’t use luck as an excuse.”

Woojin opens his mouth, you predict to argue back about how he had done no such thing, but you kiss him before he can get a word out. He lets out a surprised “hmph!” before relaxing his lips against your own. You pull away before he can take it any further, smiling only a little at the whine that escapes him when you do.

“Good luck, Champ.”

Woojin does fight better when you’re around. He’s always called you his good luck charm, and honestly, you thought he was full of shit at first. He was just a good fighter, period. His talent didn’t have anything to do with you. But then you had to take a trip overseas for a few weeks a couple of months into your relationship and you changed your mind.

His matches were televised so you watched all of them, setting your alarm for ungodly hours or simply pulling all-nighters to be able to tune in live.

The first fight you weren’t able to go to went horribly. You almost had to stop watching because of how bad Woojin looked by the end of it. You still remember crying to him over the phone about it afterward.

You thought it was a fluke. Everyone has bad days. Then the pattern continued. The other matches weren’t as bad as the first one, thankfully. Woojin even won some of them. But he was off his game the whole time.

Geonwoo told you he had never seen anything like it. He had never seen his best friend so... distracted before.

Both boys begged you to come home as soon as possible. And when you did, his streak of bad luck immediately ended.

He won the title of the first tournament you were back for. It was the first and only time he’s beaten Geonwoo, who tackled him in a hug as soon as the ref called the match. Woojin had to physically push his best friend off to get to you. Geonwoo was almost offended until he saw you standing behind him, waiting for your boyfriend’s attention. It was not the first nor would it be the last time Geonwoo forgot about your existence. You don’t mind, mostly. It’s only ever for a second and he always apologizes profusely.

Your presence hasn’t affected his performance that dramatically since then, but he does fight better when you’re there cheering him on. It’s proven when you hear a punch land with a resounding “oof” from Jimmy, and a comment from the trainer about how he’d finally gotten past his block. Jimmy lets your boyfriend off a couple of minutes early, evidently tired from the beating he was taking. Woojin rounds the benches where you’re sat, grinning at you like he’s just won the lottery.

“Ready to go?” you ask, handing him a towel.

“Just about,” he answers as he wipes the sweat from his face. “Gotta hit the showers first. Wanna join?”

You scoff, peeking over his shoulder to make sure Jimmy hadn’t heard him. “This is a public space.”

Woojin checks his watch and smirks. “Only for about seven more minutes. Then it’s closed. It’ll be all ours.”

You roll your eyes. “Except you’re not the one with the keys to lock up, Jimmy is. Do you really think he’ll want to hear that?”

“He won’t mind.”

“He most definitely will.” You push Woojin’s thigh with your knee. “Now hurry up. The faster you shower, the faster we can get out of here.”

You picked up takeout on the way back to the apartment Woojin shares with Geonwoo. There was enough food for all three of you and now the empty containers lay on the coffee table, long forgotten as the credits to the movie you’d put on in the background roll.

Geonwoo had already gone to bed. He left halfway through, claiming to be too tired to watch the whole thing. You knew he had probably looked up the ending on Wikipedia and decided he’d rather play games in his room instead but you didn’t question him when he dipped.

“What do you want to watch next, babe?” Woojin asked as he gathered up all of the plasticware and rinsed it out in the sink.

“Whatever,” you answered noncommittally from where you were laying on the couch.

“Are you feeling tired, baby?” Woojin asks once he’s returned from sorting the containers for recycling. He kneels by the couch, petting your hair gently.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh.”

“What’s on your mind, then?”

“Something like this.”

You lift your head from the sofa’s armrest and lean forward, meeting Woojin with a kiss. He hums against your mouth like he’s pleasantly surprised and deepens it without further question. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, moaning as he cradles the back of your head with one of his hands. It gets heated fast. One second you’re laying down on the couch making out, the next you’re on the living room floor with your boyfriend who’s working a hand down your pants.

“Wait, wait, wait- Geonwoo is home, babe,” you whisper after breaking away from his embrace.

Woojin looks mildly miffed, curls in disarray as he pouts at you. “So? He’s in his room.”

“Yeah, and his room is right there,” you hiss, looking over your shoulder at his door.

“He’s asleep.”

“We don’t know that.”

“He said he was going to sleep,” Woojin points out. “Are you uncomfortable out here? Because we can go somewh-”

“No, it’s not that, I’d just feel bad if he suddenly walked in on us.”

Woojin shrugs. “He’s seen worse.”

“That’s not the point. You know that’s not the point.”

“It’s not like he doesn’t hear us going at it when we’re in my room. We share a wall.”

Well, that was a slightly mortifying bit of information that you had not previously been aware of. You knew they shared a wall, obviously, but you hadn’t thought about the way sound traveled through said wall. And now that you were thinking about it, you could hear Geonwoo yelling at his game sometimes. Fuck.

You scramble to your knees and push yourself back onto the couch. Woojin puts a hand on either of your thighs and spreads them apart, looking up at you

“It’s a little hot if you think about it,” he says. You purse your lips. “Look at you, you can’t even deny it!”

“Just get up here.”

You don’t give him a chance to make another snarky comment before you’re yanking him up by the collar of his T-shirt and kissing him again. Woojin doesn’t protest. He simply makes a sound of satisfaction against your mouth, like he’d won.

There’s a bit of push and pull. You trying to tug him up onto the couch, him trying to drag you down back onto the floor. But the game of tug of war persists for just a moment before your boyfriend overpowers you and pulls you onto his lap. You knew he had only been humoring you for the sake of the bit.

“Baby?” he asks when you start to kiss his neck, sounding a little breathless.

“Hm?”

“Will you sit on my face?”

You pause and sit up properly to look him in the eyes. “What?”

He swallows thickly, looking desperate. “Sit on my face, please?”

Woojin loves your pussy. Loves the taste of it, to be more specific. He loves the feeling too, of course, but he’s spent hours with his head in between your legs making you see God over and over again. He eats you out every single time you have sex. He eats you out even when you don’t have sex sometimes, just because he’s craving you on his tongue.

But you’ve never sat on his face. In all the months you’ve been dating it just hasn’t come up. He’s had you in practically every way possible except for this one.

“Please, baby. Don’t make me beg.”

He was kind of already begging but you weren’t going to point that out. You looked towards Geonwoo’s door again and then back at Woojin.

“Here?”

“Yeah, right here,” he pats the spot on the floor. “Just get on top of me.”

“Alright, help me get my pants off.”

You’re still in your outfit from work because you don’t like to change before you shower and you don’t like to shower unless you’re going to be in bed for the rest of the night. You’ve argued about Woojin eating you out after a full day of work before but he insists that he could not give less of a fuck about the state your pussy is in as long as it’s in his mouth.

You only let him do it because you know he means it and he makes you cum so hard that you can’t even find it within yourself to be self-conscious.

Your work slacks are tight but Woojin manages to get them off in record time. He folds them neatly and places them on the couch before getting into position and motioning for you to join him.

You wiggle out of your underwear and set them on top of your pants. Woojin’s already on his back but he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you. He smirks as you step over him, straddling his waist with your ankles instead of your thighs.

“You look so fucking hot like that,” he mutters. “Kind of just want to watch you stand there and look disappointed in me all night.”

You scoff. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you.” He winks and clicks his tongue.

“You’d really rather do this instead of... the other thing?”

“I never said that! I’d rather do the other thing. Definitely the other thing.” You snort and shake your head at him. “But we can file this away for another day?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“But what you want more...”

“Is for you to sit on my face, yes. So come here.”

Woojin knows you’re not teasing him on purpose, but it definitely feels like you are. You’re still out of reach, hovering hesitantly above his mouth. You seem nervous so he doesn’t rush you but he’s dying for it.

It also seems like you don’t quite know what to do with yourself. He thinks about asking you if you’ve ever done this before but then he decides he would rather not know the answer to that question.

“Here, baby,” he murmurs and puts his hands on your hips to guide you down onto him.

“Remember, tap me twice if you can’t breathe or something,” you remind him.

He won’t need to do that but he nods in acknowledgment to ease your mind if nothing else.

Woojin coaxes you down a little further, close enough for him to taste you if he cranes his neck so that’s what he does. He lifts his head and sticks out his tongue to trace the shape of you. Immediately, you shudder and Woojin uses your clumsiness against you. He raises his shoulders as soon as he feels your legs begin to shake which makes you lose your balance and fall onto him completely.

Your boyfriend moans into you, making you whimper in turn. He’s instantly convinced this is what heaven feels like. All of his senses have been overtaken by you. All he can taste, smell, see, and feel is you. And all he can hear are the sweet sounds of pleasure he knows you’re trying to hold back.

You’re sort of just sitting there on his face, and to be fair that’s what he’d asked you to do but he knows it would feel even better for you if you moved a bit so he encourages you to rock your hips by pushing on your ass. You get the message and start to grind down on him, earning praise in the form of a thumbs-up.

“Fuck, so wet,” he compliments, hoping you can understand him.

“Yeah, well you know what watching you box does to me,” you sigh defensively.

Woojin tries not to smirk because he knows you’d be able to feel it but he can’t help himself. You smack his shoulder in retaliation. Yeah, that’s pretty much what he thought would happen.

“Taste so good, baby. Thank you. Than- mph!”

You’d threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him by it, using your newfound control to push his face even deeper into your cunt.

“Fuck yes... does it feel good?”

“Feels fucking incredible, Woo. How are you so good at this?”

Woojin doesn’t want to admit that it’s all he’s thought about since he met you. Doesn’t want to share the fantasies that have kept him up at night with a hand around his cock, sometimes with you sleeping right next to him. He’s wanted you to ride his face since before you started dating, and once he’d actually tasted you, it was over for him. Just like it’s over for him now.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life. It hurts and he’s been thrusting into nothing for several minutes now, and he’s almost certain his sweats are already ruined with the amount of precum he’s leaking.

He loses the ability to speak when he starts fucking you with his tongue but he figures his mouth is being put to better use like this anyway. Besides, you do enough talking for both of you. You’re still trying to keep your voice down since Geonwoo is in the next room but it ultimately doesn’t matter because the most obscene sounds in the room are coming from Woojin making out with your pussy.

His nose nudges your clit over and over each time you glide over it like it’s a credit card, and it makes him wonder what it would feel like for you to ride his nose. He’s gotten a few compliments on the shape of his nose so he’s confident that it would feel good for you but in order to do that you would have to turn around and he’s enjoying having his tongue inside of you way too much to give that up.

“Woo, fuck,” you gasp suddenly.

Your thighs squeeze tighter around his head and he whines, wishing it were somehow possible for you to crush his skull and still live.

“Close?”

“Yes, I’m right there, don’t stop...”

He holds you down as you cum, absolutely drowning himself in the arousal that gushes from you as you do. He laps up as much of it as he can, but he can’t quite get all of it and what’s left runs down the sides of his face onto the rug beneath him. He can’t find it within him to care, aside from being slightly jealous of the carpet.

You’re saying something but all he can hear is white noise as his body goes taut and then relaxes. When he comes to, you’ve already climbed off of him and are laying on the floor spent.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs.

You lift your head curiously. “Did you just-”

“Yeah.”

He grimaces and sits up to assess the damage. His sweatpants have a dark wet spot right over his dick. Predictable. He hadn’t wanted to cum like that but it was simply unavoidable. Anyone in his position would have done the same thing. Probably.

“The rug,” you groan, staring at the stain.

“I’ll send it off to be cleaned,” Woojin assures you.

“You don’t have rug cleaning money!”“Then I’ll clean it myself. There’s a twenty-four-hour convenience store down the street. We can go there to get the stuff. After we do that again.”

finally finished this bad boy ;-; lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

bloodhounds tags: @sluttywoozi @kimanniexxx @icyb3rry

#bloodhounds smut #hong woojin smut #bloodhounds x reader #hong woojin x reader #hong woo jin smut #hong woo jin x reader #bloodhounds x female reader #hong woojin x female reader

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sky-kiss · 5 months

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A/N: Can't sleep. And horrible, horrible, unholy creatures prompted for soft ascended fiend. Please understand, any additional ficlets this week will be horrific and dark to counterbalance this crime.

Also. Using my OC (which I don't do here) to cheat this prompt. In an established universe. HAH.

Ascended Fiend Raphael: You think he chuffs? I think he chuffs.

“He’s making a mess of the place.”

“Well, we wanted to see what he was capable of?”

Haarlep fixes her with a withering look, lips pressing to a thin line. Their face is naturally expressive; Joi has the distinct pleasure of watching all his thoughts pass across his face without pretense or restraint. The sum of these parts amounts to an unambiguous: you fucking dolt.

“We knew. The princeling wanted to showboat. And now look.”

The fiend continues its rampage through the arena, tail lashing behind it, wings spread. Its fires burn brighter than ever, hot enough to leave the entirety of the building sweltering. A tinge of iron hangs in the air, married to sulfur and the sickly sweetness of charred flesh. Raphael has been neither subtle nor graceful in his carnage: the room is a mess of gore, devils, and demons alike.

A bolt of hellfire tears from its right hand, ripping across the arena. The Abishai screams in agony, briefly sputtering before its form gives way. Ash flutters about the arena, and the fiend howls its delight.

He’s beautiful, she thinks. All the wrath of the Hells made manifest. Raphael lifts his head, scenting the air. Robbed of his toys and the distraction of live prey, it looks for alternate means of entertainment. The creature’s good eyes fix upon them.

“If the brute comes over here, I’ll sacrifice you,” Haarlep grumbles.

She pats their chest. “I’m well aware.” He’s done it before; he’ll do it again. The incubus intends to outlive them all. “Help me down?”

Their expression twists with savage delight. “As the lady wishes.”

Haarlep holds her elbow as she climbs over the arena’s edge. The distance makes her dizzy, forty or fifty down into the pit, necessary for some of the beasts the Archduke houses below. Flight is an option, but it’s easier to fall, whispering the familiar incantation to make herself feather-light.

The fiend shrieks. Raphael’s voice bleeds into the bestial sound, one note among many; she holds onto this familiarity as it tears across the remaining space, hellfire, and claws. She swallows.

The claws of its right-hand curl around her waist, pressing just to the point of pain. Some break flesh. Raphael huffs again, sniffing, hot gusts of air ruffling her hair. Joi holds out her hand.

It kneels. The distance between them remains too great, the size difference too vast. The fiend hauls her nearer, chuffing, nuzzling the center skull against her chest. She trails the tips of her nails across his forehead, ignoring the hiss of pain in her side and the blood staining his jaws.

“You’ve upset Haarlep, dear one.” One could be forgiven for mistaking the sound it makes for a laugh. If nothing else, her duke preens, wings stretching to their full span. It tries to get nearer, to close what little invisible space exists between them, recognizing its scent on her skin. It purrs. “They worked very hard to find you all these toys…”

“...and he’s broken them immediately.” The incubus snaps, voice echoing around them. “Ungrateful little brat.”

"They're going to be insufferable tonight. You understand this, yes?" The right head’s expression twists in some approximation of glee. Joi shakes her head, cooing to the great beast until it finally sets her down. She kisses its ruined skull, motioning it to follow her towards the holding pens. Perhaps they will find new prey among the wastes; perhaps she’ll indulge its appetites.

So much potential. So little time.

#bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael x durge #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my writing #do you want cavities?#because this is how you get cavities #oc: joi #ascended fiend raphael

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all-risejd · 1 year

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This isn’t judgement day related but can you possibly write a public sex involved scene for Roman Reigns x Rhea Ripley?

I know you requested public sex, my friend who wrote this (this page is made up of multiple peoples writing, with one person running the account) had ideas and just went with them. I hope you enjoy it. We are only taking requests for headcannons at this time but we still did this one because her sister demanded it. Warnings: violence for the sake of violence, face-fucking, face-sitting, rough sex, slight degradation (insults), fem-dom, responsible sex (never thought I would use that one), cheating ... (consensually?)

Please comment/reblog and let us know what you think.

Fiends Not Friends

The arena should be empty by now - almost everyone is gone for the night, and most of the stage hands have started packing up the travel stages and pyro hooks. Rhea had meant to head out with Damian, Finn and Dominik - but she’d ended up stuck in a meeting with Charlotte about the upcoming transition - she was taking the belt off the older woman, which was more than fine with her, she’d earned it in her opinion, but it held a certain level of required notoriety which… as a heel she assumed would be fairly easy. She moved along the empty staging area toward the locker room when a series of crashes caught her attention. “At this point in the horror film the idiots check out the noise.” She reminded herself, before heading toward the noise in question. She half expected to find stage hands, but instead as she peaked into one of the should be empty locker rooms, she caught sight of Roman Reigns, not dressed for the ring, but in just black basketball shorts tossing anything within grabbing range around the room. For a moment she considered walking away, this was a whole lot of not her problem, but the irritating bastard was bleeding.

“Hey, Chief.” She called, sounding a lot more sure than she felt. He whirled to snarl at her, “Your hand is bleeding, and you’ve already wrecked this room. If you're going for the whole rockstar thing, you should probably wreck a few more.” She suggested, as she moved to lean against the doorway, watching the man as he openly paced, he’d paused long enough to look down at his hand, a frown etched on his face - almost like he hadn’t realized he’d done it. “Look, I’m not trying to get into your… business, or whatever, but cuts aren’t good for business.” She ventured, nonplussed, “Do you want me to look at it, so you don’t have to go to medical? I mean I know they’d have to do some sort of write up…” Roman shot her a more than irritated look, “You know what, fuck it, I tried, you clearly have whatever this is, well in hand.” She pushed off the door and turned her back on him, intent to grab her shit and change.

“Ripley, wait.” He called, sounding just as shocked as she felt to hear him. “That, uh, that would be nice.” He decided after a moment, her eyes narrowed in on him, taking in the form of the biggest name in their business, he looked off like something was bothering him, but that pointedly wasn’t her business, either. “If you still wanted to look at my hand?” He held his left hand up, the palm bloody, head cocked slightly to the side. Rhea bemoaned the fact that every remotely attractive older man in her life was somehow both adorable puppy and complete dick in the same go. She hadn’t interacted much with Roman Reigns, outside of their legitimate lanes, they just weren’t written in the same vein. She nodded her head at him, and took a few steps toward him, casting her eyes around the room. Roman had more than wrecked it. It looked like every single emotion the man could fight out of him he had.

Carefully she took his hand, the cut wasn’t deep but it did need to be cleaned off, “No stitches.” She observed, “Sit down, there should be a first aid kit in your bathroom.” She shoved on his shoulder, momentarily forgetting this wasn’t Damian, Dom or Finn - this man didn’t like to be touched as far as she knew. He flinched away from her, but took the seat she motioned to all the same. She moved around him, checking his face over to make sure he was one going to stay put and two not going to pull anything that might be considered stupid. Digging through the bathroom - which mercifully hadn’t been attacked by the Tribal Chief - she snagged the kit and headed back to find him sitting where she had left him, only now he was cradling his injured hand in his right hand, head downcast, his long hair falling forward to cover his actual face.

When she first came up from NXT she’d thought he was beautiful, in an abstract and chaotic sort of way. He’d terrified her in the good ways, she wanted to be powerful like him and struggled for a handful of months trying to figure out if she wanted to be with him, or wanted to be him. She’d ultimately decided she wanted to be better than him - and had set herself on the path to do so, but now, now, he looked alone. What was it that her grandmother used to tell her? Ah, it’s lonely at the top. “I’m back.” She declared when his head didn’t rise at her approach, “You know, Chief, I run around with a quasi-rockstar, and when he wrecks rooms he somehow manages not to break his own flesh.” Roman muttered something under his breath, “I didn’t catch that.” Rhea grumbled even as she deposited the first aid kit on his lap, and moved to ruffle through it to get to the alcohol wipes.

“I hit the locker door.” Roman sounded defeated and he wouldn't meet her gaze. She wasn’t in the mood to ask him about his personal problems, so she set about cleaning his cut and bandaging it. “You know, I don't know how you four do it.” He offered, lamely, “The whole, found family thing, with no real leader, you look like you're having fun.”

Rhea shifted to sit beside him on the hard bench, first aid kit between them, the couch that had been in the room was flipped on its side, and the cushions missing from her immediate vantage. “We are having fun.” She offered, “Four friends who get to be absolute villains and do pretty much whatever we want, while also interacting with Superstars we might not have otherwise?” She rolled her shoulders, “We are having fun. But sometimes it’s hard, cause like all of us are different people in our own rights, I think it would be hard…” She admitted, “If any of us were the leader, since you know, we all kind of share that role and responsibility, so it’s not so heavy on our shoulders.”

He grunted, “I didn’t want Sami to leave.” He said evenly, “Creative took him away, and yeah, he’s still my friend, but I wanted the story to last longer, and I think they are rushing it. The twins are… eager to be back on their own, and Solo just wants… Well, he wants to be me.”

Rhea laughed, “Everyone wants to be you to a point.” Roman let out another grunt of sorts, but Rhea wasn’t listening to him anymore, she’d figured out the problem, “Everyone wants to be at the top, not everyone is strong enough to do it for almost three years, you have to be tired.”

“I’m not tired.” He snapped, and rocked up to his feet, giving her a rough glare.

Rhea rolled her eyes as she stood, “Yeah, and I bet you're not lonely either.” She shot back at him, before pushing around him, no longer worried about making him uncomfortable by touching him, “I don’t acknowledge you or you're kingdom of bullshit, lie to yourself if you want, but… you look like shit, and this room looks like you threw a temper tantrum like a spoiled brat.” Roman made a move to grab at her but she dodged him, “Fuck off, I’m sorry I even tried to help you.” She shoved the rest of the way out of the room and headed back to the room the Judgment Day had been using earlier in the night, muttering under her breath about ungrateful bastards the whole time. She made quick work of her showering and changing, not wanting to loiter around any longer than necessary, after she packed up her gear she checked her phone, there were messages from her boys, all asking where she was.

She shot a quick text back letting them know she was leaving the arena soon, reminding them she’d had a quick meeting with Hunter and Creative, as she stood to grab her stuff a knock sounded on the doorway. She turned sharp, alarmed that she’d overstayed some sort of welcome, and ready to apologize to whatever staff member or arena worker she’d held after their allotted work hours by staying in the arena too long. Instead, it was Reigns, again. He was at least dressed now, with his own travel bag over his shoulder, “I was an asshole.” He said evenly, “I am lonely and tired, and I miss my family.” He offered, “Can I… look, it’s late and I’m wired, and you look like you aren’t going to rest anytime soon, so would you maybe consider the gym or coffee? I’m alone more than I’d like to admit.”

Rhea cocked her head to the side and studied him. This was a unique opportunity. As much as she loved the Judgment Day, she and Dom would eventually need some sort of backup plan, as much as Damian was the older brother she’d never really had, she couldn’t always live in his shadows, as much as Finn elevated her and Dominik by his sheer amount of ring awareness and knowledge, even the best teachers didn’t know everything. The Bloodline was… powerful in different ways than the Judgment Day, their legacy would last longer, and their family would always be on top in the entertainment world. “That’s fine.” She offered, “You can pick.” She added, evenly, “I don’t have any plans, just need to check in with the boys.”

“The boys?” Roman sounded amused.

“My boys.” She countered, before shooting off a text to them that she was going to run some late night errands to get her energy worn down, and to remind Dominik not to latch the door lock at the hotel, since then her key wouldn’t work. She grabbed her gear bag and made a motion for Roman to lead the way, he shot her a raised eyebrow, before he turned and headed down the hallway, she trailed along after him, most of the arena lights were off now, and most of the stage crew had disappeared. The dark colored SUV was a signature she at least knew he would have, as she tossed her bag into the backseat and climbed into the passenger seat, and odd silence settled over them, “Look, I shouldn’t have overst-”

“I’m sorry for being a dick.” They spoke at the same time, cutting one another off.

“Well, this shouldn’t be this awkward.” Rhea muttered, irritated at her apparent social awkwardness when it came to Roman. He snorted, harshly. “What I said earlier about everyone wanting to be you, when I first came up to RAW I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be you or somehow wanted to be with you, it’s just… who you are.” She shrugged, “I decided I wanted to be bigger than you, somehow.”

“You're on your way.” Roman offered, as he started the SUV and headed them out of the parking lot, “I assume we are all at the same hotel?” They quickly confirmed the location, with Rhea double checking her phone - Dominik had promised not to lock her out, both Damian and Finn had encouraged her to get some sleep and not spend all night in the gym. “Those boys of yours, they really love you, you can tell, in the ring and backstage. Sometimes it makes me miss the Shield.” He ventured, as he turned them toward the hotel, “The hotel gym is nice, and at this point everyone should be in bed-”

“Damian and Finn are working out, if you want to just talk to me, the hotel isn’t going to work.” Rhea had already started looking for other gyms nearby that were open all night, which is how twenty minutes and a county over, they ended up in a Gold’s Gym. The only other occupants of the gym were the bored man behind the counter who was watching Netflix and a woman happily riding an exercise bike toward the left. Roman immediately headed them toward the sparring room, Rhea followed, more than curious about how this was going to go - Roman was stacked and while she was strong and could destroy men in bursts or flares of energy… she didn’t know if she really could take him or Solo. “Are we sparing?”

“Nah.” Roman dropped his duffle on the first mat, toed his shoes off and promptly laid down on the floor, looking up at the ceiling of the sparring room. He stretched his arms over his head, before tucking both hands into his hair, and exhaling, “Do you ever just get so fucking mad at the world you need to break something, make something bleed?” Rhea dropped her duffle, toed off her own shoes and joined him with a noncommittal hum. “I’m just, so fucking pissed. I’ve got all these… extra things to worry about.” Rhea realized how carefully he was using his words, there were no doubt secrets that he had to keep for the brand. By and large most of the worst kept secrets in the WWE were in relation to Roman and his cousin. Rhea contemplated what to say, but was stopped by Roman hitting his fist against the sparring mat with enough force that it vibrated under her body. A reminder of his sheer power. Roman shouted then, a loud thundering explosion of emotion that reminded Rhea of what Damian did when he was losing a match.

Rhea waited for him to get the burst of noise out, “You need a healthy outlet of some sort.”

“I hit people for a living, that should be the outlet.”

“You aren’t in the ring week to week anymore, you need something else. Don’t the twins or Solo spar with you?” Rhea asked, now a bit worried about his mental health, their kind - the ones who sought violence for the sake of violence - didn’t do well being asked not to talk with their fist, or to sit back and let others take care of their problems.

“No.”

Rhea let the silence fill the room for a long stretch, there was something both eerie and nice about laying in silence with a sort-of-enemy, she decided, something that was markedly different than laying in contemplative silence with battle-ready brothers. “We could spar.”

Roman let out an impatient rumble, “I don’t hit women.”

“Maybe you should.” She ventured, and chose her next move very, very carefully. She had always been quick, even with her semi-shitty knee, she sat up and rolled her whole body toward Roman, swiftly straddling him, he looked posed to throw her off or say something, when she punched him hard in the cheek, “Fuck, you're bones are ridiculously hard.” She shook her hand, wiggled her fingers, the hit had jarred her wrist. Roman’s nose had flared, and his eyes narrowed, “Not too different from me, huh?” She observed, as she hauled off and hit him again, this time with her other fist, he didn’t stop her, instead she managed to land two more solid punches before he caught her wrist and snarled low at her.

“What are you doing?” He snapped, as his hold on her wrist turned painful, her bones aching in protest, Rhea however only glowered down at him, and with her free hand, slapped him hard across the cheek, “Ripley.” His voice had changed, his pupils expanded, and his whole body seemed to electrify, Rhea knew she was playing a dangerous game, Damian was always warning her about getting burnt, this time she might as well have doused herself in gasoline. “What. The. Fuck.” Now that he had both her wrists in the tight hold, he looked almost pissed again, like when she’d first stumbled upon him.

“You don’t want to spar with me.” Rhea stated calmly, “You don’t have anyone to spar with, you don’t like the idea of hitting a woman, so I thought why not hit you.” She tilted, using his hold on her, to pitch herself forward, looming over him, “There are other ways to get your anxious energy out, Mr. Tribal Chief. Violence for the sake of violence can happen in the ring or the bedroom.”

He made a sharp noise of complete irritation, “Learn that from Priest?”

“I’ve learned a lot from him.” She gave him a flirtatious wink, “His tips and tricks are endless.” She added, “Would you like to learn some of them?” Roman frowned at her, his brow knitting together like he was in deep, deep thought. “Or not.” She acted like she was going to stand, using his hold on her wrist to push herself away from him, but his hold tightened if possible, and he refused to let her move far away. “No one takes care of you, huh?” She purred, “They want you to take care of them, and that leaves absolutely no time for you to just relax.” Rhea might also rather enjoy having power over Roman, not that she would use it for evil or anything, Damian might though, once she told the boys about this. He was after all the sadist who planned most of their big game plans. “No one lets you be babied, huh?” She squeezed her knees in tight, hugging his ribs, where she was still straddling him. He looked confused, a bit alarmed, but his pupils were still blown and he didn’t seem like he was going to push her away, “Can I take care of you, Chief?” She asked, with a bit of a purr, Dom was going to be jealous, but he’d get over it.

“What uh, what does that mean?” Roman asked after a beat.

Rhea laughed, “You like being in charge, being the top dog, right? Well, let me be in charge, let me call the shots.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him, “Let me help you release your violence.” Roman frowned, Rhea watched him work somethings out in what she was going to graciously call his big beautiful brain. Slowly, carefully, he released his grip on her wrist, and nodded his head. “Words, Rome.” Rhea ordered, sharply. He looked confused, “Don’t tell me no one has ever called you Rome, it’s literally in your name, low hanging fruit.” She grumbled the last, while rubbing her wrist, “Words, you need to tell me yes or no outloud.”

“Rhea…” He tried her name out, and honestly she didn’t think she’d ever heard him refer to her as anything other than Ripley or Brutality, “Help me release my violence.” He sounded so small, and fragile, and like he’d rather be asking her literally anything else. It brought a smile to her lips, she liked turning big powerful men into her own little pets. Not that she thought she’d get to keep Roman, realistically whatever this was, would fall into the category of a one-off. “Please?”

She realized she’d been admiring him for a bit too long, “Don’t worry, Rome, I’m going to help.” She cast her gaze around the sparring room, “We can’t do this here, though.” A frown pulled at her lips, “Are you in a single hotel room?” He nodded, “Cool, let’s go.” She shuffled off of him, then helped him stand, “Grab my bag, too, give me the keys.” Roman took well to being bossed around, she grinned as he did what she asked, “Rule number one,” She pushed the door open that led to the main floor of Gold’s Gym, “Violence is allowed, and welcomed, I asked that you don’t hit my face, due to recent injury.” She waved goodbye to the desk clerk (who had wide eyes and had not so subtly been watching the sparring room camera she would hazard to guess), as she pushed open the exit, “Two, you have to communicate with me if you like something or if you don’t.”

“I understand one and two.” Roman grumbled, “Normally I’m the one making rules.”

“I know.” She shot him a wink over her shoulder, “That’s why it’s so fun, let me have control.” She headed for the driver's door and wrenched it open to climb into the driver's seat as he loaded both their bags into the back, “What room number are you in?”

“892. Why?” Roman demanded as he climbed into the passenger side. Rhea didn’t bother to answer, choosing instead to text Damian that she needed a couple things out of her and Dom’s room, and to let the younger boy know that she would not be coming to their room tonight, she paused long enough to hear back from Damian with an affirmative. “Rhea?”

“I need some things from my room.” She said evenly, “Now you do not get to freak out when we get back to the hotel.” She started the SUV and pointedly drove them quickly and efficiently back to the shared hotel - WWE preferred they all be in the same location accommodation-wise. Roman, blessedly, did not talk when they arrived at his room, with Damian in just tight black boxers leaning against the door, scratches down his chest, and a red travel sized bag in his hands, it looked small, but that was largely due to how big Damian was, “Thank you.” Rhea offered, when she took the bag from him, Damian looked pointedly at Roman, before he ducked closer and kissed Rhea’s neck, “Go away, Priest, I’ve got someone to fuck with tonight that isn’t one of you three.”

Damian laughed, hard, then cast Roman another dubious look, before he headed for the elevator, he paused to call back, “Dominik is gonna want details in the morning, Rips.” With that he climbed onto the elevator, and headed down - their set of rooms was located on the sixth floor.

“What the fuck?” Roman muttered, clearly confused.

“Don’t be judgy.” Rhea pushed his side, “In the room we go.” She made a motion to get him to open the door, he did as she asked, “There is absolutely no way in hell you’ve never just causally fucked you're friends, like I’ve seen you, it’s impossible.” She muttered mostly under her breath as she followed him in. He dropped both their bags, as she tossed the red bag at the bed, without warning (and really she was going to have to think Finn for teaching her the subtle art of sneak attacks) she slammed into Roman from behind, knocking him half into the wall, before they both crashed into the floor between the wall and the bed, this time instead of straddling his hips, she straddled his chest, “This ok?” He nodded, a bit wide eyed, “Been a while since someone knocked you on your ass huh?” He shrugged, she grinned wildly, bright like a Cheshire cat, before she moved so her nose was about an inch away from his.

“Are we gonna kiss now?” Roman sneered, Rhea lunged, biting his bottom lip hard enough to bring blood, immediately Roman attempted to toss her off, only for her to fight back, “I don’t want to hurt you-” He stopped when she headbutted him, “You know what-” He moved to push her off, his hands going to her ribs, and gripping tight, she countered by softly kissing his now bleeding lip, he let out a whiney sort of ‘omph’ before returning the kiss, admittedly with a bit of hesitation, like he was afraid of being bitten again, Rhea made a mental note not to bite him as hard the next time. Rhea tugged on his shirt, which seemed to give him the idea, it was a flurry of movement, ripping and pulling at each other in a way that echoed Roman’s need for control and Rhea’s need to be brutal, the undress isn’t her favorite part of this anyway, so the pile of shredded clothes they leave by the bedside table is absolutely nothing for her.

It’s in their genetic makeup, she swears, for them to tossel and grapple like they are in the ring - almost like a no disqualification match. It only takes her nails raking up either side of his spine and a softer but still sharp bite to his stomach for him to react. The first streak of pain that lights up her neurons comes from his grip on the back of her neck, his thumb and fingers digging in deliciously as he yanked her away from his stomach, his chest heaving minutely as he shot her a glare before turning the tables and flipping them, Rhea let out a tapered moan as he smashed her back into the headboard and bit at her neck and collarbone. His bites, while tentative, are different. It’s difficult for her to conceptualize, but her body knows Damian’s teeth, knows the slap of Finns’s hand, knows the heat of Dominik’s talented tongue - Roman is new, uncharted territory as his bite melts to kisses, his hands loosening on her shoulders to grip harshly at her sides. From his low grunts and harsh exhales she could tell he was thinking about something, the resounding slap to her right hip wasn’t what she thought, but she arched back into it, letting out a filthy little pur all her own.

Whoever Roman is - and she is sure this isn’t even remotely his normal behavior pattern - he underestimated his strength. She fights him for dominance, but it’s a futile effort, until he allows her to roll them again. Sharp and bright she smiled at him before she bit at his Adams apple. “Tell me…” Roman started as she licked and kissed and scratched and bit her way down his frankly ridiculous chest. “Do they hurt you?” It’s a loaded question, one that Rhea had absolutely no patience for. Instead of answering him she licked at his hip bone and tugged harshly at his happy trail, it was his turn to arch his back and let out a series of curses before he fisted a hand in her hair and tugged, “They do and you like it.” The darkness in his gaze was predatory to a point but tonight wasn’t about him getting her to release a demon or two. No, Rhea was going to give the Chief what he needed for the betterment of the whole company. She pulled away from him, eyes looking over him as she sat between his spread legs. He and Damian were built differently with muscle mass and weight distributions. Roman if possible had aspects of all three of her boys bodies, he wasn’t as big as Damian in the duck department, his chest wasn’t as hard as Finn’s, and what little baby fat rested around his midsection wasn’t nearly as cute as Dominik’s but all in all - she could work with it.

“We hurt each other.” She finally offered as she grabbed the red travel case that Damian had brought. She plopped it down on his stomach and watched him frown at how deceptively heavy it was. She dug out what she wanted - flavored lube and a condom, dropping both on the bed by Roman’s hip, he was hard, achingly so already and just from a little bit of play. She wondered what it would be like to really take her time with him. Maybe someday she will get that chance. Tonight, however, wasn’t that. “I’m going to let you fuck my face.” She explained, “Then I’m going to sit on yours until I’ve cum at least twice.” His eyes widened, “If you do a good job with you're tongue I’ll let you fuck me, but I want it hard, fast and painful.”

“If I don’t make you cum twice,” Roman rubbed at his chest, where Rhea had left behind long scratches. “What happens?”

“Obviously then I teach you how you should eat a partner out and I fuck you.” She tilted the red travel case forward to show off one of the smaller dildos that always traveled with her, about five inches long and maybe an inch thick. It wasn’t something she used often, but it was always good to have around. He gave her a snarl but nodded his head, “Words, Rome.” She pinched his nipple, hard enough he swatted at her, “See you're learning.”

“I agree, now I believe you said something about me fucking you're face?” Leave it to Roman Reigns to be a cocky bastard, she shot him a heated look before she grabbed the lube, without warning it up in her hands she poured the cold coconut flavored lube over his cock making him wince. “God you're a bit-“ his insult was cut off by her fisting his cock and pumping her hand up and down his length twice to spread the lube down his shaft. His hand shot to tangle back in her hair, yanking her forward by her dark locks. She let him guide her mouth to the tip of his cock, before she pinched his inner thigh, hard. He bucked up, pushing his cock head against her lips, she rubbed her closed lips over his head, making him snarl low in frustration.

Roman pushed her short hair out of her face with his other hand, before he tugged again, this time Rhea opened her mouth, letting him slide the head of his dick into her mouth, she eagerly slurped her tongue around the sensitive head. She’d been choaking on dicks for as long as she and Damian had been fucking around, and personally she loved the moment cocks hit the back of her throat, she loved rough thrust, she loved the dizzing lack of oxygen - now if only she could come up with a way to convey that to Roman. She tucked her hands under his thighs, pressing up until she could grip his ass cheeks, then pushed her mouth down, the harsh hold he had on her hair only serving to make her wetter, as she also pushed his ass upwards. He let out a string of jumbled words and sharp cries, as she swallowed around his meat, taking him as far down her throat as possible, inhaling proudly as her nose was as tickled by his dark curly public hair. His grip on her head changed, to almost soft before he was tugging her back up and thrusting his hips up to chase the wet tight warmth of her throat.

She’s sloppy at it, always letting spit dribble from the corners of her mouth, it’s easy for Rhea to get lost in the sensations, in the delicious drag of cock past the back of her throat and down, of the explosion of salty precum against her taste buds, of the punishing tangle of hair pulling and her lack of oxygen when her partner gets overzealous and holds her head down, forcing her nose against dark curls. She has to remind herself that as much as she is enjoying the rough throat fucking that Roman is providing her, this isn’t about her. She’s generously helping the leader of the Bloodline relax. His grip while punishing, is honestly the one thing grounding her, as he pulls her completely ip and off his cock, her saliva leaving a spit trail, “Fuck you're a goddamn slut.” Roman sounded like she felt so, insult aside, she licked her lips and opened her mouth again, sticking her tongue out. He wasted no time dragging her back down, “Bet you fucking love taking cock, fuck men up at ringside all the time when all you want is to be fucked like the little whore-“ she pressed her teeth in just a little near the base of his cock, his hips shuddered, oh he liked that. She sunk her nails into his asscheeks and resumed sucking his cock like the little slut he apparently thought she was. Even though he doesn’t let her breathe as often as she would like, he starts a rhythm of ducking into her mouth while also moving her head so that her mouth and throat are angled to where he wants them. By the time he’s exploding down her neck, thick cum and tasting saltier than her boys, his hands were cradling the base of her skull and he’d planted his feet on the bed to properly thrust down her throat. She deployed what she could, then pulled off as his hands fell away, she let her mouth stay open so some of his unswallowed cum could run down her chin and drop on his cock.

“Seems like you like slutty little whores, Rome.” She countered as she climbed up him, he was still panting as she crawled up the the head of the bed, and turned on her knees, before looking down at him, “I’m so fucking wet from you throat fucking me, Chief.” With that she sat down on his face, smiling as his hands immediately flew to her hips and she felt the first exhale against her pussy lips. She was being nice, if it were Dominik or Finn beneath her she’d have smashed her pussy directly onto his face with no regard for his need to breathe, but. She shivered as he just breathed for a moment.

“Fuck you smell good.” His voice sounded wrecked, but before she could check on him for real, his tongue slid between her outer lips and dipped into her core. She rocked her hips just a little, trying to encourage him to tonge fuck her, instead he gave her what amounted to kitten licks before he used his grip on her hips to shift her enough he could get at both her swollen clit and her slit. She gasped as his eager tongue went to work, his sharp teeth scraping against her clit when he got too excited chasing a taste, her moans only seemed to push him to work harder to get more and more of the creamy goodness out of her. He alternated between fucking his tongue in and out of her slit, and harshly sucking on her clit or scraping his sharp teeth over her swollen clit. She rocked her hips to get his tongue and teeth where she wanted them, her first orgasim sneaking up on her, she clamped her thighs hard around his head, letting out a long groan of her own, before stretching out down the front of Roman’s body, her head resting against his hip bone, as she exhaled and inhaled, Roman seemed to understand that she was a bit sensitive, occasionally the monster that led the Bloodline would tease her with an exhale that ghosted over her sensitive clit.

“You gonna be able to handle a second one, Nightmare?” Roman sounded smug.

Rhea didn’t give him a chance to be smug for long, she pushed herself back up and resigned herself to treat him like Dominik and Finn, rutting against Roman’s face, not sure if he could breathe or not, she gave him a break to breathe, then went back to rubbing her cunt against his face, hoping to soak him down with her cum. “I can handle more than you could even begin to think about.” She groaned, as Roman worked to lick and nip at her, as she took what she wanted from him, chasing a second orgasim. Her second orgasm was rushed, which was fine for her, the hectic need of something more, something bigger was racing up her spine. Panting, and loose limbed, she climbed off of him, and sprawled out on the bed, both of them were sweaty in a way that working out never seemed to get them. Roman had pressed up from the prone position he’d been laying in, to manhandle her to where he wanted - with Rhea’s head in the center of the bed, and her butt barely on the bed.

“My turn, right?” He roughly rolled her onto her stomach, and forced her to bend her knees.

“That’s right.” Rhea laughed, “Fuck the worries away.” She shot him a smile over her shoulder.

He dipped to kiss her lips, biting at her lips, and forcing his tongue into her mouth, even as he moved one of the nearby pillows to rest under her lower stomach, raising her hips of the bed just enough that with him standing upright behind her he wouldn’t have to bend his knees too much to fuck into her. She allowed him to force her legs apart so he could settle between them, she heard the rip of the condom foil, and the hiss of Roman’s discomfort at rolling it on, then the snick of the lube cap opening, she wiggled a bit to get more comfortable, as she crossed her arms to rest her head on, he re-gripped her hips. “Are you sure?”

“You're going to ask that after we made each other cum?” Rhea gave him a rude look, “Just fuck-” She yelped as he did exactly what he asked, slamming his hips forward, and sinking his cock into her, balls deep, in one swift thrust. “Oh my fucking…” Rhea trailed off as she shifted, to move her hips so he could piston in and out of her the way he wanted.

Roman’s thrust were powerful, enough so they rocked Rhea forward slightly, he sunk in as deep as he could, and reached for her hands, pulling her arms back, and ordering, “Hold you're ass.” Rhea did as he asked, spreading her asscheeks apart, so he could watch himself fuck in and out of her, Roman moved his hands to her wrist, securing her hands, his grip made her bones ache in the perfect way, as he savagely started pistoning in and out of her, again, his hipbones hitting her hard enough she was sure he was going to bruise her, the thrill of it only served to make her hotter. Roman’s thrust drove him deep enough into Rhea, she swore she saw stars, the delicious drag of his cock against her inner walls sent ripples through her whole body, Rhea was sure she was making the unholy noises that drove her boys crazy, as Roman continued his assault. Roman released his hold on her left wrist, to drape himself over her body, and force his pointer and middle finger into her mouth, the position change forced his dick to strike her g-spot, on thrust in, she wasn’t sure what she was even trying to saying (since Roman’s fingers curled against her cheek and pulling harshly limited her ability to form actual words) but it had Roman chuckling darkly, as he not only speed up his thrust, but angled them to perfectly line up and strike her g-spot over and over again, she felt the tears start, as Roman yanked on her cheek, his fingers pressing against her tongue.

She could feel the presure building, and tried, aimlessly to swat at Roman to let him know, but he didn’t slow down even as she clinched around him hard, new tears starting on her lashes, as he shifted yet again, and released her right wrist, to force his right index and middle finger into her mouth as well, he couldn’t thrust as deep or as harshly with this new position, but he was still striking her g-spot, and rubbing everything inside her just fucking right, even as Roman seemed hellbent on stretching her mouth open as much as he could, sniffling, Rhea moved her hands to hold Roman’s wrists, as his hips stuttered, and he let out a long, loud, “Rheeea.” He pulled his fingers free of her mouth, and pretty much collapsed on her, she wiggled her hips and let out a little growl - he was heavy, she was overstimulated, and coated in sweat.

It took a good twenty minutes before Roman was ready to move significantly, he’d mercifully pulled out of her, and rolled onto the bed beside her, allowing her to climb onto the bed, and attempt to get comfortable. “Do you feel better?” Rhea asked, face down in the comforter they hadn’t bothered to take off the bed before fucking around.

“Actually, yes.” Roman laughed, “But now I feel disgusting.” He admitted.

“Best way to fix that,” Rhea shakily sat up, her legs tucked under her body, “Is to carry me to the bathroom so we can both shower…” Roman, who had been covering his eyes with his left forearm, moved his arm to shoot her an amused look, “You're the beastly man, I’m the dainty woman, do the thing.”

“Nothing about you, Rhea Ripley, is dainty.” Roman smarted, but he did as she’d asked, standing on his own shaking legs, to haul her up and over his shoulder, to the bathroom - the clock on the bedside table read almost four in the morning, Rhea shook her head amused, the pair showered together, and after a bit of pushing and shoving, agreed to crash out together, in the large king size bed (Rhea didn’t want to risk waking up Dominik, he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep). “Good night, you little nightmare.” Roman muttered, just as sleep started to pull her under, she swatted at him, instead of responding.

Rhea had thought about slipping out of the hotel room unnoticed, but the near-pounding at just after nine in the morning woke not only her but Roman. The pair shared a look of pure terror, as Rhea attempted to grab her discarded clothes and Roman wrapped himself up in a blanket, he tossed the door open - Rhea grinned as her boys pushed their way in, Dominik holding a tray of food that obviously was not from catering, Finn had clean clothes for Rhea in his arms, and Damian was bringing up the rear with a gallon a orange juice under one arm and a six-pack of gatorade dangling from his free hand, “Morning, Mami.” Dominik skipped over to kiss her lips, quickly, “Damo said you needed breakfast, and that we should bring the Tribal Chief something, too.”

Roman glanced around them, eyes wide, as Damian kicked the door shut, “Morning, Reigns, Gatorade or orange juice?” Roman gave Rhea a wide eyed look, as Finn kissed her quickly on the cheek, and Damian moved to settle breakfast down on the bed, “Man, Dominik got some of the best breakfast, there was a little diner over by Gold’s Gym…” Rhea smiled to herself as her boys rattled off their nighttime and morning activities, slowly Roman moved to join them, Dominik passed him a fork, and nudged a bit of eggs toward him.

“Mami was good to you, right?” Dominik asked, as he snagged a piece of bacon.

Roman choked on the eggs he’d just shoved into his mouth, Finn let out a sharp whistle, “Dom, you can’t just ask people how well Mami fucked them.” Rhea couldn’t help but laugh, as Roman looked mortified, “Just fucking with you, Chief, we know how great she is in bed.” Roman cast his eyes back toward Rhea, who shrugged.

“Thank you, Rhea.” He offered, with an almost-blush on his cheeks, “Uh, does this make us friends?” He asked the group at large.

Collectively the four members of the Judgment Day answered, honestly, “Nope.”

#Rhea Ripley x Roman Reigns #rhea ripley fanfic #the judgment day fanfic #the bloodline #roman reigns #rhea ripley

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tampire · 1 year

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Disarming Penance in Final Fantasy X and Beheading Major Numerus in Final Fantasy X-2

#Final Fantasy X #Final Fantasy X2 #ffgraphics #ffedit #Final Fantasy #Penance #Major Numerus #Yojimbo #Yuna #Daigoro #Almighty Shinra #Shinra #Airship Fahrenheit #Airship Celcius #Fiend Arena #My Gif #Gaming #gamingedit

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toomuchracket · 7 months

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i have a feeling that d word girly named matty 2.0 peanut 🥹

:(( this news is so endearing to me. and yeah! maybe the two of you are just larking about in the arena before a show, watching them build the b-stage, and when they wheel the props box with 2.0 in it out matty's like "ah, there he is, my boy". and you're like "lol you sound exactly like your dad when he talks about you", and matty laughs and says "yeah, my son's in that box there" - you take the piss a little bit and say "you should name him. not after yourself, though, let him have his own identity", and matty's like "i mean he is literally me. but yeah". and he thinks for a minute and says "nah, my head's blank. do you have any suggestions, sweetheart?, and you shake your head like "nope, you're not hijacking my potential baby names list for this", and matty's eyes widen like "your WHAT?!"; you're like "what? a lot of girls have them. it's called being prepared", and matty's like "weird. but whatever. and you won't let me see it?", and you're like "not unless we needed to actually consider it, no". matty smirks, and you open your mouth to be like "no, not now", but before you can speak matty's face softens and he says "i know, i know, we're too busy for that right now, and we need to settle down a bit more before we consider it. but i'm looking forward to all of that with you". he kisses your head as you snuggle into him and say "me too", and it's quietly tender for a second - the moment is ruined by the sight of the crew taking 2.0 out of his box in a most undignified way, and the two of you just snort and giggle to each other as you watch it - literally - unfold. you're like "any names coming to you now?", and matty shakes his head like "still nothing. maybe he needs to develop a bit more before i can christen him"; you're like "maybe you should just do that thing expectant parents do with their devloping babies and name him after a foodstuff for the the time being lmao", and matty's like "you know that's why the macdonalds call eilidh 'bean'? ross started it before she was born and it just stuck". you smile like "i thought that might've been the case. bean is one of the cute ones, i think. and peanut. but i think sprout is weird lol", and matty turns to you like "peanut IS cute. yeah, let's do that", and you laugh like "alright. peanut it is. let's label the box so it's official". matty rolls his eyes like "you and that fucking label maker. you're a fiend", but kisses you quickly and says "alright. let's go and christen peanut officially, then". cute!

p.s. i also think you would put a little blanket over him in the box too lmao. matty pretends he finds it daft but actually he thinks you're adorable <3

#mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #d word matty #literal d word #satvb #peanut

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the1975attheirverybest · 7 months

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Still At Their Very Best

A/N: this was supposed to be part of the countdown to opening night before “tropical storm Ophelia” fucked with my Wi-Fi. I have since gone back and edited it to include elements of the real show, now that we know what it looks like. I’m feeling very sentimental and proud of Matty so this is kinda sappy and shit.

Warning: none.

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“The 1975” logo projected over the dark blue curtain like The Bat Signal, announcing the superhero’s arrival to save the day. Fans gathered around the arena, taking pictures of themselves, each other, the veiled stage, all in impatient anticipation of the band to come out.

She eavesdropped on conversations around her, knowing that the 20 something year old girl with the deep attachment to “Frail State of Mind” who had dismissed the fantasy of hearing it live because “they’d never put that on a setlist,” was about to have her mind blown; the best fiends who reminisced back on their tumblr aesthetic past would finally get to experience “Robbers” together. But most of all, she thought back to the early days of the boys’ career, remembering Matty describing to her how he used to spend the moments before show time looking out into the crowd and watching people “way cooler than him” come to see his band, feeling a sense of excitement, but also a sense of responsibility to make it worth people’s time. To meet their expectations and the faith that they’ve put in him and the boys. She knew, more than anyone, that the energy, excitement, and love that the crowd buzzed with out here was reciprocated backstage. The boys felt the same way about getting to be with their audience here tonight.

“Do you mind taking a picture of us?” She heard a nervous fan request from behind her, and instantly be told by her friend “oh my god, that’s Matty’s girlfriend why would you talk to her.” She obliged, happily, and answered their questions about what to expect as evasively as possible, winking at them. “You will not be disappointed, I can tell you that much.”

“Can you tell Matty we’ve both loved him since we were, like- like- 13?”

“Of course! Especially because it’ll make him feel old to hear that.”

What she kept to herself, however, was how proud she was to hear that. How much more in love with him she felt whenever she was around his work, his art, the community that he’d built around it.

The boys received a vivacious welcome when they stepped onstage. Adam clearly unable to contain his smile at the pulsing sound of fans screaming all around him. She knew that, even though Matty’s face was blank, facing away from the crowd, and adjusting his seat at the piano, he was just playing the part. Committing to the character. His heart was surely beating against his chest, especially with the added anticipation of this being an entirely new show.

Throughout the show, Matty looked for her face in the crowd whenever he felt a moment of uncertainty, or whenever he wanted to share an experience with her. She caught him looking into her eyes during “Happiness” as his body follower the groove of Waugh’s Saxophone, feeling as if he were asking her “can you believe this? It’s happening!” When the crowds cheered for his dramatic reveling in “I like my men like I like my coffee” she swore he looked at her, and winked, basking in the reaction the crowd had given him.

Halfway through the show, she found herself mystified. Looking up at him as if she were a fan, hanging on his every word, drinking in the sight of him, watching his feet tap against the stage when he danced, giggling along whenever he made silly faces or cracked a joke. She can’t dismiss or take the love of his fans lightly. They expected a lot of him, and they were right to do so. He was worth the investment. He was the best version of himself whenever he was onstage. And it made him happy. She loved watching him feel so good.

It wasn’t until the statue emerged onstage that she’d completely let her emotions take over, though. She’d watched him rehearse this moment a few times, so she knew what was about to happen. But the rehearsals were entirely different. There was an air of playfulness about the whole thing when it was just Matty, Brad, the boys, Patty and Tobias. They cut the tension by cracking jokes about how this was the natural progression of Matty’s self-obsession. To make a replica of himself and make out with it. That it was Freud’s wet dream. To have to watch someone interact with themselves in front of thousands of people. That it was Matty’s confirmation of the rumors concerning his life-changing dick. So the scene never felt overly serious in rehearsals.

Now, however, she thought back to every moment that had led to this scene. The multitudes of ways in which Matty had literally and metaphorically rendered himself exposed, naked, open in front of thousands of people. They knew about his friendships, about his relationships, trysts, stumbles, about his drug addiction, how the addiction had eaten away at him for years, about his subsequent recovery, then eventual relapse. About his mother and his father, about his breakups, mental health, his favorite books, his tattoos, where he lives, how he feels about himself. Matty never regretted wearing his heart out on his sleeve and sharing his best and his worst with people in the hope that it would make them feel less alone. But the world wasn’t always as kind in return. It wasn’t always possible for those who used his vulnerability against him to see how human, sensitive, soft, and gentle he is. He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders sometimes. Now, there he was, confronting the weakest version of himself with gentleness, comforting it, feeling every single persons eyes on him and having to commit to remaining defenseless and honest.

“Welcome to my nightmare ladies and gentlemen.”

Is when she’d lost it. Tears rolled down her face as she clapped along with the crowd. The smile that lit up his face in response to feeling that scene work exactly as he had hoped it would make her heart swell. She wished she could jump up onstage and kiss him right then and there.

“I love you” she mouthed to him when she caught his eyes for a brief, private, moment before she had to let him go and share him with the rest of the room again.

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theonlyren · 9 months

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The Brain Freeze Test

This summer's been a real scorcher, eh? I've been feeling the heat recently and decided after a good round at the arena I'd treat my team to ice cream. The first time I did so with a full team of six, actually, and it brought to mind the "Cheese" and "Peanut Butter" tests I've seen and done in the past, so figured I'd document how my squad handles the cold treats and see how they handle brain freezes because you know it's coming.

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Pokemon: Vivi the Sylveon Ice Cream Flavor: Rainbow Sherbet Result: Subject is an absolute fiend for Ice Cream, licked up and consumed at far too rapid a pace and quickly paused to address headache. Made skrunkly expression with face. Had two more observable brain freezes before cone was consumed. 10/10 Perfect Score, no further notes.

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Pokemon: Aka the Zoroark Ice Cream Flavor: Chocolate Chocolate Chip Result: Calmly consumed Ice Cream at controlled pace, no observable brain freeze as result. 8/10 good marks for self control.

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Pokemon: Kati the Gengar Ice Cream Flavor: Ube Result: Subject consumed ice cream and cone in one gulp and promptly ducked into observer's shadow. Moments later, temperature in Ice Cream store dropped noticeably. Test subject "ain't slick." 7/10.

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Pokemon: Jeanne the Corvisquire Ice Cream Flavor: Vanilla, delivered via Taste Testing Spoon Result: Subject pecked curiously at Ice Cream, seemingly disliked the flavor, coolness, and/or consistency, and promptly flung spoon and ice cream onto the floor. Subject deemed joyless and beyond hope. 0/10 Still love you, Jeanne.

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Pokemon: Strider the Dusk-Lycanroc Ice Cream Flavor: Rocky Road (I'm hilarious) Result: Subject received Ice Cream in bowl, attempted first to chew scoop in its entirety before recoiling at, presumably, the coldness of the treat. Shook off coldness and gave Ice Cream discerning, suspicious glare, as though betrayed. Proceeded to properly lick until consumed. 9/10 Good show, Strider.

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Pokemon: Davy the Kirlia Ice Cream Flavor: Mint Chocolate Chip Result: Subject quickly caught on to proper ice cream consumption and, after a few cautious test licks, found flavor enjoyable and consumed with vigor. Experienced one notable brain freeze, during which subject cried out, clearly confused by headache, and paused consumption of ice cream briefly before finishing cone. 8/10 Well done, Davy.

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Subject: Ren the Human Ice Cream Flavor: Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Result: I'm too cool for brain freezes. 😎 10/10 had ice cream.

#pokemon #pkmn irl #unreality #pokemon irl #sylveon #zoroark #gengar #corvisquire #lycanroc #kirlia #ice cream #flavor test #brain freezes #I love Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. Best Flavor. I will fight.#EDIT: Fucking Typos

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ambrosialcherrywine · 6 months

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Hi!

Due to health issues my fiend won’t be able to attend tonight’s (19.10.) Louis Tomlinson FITF show in Prague at O2 Arena. So she asked me to sell her e-ticket. She’s only selling it for price she’d bought it for, which is 60€. It’s a standing ticket.

Dm me for more info, thank u!

#louis tomlinson #fitfwt #selling #ticket #prague

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heraldofcrow · 1 year

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Eileen’s Madness and the Bloody Crow (Theory)

—

It’s interesting to note that Eileen’s dialogue about Bloody Crow is not as vicious sounding as one could hear it in the English.

She doesn’t actually call him “that thing.” Clearly, the translators must have seen “What lies beyond” or “Beyond here” and thought that the “object” of that sentence was in direct reference to what Crow actually was. Eileen was referring to what lay beyond in a general sense, not “a thing lies ahead” in the manner one would speak of a incomprehensible monster. Bloody Crow is not a “thing” to her, rather he is her prey once again.

Now what’s interesting is that Eileen calling Crow “that thing” in English can make it sound either incredibly impersonal or very personal. She could be calling him that because he’s merely a mindless killer that ruthlessly attacked her, and therefore monstrous, or she could call him so out of pure vitriol. If the latter, we would have to assume that he was special to push Eileen to that level of anger. Her saying that it was her score to settle adds to the personal feeling we get from her fight with him.

But now…knowing that type of speech doesn’t exist in the Japanese, it would be easy to assume it’s not personal. However, I still feel like it is nonetheless, albeit with less anger than we might imagine. For one, Eileen calls Bloody Crow her prey, but absolutely does not bother to explain anything about him. When telling us about Henryk, she explained that he was an old hunter that went mad. She also has no trouble speaking to us about Gascoigne, and her warning about Henryk is very straightforward. “He’s my target. Don’t go over there because he’s dangerous.” She’s warning you to be careful.

Once she realizes you killed Gascoigne, she also just recommends keeping your hands clean even if you’re clearly strong.

But with Bloody Crow, things seem different. She doesn’t explain who he is, she doesn’t say he’s mad, and she only says her wound was a mistake or slip-up. But again…no elaboration on any of this. She just says not to interfere, which seems like it’s because she wants to be the one to kill the Bloody Crow. Now it could easily be because she doesn’t want you to get hurt, or because she wants to suck it up despite her old age, but the problem is…if Bloody Crow were just another blood-drunk hunter, wouldn’t she explain that to you and remind you to keep your hands clean again? There’s just this lack of communication on her part this time around.

Before it was, “Hey, Henryk and Gascoigne lost their heads, but don’t worry about trying to kill people like that anymore. It’s my job.”

This time, we have a strange situation where Eileen’s prey is another Crow apparently, but shows no evident signs of madness. Meanwhile, Eileen tells you to stay away and not interfere, but with no warning or explanation about her prey. Plus, Bloody Crow was obviously powerful enough to actually wound her. This is actually a big deal. Even in her old age, Eileen is shown to still be adept enough to be able to take on your typical blood-drunk hunter, and risks doing so. Bloody Crow broke that trend. He’s different from the rest.

Now, it could be that she just randomly found him and attacked, thinking he was blood-drunk, was beaten, sees you, tells you to stay away, and offers no backstory because she doesn’t know anything about the Crow.

But…to me that doesn’t make sense. Bloody Crow is silent and precise, he shows no signs of blood-drunkenness. Henryk and Gascoigne did. They yelled and growled like animals, and Gascoigne even transformed. Crows stands in place and does not leave his arena. He fights with caution and exercises his skills in combat like a fiend.

So, why on earth would Eileen attack him? She’s not stupid. She knows exactly what blood-drunk hunters are like. Bloody Crow doesn’t fit in with them. He’s too coherent.

Let’s also not ignore the huge elephant in the room. He’s literally suggested to be a Vileblood, or else a pretty high-standing resident of Cainhurst. But he’s just hanging out in Yharnam’s Grand Cathedral like it’s nothing.

Seriously. Based on his absurd strength, his use of the Chikage, and the rune he drops, it’s very possible that he is a Vileblood via Annalise’s blood or maybe a relative of hers at least. He uses Numbing Mist, which is a recipe kept secret by the Cainhurst nobles in particular, so he had to have been of Cainhurst aristocracy at some point, either by descent or induction.

What’s weirder is his use of the Hunter’s Bone and how his Repeating Pistol suggests a connection with the Healing Church and their hunters. The Hunter’s Bone is the most baffling thing though, because using that tool to recall the art of quickening is something the Dream hunters would have done. Maria and Gehrman’s generation could quicken without the one, but hunters that pass through the Dream use it to recall the skill. This implies that the Crow either had access to the Dream, or still does.

Oh and, one more thing…his rune suggests that he could have also been hunting blood-drunk hunters himself, which means that he could have been a Crow for that reason, or rather, was manipulating the position in order to hide his blood dreg hunting. Either way, his entire aesthetic is bizarre and is connected to three different factions.

My theory is that he definitely was a Crow, but could have been manipulating the role, and along the way, he decided to grow stronger by adopting further methods of combat. He and Eileen both dreamed at one point, so that’s probably when he got the bone…and his pistol could have easily been acquired from some blood-drunk church hunter he killed.

But now back to the dilemma we have with his and Eileen’s quest. So…assuming our theory above is true, and taking into consideration a few of the following things—

He isn’t evidently blood-drunk.

Eileen must know this and therefore probably knows/hunts him for some other reason. (Remember, she calls him her prey).

The odd little detail that he doesn’t chase her down to finish her off (he literally refuses to leave the cathedral, which suggests a hesitance/lack of determination in regards to Eileen).

With all this on the table, then why are they fighting each other?

This is why I think it’s personal and we aren’t meant to know the full story. Eileen’s lack of explanation, Crow’s appearance/connections/identity, Crow’s failure/refusal to finish Eileen off, Eileen fighting him even though he isn’t drunk…it all contributes to the feeling that they had something going on. And I feel like I have an even stronger piece of evidence to seal this off.

It’s Eileen’s madness at the end of her quest if we don’t help her.

Ever wonder why the hell Eileen just suddenly goes insane in the cathedral if we don’t do her quest? Ever wonder why she specifically says that the hunters must die to stop the nightmare/madness? Ever wonder where Bloody Crow is in this scenario?

It raises a LOT of questions, but I think I have an idea of what the answer may be.

Our quest with Eileen is essentially about our persistence to aid an older warrior with a grim task that most hunters likely wouldn’t feel comfortable doing. Eileen tells us to stay away and keep clean, but we don’t listen. We keep pushing and eventually she relents because we prove ourselves to be reliable. We literally save her skin, likely earning her trust and allowing her to let her guard down before giving us the badge. We build trust, we establish an unspoken bond.

But if we don’t help Eileen, who does she have to turn to? Who could she ever pass her badge to? She’s the one that tells us about how most of Yharnam has turned. There aren’t many humans left, and in the midst of it all, Gascoigne and Henryk both go mad. Their whole family dies off. Eileen is essentially alone and without allies. There just aren’t enough sane hunters left, so her mantle is in danger of being lost for good. We can imagine this leads to a strong sense of isolation and dread for Eileen. Her duty, her legacy…it’s all at stake, and she’s alone, aging, and wandering amid an almost apocalyptic city. Add on top of that the endless suffering surrounding her and the insanity that overtakes the remaining survivors when the blood moon descends. It’s horrifyingly grim, and I don’t doubt it could send anyone into despair, no matter how resistant they are.

Now imagine Eileen is dealing with this, and she comes across Bloody Crow, an long-term enemy, though possibly once her apprentice. If she has no one to pass her mantle to, then she has to survive the fight with Crow. Failure isn’t an option.

I think that’s what sends her mad.

She wins. She summons up the rage and energy she needs to defeat him, because she has no other choice. But it leaves her completely alone, grieved, and in utter despair. It gets worse if you consider the possibility that they had once been close. That would break someone.

So, then we find her in the Cathedral, Bloody Crow dead and gone…and her duty twisted into insanity.

These words are specifically targeted towards hunters. The blame is on hunters.

“Hunters must die! They’re all drunk! End the nightmare! That’s my task.”

It’s her Crow’s mission, but deranged and almost vengeful sounding, as if she’s blaming hunters for the nightmare. She demands their blood. They’re all drunk.

And you know what? I’m betting money that these words were the exact type of rhetoric that Bloody Crow was spewing out before Eileen killed him. I think Eileen takes his place and his goal after killing him. He probably was meant to be her successor, but something happened and he despaired, blaming hunters for the nightmare. He wanted their blood, the blood of echo fiends…that was his task. His cold, calculated excuse was given through his Rapture rune. As a servant of the queen, the blood of drunken hunters was exactly what he needed.

I think it all ties together, that Eileen’s words and behavior in the cathedral reveal the answers about Bloody Crow’s motivation. I still don’t think he was blood-drunk, but rather mad in a different way. It was a cold fury that had possessed him and drove him into becoming a vengeful monster that slew hunters wherever he could. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been a big part of the reason why there were so few hunters in Yharnam by the time we arrived. Crows are trained to kill hunters. They’re extremely dangerous, and a rogue one? That’s terrifying. Eileen probably was obliged to hunt him for a long time. They had a score to settle, rooted in betrayal and anger. A battle between the young student and his master. (Keep in mind, Bloody Crow’s vocal data is the “youthful male” set. He sounds young, and I must wonder if that was intentional).

But I’m also wondering if perhaps they still held back due to a previous bond, and that’s why Eileen loses if we follow her quest. I think she had hope that not all was lost, and that she still could pass her mantle to someone else. So, she didn’t give into bloodlust and madness, then she lost and escaped, basically sparing Bloody Crow. Then we appeared and slew Bloody Crow for her, healing the rift for good. That’s when Eileen gave us the responsibility of her league of hunter hunters.

And who knows, maybe Bloody Crow even held back by not ensuring her death, and that’s why he isn’t still attacking Eileen by the time we arrive. Maybe his anger was directed towards us simply for being another “drunken” hunter that he needed to kill.

This is of course, speculation, but Eileen’s dialogue when she loses her mind seems so telling. It feels like we’re meant to see what the despair of a HOH looks like, and perhaps receive a glimpse into Bloody Crow as a character. Why else would Eileen suddenly lose her head and take BC’s place if we never aided her? I just think it makes sense that her isolation, her lack of a successor, her survival of the blood moon, and her killing of the person that may very well have been her old apprentice would all be contributing factors to the state we find her in. It makes so much sense story-wise as well.

It also would reveal a really interesting key point in the overall lore of the Crows as well. There’s something elusive and elite about this faction. They seem almost immune to the beast plague because of their strength and skill. They don’t need to worry about the beasts because they’re too busy worrying about the warriors that hunt the beasts regularly. They’re on another level.

So, I think exploring the idea of, “Okay, but what drives them mad? What does that look like?” is really fascinating. The answer seems to be “hunters.” Hunters become the problem and source of a Crow’s madness. This is just so unique because of how many other characters in the story go insane because of the beast plague, or the gods. It’s the eldritch horror that drives others mad, but for a Crow, their weakness is other humans. It ties directly into their mission.

Anyway, I’m definitely starting to ramble here so I’ll just conclude this by saying: I think there’s more to Eileen and Bloody Crow’s quest line than meets the eye. We just gotta follow the subtle clues laid out along the way. We are experiencing the story from an outsider’s perspective after all, so we don’t get many answers, but I think the end results of our choices drop hints about what happened. Eileen’s madness and Bloody Crow’s absence being the result of our lack of involvement doesn’t seem like a coincidence. We change the story by choosing to fight for Eileen.

#And yes i also am writing this to consider for my fic because i gotta cover their story #It’s really important to me because i think there’s so much potential for tragedy and angst #And these hints being actually in game have inspired me so much #Idk i just love my favorite crows <3 #eileen the crow #bloody crow of cainhurst #le crows #bloodborne #bloodborne lore #bloodborne theories #CrowNotes #long post

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