#Dropped Object Prevention

[mtandtgroup-blog]

Explore engineered netting solutions like WEB Catch™ for dropped object prevention. Ensure safety with debris protection for bridges, construction, and offshore installations.

[moderatetoaboveaverage]

"Boil water to turn fan" as if multistage steam turbine generators are not one of the sexiest kinds of machines every made

nuclear power is impressive until you get up to why. "we use the most precisely engineered machinery ever created to split atoms to release energy" oh yeah how come? "boil water to turn a fan" get the fuck out

[reasonsforhope]

"Colombia’s congress has voted to change a law that allowed minors to get married with parental consent.

The proposal would make the minimum age for marriage 18, and seeks to protect the rights and development opportunities for minors. It still must be signed into law by President Gustavo Petro.

Currently, the country’s civil code allows person as young as 14 years old to get married with parental consent.

The initial proposal to reform the law – presented in 2023 – used the slogan “they’re girls, not wives” and aimed to prevent young girls from being forced to marry, to be subject to different forms of violence and to miss out on education and development opportunities.

“Minors are not sexual objects, they’re girls,” congresswoman Clara López Obregón said in a statement after the proposal was greenlit.

Child marriage remains a widespread practice worldwide and affects around 12 million girls per year, according to the UN’s agency for children, UNICEF.

But there’s been a global drop in child marriages over the past few years, according to the agency’s statistics. “Ten years ago, one in four young women aged 20 to 24 was married as a child. Today that number has fallen to one in five,” UNICEF said.

In Latin America, poverty is the main factor leading to minors getting married, according to UNICEF."

[fromgoy2joy]

Let's write about Jewish characters in dynamic ways- that make it clear "Yes this is us. Yes, we are living our lives with this happiness and ritual, and we love it. "

Like it's so easy to write about, to have casual observances of Judaism and cultural practices be in the background of stories. I'll write of the few examples I can think of in my frame of reference as a college student-

there's a mezuza in the doorway of a college kid's apartment. Whenever his friends come over, it's a reach for some of them to touch it because both he and the rabbi who installed it are 6 foot three. The others feel like a middle school boy slapping the ceiling as they try and reach for the damn thing.

Characters rush on public transport to get to a rabbi's house on shabbat. The train is due. There's a flurry of regrouping, then trying to call a missing friend to get there, and then the process of methodically hiding Magen davids and jewish objects because getting to shabbat dinner without a situation was an order from college Hillel staff.

A character is half-drunk at 2 AM at the convenience store but has to scan the list of ingredients on their chemically disgusting snack for gelatin.

Said character is prevented by her friends from only sustaining herself on 7/11 slushees "even though it's all kosher!"

There are references to the Purim incident constantly- it is never clarified what happened on Purim.

the hypothetical gang of characters are in the middle of nowhere on a grand magical adventure. The main character notices a mezuza on a door of a cabin, knocks on it, and has an in-depth conversation with the resident. Then, he waves his friends over. "Hey, guys! We have a place to stay tonight!" Because through the magic of Jewish geography, it was discovered that the grumpy old Jewish man in the woods is the grand uncle of one of his Jewish Day school teachers

A character who eats cheesy bacon bagels regularly on passover has a deep respect for jewish ritual items. He kisses the siddurim as they're handed back into a pile, he always kisses his kippah that he wears for ritual purposes of shabbats and minions. He's very careful with these objects and keeps on claiming dropping something He is observant, and he cares so much, but not in the "typical" way. Just... please show the nuance in practice.

The big "going out night" for our fearless college student isn't Friday but saturday night because of shabbat.

The stain on the rabbi's couch is not to be mentioned

A character keeps on mentioning the stain anyway.

Jewish goodbyes after any event take a minimum of two hours and that's why the gang is delayed on their journey to save the world .

I want more representation than characters in novels saying "haha I'm jewish but eat bacon and love Christmas!" in such flat ways. Please feel free to add more hypothetical ways of representation in the comments !!! About or inspired by your own life and experiences ! Let's make this post vibrant!

[smutoperator]

Karina shower smut please

Spicy Illusions

Yu Jimin (Karina) x Male Reader

Tags: ahegao, bratty son, choking, creampie, dildo, real or not?, shower sex, stupid cheese cat, throwback, titfucking

Word count: 3496.

Karina had you in a chokehold. You could go all day watching her fancams and drooling at every move she made. Your favorite ones were those of the Spicy era, where Karina had her blonde hair. Her iconic Salty & Sweet fancam was at the top of your list.

"Run, run, run, kitty, kitty, run, run," you repeated her words from the song, mesmerized at the bounce of Karina's boobs. So much so that your mom had to intervene, seeing her soon looking like an addict. "All you can do these days is watch those fucking fancams all day; you should get a job." However, you were so into Karina that you had started seeing her figure in your mother's body. "It turns me on so much when you watch me dance," Karina said in your imagination. "I want to watch myself with you," she kept saying, as you could only look at her massive bazookas on her chest.

You were on the verge of kissing her before your mom started yelling, "What the hell are you doing?" as you were instead trying to kiss her. "Sorry, mom, I'm not feeling well," you replied. "I think I need to take a shower," you continued. "Then make sure to clean it too," your mom replied.

You headed to the shower with a bucket on your hands, leaving it right in the box as you started cleaning it. However, it wasn't long before you heard some water noises coming out of it. Suddenly, you found a naked, pink-haired woman inside taking a shower. You scanned her body from bottom to top, mesmerized by her amazing figure, but obviously, her saggy, massive melons, fully covered in foam, were what caught your attention the most, especially as she grabbed them to wash her milkers. Karina smiled at you and moved her body, as you could only watch in disbelief at what you were seeing. It had to be an illusion. The way she touched herself already turned you hard in an instant; your eyes were fully fixated on those big boobs, and the way she washed her pussy and pressed her tits against the box, printing its marks on it, was so sexy.

You closed your eyes, and suddenly she was gone. You got back to doing your cleaning affairs, using the bathroom's sink to put some water in your eyes, but just as you looked in the mirror and saw the shower on it, Karina was back inside it, on her knees as she now had a bright pink phallic object in her mouth, sucking it as she played with her tits. You walked towards the box, staring at the foggy glass as Rina got up. She now turned around, continuing her little sexy show as she inserted the pink dildo in her pussy and pushed it up and down her hole. You touched the glass right where her butt was placed as you kept watching her, seeing as she made naughty moves with her tongue like a stupid cheese cat and kept pressing her body against the glass.

Karina got back to facing you as she closed her eyes and put her tongue out, licking the glass close to your face on the other side. She then got once again back on her knees, and that was too much for you to endure. You rapidly took all your clothes off as Karina gave you a sign to come in, opening the door and joining her inside that ample shower box. Her eyes brightened as she stayed in that submissive position, grabbing your cock from the start and licking her chops at the size of it, sticking her warm mouth at your veiny pole. You just pin yourself to the wall and watch her do the work. Everything about Karina feels amazing to you—the way she grabs your cock, the way her naughty eyes look while doing it, and the way she grabs one of her boobs with her left hand, trying to prevent gravity from letting it drop to the ground.

Karina kept licking your shaft, just putting it halfway in her mouth to tease you. She moves to your balls and cleans them with her mouth before giving your shaft a full top-to-bottom lick, then throating it as she firmly grabs it. The water keeps running, but this is no longer your problem; just let your bitchy mom pay for it anyway. "That's good," you tell Rina, who starts moving her mouth faster while you just enjoy the show, as she now sucks your cock without using any hands before wrapping them around your balls.

You tell Karina to get up as you want to take a closer look at her huge bazookas, grabbing her boobs to massage them from behind, pressing them together, and rubbing her nipples. You then run down her amazing body all the way to her pussy, but without touching it yet, adding an extra layer of soap to her beautiful tummy before going back to her grand prize. Her tits are soft and sturggle with gravity, your hands keeping them up as you also kiss her neck and collarbones. "Hmm, baby, I see you love my big, beautiful tiddies," Rina says with a smile on her face. She knows how much they grab men's attention and how much they like to grab them.

You grope her boobs harder, massaging them as the water running from the shower hits the sides of both your bodies. Your hands are fully covered in soap as they move around every inch of Karina's body, but her melons get the majority of your attention. You now pin Rina against the wall as she grabs your cock with her left hand while her right hand rests on her boobs. You look at them like a baby about to get fed by his mother, diving your head to suck her milk to the fullest, making Rina elicit a sexy moan.

But she had better things to do with her time, as Karina got back on her knees and poured liquid soap all the way over her bazookas. "I want you to clean it," she says, placing your cock between her big honkers. You get the assignment, thrusting your cock between her heavenly melons with all your might as she smiles at you. "That's very hot," she compliments as she presses her boobs harder and tightens them around your cock. You take advantage of it to the fullest, also rubbing your tip on her hard nipples.

Karina gets up as soon as you give her ass a little tap. She bends over as she sticks the pink dildo back in her mouth while you penetrate her, getting spit-roasted from the start. The deeper you stick your cock inside her, the deeper she throats her dildo. "I love that big dick stretching my pussy," she says on the rare occasion she takes her mouth off the dildo, gagging on it as she grabs her boobs while you slowly fuck her cunt. "That pussy is so tight," you say as Karina's moans are muffled by the dildo. You finally push harder, making her saggy melons bounce as gravity tries to rip them off Rina's body, her nipples pointing right at the wet box floor.

Your sudden increase takes Rina by surprise, making her spit on the dildo. "Oh, that feels so fucking good," she exclaims. You make her feel even better as you hit her cervix, leading her to scream for the first time. You take Karina right at her weakest and pin her against the glass, her boobs now fully smashed against it as you mercilessly pound her. The sound of your balls clapping against her body is mixed with the wet water running down them, making a splash every time you pump your cock deep into her pussy. "That's such a big dick," she exclaims.

You move to the center of the shower to take a little break, but Rina is relentless, riding you in a standing position as she pushes your body up against yours. Meanwhile, you firmly grab her tits and use the liquid soap in her leg area, covering her thighs full of it as you massage them. "Look how I make your cock nice and clean," Karina says as she keeps bouncing, her saggy tits moving in perfect sync while you give her ass a few spankings. "Oh, that's so hoy," she says, wrapping her left arm around her tits to prevent them from falling out and then getting your help as you're now the one groping them. "You're so damn good inside me," she says.

Karina now bends over, facing the opposite side of the box, letting the water clean the soap from her ass, moaning as the flow of water penetrates her pussy and asshole. But she's about to moan much harder as your wet cock goes back in, hitting the puddle inside her vaginal walls. You tease Rina by rubbing your tip against her wet clit (in both senses) before steadily stretching her pussy out as water hits your shaft and your shaft hits her walls to the fullest. "Ohhh, this shower is making me even wetter," Karina says as you groan with your cock stretching her tight holes.

Rina turns things a little spicier, adding the liquid soap all over her ass. "Grab it and wash it," she demands. You do it as she pleases, washing her ass with your hands while your cock washes her pink pussy. "Perfect, just like how I wanted it; give it to me; push it harder," Karina says as you keep going, even letting her move her hips against you before pushing harder. "I love the way you stick it deep in my pussy," she continues.

You poke Rina's melons, telling her you want to switch positions. It's time to test her dancer's flexibility. But not before Rina's sucks your cock dry of her juices. "It looks like it's dirty again," she laughs, sucking it off while hard-grabbing it with her right hand. Karina keeps going, getting sloppier as she goes, until she says these words: "Looks like it's clean again." She places her right leg on your left shoulder, naughtily telling you that you can put it back in. The angle of her body leads to an easy thrust and a perfect deep penetration from the start, as your throbbing cock bulges under Karina's slim body.

"Holy shit!" Karina screams as she looks at you, your cock filling her pussy and draining all the water inside it, cleaning her walls to the fullest as you strike hard and deep against them. You wrap your hands in her waist to make sure she doesn't slip out, but Rina has great body control and loves to take a deep pounding in one leg, getting sent over the moon at each pump. "I love that; it's really deep," she claims. "Push it harder in my pussy," she continues, as her tits got back to bouncing beautifully, turning you on and leading to faster thursts as you want to watch them quake every time you impale her. "Damn, you got such a perfect cock," she screams as your dick is now deeply buried in Karina's vagina, to the point where it takes a long time to pull out fully.

You then push Karina close to the showerhead as she holds herself with her hands and her back gets showered while you keep fucking her in one leg as she gets overwhelmed with your hard and deep thursts while the showering in the back turns her on even more as the water hits her erogenous spots. She gives you a passionate kiss as you wrap your body closer to hers. Karina now holds her lifted leg against the glass as she tries to keep her balance in spite of your fast pumping in her pussy, wrapping your arms around you as her butt presses the glass. You look at her right in the eye, kissing her as she squeals every time you hit her cervix.

You finally put Karina's right leg back on the ground, making love with her in an eye-to-eye position where you kiss her tenderly while grabbing her sexy ass as you continue to stretch her pussy, pushing so hard that your dick pops out, landing right between her thighs. You seize the opportunity as you keep doing the same thing but now pushing it between Karina's long, sexy legs as she closes them to grip it tighter.

After you're done with Rina's honey thighs, you turn her around, pushing her face close to the wall and pointing the showehead straight to her tits, cleaning them as they freely bounce while you manhandle her pussy. "Fuck me like that; destroy my pussy," she asks, and you oblige, clapping her cheeks hard each time you go in and out of her hole. "Right there, right there!" she exclaims when you spank her ass multiple times, her stupid tongue coming out of her mouth. "Oh fuck, fuck, shit, shit," she curses like music to your ears as you hug her by the tummy, pressing your thumb on her belly button while pounding her faster at each attack, making Karina roll her eyes and open her mouth like she's doing a real-life ahegao that gets even better when you grope her tits, leading her to stick her tongue out in a way that makes her look like a dumb fuckdoll, with some sticky saliva also coming out of her mouth as you lick her long neck from top to bottom.

As soon as you feel like Karina's bazookas are clean enough, you're ready to switch positions. "Get on that fucking floor," you command her as you pin Karina's back against it and give her a pounding in mating press, pressing her legs hard against her milkers. The water hitting against your back makes you push deeper while flooding starts to build under Rina's back, her body "floating" on top of it and then drowing as the thrusts of your cock push it against the rising water, her dumb expressions leading you to slap her face. "You're really a stupid cheese cat," you tell her.

After some rough poundings, you switch to something more romantic, putting Karina in a spooning position on the floor. The water accumulating under you two is enough to cover half of her right boob as you give her a slow and watery fuck, groping both her tits from behind, giving her romantic kisses, and making sure to stimulate every single one of her soft spots, but especially her boobs and neck. But your primal instincts of dominance aren't gone for long as you switch to a fast jackhammering of her pussy that makes waves under her body while choking her, something Karina loves as her nipples get even more erect. "Give me, give me, more, more more," she begs as she struggles to let those words out while you firmly grab her neck and press her left boob before letting them freely bounce, leading to more dumb expressions coming from Karina's face as this whole pounding makes her cum.

"That's good, baby. Now I want you to hop on that dick," you tell Karina as you release her from your grasp. She sits on your pole immediately, riding it to perfection with a fast bounce, while you reach to continue groping her milky melons. She's such a pro rider that even her bouncy bazookas don't pose a problem to her. You just let Rina take over and gleefully watch as she pleases you, sitting on your cock like no one ever could. "Fuck, you're so deep in me," she says as she keeps moving, her overexaggerated eye rolls and tongue sticking out of her mouth back in full swing as she uses your chest as a support while her tits move like a pair of pinballs.

Karina grinds on your cock as she switches to a reverse cowgirl ride. "I want to worship that cock more," she says as she turns around. She tilts her body just enough to give you a side view of her tits bouncing. "Every time I go down on that cock, it gets hotter," she says as she closes her eyes and lets your length stretch her out. "You've got such a perfect big fucking cock," she says. Her tilted ride makes your cock hit spots it couldn't before, getting you on the edge. Karina senses it and slows down so she can enjoy her extremely wet body stretched to the fullest for longer. "I want to feel that cock all the way in," she tells you as she gets back to a fast-paced ride. "I'm so fucking wet, a wet cat," she tells you as her juices start mixing with the water inside her vagina. You try to slow her down by placing your hands under her thighs, but that has no effect at all; Karina just smashes it and keeps bouncing on your cock; the extra obstacle actually makes her push harder. It turns out that cheese cat wasn't so stupid at all.

Rina flips around and washes your cock with some running water from the shower. "My juices left it quite dirty," she says as she rubs the head on her clit, before switching back to a slow cowgirl ride while you grab her ass. "You're so good to me," you tell her as you spank her butt. "Work that dick," you demand of her. "Oh yes, I'm working on it," she answers. "Keep going, keep going, work for that cum," you reply as she switches to shallow but fast bounces, leading you to quickly regret those words. "I think I'm gonna cum," you tell her the next time you open your stupid mouth.

"Then cum inside me."

These words make you go feral as you push Karina back up, pinning her against the glass and grabbing her by the waist while also licking her neck. The glass now is as foggy as ever, except for the spots where the print of her big tits and the breaths of her moaning mouth melt the steam. "You like that, stupid cheese cunt?" you ask her. "Yes. Give it to me, baby; you got such a good cock. Right there, baby, right there," she replies as she sticks her tongue out once more, now also placing her hands on the glass as you take full control of her baby-making body. "Clean that fucking glass," you tell Karina as the glass trembles while you maul her cunt, fingering it with your right hand while using your left hand to spank her tits, her whole body rubbing against the glass but especially her boobs, which now act as a sponge. "Look how well they are cleaning it," Karina flaunts as her big boobs keep pressing the glass.

Karina wipes her hands on the glass as you push her closer to you, letting her see the round prints of her tits on it. She already feels out of breath, but you make sure to make it harder for her as you choke her while shutting her mouth with sucking kisses. "Oh my God," Karina says as you free her just a little before resuming pounding her, using her tits to clean the full glass while you kiss and choke her. "Stupid tit cow," you tell her as you place your hands between her tits, who are now almost breaking the glass. You shut her mouth, making it as hard as possible on Rina. Her walls close as you do so, and her face turns red as you pound her, now letting her tits off the glass for the hardest bounce as you treat Karina like a breeding cow and say that you're ready to put a baby inside at any second.

You set her neck and mouth free, but the only thing Karina can do is pray to God. She's a devout Catholic, after all, isn't she? But the only thing she'll get today is the gift of a baby as you paint her tightening walls with your seed as soon as you free her from your grasp, kissing her as you grab her cream-filled pussy and soon-to-be-swollen tits while she makes her stupdiest ahegao yet. You did it; you managed to cum inside your favorite idol. You were enjoying this unique moment until a loud bang knocked you down.

"STUPID LITTLE SHIT. YOU'VE BEEN IN THIS SHOWER FOR 30 MINUTES. GET THE FUCK OUT", it was your mom yelling at you. As she opened the box, a flood of water came out of it, akin to the flood of sperm you had just put inside Karina.

Or had you? As you and your mom looked at the shower box, it had a sticky white substance glued to it. I wonder what that was.

[drabblesandimagines]

Rescue

Halsin x reader Inspired by this post by @amorgansgal.

Halsin’s jaw aches.

He’s been clenching his teeth from the second the camp discovered you’d been spirited away by Orin to the Temple of Bhaal, intended as a sacrifice to the god of murder.

He hadn’t been able to relax for a moment – muscles tight, shoulders held up to his ears - despite his pleas to the Oak Father to keep his mind focused on the objective of finding the entrance to the cursed place.

His heart had stopped in his chest when he’d seen Orin hold the curved blade underneath your chin as you lay motionless on the altar, shackles around your wrists and ankles.

It was a true test of his resolve to prevent the beast from taking control. He’d dug his nails into his palms and forced himself to focus on the pain and take a deep breath. Although it would be all too easy to swipe out with his claws, rip out Orin’s throat with his teeth as retribution for ever leaving a mark on your skin, he knows that he’d never make it over in time to stop her from slicing your throat.

He’s thankful to Wyll for speaking up in a measured tone, of reminding Orin that Bhaal would relish a fight than a subdued sacrifice and unclenches his fists as she withdraws her weapon.

As soon as the slayer’s body hits the ground and disintegrates, Halsin hurries to your side, dropping to his knees besides the altar and rests a cautious palm on your chest.

“Thank Silvanus,” he murmurs, feeling you breathe.

A spell or enchantment, then, keeping you under.

His eyes fall next to the chains. He doesn’t look to see where Astarion is, ask whether he has any thieves tools to hand, but simply takes them in his hands and pulls with a grunt, the metal snapping under his brute strength and adrenaline.

He makes quick work of the ones around your ankles, heart aching as he sees the raw skin around your limbs – clearly you’d fought against the restraints furiously. He calls the spell of restoration and smoothes his palm over your face, caressing your cheek as your eyes slowly flutter open, brow furrowed in confusion as he tilts your head towards him.

“Halsin?” Your voice is hoarse, vision blurry but you’d recognize the silhouette of your partner anywhere.

“Hush, my heart.” He attempts to keep his tone soft and measured, but it is proving difficult already – a lump burning in his throat. “You must conserve your strength.���

But you’ve already sat up, catching sight of your other companions hovering behind him, concern apparent across all their faces and a netherstone now in Astarion’s possession.

Orin – she kidnapped you, whisked you away in the shadows and chained you down…

“You defeated Orin?”

“Ye-“

“We can discuss this back at camp – in the morning, after you have rested.” Halsin cuts across your companion, a firm tone perfected in his days as archdruid. His arms swiftly encompass you before any further interruptions - one around your back, another under your thighs - and you are lifted up from the altar before he begins to stride towards the exit.

Halsin has never been a swift walker. In fact, you’d describe his style as lumbering almost, much like the bear form he favoured would traverse – but on this occasion he is walking with an almost fevered haste.

You go to protest that you can walk - you just need some water and a moment to reorientate your bearings - but as you look up there is a clear tremble in Halsin’s jaw, tears lining his lashes…

You may not need this, but he certainly does.

He needs you pressed up against him, soft, warm and alive in his arms as he keeps you close against his chest.

You raise a cautious hand to his cheek and he quickly presses a kiss to your palm, eyes only flickering down to meet yours before an embarrassed smile crosses his lips.

You drop your hand and he squeezes you cautiously, ascending the stairs out of the temple.

There is so much he wishes to say, but now is not the time. Once he has you back in the safety of his tent, after he’s healed every bruise and abrasion on your skin – alongside a kiss for each for good measure – he will permit himself to relax.

You close your eyes and rest your cheek against his chest, letting out a contented sigh.

“I knew you’d come for me.”

Halsin presses a kiss against your crown, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Always, my heart.”

--

Just a short lil' drabble to try and get me back in the flow x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 07.10 - Nikolai ~

Dom!reader x sub!Enemy!nikolai - reader is gender neutral

Warning: sounding, edging, a bit orgasm denial, consent is kinda questionable, hair pulling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, cum play, cum eating, violence, dick slapping, marking, pinching, bruises, mind break, sub space, teasing, use of pet name ‘good boy’, Nikolai being a masochist

~ Word count: 4.9k ~

Nini!rant: The idea’s from an anon and @me1z0 ! Ty guys~

Kinktober list 2024

The walls were damp, and green moss crept up the corners of the lifeless cell. It was dark and grey, rid of anything interesting, not even a lamp was present in this room. Instead, the light emerged from a huge window on one side of the wall, its weak lighting barely lit up his cell. Other than that, there was a sturdy door along with an equally strong chair. The chair was placed in the middle of this prison out of stone, and on top of it sat a white-haired male who wore tight clothes. His hair was loose and it reached the floor, his hands were tied carefully behind the chair and a grin spread across his lips.

Sounds of footsteps echoed throughout the tranquil room. They were rhythmic, eager, and firm, he could already guess who it was. What followed next was the loud slam of the heavy door. It got yanked open within seconds and a person emerged from the frame, then the passage shut tight again, destroying any chance of escaping. Your eyes scanned his room, eyeing him up and down suspiciously, trying to read his thoughts. That proved to be more difficult than desired since he was still keeping a psychotic expression under such circumstances, not caring about how he was being perceived.

You could basically smell the moisture in the air, how damp and humid it was. It wasn't an exactly pleasant smell, but neither of you seemed to be bothered by it. Slowly you made your way to the center, dragging another chair behind you. With a swift move, you positioned it before him and sat down comfortably, crossing your arms. After waiting for a while, you scoffed, “Not gonna say anything, jester?” He has always been like this. Unpredictable, illogical, and drop-dead annoying.

He laughed, before raising his head to stare at you. His eyes were heterochromia, they somehow appeared creepy, causing you to feel uneasy. “My, I get to have the first word?” Nikolai chirped, looking totally unfazed by the whole situation. “Go ahead, ask away, I can’t guarantee an answer though.” You replied, slumping back against the lean. Finally, after all this time, you managed to catch this clown of a man. It’s not that you failed previously, rather, he kept escaping with his bothersome ability and nullifying handcuffs didn’t seem to work well on him.

But you learned from your mistakes and perfected your plan repeatedly to get to this point. Since he needs his coat to activate it, simply removing it should suffice. On top of it you also had to prevent him from creating a new makeshift coat, hence the tight clothes and lack of sharp objects. “How nice you are, is it because we’ve been acquaintances for so long?” The male chuckled, and you slammed your fist against your chair, cracking it slightly. A few scratches remained on your skin, though you didn't notice the supposed pain. The man thought your vein was going to pop from how tight you bawled your hands.

“Don’t refer to us so intimately.” You snapped then continued with, “You’ve been nothing but a pain in the ass. It seems you don’t have anything important to say. My turn to pose questions.” After threatening him a little, he immediately yelled, “Hey! Don’t be so mean~ We do have a long history after all.” You listened to his complaints, to which you responded, “I’m not proud of that.” A fake sigh left his throat as he winced, “I’m so hurt~ then lemme ask, you wanna play some games before the interrogation?” Again with his unreasonable antics, you could feel your lifespan shortening whenever he opens his mouth.

No normal human would ask something this out of pocket while being interrogated after all, he was a special case in the worst sense possible. Someone deserving of the tightest surveillance for his creative methods. Yet you knew better than to question his motives because there’s simply no logic behind it other than what his twisted mind can come up with.

“No, it’s not the time for games and chitchat. My turn now.” He pouted at your answer, calling you a killjoy under his breath or avoiding your gaze. Such a childish man, how did someone like this get an ability? You furrowed your brows before interrogating him, “Tell me, who do you work for?” Nikolai tilted his head to the side, smiling innocently. “Why don’t you guess?”

Within a fraction of a second, you pulled out a gun and pointed it towards his head. You growled, patience running thin with each passing moment, “I don’t want to repeat myself, jester-” Despite the threat and importance of the situation, he interrupted you, correcting your choice of vocabulary with sarcasm, “Not jester, I’m a clown.” It was obviously just to spite you, look at him playing petty games. The corners of your lips twitched into an intimidating smile, eyebrows raised as you snapped, “Is that so? Then pardon my rudeness.”

He didn’t look nervous, eyes on the muzzle of the gun as he replied, “Such a brute you are, this is no fun at all.” Then the male exaggerated a sigh again, moving his head back to the point you could see the bottom of his chin before he turned back to stare at you, “Fiiiine, I’m a member of a terrorist organization, the decay of angels- or was it the death of angels? I don’t remember~” Nikolai joked, watching you in awe as your anger threatened to boil over. He could swear he saw smoke coming out. Your hand tightened around the weapon, gritting your teeth as you listened to him yap. It was time for the next question, that’s why you asked, “What are your motives?”

“Motives? Each of us has our own reasons. As for mine… don’t you know me well enough to have a hunch?" He taunted, his tone had a layer of mockery hidden behind it and his eyes suggested the same thing. This overconfidence of his was going to be his downfall. “Who can ever know what’s going on inside that brain of yours.” You spit back at him, a fierce look plastered on your face, unwilling to lose. “Are you saying you can’t fathom my thought process?” When he said that, it hit a nerve inside you. Was he calling you stupid?

“Then let’s make it into a quiz! If you can guess about 50% correctly, I’ll tell you everything.” He suggested a guessing game again, and you couldn’t help but click your tongue in annoyance, “Tsk, your iconic quizzes again. What happens if I lose?” The boy squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly deep in thought before chirping, “Absolutely nothing! It’s a win-win situation for you!” That was unexpected, you thought. After much contemplation, you eventually agreed, “Alright, I’ll consider this your last wish.”

You stared at his face, trying to recall all the information you had on him. He was a carefree, reckless, and dangerous man. Words like cold-hearted, crazy, and apathetic could also work. Was there more to him? It was hard to believe there’d be any reason behind his actions, considering the gruesome ways he killed. “You are a sadist who enjoys killing innocent people, which is why you joined a terrorist group. Also, you are a fucking maniac." Despite you outright spitting insults at him, he didn’t stop smiling and stayed calm. But a faint breath of disappointment stuck to his never leaving smirk, as if he was saying ‘told you’.

“Eh ehh, sadly that’s wrong~ I don’t actually enjoy killing people.” He admitted, wearing a sorry look on his face. “Who knows if you are lying or not.” You spat, eying him up and down with a skeptical look. “Do you have sooo little faith in me?” Nikolai tilted his head to one side, giggling and enjoying your baffled expression. “I’ll give you one more chance then, or old times sake!” He said as if he pitied you. Of course, this agitated you, how can he act like he has the upper hand when he’s your prisoner?

“Is someone forcing you? Not that your sentence would lessen.” Since you’ve been presented with another chance, you proposed a different answer but were met with the same response. “Also wrong! No one is forcing me, as I’m striving to achieve true freedom~” The boy sang the last part, like an eccentric, enjoying the situation even. His words or hints, no matter what he said, didn’t make any sense to you.

For you, these were sentences without any connections, or you had too little background knowledge to grasp the concept. Though you knew he wasn't all that dumb, well, to some degree. “Now, guess, how much of it was the truth?” Nikolai announced, a sheepish, amused grin spreading on his lips. How he loves to play mind games and to annoy you. “Now you know why I don’t trust you. You only talk in riddles.” You mumbled under your breath, taking your gun back while his gaze followed the weapon.

Once more, he found it boring how little reaction you had, calling you boring in his mind. “Not gonna kill me anymore?” The white-haired boy asked instead, raising his chin high in the air. “You know the answer.” With a sigh you rolled your eyes, he was smarter than this, he knew his worth as a hostage and source of information. It’d be a waste to have him dead already, and exactly because of these reasons you were annoyed beyond measure. If it wasn’t for the rules and regulations, you’d had his head rolling by now. “Consider yourself lucky.” You scoffed with an eye roll, standing up and walking towards him.

With his curiosity peaked, he waited impatiently, were you finally going to make a move? The uncertainty clutched his racing heart in a tight grip, feelings of unknown origins emerging from the depths of his consciousness. “You are getting excited. I wonder how long you can laugh, clown.” Much to your dismay, his eyes sparkled as he uttered, “Wahhh~ You remembered?! I guess all that time spent with you wasn’t for nothing!” Yeah, you shouldn’t have done him that favor, someone like him didn’t deserve any shred of kindness. He’d only use it against you in the end.

Without listening to him any longer you leaned over, pulling his pants and underwear down only enough to take out his cock. A slight blush crept onto his cheeks, he jerked when you touched his member. “H-huh..? What’s going on?” The tremble in his voice was apparent as his pupils followed your hands, arousal building inside him. This was an unexpected turn of events, was there more to your cold facade-? “Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s a torture method.” You smiled at him, a reassuring smirk dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh? Are you really gonna use such underhanded methods to make me speak?" Nikolai tried to bargain with you, all while doing his utmost to appear unaffected. In the end, he was all about having the act of an unpredictable clown. "No need to get frightened, I'm sure you'll come to enjoy it, considering your personality."

After listening to your prediction, he was almost eager to know what you were going to do, leaning forward to get closer to you. A slight pout on his lips as he thought sharply about what you had in store for him. His binds were uncomfortable and forced him to stay put, causing him to try and break them for a while, before slumping back into his seat, giving up on the idea of escaping. The boy sighed unsatisfied as he mumbled, "Alright, show me what you have in mind."

The two of you may be enemies, and your organization is not all that innocent either, yet you made sure to use enough lube on him. You didn't want to hurt him in that way, it seemed a bit too cruel. Minutes later, you covered his entire lower body with it, bathing his dick in lubricant. Afterward, you pulled out a thin metal rod and smeared it in lube as well. The way his expression twisted the moment he saw your little surprise for him was satisfying, to say the least. How his pupils shrunk ever so slightly and hands gripped the binds tighter, enough to bruise his own wrists, all while a hint of fear or lust built inside him. This was definitely going to be a new experience, one that he won't ever forget.

“Can you guess what I'll do with this?" You asked him, teasingly, to rile him up and make his emotions explode. "You are going to fuck me up with it, aren't cha?" Nikolai grinned widely, sweat dripping down his cheeks while he spread his legs a little further apart to grant you more access. It was also to signalize you that he was ready for it. “Since you know what this is for, I won't need to explain." You commented and held it elegantly as if you knew what you were doing, preparing the tool as well.

His breathing hitched at the sight of it, somehow watching your fingers work so diligently made his heart race. Then you lined the rounded end of the rod with the slit from his dick, slowly pushing the tip inside. On the other hand, Nikolai closed his eyes, biting his lip, and trying his best to not trash around. He could feel the toy stretching him from the inside, poking at places he never explored before.

Small whines escaped his thinly pressed lips, sounding like the painful groan of a hurt animal. "Nghh... d-dammit... ah." The man cursed as you pushed more of it in, cheeks flushed red as his dick got hard, leaking some pearly precum already. You could see the struggle just by looking at his body language, how he trembled and shook, sweating so furiously. A sense of arousal coursed through you at seeing this new, unfamiliar side of his. To think he could pull such an erotic face, watching him try to hold himself back was more than entertaining.

"Can you even take this?" You asked playfully, testing him. His eyes opened just enough to glare at you, squeezing out a 'of course' before going back to his muffled moans. You let him keep his pride for now, and focused on pushing more of the pole in, saying, "Fine, as you wish then." With each millimeter that was entering him, his blush darkened and his voice turned louder. At some point, his eyes became teary and his dumb grin returned. "Hmm!! Uh-uhgghh~ ah.. so rough, h-how much more...?" You could swear you heard some desperation in his voice, licking your lips before answering, "We are halfway there, be a big boy and take it~"

Then you used a little more strength than before to penetrate him, ending with him losing control and screaming your name with such ecstasy, "yyY/NN!! NggGHh~! Ahh it hurts, hurts so m-much ♡♥︎" Even though he was complaining, his expression was a totally different one. He was enjoying it, so much that his cock twitched while leaking twice the amount as before. God, he could swear he almost came in that moment, and he was sure you knew it too. "I didn't expect you to actually enjoy it this so soon." You chuckled, sticking your index finger through the ring at the other end to have a better grip.

The male in front of you was already a twitching mess, gaze unfocused as he stared at his own crotch, watching his dirty fluids seep out of himself. His voice hitched and he gulped loudly, whimpering at the slightest movements, "Nghh~ uh-uhmmf!" You waited until his excessive emotions calmed down a bit, then gave him a quick warning, "M' gonna move now." Before slowly using your finger to pull the rod out of his cock. "W-wait.. aaAAhHHH ♡～"

He threw his head back almost immediately, tongue rolling out while bawling his hands, his grip on the binds were strong enough for his knuckles to turn white. This time he couldn't hold back and trashed his legs around, which is why you put your hand on his soft thighs and pressed down, stopping him. "Don't move now dear, or I might break something I shouldn't." You warned him, pushing the toy back inside him. "MHhhh!! Ah-oohHH, i-is this supposed to be the to-torture?" Nikolai sneered behind broken sobs, those pretty tears finally spilled from his eye sockets.

"Concentrate on not passing out first, or this game will get boring,” you told him, tracing circles on his inner thighs to calm him down. He listened to you with defiance, obviously not happy with your answer. But all those thoughts were pushed aside the moment your hand began moving again. There's only one problem, you were painfully slow. It took so long for you to stick it in or to pull it out. Sure, it was still stimulating, but he needed more than that. He wanted you to be rougher, to really torture him. Oh if only you knew what a- "y/nnn~ please g-go faster? The Pain feels g-good ♡!" ...a masochist he was. Well, now you know.

"Such a perverted slut, boys like you don't get to tell me what to do." You snarled, pushing the whole thing inside again and grabbing his gland with your fingers. Crawling at it with your nails, scratching the skin. "AaaAAAHH..!! Y/n y/n!! H-hurt so much~!" Nikolai let out a scream akin moan, head thrown back and arching his back, all while his charming voice graced your ears. He was very loud, but his whines and sounds of pleasure were adorable, enough to serve as encouragement for you to continue.

"Why don't you stop the joking and tell me everything then, sir Clown?" You teased him, letting go of his dick not due to some pity, but rather because you wanted to try something else. This time, you spun the sounding rod around while it was still placed inside him, rubbing against his urethra and watching his face twist into some erotic expressions straight out of a porno. Eyes rolling back, hair sticking to his forehead and bouncing around, drool running down his chin.

All his blood was coursing to his cheeks or lower abdomen, precum getting everywhere and wetting everything. There was a puddle on the ground beneath him, and it only grew in size. "NGhh~ oOOhh, y/n it f-feels MHh! I-I can't, no m-more, please haaahHH♡♥︎" For a split second you were concerned if you went too far, yet all worries vanished the moment you saw the blissful expression he had. How his tongue hung out like a lewd doggy, figure shaking uncontrollably. "Oh god? Are you sure you want me to stop?" You asked him with raised brows and blatant irony, now changing your actions again. This time you moved it in and out of him as fast as you could, fucking into him, watching his pre gushing out like a fountain whenever it went deep inside him.

"HMnnGGHH..!! Oh- FuuUckkK! Ah-ah, too fast too fassst!!" He was groaning about the speed now, all while crying and shaking in his seat. His toes curled and a thin layer of sweat covered his skin, causing him to shine or glimmer. That once clean silver hair turned slightly dirty at the ends, his chest and ears now turning red as well. He could feel the stimulation coursing through his veins, gnawing at him, intertwining with the pain and being blended into an inseparable mixture. The hurt was turning into arousal, and soon his body, his nerves, and his heart couldn't keep the two apart anymore.

Each time you spat at him, insulted him or were mean, he could feel himself losing a piece of his sanity. "D-don't ghHuu, stop ♥︎, keep going, until m' sa-satisfied..." He was crying now, limps calming down a bit. The boy didn't squirm around as much, keeping a somewhat collected composure while watching you with heart-shaped pupils. "Tsk tsk tsk." You clicked your tongue, shaking your head in opposition at him, sighing as you uttered, "Have you already forgotten what I told you? You have to ask nicely, you don't get to tell me what to do, clown." And just like that, he lost any chances he had to cum.

You stopped moving your hand, or at least went as slow as before. "Ah..! D-damn it.. y/n~ can't you please go faster? I'm so cloooose!" He realized his mistake and decided to not argue too much, this time betting his chances on his puppy eyes. A small pat to his head followed, and then you cupped his cheeks before pinching them.

“How about~ you promise to tell me whatever I want to hear without any games or lies?" You should step up your game and remind yourself of your duty, which is why you proposed it multiple times, hoping he'll agree and obey your command. To push his buttons even more, you added a pinch to his milky thighs and said, "I'll let you cum if you do." Then you stopped doing anything entirely so that his stupid little brain could catch a break to think about your words. He snapped back from his short-lived subspace, staring at you with a dumb, frozen grin. "T-that's hmm~! so sly y/n, so meaan.. haaHhnn..”

"I've made it clear since the beginning, that this is supposed to be torture." You scooped up some of the filthy liquid dripping down his shaft and brought it to his lips, making him lick you clean. He winced at the taste but was obedient enough to just swallow it all. "Now, what will be your answer, clown?" Nikolai thought about it, though this time his thought process got interrupted when you began moving again, leading to him whimpering in full volume, "Ughh.. aAAHhhh.?!! I-i dun- mhm, know..?"

Suddenly you slapped his dick, and he groaned again, "mmMMHh!! Gu-ghHgnnn!! Y/nn~!!" A low sigh left your lips as you pressured him, saying, "You have to decide soon, I don't have all day and I don't mind leaving you like this." His ears perked and he begged for a tad more time, but to his dismay, you didn't listen. "HNg, Wa-wait.. ah..!! Too much, to-too fast mhhh~" With his long-awaited release coming soon and your little threats, the boy was overwhelmed, head spinning and malfunctioning.

It took so long for him to make up his mind, a melting expression on his face as he nodded, whispering meekly, "I-I'll tell you.. p-please, hnngg, lemme cum." That was easy, you thought, smirking at him gently and answering, "Since you agreed to cooperate, cum my little clown ♡" As soon as you finished your sentence, you went down on him again, abusing his red and swollen cock with the little metal pole.

"UHhmmm!! Oh please please pleaaaase, aAAhh! Don't s-stooOop!♡♥︎" He started blabbering without thinking about his words, too far gone to form coherent sentences. The veins on his hands became apparent, eyes unfocused and all fucked out. Knuckles as white as his hair due to his tight grasp on his binds, thighs shaking like they were made out of pudding. Sticky pre flowing down his now bruised thighs. Red dots plagued that area of his skin due to you repeatedly pinching and groping him there.

His toes curled, arch arched so beautifully into a crescent form, and shining fat tears decorated his naturally handsome features. That voice of his has become hoarse at this point, from all the shouting and moans. If only his personality wasn't so annoying, and if only he wasn't your enemy, you would have found him cute, maybe a little attractive as well. With a swift motion, you pulled the sounding rod out of him while wrapping your free hand over his tip, trying to catch as much of his cum as possible.

And god, heavens, the pleasure in that moment was too much for him to handle! His brain had already turned into mush at that point, but now it was even more broken! Chocked out whines and stuttered moans slipping past his filthy lips and he cried out for your name, calling out to you multiple times and begging without any reason, "y/nnnn!! Y/n y-y/nNN! So good, too much AaAHGGgnNn!! Please, I-i beg you please~♡♥︎" A shiver ran down your spine at this sight, this scenery of him being totally wrecked and pathetic. How vulnerable and helpless he was, and so awfully submissive. Who would have guessed he'd have such a lewd and adorable side?

Nikolai felt a knot tightening inside his stomach, it clenched and twisted, about to burst. This strange yet pleasurable feeling gnawing at him, tugging and squeezing him, it was too much, he couldn't ignore it any longer. "NGhHHH, gonna cum!! Cummin' cumminnn'!! I'm- aaAAAhHHHG!♡♥︎～" He yelled one last time, screaming until he choked because he didn't have enough air in his lungs anymore. Coughing violently while more broken noises left him, his voice cracking whenever he went too high.

Thick robes of cum spurt out of him, covering your hand, and running down your palm slowly. That was proof of its disgusting texture, it looked like slime and was still warm. "God you must have been pent up." You joked, watching it drip down your hand for a bit. While most of his semen got caught by your hand, some of it still landed between his legs, on the cement floor.

You gave him a few minutes to calm down from his high, watching his blurry eyes return to life. It took him almost three minutes to snap back to reality, to leave that little subspace he was in. Sweat and tears mingled, making his skin shine. The tips of his bangs were wet and stuck to his forehead, his eyes were half-lidded and swollen from weeping so much.

Once you deemed him conscious enough, you brought your hand over to his lips, ordering him to lick it. "Even if this is a prison, you are not allowed to defile it with your filthy fluids." Then you grabbed his chin, not bothering with his muffled protests, and clasped your hand over his mouth. Now he had no choice but to lick it, and like the little whore he was, he enjoyed it.

His wet and hot muscles moved across your skin, trying to lick up as much as possible to then swallow it. A heavy blush on his cheeks, one that hasn't left since the beginning of your session. You watched him with an amused gaze, saying, "You agreed to tell me everything, right? Otherwise, I might have to edge you even longer." He shivered, shoulder jerking upwards as your little threat. The now somewhat docile boy nodded to show he understood what you said, while his tongue rolled between your fingers. "Good boy. Never thought the day would come when you'd earn that title." You praised him, and a breathy and sarcastic laugh came from you.

Right now, he was still cleaning up the mess he made, frowning a little at the taste, or rather the thick consistency. It caused him to feel sick, but he loved every single second, it was just so arousing, and he could feel himself getting hard again~ in the meantime, you stroked his hair, patting his head, waiting for him to finish patiently. And as soon as he did, you grabbed his hair by the roots and yanked on them. The sudden pull was enough to make the chair trip over, ending with him not even having the time to gasp before landing face-first on the ground.

“Y-y/n???" How baffled he must be, hands still tied without any chances of escape and face now pressed into the mutt. "Clean it up, your mess." You muttered, finally letting go of him. Then you sat down on the chair you brought with you, arms crossed over your chest once more, this time wearing a relaxed expression, looking at him from above. The subtle power struggles made his heart flutter, blood rushing to his lower part again. He stared at you wide-eyed, then turned to look at the ground, seeing some drops of his white cum splattered there.

A low whine escaped his throat before he lowered himself, sticking his tongue out and licking it from the dirty ground. It was a bitter and unpleasant taste, he could feel the sand crunching and his stomach rejecting it. Yet he persisted, swallowing all of it and showing you his tongue after every gulp, to prove to you he did it. Nikolai could hear your light chuckles and see that content smile, he tried his best to position himself steadily and looked up at you.

What met your gaze was the face of a fanatic pervert who enjoyed every second spent to the fullest. Eyes bore that familiar haze, sweat still soaking his skin and body twitching with each word he voiced out. He used a meek yet lustful voice as he whispered with his remaining strength, "Like seeing me be your 'good boy'?"

Tags: @showtime-ss @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Since I didn’t research anything for this one let’s talk about HIV (idk man)

Hiv is a virus, and it’s often mistaken for aids. Now let’s see, what are the differences between the two?

First, hiv is not the same as aids, though it can become aids over a long time (after ca. 10 years). While it’s developing, it doesn’t have any visible effects except when you get infected with it. Cuz then you’ll get symptoms akin to the flu, or about a week or two, and because it’s identical to the flu, many people get hiv without knowing.

Even though there is no cure for hiv, it can be neutralised with medicine. There are also tests you can buy to see if you have it, but it’s still the best if you do a check up. And the great thing is, if your body takes the treatment well and if you also eat according to your then given diet (by your doctor) it won’t develop into aids. Instead, it will just be a virus that lives with you and does nothing. Like, you won’t even be infectious to other people and can have kids or live long.

The only downside is the repression medicine makes your body weak, so it’s easier for one to catch illnesses or have the symptoms stronger than the average.

Anyway, people with hiv who are undergoing treatment are safe, there is no harm in engaging in intercourse with them since they aren’t infectious. Also from what I’ve heard, they do check-ups every month to see if the medicine works so rest assured.

[sttoru]

“PLAYING WITH FIRE.”

༄ sypnosis. you show up to jujutsu high to pay satoru a visit on your day off, though that visit quickly turns into him bending you over in his office.

༄ note. ehh.. satoru brainrot. especially teacher satoru who’s a different person when you two r alone and away from his students.. slurps.

༄ tags. satoru x female reader. dom!satoru, sub!reader. unprotected sex, creampie, doggy style, degradation, objectification, kinda dubcon in one sentence, hair pulling, satoru takes pictures, bit of overstimulation, tiny bit of aftercare.

satoru had been trying very hard to keep his hands off of you in front of his students after you walked into his classroom. you used the famous excuse of ‘dropping off his forgotten lunch’ to bother your boyfriend at work.

you were all dolled up, make up done nicely while wearing a skimpy outfit that was almost scandalous to attend a prestigious school in.

satoru caved in immediately the moment you two were alone in the privacy of his office.

“n’more.. no more— please.” you babble mindlessly, a string of your own saliva trickling down the corner of your mouth and onto your chin.

“ah, fuck, you can do it, baby; just hold on f’me.” satoru reassures you through deep grunts, clamping a hand on your mouth to prevent you from making too much noise.

not that that’d be able to muffle the squelchy sounds that echoed throughout his office every time he plunged his cock into your sopping cunt.

“haah, shit— let me put that pretty mouth of yours to use, c’mon.”

two of his long fingers slide between your lips and without hesitation, you twirl your tongue around and suck at them as if on cue.

“mhh, just like that.” satoru hisses as he feels your saliva coat his skin while his other hand circles your clit.

his eyes wander down to your ass and the way it jiggles each time he slams his hips against the plump flesh.

satoru was also completely entranced by the sight of his cock—now glazed with a mixture of your juices— disappearing and reappearing not a second afterwards with each thrust.

“holy shit, y’re such a slutty thing.” a groan leaves his lips and you can feel him twitch inside of you the minute you tighten up around him. his filthy words were making your legs shake.

“yeah? ya like that, hm?” satoru’s hand which stimulated your clit left its place only to grab a fistful of your hair to yank your head back,

“bet you do, ‘cause this is exactly what you wanted by comin’ here dressed like that.”

you whine and dig your nails into the wooden surface beneath you, vision blurry as you feel the tears form due to satoru pulling at your hair. not only that; satoru knew just how to angle his hips to be able to hit the furthest parts of your sloppy pussy.

“nnh— yes, yes! fuck.” your desperate cries were muffled as you continued to suck on satoru’s fingers with your drool dripping down onto his desk.

satoru’s bangs clung onto his forehead, the sweat running down his skin making it hard for his glasses to properly remain on the bridge of his nose.

“so eager- so fuckin’ eager for a cock to fill you up.” satoru lets the words roll off the tongue in the heat of the moment.

you know that you got him extremely riled up when satoru’s being like this. it’s attractive to say the least; you’ve always loved it whenever he lets go of any self-control and just straight up fucks you brainless—not caring where you two may be.

his desk trembles with each intense thrust. the various objects on it threatening to fall as they all neared the edge due to the vibrations from your bodies.

it’s not like your boyfriend cared about the mess he’d make of his office when he’d rather make a mess out of you and your aching cunt.

“gonna—fuck—cum in your pussy, yeah? gonna have ya walk ‘round campus with my cum.”

you mindlessly nod along, babbling something incoherent that sounded like a ‘yes, please’ to satoru’s ears. and if it wasn’t, well, he’d do it anyway.

the thought of you walking out of his office afterwards with his hot load leaking out of your sweet cunt, you subtly trying to hide the liquid with your skirt since he ripped your panties apart; it drove him to the edge of insanity.

“shit, shit, shit.” curses leave satoru’s lips as he feels the pleasure building up to the point of release, “‘m gonna cum so hard— fuck!”

a deep groan echoes in your ears as you feel spurts of hot, thick cum flood your aching pussy— seeping straight into your womb.

“ngh— ‘toru!” you gasp for air once his fingers left your mouth so that satoru could grab onto your hips.

“stay still, angel. mm— have’ta make sure it stays.” the white-haired man adds in a husky tone and continues to pump into you with a few firm and deep strokes.

his blue eyes peered through his glasses at the sinful view of the white liquid overflowing and slowly dripping onto your thighs.

after making sure to push his cum as far as possible, satoru pulls out with a hiss.

just when you thought it’d be over, you could feel him rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your cunt— smearing his cum, along with your own juices, all over your folds.

“now that’s a sight.” satoru hums slightly, licking his lips before bending his upper body forward. his chest was flush against your back while you tried to catch your breath on his desk.

soft pecks were placed all over the back of your neck, one last one on your forehead.

“you did so well, baby.” he reassures you, tone and expression back to his usual soft one.

you smile back tiredly at him as you mumble a quick ‘thank you’ between deep breaths. your exhausted eyes followed satoru’s hands as they searched for something in his pockets.

a grin spreads on his face before he leans down again to whisper into your ear, one hand caressing your back while the other held his phone.

“be good for me and stay bent over like that, m’kay? need to take a pic of the mess i made.”

[biinaberry]

Did I make an au just for a rarepair? Yes, but heres my idea of a shen twin au

In my version Shen Yuan transmigrates into the body of 5 yr old Shen Shi, twin of Shen Jiu. It is very important to note that in this au SJ and YQ refer to SY with "A-Shi" and "Xiao-Shi" respectively, and SY takes up the identity of Shen Shi. SY is also fully cognizant when he migrates so he has the complete thoughts of a 20~ yr old while in the body of a 5 yr old. This causes some major dysphoria and also anger at the helplessness of being in a body that does not fit him and also the fact that he has no social nor physical power because he is a child. He also views SJ and YQ as his little brothers even if he is actually the youngest physically.

He eventually is taken in my the Qiu family alongside his brother. It is when SJ starts to bond with Qiu Haitang that it finally pieces together that his brother is going to be SQQ and grieves for the events that he knows is going to happen to him. The building rage and anger at the helplessness of the situation culminates in Shen Yuan starting the massacre with SJ instantly jumping in and causing the majority of deaths. When SJ carries out the unconscious body of Qiu Haitang SY realizes the opportunity in front of him. He knows that she is going to be the kickstarter of his brother's downfall and in that moment grabs the nearest weapon, and with a heavy heart, kills her as SJ watches in shock. He turns to SJ telling him "You can't leave any witnesses, they always eventually spill" before both run off. I dont know what to do with the Wu Yanzi so I'm ignoring it for now. And im also unsure if he gets a system but we'll see.

Eventually they meet up with Yue Qi now Yue Qingyuan and the anger SJ has towards him. SY is also angry but its more so for SJ's sake than his own. The two of them become a part of Cang Qiong sect and while SJ is taken in by the Qing Jing peak, SY is taken in by the beast and flora peak (which I do not have named). They both become head disciples and later peak lords. SY also is able to clock that SQH is not the original version due to airplane saying a modern phrase and a friendship forms. SY is also the one to start biting and defending his brother when QQQ or LQG take potshots at him. It's while they are still disciples that SY meets Su Xiyan while hes on a mission and they worked together for a bit before SXY split. They continued to meet up until eventually a friendship formed and SY meets TLJ a "companion" of SXY. SY clocks who the two of them are goes to SQH to learn all he can about them and their future. SXY and TLJ eventually fall for each other and SY makes sure to prevent the palace master from finding out as long as he can. He also warns them about the palace master and to not trust any letters not hand delivered by SY as he will act as a middle person to make sure no one intercepts them. It is also during this time that SXY and TLJ both gain interest in SY. Neither can explain fully why but his autistic swag, photographic memory and ability to name drop paragraph long information in seconds intrigued them. They start courting him, shen yuan is of course oblivious. It is also important that SY introduced himself to TLJ and SXY with the name "Shen Yuan" so only the two of them refer to each other as such. He also clocks when SXY is pregnant and tells her as such when symptoms start to show and again, not to trust the palace master. By this time he is now a peak lord alongside his brother.

Eventually the old palace master finds out and instead of targeting TLJ, he first targets their lynch pin, shen yuan. He sends letters to SJ and YQY about SY being a traitor. Showing him being a demon sympathizer and hanging out sect secrets that actually SQH was leaking due to the system. SY is captures, a trial occurs and SY is charged as guilty with the punishment of execution, but YQY and SJ object. Since it was CQ secrets he was sharing they have the official say. So instead of execution they instead lock him up on the beast peak using talismans and sigils. He is not allowed to talk to anyone besides fellow peak lords and his head disciple. He cannot leave the peak without another peak lord monitoring him and this also applies when teaching. This lockdown completely breaks him as he lost trust with his family and the confinement dives him crazy as a peak lord he commonly left to document and work upon his bestiaries. This leaves him in a depressive state and constantly paranoid as he cant trust anyone. And No One has told him definitive news if SXY and TLJ are safe, SQH has confirmed that TLJ was not captured and helped SXY but he has no clue where they are now and if baby LBH is with them. As SY is confined on his mountain he stops caring about appearances and starts wasting away seen in image 3. I havent figured the rest out with LBH but he does become a part of cang qiong sect under Qing Jing, the abuse he faces stays the same. If he is raised with TLJ and SXY or by the washer woman I do not know yet. LBH hearing about the rumors of a monster on the beast peak heads out and comes face to face with SY who is delighted to see him but also horrified that about 14+ years have now passed. This pushes him a little out of his depressive episode because now he has a son to take care of and he can't waste away in front of him. He needs to act strong. He teaches LBH the best he can while contained and tells him about his parents. The two form a father son dynamic where both cant really escape the situation they are in but at least have each other for company. SY also holds onto LBH's jade pendant so it isnt lost. He also tells LBH that if he meets a demon named TLJ, to mention the name Shen Yuan.

While on a mission LBH meets up with TLJ and tells him that he's met SY and TLJ loses it (pos). He asks where he is as SXY and TLJ have been trying to find him with no success. He is told that hes on the beast peak in cang qiong and has been contained there for the last 16 years. TLJ then hatches a game plan to free him and the decide to use the immortal conference as a distraction. Most of the cultivation world will be at that conference so minimal security will be held at the sect. They use this to their advantage. TLJ strikes a deal with MBJ to cause a distraction to keep the cultivation world on the two of them even if alarms go off that SY is escaping. MBJ agrees to this as TLJ allows him to target any huan hua disciple he sees (they dont tell SXY this). While they cause a distraction by appearing on the 7th day of the conference, SXY sneaks into cang qiong peak and works on the talisman and sigils. This works and eventually she gets to SY he sees the bad shape he is in, but it was better than what LBH originally saw. The two of them start crying and SXY activates a 2 way communication artifact with TLJ telling him it was a success.

TLJ then turns to MBJ and MBJ teleports, appears in front of SXY and SY and teleports the two of them to the demon world. TLJ then turns to his son who's demon seal now broke and decides to do some father son bonding and the two both go into the eternal abyss together, as this is a tradition for heavenly demons. The two of them return after 1-2 years and have MBJ teleport them out rather than using Xin Mo.

[undercoveravenger]

Highlander

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Male!Reader

Summary: Johnny’s gay awakening being Price’s adopted son, the brother of the girl he’s engaged to.

Warnings: Non-time-specific early Scotland setting, probable historical inaccuracies, Soap doesn’t realize he’s queer someone points it out

-----

Johnny MacTavish is nothing if not a good son. He’s spent his whole life training to take over his father’s lordship when he is ready to step down, developing proficiency with any weapon he could get his hands on and sitting through hundreds of dreadfully boring diplomacy lessons. He’s gone to the balls and events without complaint, and allowed himself to be shown off like some prized sheep. He’s done everything that’s been expected from him without protest.

Until now, at least, when his parents sit him down and tell him he’ll have to marry before he takes his father’s place. He understands, objectively, that a marriage like this would help solidify his clan’s alliance with their neighbors and loyalty like that could help prevent a war in the future. It’s the right call, even if he doesn’t like it.

That begrudging acceptance doesn’t mean he’s excited though, dread pooling in his stomach as he stands beside his parents and awaits his new fiancee’s arrival. Eventually a carriage comes into sight, pulled by a pair of large shire horses and accompanied by a trio of riders. 

The carriage comes to a stop and Johnny can’t even look at the woman he’s betrothed to or his soon-to-be father in law as they climb down from the carriage because he’s too distracted watching you.

There’s something about the way your shoulders flex as you dismount your horse, trousers pulling tight around your thighs and calves and Johnny’s dying a bit on the inside at the thought of you wearing a kilt.

He wrenches himself back to the present with his almost father-in-law, a sizable British fellow with an impressive spread of facial hair, who tells Johnny to call him Price and claps him on the shoulder. Price introduces him to his fiancee, a slight little thing named Abigail who seemed to have inherited her father’s blue eyes and not much else, and then nods toward you and the two other riders, one about his height with rich tawny skin and golden eyes and the other a veritable mountain of a man with a skull mask hiding his face. 

“These’re my boys,” Price says, which really doesn’t explain all that much about how the lot of you are connected to him, “You can call ‘em Gaz, Ghost, ‘n Reaper.”

And just like that, he has something to call you. Reaper.

-----

It’s the jeering that draws him in, the raucous calls of people who know each other far too well getting under each other’s skin and digging in with barbed words and sharp tongues, leads him through the courtyard where you square off against the behemoth - Ghost, Johnny remembers.

He’s got no idea about either man’s skill level, but he’s surprised to see you still standing against an opponent as large as Ghost. You’re bleeding, he notices with a start, there’s a sticky red trail of it running from your hairline down the side of your face to drip from your jaw. You couldn’t possibly take another hit like that, not with the way you’re swaying on your feet, and it’s not until Ghost is charging, barreling down on you with all the incoming force of a tidal wave, that he sees the act drop.

You’re sure on your feet again, dropping low as you brace for impact, and Ghost comes to a skidding stop. Johnny watches, awed, as the tables turn and your muscles flex as you begin to overpower Ghost and force him, inch by hard-fought inch, out of the sparring ring.

Just like that it’s over and Ghost has a fond arm around your shoulders as he drags you in to ruffle your hair and Gaz comes bounding over from where he’d been watching at the sidelines to press money into your waiting hands. Johnny slips away, the vision of your strength and the sound of your laughter playing on repeat in his mind, utterly confused by the feeling in his chest.

-----

Johnny’s still not sure what’s wrong with him when he goes to sit at the bank of the loch, long after sleep had claimed everyone else. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there, hiding out in the dark, when you stumble upon him.

“Oh,” you say, clearly as surprised to see him as he is to see you. “Didnae realize anyone else would be out. I’ll leave you be,” you shoot him a grin and move to leave and he finds himself speaking before he’s even thought about it. 

“No,” he says, patting the ground beside him entreatingly. “Please. Could use the company.”

You relent and move to sit beside him. He can feel the warmth radiating off of you, even from a few inches away. It’s nice in a way he hadn’t expected, like a fire on a cold night. He’s not sure what to say - what he wants to know first. “Why do they call you that?”

You seem surprised and he’s about to try to wave off the question when you answer, “What, Reaper?” You laugh, and he’s almost surprised how pleased he is to hear the sound, “It’s stupid really - I got left at Price’s doorstep when I was little, too young to know much of anything yet, and all he saw when he opened the door to find me was a figure in a black cloak disappearing around the bend. Price says it was like the Reaper himself saying it wasn’t my time yet. There was a letter tucked in the coat ‘round my shoulders with my real name, but Reaper stuck.”

“Huh,” Johnny says, not knowing what else to say. How to say that he can see something else when he looks at you now, some little piece slotted into the puzzle that made you up and told your story. Something now that just makes sense to him.

“Enough about me,” you say, nudging at his shoulder. “What brings you out here?” you ask, leaning back on your hands and watching the wind ripple over the surface of the water.

“I’m… troubled,” Johnny says slowly, trying to piece his thoughts into words. “I’ve never been torn between my duty and what I want before.”

You hum, soft and thoughtful, like you’ve put real weight to his words and you’re trying to understand him. “Is there something wrong with what your duty dictates of you?”

It’s a good question. Objectively? No. There’s been hundreds of marriages just like the one he’s expected to have. His fiancee is pretty and she seems nice enough but…

“My heart doesn’t stir for her.” It feels like confessional at church, like he’s just admitted his deepest sins and is waiting to see if he can be Saved.

“Has your heart stirred for anyone before?” There’s no judgement to your voice, like there’s no answer he could give that would be wrong. 

Johnny thinks back, tries to remember a single time at one of the parties his parents had taken him to that there was a girl that’d made him consider marriage as something to look forward to. He can’t.

“None of the girls I’ve met-”

“I didn’t say anything about girls,” you interrupt and Oh. Well, that’s something to consider isn’t it?

Sure, he’s not had the daydreams of marriage with another boy either but he couldn’t deny the way his heart aches when he thinks of you and really, now that he’s put ‘you’ and ‘marriage’ in the same sentence, it really doesn’t sound all that bad…

His realization must be clear on his face because you laugh, bright and loud and overjoyed. 

“Well, there’s your problem!” you tease, shoving playfully at his shoulder. “No wonder you don’t wanna marry my sister if you’re queer.” You go quiet, studying him thoughtfully. “Tell me about ‘im? Or them, I s’pose?” 

He’s not sure what to say, doesn’t know you well enough yet to put into words what draws him to you so profoundly. 

You take his silence as answer enough and let out a huff. Johnny’s almost worried he offended you until he recognizes the mirth in your eyes.

“Fine, keep your secrets, you wee bastard,” you tease, pushing yourself to your feet with a groan that Johnny tries steadfastly not to think about. “Let’s get you inside and t’bed before you find somethin’ else to have a crisis over.”

Johnny lets you haul him to his feet and follows you easily back to the castle, though he knows sleep will not come for him.

-----

He finds you in the stables the next day, brushing out the big black and white mare you’d been riding when your cohort arrived.

“Is there something wrong with it?” He asks after a moment, “with me… being queer?” He borrows your words from the night before and they taste strange on his tongue. Strange, but not wrong.

“‘Course not,” you say. Easy, simple as that, without so much as a thought about the answer. “Be hypocritical if I said there was when me and my brothers are too.” Johnny can’t let himself focus on your words, on the idea that you might look at him like he looks at you, or he’ll be stuck thinking on that for the rest of his life.

“What if I’m not sure?” he asks instead.

You look up at him then, studying him intently. “D’you wanna try?” you ask, as non-judgemental as ever, and move to lean against the stall door, crossed arms resting on the smooth wood between you.

Did he? There’s part of him that doesn’t want to know, to have it cemented in him that he isn’t exactly what his parents want of him. But the rest of him knows just what you’re offering him and it’s you so how could he possibly say no?

He can’t quite manage the words so he just nods, anticipation building in him as you close the stall door behind you and nudge him up against it, melting easily into you as you finally reach out and kiss him.

Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite as he does right now with your lips on his. With the rough prickle of stubble along your jaw against his fingers, and the heat of your tongue pressing into his mouth, and the way you’ve got his breath coming in short, sharp pants that get lost somewhere between his mouth and yours. 

His heart is pounding, blood searing through his veins like he’d been struck with lightning, and he’s sure that he’s dreaming as you kiss your way down his jaw to the side of his throat until you pull back and say “Simon” and he wants to be offended that you’ve called him by the wrong name until he follows your gaze and sees Ghost frozen in the doorway, eyes darting between the two of you and Johnny knows that he’s seen.

“Simon,” you say again, voice low and pleading, “Please.”

Ghost takes one step back and then another, still looking like some frightened animal despite the fearsome mask and towering bulk.

“I have to,” Ghost says, and it sounds like an apology, “Price has to know.” He leaves with that short brutal sentence carving into the space between you and Johnny and it feels like his world is crumbling around him. 

A sigh heaves out of you like it’s all you can do to remind yourself to breathe. Johnny can relate.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, carding your fingers through his hair and then you’re leaving too, and Johnny’s alone.

-----

Johnny spends the next twenty-four hours holed away in his room avoiding everyone and everything and is only disturbed when his door creaks open and his would-have-been-wife enters the room and moves to sit beside him.

“I’m not angry with you,” Abigail says when he refuses to so much as look at her. “Really, I think we could have been content enough, but I’m doubtful that there would have been more than friendship between us.” She stands again, straightening her skirts, “C’mon, then, enough with the moping. Our parents are having a meeting that we should be attending.”

Johnny knows she’s right, knows that brooding will do nothing to ease the consequences of his actions, but having her at his side helps ease the anxiety building in his stomach as he pushes open the door to the meeting room.

His mother and father sit together at one end of the table while Price sits at the other, you, Ghost, and Gaz standing behind him. Abigail squeezes his hand supportively and goes to sit beside Price, who studies him intently.

“There have been some… let’s say complications… brought to my attention,” Price says, leaning forward in his chair and steepling his hands. “With those complications in mind, I cannot in good conscience allow Johnny to marry my daughter.”

He can feel his parents’ eyes on him, can taste their panic rising in the air, and knows he has to do something.

“Sir,” he says, striding closer to Price despite the anxiety clawing at him. “I think we both know that this alliance would be beneficial to both of us. It would be a mistake to call it off.”

“Which is why the alliance will be moving forward,” Price continues, pressing on through everyone else’s confusion. “There will still be a marriage to join our families, as is tradition, but I’ll not cheat my daughter the opportunity to have a husband who loves her by marrying her off to someone who already loves another. Especially,” he grins, eyes twinkling brightly as he gestures you forward, “When my boy Reaper here says he feels the same way and would be more than happy to take her place.”

Johnny’s baffled, bewildered even, until he looks at you and sees your smile and it all clicks easily into place. He surges forward then, damn near knocking you off your feet as he throws himself into your arms, ignoring the sounds of your adopted siblings whooping and whistling at you and Price’s amused laughter and his parents voices.

He kisses you, in front of all of them, and for the first time he is excited to see what the future holds.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

🌍🌡️ - Climate Prophecy: The Forecast Is 100% Chance of 'Cool'

1. No cases of cancer caused by HPV in Norwegian 25-year olds, the first cohort to be mass vaccinated for HPV

Last year there were zero cases of cervical cancer in the population that was vaccinated in 2009 against the HPV virus, which can cause the cancer in women. The HPV virus is extremely common, basically everyone comes into contact with one version or another of the virus in their lifetime.

The vaccine was given to girls only out of an abundance of caution, they were the most likely to contract cancer from the viruses, and because there was limited supply.

2. ‘Every square inch is covered in life’: the ageing oil rigs that became marine oases

Built decades ago, California’s offshore oil platforms are home to a huge diversity of marine life. According to a 2014 study, the rigs were some of the most “productive” ocean habitats in the world, a term that refers to biomass – or number of fish and other creatures and how much space they take up – per unit area.

3. Vaccinations may have prevented almost 20 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide

Vaccinations estimated to have averted 19.8 million COVID-19 deaths worldwide in their first year, according to the latest Imperial modelling study.

In the first year of the vaccination programme, 19.8 million out of a potential 31.4 million COVID-19 deaths were prevented worldwide according to estimates based on excess deaths from 185 countries and territories.

4. Global climate policy forecast predicts ‘well below 2°C’ Paris Agreement climate goals will be met

They report only a 10% probability we exceed 2°C by 2050. Temperatures are expected to peak between 1.7°C and 1.8°C, which is consistent with the “well below 2°C” objective of the Paris Agreement in Art. 2.1c.

5. Young driver fatality rates have fallen sharply in the US, helped by education, technology

Crash and fatality rates among drivers under 21 have fallen dramatically in the U.S. during the past 20 years.

Using data from 2002-2021, the report says that fatal crashes involving a young driver fell by 38%, while deaths of young drivers dropped even more, by about 45%.

6. A Virginia woman was feeling sad. Her doctor prescribed her a cat.

7. Remote workers report saving $5,000 to $10,000 a year

What value would American workers place on the privilege to work from home?

In a 2022 survey by FlexJobs, 45% of remote workers reported saving at least $5,000 a year. One in 5 reported saving $10,000 a year. The savings average out to about $6,000 a year. The poll reached 4,000 workers in July and August of last year.

Three years into the remote-work revolution, research increasingly suggests that telework is a commodity, a job descriptor worth thousands of dollars in potential savings and improved quality of life.

---

That's it for this week :)

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[stepbrorafe]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

The hot water hits you in a stream, steam fogging up the glass door of your shower. Your hands run through your hair, soaking up the way the scalding water soothes your tense muscles.

You let out a hum from the pleasant feeling, before suddenly turning towards the glass door as you heard shuffling on the other side. Your brows furrow as you attempt to see through the steam, only coming up with nothing. You shrug it off as just being tired from your long day.

Letting the water fall over you for a few more minutes, you finally open your eyes once more to the sound of the shower door clicking open.

Your stepbrother stands in the doorway of the shower, towering over you with a dark look in his eyes. His hair falls over his forehead as he looks you up and down, his lips pulling into a devious smirk.

“What are you doing?!” You shriek, covering your naked body as best you can.

“I need to shower.” Rafe shrugs as if it’s not big deal.

You gape at him, “Um, clearly I am right now.”

He chuckles, “Come on. We can save water.”

Before you can object, he’s taking off his shirt. You stare in bewilderment, appalled by his carelessness. Your mouth parts as you take in his physique. You’ve always thought he was panty dropping, but now that he’s getting in the shower with you, you’re suddenly very aware of the fact.

He closes you both in the shower, turning to you with a small grin. You’re frozen in place, mouth still slack, completely thrown off by his presence like this. His grin only grows as he takes in your awkward stance, arms still clinging to your body in a futile effort to hide yourself.

“You gonna share some water or what?” He quips, inching closer to you.

You rack your brain in an attempt to find something to say, anything, but you’re left dumbfounded. His arms meet your elbows, softly moving you to the side, so that he can get under the stream.

Swallowing the dryness in your mouth, you manage to speak, “You shouldn’t be in here, it’s not right.”

His brows furrow as he faces you, “Relax, kid. Not like I’m feeling you up… Unless-“

Before you can get a single word out, his hands are cupping your waist and pulling you flush against him under the steaming fall of water. Your heartbeat quickens as you feel his member growing against your stomach.

“Rafe-“ You whisper, only for him to cut you off as he grasps your jaw.

Before you know it, his arms are hooked under your knees while he holds you up as he drills into your sopping pussy. Your back is pressed against the cold glass, providing the perfect balance to your burning skin.

“Oh my fuck.” You cry out, tits bouncing against Rafe’s chest as he thrusts in and out of you.

Your legs shake in his grip, your pussy tightening around him every so often. He attacks your mouth with a string of feverish kisses, two of you panting into one another.

“Always knew you’d be a slut for my cock, sis.” He groans in your ear, lowering you in perfect timing to meet his rough strokes.

You can’t help the loud moans that emit from your mouth as he continues to deliciously bruise your cervix. The sound of your skin slapping as his hips viciously slam into yours fills the bathroom, louder than the water pellets hitting the floor.

“Raaafe.” You cry out in staggered moans, your voice quivering with every thrust.

“Gonna cum for me? Hm?” He hums, “Wanna cum on my cock?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip to prevent the screams from spilling and furiously nod your head. He smirks down at you and picks up the brutal pace, completely wrecking your sweet little cunt.

Without warning, you’re clenching around him as your body shakes. The band in your stomach snaps, unable to hold back any longer, coating his throbbing dick in your juices with a pornographic moan leaving your mouth.

His thrusts don’t stop, only growing deeper and harder as he grunts, causing you to squeal, “Too much!”

He slams you down hard on his cock, the imprint of him bulging from your stomach as he cums, painting your walls a milky white. He keeps pumping in and out of you, filling you up until he has nothing left to give.

Placing you down on wobbly legs, he roughly squeezes your cheeks and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“You belong to me now.”

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

tags : @sunkissedrafe @wickedtactics @bunnycvnts @butterflyoceandreams @rafesgiirl @yourenogoodforme @marvelfanfics1recs @cini-mini27 @pinkribboncoco @drewsphswife @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twenty six

authors note: this chapter almost entirely covers grief. be prepared.

cw/tw: angst (discussion of grief and loss)

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

chapter suggested listening: "i hope you dance" by gladys knight, "lift me up" by rihanna, and "dancing in the sky" by dani and izzy.

masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 9k

Solana still vividly remembers the moment she was told her mother was dead. Not the moment where Nina died, where she took her last breath. No, that devastating memory is forever attached and molded to Solana’s recollection, something to never escape her, despite her best efforts to dump it into the sea of the forgotten.

No, the moment she was told is something different, somehow colder and heavier. 

She can still recall the sound of beeping machines, blurry, amorphous figures melting into something less abstract and more corporeal. The smell of nothing, sterilization that was quickly permeated by the overwhelming scent of her father’s cologne.

For some reason, that was more prominent and noticeable than the tube down her throat, preventing her from clearly speaking. It didn’t stop her from trying though. Because even with her barely cognizant state, with the fact that she wasn’t still fully aware of where she was and what occurred, her focus was on one person.

Her mother.

That was the intended word, Solana’s muffled moans and groans, fighting against the tube. The pain that shot through her little body while trying to move it wasn’t enough to stop her from asking. 

Mommy

It’s something that’s always sat with her. Influenced her in many ways. 

It’s also something that helps her understand a fraction of what Roman is going through right now, the feelings he might be experiencing. Everyone is different. She knows this. But, she also knows the feeling of loss. Of feeling alone.

And she swore to him he would never be alone.

Fetu is gone, yes. But, he’ll always have her.

It's what she keeps in mind as she and Jimmy arrive at Fetu's place and move to enter.

Solana had a feeling she would be walking into a difficult scene, but she hadn’t the slightest clue the severity of said difficulty.

“Oh my God….”

It’s bedlam. 

Chaos and destruction all around her from the minute she and Jimmy open the front door and walk in. Furniture turned upside down, shattered shards of glass littering the floor all over, dents and scuffs on the wall, indicating objects being thrown.

Solana even spots a few holes she can tell weren’t caused by objects.

They were caused by fists. 

But while Jimmy stands beside her, face not hiding his shock and slight horror at what lies before them, Solana’s similar expression stems from a different space.

It stems from how devastated her husband must be right now to cause such destruction.

“I’ve gotta find him,” Solana says, swallowing and moving to maneuver past the glass when a cautious but firm hand grabs her arm.

“Solana, let me find him.”

She doesn’t need an explanation as to why this is being proposed. The answer is written in red lettered concern all over his face.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Jimmy sighs, dropping his hand to gesture to the wreckage around them. “Solana….look at what he did.” She has. Hard not to. “He’s clearly not in a good place right now.”

“Would you be?” She challenges. “Put yourself in his shoes, Jimmy. In my shoes.” Voice breaking, she discloses. “You don’t know what it’s like to unexpectedly lose the one person who meant the world to you….and to not be able to say goodbye.” Solana sniffles, forcing out a shaky breath. “I know what he’s feeling right now, which is how I know what he needs, and it’s not you.”

Jimmy is silent. A small part of her understands and appreciates his concern, but he has to understand her side of things too. 

Roman may be his cousin, lifelong friend, borderline brother.

But, Roman is her husband. Her person. Her better half.

Her soulmate.

“I’ll be fine,” she reassures, reaching for his hand. “What I need you to do is find Ava.” She motions to the destroyed room. "We don’t know if she was part of this as well.” Because despite only one meeting, Solana can tell that Ava has a strong personality just like Roman. Loved Fetu just as much as Roman.

She has to be just as distraught.

Jimmy counters, “let me try to clean some of this up first.”

“No.” Solana shakes her head. “I can handle that.” Because cleaning up after men following outbursts is something, sadly, she has plenty of experience with. Countless times her father and brother would destroy rooms and force her to clean up their mess. So, certainly, she can do the same for a man whose actions are fueled not by rage.

But pain.

Loss.

Grief.

Especially when that man is her husband. 

“Solana—”

“And I—I want you to leave after that.” His eyes double in size, prompting her to explain. “Roman…..he’s gonna need some time. I don’t….I don’t think he’s going to want to be around anyone, even you.” Maybe even me. “I want to give him what he needs.”

“Solana—”

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy.” There’s not an ounce of her that believes she won’t. “I just need you to find Ava. Help her. And get back home, because I need you to keep Dulce for us.” She swallows, adding in a small voice. “He’s gonna need a couple days.”

More than that. Much more. But for now, it’ll have to do.

Jimmy still looks unconvinced. 

But, he eventually agrees, leaving to find Ava who had sent a vague text saying she needed air.

Nothing more.

It's how both Jimmy and herself suspect she's gone for a walk in the surrounding woods.

And as soon as he's gone, Solana is on the move, instantly going up the stairs.

Each step taken feels like there’s a ton of bricks attached, weighing her down, pulling her back and trying to keep her from exactly where she needs to be. It’s all mental and emotional, but it’s not enough to keep her from pressing forward.

She passes Fetu’s room without sparing a glance, both for her own mental sake and knowing that’s the last place he’d probably be. His room would seem the most logical place to start to look, but she also knows that when one is deep in the throes of grief, there is no place for logic.

So, she goes through each room, bypassing the bathrooms and Ava’s bedroom. Again, another place she just can’t picture him being.

It eventually leaves her with two options: the last guest room and his room. Given the cracked door for the latter, that’s the route she chooses.

Solana’s heart is slamming repeatedly against her chest, her eyes watering prematurely at what she knows will be a heavy ass sight. But still, she powers through those emotions, bypasses her own personal sentiments and focuses on him.

A gentle knock followed up with, “Roman?” Nothing. She’s not surprised, but she at least would like him to know it’s her about to enter and not someone else. Something tells her his reaction would be different—very different—if anyone else was trying to “disturb” him right now. 

Solana gently turns the knob, partially unsurprised to also find the room in a slight state of disarray. Not nearly as bad as the living room and entrance but still indicative of turmoil.

A lamp lays shattered near the door to the bathroom, a picture knocked off the wall, the TV also down on the floor. Nothing major beyond that, but even if so, it wouldn’t capture much—or any—of her focus. No, that’s because it’s already spoken for. 

“Roman….”

She sees him. Slumped on the floor, one long leg outstretched, other leg up, extend arm resting on his knee. Closing the door behind her, she rushes over to him, again unsurprised by how he doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

Instantly, those watery eyes are upgraded to silent tears streaming down her face. “Ro…..” Carefully leaning down beside him, she finds herself reaching to push back some of his hair that’s not neatly tucked into his everyday bun but instead wild, hanging, unruly. 

A perfect representation of what he must be feeling. 

She shakes her head, “I’m so so—”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

There’s not a part of her that’s taken back by his words: hollow, empty, stoic. If anything, it’s expected. 

She expected this kind of reaction to her presence.

Shaking her head, Solana keeps her voice leveled. “I’m exactly where I should be.” Her gaze travels to his hand, a small gasp leaving at the blusied, lacerated, bloody state of his knuckles. “Roman—”

“I want to be alone.” 

Another emotionless statement, forcing her to look back at him. He looks shattered, but in a way that makes sense for him. No red, teary, puffy eyes. No. Just an empty look that hides an abundance of emotions. 

Solana makes sure not to stutter, stammer, or anything of the sort as she calmly replies, “I’m not leaving you alone.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw ticking, a sign of growing anger. It doesn’t deter her. “Solana, I want to be alone.”

“Roman—”

“I said leave!”

Silence

There’s a burst of silence that washes over the room following his outburst: loud, frigid, pained.

It’s been some time since he’s raised his voice with her, and the last time, her reaction was typical for where she was at that point. Scared, frightened, terrified even.

None of that could even remotely describe what she’s feeling right now. 

Solana has no reaction to his outburst. No flinching, no cowering, no wincing. Nothing.

“No, you don’t.” A closed, sullen smile as she moves a lock of his hair back out of his face. “You just don’t want to feel what you’re feeling. You’re angry and hurt and sad and confused and so many things you probably don’t even understand, because….because that’s what grief is.”

He says nothing, offers not outward reaction to her words. 

“I’m gonna say this one time and one time only.” She’s never been more sure about something in her life. “You can yell at me, you can scream at me, you can throw shit in my presence, you can even flip over every piece of furniture in this house, but I am not leaving. You may want to be alone, but you don’t need to be alone.” Pushing back more of his hair, it’s not missed on her the way he clenches his jaw. Not from anger. Something else. Something vulnerable. “I’m gonna clean and wrap up your hand, then I’m going to clean up downstairs and cook. I won’t talk to you unless you initiate it, and I won’t force you to interact with me. You can ignore me all you want, but as long as you’re here, I’m here.”  Her voice cracks as she stresses, “I’m not leaving you.”

Roman continues to remain silent following her heartfelt explanation, but it doesn’t bother her. None of what he’s done, what he’s said or not said bothers her, because right now, whatever he’s feeling is valid. 

“I’ll be right back,” she murmurs. Solana walks over to the bathroom and pulls out the first aid kit from the cabinet, returning to her husband who hasn’t moved. Silently, she works to disinfect and tend to his injuries. It’s not horrifically bad, but it’s not good, either. She’s unsure if Roman flexes his fingers to show nothing is fractured, but regardless, it’s appreciated and checks off a box without her needing to ask any questions.

Once finished, she informs, “I’m gonna go start cleaning up. Afterwards, I’ll fix you something to eat. I’ll have your plate on the table and text you when it’s ready. I’ll eat elsewhere.”

Roman continues to offer no sign that he’s listening to a word she’s saying. Still, it does nothing to deter her. Kissing his forehead, she returns the first aid kit to where she found it and walks out the room, leaving the door slightly cracked.

Solana walks back downstairs and stops midway to survey the damage around her. A lot is ruined beyond repair, but her focus is less on what was broken and more on ridding the place of the hazards. Starting with the broken glass.

Remembering where the cleaning supplies are kept, Solana carefully maneuvers her way across the floor and grabs the broom and dust pan. Wordlessly, she moves to clear the floor, dumping the shards into the nearest trash can. For extra protection, she vacuums the floor twice to suck up any remaining pieces. 

Following that, she goes to put back unbroken items where they belong. Pillows back on the sofa. A sofa that she had to tip over. Books back on the shelf. Pictures that once belonged in now broken picture frames on the coffee table. And the items of irreparable damage dumped in both the kitchen bin as well as the big bin out back.

It’s about half an hour of work, significantly less time than most people would need, but this isn’t Solana’s first rodeo.

She’s seen this movie before. 

Is very familiar with how it plays out. 

She’s about to start on the food when the sound of a door opening pulls her from searching the fridge to see what she can put together. 

Turning and walking towards the front door, Solana is already moving towards a despondent Ava, pulling her into a comforting hug. 

Ava sniffles into her shoulder, Solana’s eyes closing as she feels Jimmy’s sad gaze on them.

“I’m so sorry,” Solana whispers, holding her tighter. This is such a devastating loss on all fronts, and while he heart breaks for Roman not being able to see Fetu before she passed, Ava was the one who probably sat with her as she took her last breath.

Solana also knows how equally devastating that can be as well.

“Thank you for being here,” Ava murmurs, eventually pulling back and wiping her eyes. “And for….cleaning up.” She lazily gestures to the room that’s still not together but much better than it was.

Solana nods, taking Ava’s hand. “I was going to cook. Why don’t you—”

“Thank you, but—” Ava offers a small smile that doesn’t meet her eyes. “I can’t—I can’t stay here.” Her lips press together as she shrugs with one shoulder. “Too many memories.” Solana also understands that. Understands it well. “I have an apartment out in town. I’m gonna—I’m gonna go stay there for a couple days, at least until–until the funeral.”

Funeral……

Solana doesn’t want to think about that.

“Of course,” she nods. “But, if you need anything—”

“I know.” Another smile. One that more so meets the eyes. Comes from a place of gratitude. She then gestures up the stairs. “But, he’s going to need you more.”

————

It’s difficult. 

For many different reasons. Solana trying to process her own grief while wanting to support and be there for Roman, while he works through his own. And while Solana logically knows that Roman icing her out, to some extent, should be expected, it doesn’t make it any easier.

Doesn’t hurt her any less to know he’s hurting but won’t let her help him.

But, she also knows she made that an option for him, and she doesn’t regret it. Nothing could stop her from being exactly where she is, even if Roman hasn’t said a word to her since her arrival almost three days prior.

Occasional glances and head nods, but nothing verbal. That also hurts, but she doesn’t take it personally. Knows that he’s just weighed down by everything that’s happened. 

She just continues to do what she can, prepare his meals that he eats alone, handles cleaning and laundry as he seems to spend the bulk of his days in the home gym or outside on ruins. A lot of avoidance behavior. But, she’s starting to see that’s maybe just how Roman copes.

He doesn’t. He just avoids shit until it “goes away.”

But this….this isn’t something to avoid, something that will go away.

He’s going to have to confront his emotions sooner or later.

Solana shifts on the bed in the guest room. The room where she’s been sleeping, already knowing that if Roman can’t even bring himself to interact with her, the likelihood of him wanting them to sleep in the same bed is slim to none. 

Another thing that’s hard. 

She’s just gotten so used to sleeping in his arms, but that’s a thought that’s much too self-focused. Her needs matter, but so do his, and right now, he’s not able to provide her that. 

And that’s okay, because he’s not okay.

She just wishes she could do something to help that. 

Her phone lighting up with Dr. Stratus smiling face is a nice distraction. “Solana.”

“Hi, doc,” she greets, shifting on the bed. “Thank you for—for making time for this.”

“It sounded important,” her psychiatrist's grin shifts into more of a frown. “And judging by how sad you look right now, I bet it is.” She directly asks, “what’s going on?”

So much. Too much to even fully unpack. “Roman’s…..had a loss in his family recently, and it’s….it’s hit us all pretty hard.” Him, arguably, the most, but also, her meeting and connecting with someone as much as she did with Fetu only to lose her so quickly…..it’s rough.

To say the least. 

Dr. Stratus frowns. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Solana already knows the question before it’s asked. “You know I have to ask. Are you experiencing any type of ideation?”

“No.” An easy answer. “Not at all. Just….heavy emotions.” Extremely. “Part of that though…..is probably because I’m pregnant.”

A gasp. “Solana.” Again, Dr. Stratus is smiling, still not as deep as her initial grin. But filled with excitement. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Solana sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry, I just—” She’s unable to catch the tear that spills down her cheek. “I still haven’t told Roman, and—and now that this has happened, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to tell him.”

Because that’s the other noxious thing about all of this. How wonderful, life-changing news has been tabled by horrible, also life-changing news.

In no universe can Solana understand and come to terms with how telling Roman about her pregnancy is appropriate. How is he to celebrate life when he’s just lost it?

It’s just all so terribly cruel.

Solana clears her throat. “I went to Roman’s doctor to do the test for me, and it came back positive, but he’s also certain that we’re having twins.”

“Oh, wow,” Dr. Stratus sighs, sympathy written all over her face. “Solana, I can’t imagine how difficult and confusing this must be for you right now.”

Solana whispers, “very.”

“Have you….have you spoken to Gail about this?”

She shakes her head. “No, because…..because it feels wrong—it is wrong—to keep telling people when my own husband doesn’t even know.”

Because it does. Because in a perfect world, she would have come up with a sweet and sentimental manner in which to break said news to him. Instead, she’s having to hide it from everyone around her—including him—sans the medical professionals she needs to know for various medical reasons.

“I understand.” Her voice is kind and calm, a constant. So very much appreciated. “But, you know, like myself, Gail is bound to confidentiality. As your therapist, she can help support you through this on the clinical side.”

“I know, but….but, I signed that paper allowing her to speak to Roman.” A full release of information. Solana knew what it was when she consented and still does now. 

“That doesn’t matter,” she counters. “You can revoke it any time, or even if you want to discuss it and make it clear she’s not to share that with him, you can. You are her client. Not Roman. Her responsibility is to you.”

Solana sits on the helpful advice. She’d forgotten Gail had made that clear when explaining the ROI. That it wasn’t the end all, be all, allowing Roman to know anything and everything about her. 

She might have to keep that in mind.

“So, I take it, you’ve only told me because of your medication, correct?” Solana nods. “Well, I wanna keep you with the Sertraline and Hydroxyzine. We could probably keep you on the Wellbutrin as well, but with a multiples pregnancy, I don’t want any take any risks.” She goes on to explain the plan, the way Solana is to taper off one medication to start another. Solana takes notes to avoid missing anything and makes sure to let the other woman know she probably won’t be home for a couple days. Thus, the switch won’t be immediate. 

That’s another thing that alerts Solana to how low her husband must be feeling. He hasn’t realized or either maybe just feels too down to even be on top of her medication. She’s been giving it to herself, which is something she’d like to become a regular thing. But, Roman not being as strict about it is yet another telltale. 

A strong indication of his continuing mental decline.

Another thing for her to worry about, and God is she worried. 

————

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens

Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

Sniffling, Solana pauses the music, unable to listen to anymore.

Fetu’s smiling voice and cheery voice suddenly fill the room, returning to her along with a bittersweet memory. 

“Such a beautiful song. One of my favorites,” she’d shared, guiding Solana through a traditional Samoan recipe. “You want to know my favorite line?”

Solana nodded, smiling as she continued to peel the potatoes. “Of course.”

She waited for Fetu to turn down the music before she recited the lines. “Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone. I hope you dance.” Solana watched the almost solemn look in her eyes before the older woman smiled warmly. “Life is such a precious thing. We all have such limited time here in the grand scheme of things. In the good and the bad, we must always dance and find something beautiful to look back at.” 

Solana’s tears intensify, still remembering, feeling the exact emotion she felt in that moment. So profound and moving.

She’d give anything to have just one more type of interaction or conversation with Fetu again.

Even if…..

Even if just to tell her about the pregnancy. 

That makes her cry harder.

It takes a good twenty minutes for Solana to gather herself, to feel ready enough to check on Roman, to see if he needs anything before she goes to bed. 

Day five of his grieving has arrived, and he’s still not spoken to her. It still hurts, but it’s not a major concern.

What is a concern is everything else. His isolation. His helplessness. His sadness.

Solana knows better than anyone else what a depressive episode looks like, and the last thing she wants is to see him slip into one of those.

But, if he doesn’t stop shoving his feelings away, shutting down and dissociating…..that might be where he’s headed. 

Solana bypasses knocking on his door as it’s partially ajar. She instead walks in only to find the balcony door also open, Roman, shirtless, sitting on the chair, staring at absolutely nothing.

She frowns. 

It kills her to see him like this. 

Walking over to him, she stands just close enough for him to hear. “Ro? I’m going to bed. Do—do you need anything?”

His response is as the rest have been. Nonverbal. He simply shakes his head no.

She’s grateful he can’t see the disappointment in her face. “Okay.” Dejected and deterred, Solana turns to leave and return to her room.

“I didn’t come see her enough.”

Solana stops dead in her tracks as his deep voice penetrates the silence. For a quick second, she doesn’t trust it. Doesn’t trust her own hearing, because Roman hasn’t said a word to her in days. And yet…..

She turns toward him, realizing that her hearing isn’t needing testing when it happens again. He speaks. “I should have—I should have listened to you.” Solana walks so that she’s standing in front of him, where she’s partially eclipsed his view of the dark forest and sky that’s littered with a blanket of stars. “I should have—” He closes his eyes, as Solana kneels down in front of him. 

“Please don’t do that,” she begs, shaking her head, taking his hands in hers. His right hand has healed nicely following her tending to it at least once a day since he messed it up. “Please don’t blame yourself. She wouldn’t want that.”

Studying him, Solana is realizing this is the most expressive Roman has been in days. She could feel his grief before, but she can actually see it now. “She knew you loved her, Roman. And she loved you, too.”

“It wasn’t fucking enough though.” The anger is rising again, but it doesn’t deter or scare her, just makes her heart ache. Because she knows it’s just a cover-up for an abundance of sadness. “Never enough.” Her heart fractures even more as he says in a pained, tortured voice. “I wasn’t enough for her….to stay. Not—not her. Not my parents. My uncle. My siblings. None of them.”

And it’s really not until this moment Solana has truly known what it means to see the person you love the most break down before you.

This is a completely different side of her husband. 

This is vulnerability. 

“Ro…..” Fingers raking through some of his hair, she does her best to find any words that could provide him some type of comfort, all while knowing nothing can ever really take away his pain. “Baby, you are enough.” More than enough. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” 

He looks away, clearly distraught. “I couldn’t save her this time.” Her eyes shut. This is heartbreaking. “I didn’t…..I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Solana’s chest aches. Tears brimming in her eyes, she stands up. “Come here.” She doesn’t even have to try to embrace him. Roman already has his arms around her, tugging her closer as he lays his head against her stomach. 

It takes a second for it to register, for her to recognize there’s a slight tremble of his body against hers. For her to understand why his grip on her seems to tighten by the second. He’s holding her so tightly. 

And, it’s when she hears it that it registers.

It’s when she hears the quiet sniffles that it hits her like a ton of bricks. 

He’s crying. 

Another brief second of shock that’s quickly washed away by her natural instinct to nurture and protect. 

“I’m so sorry,” she murmurs, holding him, kissing the top of his head. “Baby, I am so so sorry.”

For one thing and one thing only. His loss. What Fetu’s death has done to him, how it has impacted him so deeply. What’s she’s not sorry for is this long awaited breakdown of sorts. Roman has needed this. Needed it for so long. To finally breakdown and feel his feelings, and while she knows better than anyone how uncomfortable and overwhelming that can be, it’s also inevitable.

This was bound to happen.

She’s just grateful she can be here to support him through this.

The way she always will. 

————

Roman’s breakdown proved to be the catalyst. The thing that helped progress him from this almost stoic state of dissociation to a state of feeling and being. He’s actually talked to and with her. More interaction that doesn’t feel forced, almost natural. What she’s used to. To some degree, because he’s still sad. Of course, he’s sad. Still grieving. All normal.

But, he’s no longer icing her out, and that’s all that matters to her. 

So much so that he’s continued to accept her nurturance and affection. Welcomes it. Craves it, almost. The way he’s welcomed her back into the bedroom, sleeps at night practically on top of her, head on her chest as she rakes her fingers through his hair. The way he pulls her onto his lap as they eat. It’s all so subtle but also loud. The kind of love and support he’s clearly needing, and she gives it all to him.

Whatever he needs, she’ll do.

Solana presses a kiss to his temple and runs her fingers along his broad shoulders as he lays back, almost relaxed against her, the bubbles surrounding them covering the majority of their bodies, warm water infused with lavender and chamomile contributing to the serene atmosphere she was aiming for.

A goal that seems to be working based upon how at ease he feels against her, the leaking of the tension from his big body. 

“I’m gonna drive tomorrow,” Solana informs. Because Roman’s emergence from his dark hole has also meant reintegration into reality and society. Over the past two days, she’s overheard him taking phone calls, some in English, some in Samoan. And from what she could make of these calls is that they were pertaining to funeral arrangements for Fetu.

Clearly, as the funeral is set to be held this upcoming Sunday. 

She has such mixed feelings on that. On how hard that’s going to be for her husband. 

But, one thing at a time.

“I can drive,” he answers, eyes still closed. 

Sighing quietly, she angles her head so that she has a better view of his face. “I said I’m gonna drive.” At that, Roman opens his eyes, clearly taken back by her calm but firm push back. Frowning, she strokes his beard. “I want you to rest.”

Because, she does. Because he’s going to need it. Because in this space for the past week, he’s been able to just be. Be angry. Be hurt. Be sad. Be anything he needs to just be a human freaking being.

But, once they’re back home, all of that has to be turned off. He won’t have the space to be anything but the Tribal Chief and not a man just grieving a very important person. 

So, she wants him to have as much time dwelling in this safe space as possible, and that includes being able to relax while she gets them back home. 

“Besides, I haven't done it in so long, I need to make sure I still remember.” Being chauffeured quite literally everywhere has entirely deprived Solana of the need to have a car of her own but also to actually, well, drive.

Roman scoffs quietly. “That’s reassuring.” 

Rolling her eyes, she flicks his shoulder and murmurs with a small smile, “shut up.”

He does, but it’s only in preparation for what comes next. “Thank you.”

She has a feeling what he’s referring to, but assumptions have rarely done society any good. “For?”

His reply is instant. “All of it.” 

Comfort. It’s something she’s clearly been providing him but something he’s always provided her. 

Solana moves her hands down his chest and across his shoulders, mouth against his temple. “I’d do anything for you…..” Because she would. Anything at all. “Anything you need, just tell me, I’ll do it.”

He’s done so much for her. Supported her through some of her darkest, lowest moments. The least she can do is return the favor. 

Solana watches him sit up, never takes her eyes off him as he adjusts himself so he’s facing her, gently pulling her so she’s almost straddling him. The movement creating a ripple of waves that brushes against their conjoined bodies. Her wet hands move to his face as his move up her damp back.

“I just need you.” It could mean a lot of things, could refer to many of the things she’s done with and for him over the past week. But, that look in his eyes, the way his still solemn gaze drops to her chest, how his hands are moving to her hips, she knows exactly just how he needs her right now. 

Solana reaches past him to turn the knob to start draining the tub before ghosting her lips over his, murmuring, “so take me.” 

————

Being back in their home is an experience. A bit of a tease, really. Because while it’s nice to be in her house, with Dulce who seems to stay by Roman’s side, clearly sensing his grief, it’s also bittersweet.

Because it doesn’t change what’s happened. Doesn’t make the feelings of sadness go away. 

Doesn’t stop Solana from thinking about the letter Fetu gave her, from trying to figure out if it’s the right time to give it to him.

A dilemma that haunts her in the days leading up to the funeral as she works to support and be there for her husband while also managing her own pregnancy symptoms that seem to pop up at the most inconvenient times.

It’s only by the grace of God that Roman hasn’t walked in on her hunched over the toilet, emptying her stomach from any and all food consumed. An irritating occurrence that seems to happen when she’s trying to cook.

She's definitely noticed an increased sensitivity to certain smells. Spices and seasoning that have always been staples in her cooking shelved due to her literally unable to tolerate the nausea that they cause her to experience just from the aroma alone.

Irritating, to say the least.

But, it’s the morning of the actual funeral that has her anxiety spiked, her concern at a naturally high baseline level. All things considered, she just has to focus on being there for Roman. Whatever that looks like. 

Still, it’s heavy and sad and just gut-wrenching.

Just about ready, only needing to slide her sandals on after letting Dulce outside to relieve herself, Solana decides to check on Roman. 

She finds him sitting on the edge of their bed. Like herself, he’s already dressed. A white, short sleeved button up shirt accompanied by a skirt-like wrap with tribal designs. A lavalava, according to Ava with leather sandals. 

She’s certain he heard her walk in, but he remains sitting, head down, ula fala on the bed beside him. Gently closing the door behind her, Solana walks over, partially surprised by how he reaches for her. Hands on her hips, her eyes never leave him as he lifts his head, clearly taking in her outfit. There’s a moment of anxiety under his intense gaze.

It’s easily squashed, however, when he says in a low voice, “you look beautiful.”

His compliment is so appreciated, especially when she thinks about his ability to still balance his grief while also making her feel so special. “Thank you.”

Solana moves her hands to the back of his head as he holds onto her, resting his head against her stomach. “I don’t want to do this.” Her eyes shut. She knows he doesn’t. “But, I have to.”

And that’s the part that kills her. That so much of handling this falls on his shoulders, is his responsibility because of his title. It kills her because it deprives him of just being able to grieve.

“I know, baby,” she comforts, gently stroking the back of his neck. “But, you don’t have to do it alone.”

She feels it. The heavy sigh against her. A sign of a semblance of relief. She’ll take that. She’ll offer that in any way that she can.

Roman sits back up, Solana watching him stand before her. Reaching to his side, she’s careful in how she picks up the ula fala and holds it before him. “Can I…..”

He nods and dips his head, allowing her to place it upon him. Solana is mindful of the placement, remembering the exact place it’s always sat when she’s seen it on him. And when he straightens to his full height, she moves her hands to his chest and says, “I know that you have to be the Tribal Chief today, but when it’s all said and done, and everyone has left and it’s just you and me, all I want and need you to be is Roman….that’s it.”

Because Roman is a man grieving. Who needs to be able to freely feel his feelings.

Whether he wants to or not.

Solana nods and leans up to kiss his cheek before taking his hand in hers, reminding, “I’ve got you.”

He says nothing, only nods, but he doesn’t have to. She can see the appreciation—and love—in his gaze.

—-----

Solana has never actually attended a funeral before. By the time she woke up from her coma, Xavier already had her mother buried, depriving her of that formal goodbye.

So this is a first for her. Different. She quickly learns that death is something that is not necessarily seen as a bad thing in Samoan culture. Sad, yes, but the focus is on the celebration of life, which she started to figure based upon the white color scheme.

Given the nature of the situation, Solana is unsurprised by the small attendance. Roman’s preference, no doubt. Jimmy, Jey, and Rikishi are all expected guests, along with the preacher who officiates. However, it’s Paul and Dwayne who take her by surprise.

There’s a sense of gratitude, however, when they both hug Roman and offer their condolences. And she’s especially moved by the extended time taken with the hug from Dwayne, the way she can feel the empathy emanating from his tall frame.

She appreciates it deeply, and she knows that Roman does, too. 

There are also a couple of other attendees that surprise her but not entirely, as they uphold what she would guess are Samoan traditions for funerals. Song and dance. Prayers. 

It’s a beautiful send-off, one fitting for Roman’s eccentric aunt.

And almost the entire time, Solana remains by his side. Holding his hand or his arm, and if not in physical proximity, she always finds him, watching him. He is her number one concern. 

All things considered, he holds himself together well, but that’s highly due to the mask he’s wearing. The strong resilience he’s displaying in terms of not giving away the true extent of his hurt. But, Solana feels it. Feels it deeply when it’s just the two of them standing in front of Fetu’s casket, the others already departed and readying to leave. She’s about to do the same, leave him to have some semblance of privacy, only for him to tighten his hand that’s tightly clasped with hers. 

“Stay.”

A single, simple word. But, enough.

Solana nods, moving to hold onto his arm, standing quietly but supportively beside him.

As she always will. 

It’s after that, unfortunately, that things go downhill.

Solana partially expected the twins to come over following the funeral. Ava as well. All three, however, expressed their desire to give Roman his space. And, it’s appreciated, because Solana also believes that to be the best.

For right now.

However, that sentiment is not shared by Dwayne, Paul, and Rikishi. And truly, the first of the three is no issue. He doesn’t ride in the limo, opting to drive himself back to the house. 

But, it’s during that ride, for the first time since learning of Fetu’s passing, Solana feels anger.

Not even as part of the grieving process. No, she feels anger towards the two men who sit across from herself and Roman. She feels anger toward them because they haven’t even driven off yet when they’re throwing a bunch of work questions and situations at her husband.

Her husband who may look present, but she knows him well enough to know he’s not. 

And given how long these two men have known Roman, she would have thought they could see the same.

Maybe they don’t.

Or, maybe they do and just don’t care. Either one pisses her off. Makes it hard for her to hold her tongue.

Shipments. Orders. Contracts. All logical things someone in Roman’s state shouldn’t be dealing with. 

But, it’s exactly what they’re throwing at him.

Even as they arrive at the house, Dwayne taking a call out back, Paul and Rikishi barely have Roman sat down at their dining room table when they’re back at it.

“Orton wants to speak with you regarding re-negotiating the RKO proposal.”

“Stocks are looking good, but we need to start thinking about next quarter.”

“The Cartel are still interested in meeting. You need to make that happen ASAP.”

A bunch of irrelevant shit. Solana partially wants to stay outside with Dulce to avoid having to overhear it, but it’s impossible to not want to be present. To not feel the need to be present. 

Just what more do they plan to throw at Roman?

Her husband is responding, being responsive, but she can see it, hear it. The difficulty he’s having. 

And it has her nearly bursting at the seams, trying to focus on moving around the kitchen, early preparation for dinner, but it’s hard.

She’s given a chance though when Roman clears his throat and says something about changing before he stands up from the chair and starts to walk away.

Just like that, Solana knows this is her opportunity, her chance, and she has to take it. 

Because, she’s disgusted.

It’s only when she’s certain that Roman is upstairs, fully out of hearing distance that she finds herself asking, “what is wrong with you two?”

Both men look at her with partially startled, mostly confused, expressions. Rikishi is the first to speak. “What?”

Solana scoffs and points toward the steps. “He just buried his aunt. Her body isn’t even cold in the ground, and you’re asking him about work?” She continues, throwing out almost angrily, “does he look like he needs to be working right now?”

There’s a bit of a standstill. Paul looks flustered, his cheeks turning red like a child being scolded by a parent. Rikishi, however, wears an almost blank expression. “You are not Samoan, therefore you do not understand our ways. We do not mourn like you do. We celebrate life.”

“Yeah, well he’s not in place to celeb—”

“Roman is the Tribal Chief. What he needs is irrelevant when it comes to the Bloodline.” Rikishi’s interruption—and his words—have her taken back. “He understands what his duty is.”

“His duty…..” It’s potentially a build up of things, sadness and grief, manifesting as anger. Regardless, it’s growing with each word that leaves this man’s mouth. “Has he not given enough? He does everything he’s supposed to do for the Bloodline—”

“Except provide an heir,” Rikishi’s voice is as icy as the cold look in his eyes. “Or would that be you failing at the one job you have?”

Paul’s eyes widen as looks at the man beside him. “Rikishi—”

It takes so much, so much for Solana to not shut him up, to not tell him that she’s pregnant, hoping that he spreads it to any and all who’ve given Roman a hard time about not having a child.

Because fuck them. 

The chubby man lifts up his hand as he stands from his seat, rounding the corner of the table. “You are not Bloodline, so I’m not surprised you don’t know your place—”

“My place–” There’s not a single ounce of her wanting or willing to back down in this moment. “–is beside my husband.”

“Do not forget, girl, who put you in that position.” There’s an almost hint of disgust in the way the word ‘girl’ leaves his mouth. “You were nothing before him. Nothing but a punching bag for that pathetic father and brother—”

Solana has never considered herself a violent person, especially not someone who responds with violence. But, it’s almost instinct. Because one minute her hand is at her side, the next it’s colliding with Rikishi’s cheek, with an intensity that sends his head to the side. 

And she doesn’t regret it one bit.

Finally aware of what���s just happened, Solana can only process the anger in his fat face and the way he lifts his hand toward her. Except instead of cowering, she prepares to block it.

But, she doesn’t have to.

Because someone else does.

Solana gasps quietly at Dwayne who stands beside, almost in front of her, protectively, holding Rikishi’s arm in an iron grip. 

“I don’t think you want to do that,” he says with the perfect balance of lightness and seriousness. “Unless you want me to lay your candy ass out for breaking Bloodlines rules for putting your hands on a woman.”

Rikishi hisses and snatches his arm away. “She put her hands on me. I am an Elder.”

“I don’t give a damn who you are. You will not disrespect me in my house,” Solana swears. Never again will she allow any man to harm her, physically or verbally. 

And that’s a promise. 

Dwayne shrugs. “Sounds fair to me.” He then smiles, but there’s no trace of humor. “And like you said, she’s not one of us, so she doesn’t know our ways.”

Solana is surprised at that. How long has he been listening?

Paul suddenly steps forward, looking like he’s about to have a damn panic attack. “Clearly, there’s been some—”

“Get out.”

Solana’s interruption earns a variety of expressions ranging from surprisement, amusement and indignation.

Paul stutters. “I’m s-s-”

“I want you both out of my house.” There’s no stuttering on her end. “Now.”

While Paul looks confused between his friend and Dwayne, the latter chuckles, expressing, “I believe the wife of the Tribal Chief has made herself clear.” And just like that the smirk drops into a straight line as he orders, “leave.”

Paul doesn’t need to be told twice, the obese man hurriedly grabbing his papers with trembling hands. It’s Rikishi, however, whose gaze is now focused on her with borderline amusement.

He holds her stare, and she doesn’t dare look away. He will not intimidate her. 

Paul is mumbling and murmuring to the other man about needing to leave, something about coming back later, but again, he’s silenced by Rikishi.

“Well played, girl. Well played.” 

Rikishi turns to walk away when Solana finds herself stepping past Dwayne. “My name is Solana. Solana Reigns. The wife of your Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, and you will address me as such.”

Paul looks like he’s seen a ghost, like he’s seconds away from pissing himself. Rikishi just stares with a cold smile, one that doesn’t prevent or scare her from continuing. 

“And if you ever raise your hand to me again.” she steps forward, invading his personal space the same way he invaded hers. “Just know that I don’t need my husband to kick your ass.” There’s an almost snarl to her lip as she vows, “I can do it myself.”

Because she can. Because if she can put her brother, someone who terrorized and literally tortured her for years in the ICU, she can certainly do it to the rotund man before her. 

He doesn’t say anything else, just turns on his heel and leaves out with Paul, but Solana knows better. Recognizes that look. Has seen it before. Knows what it means.

This isn’t over. 

And yet, there’s not a part of her that’s nervous, that feels scared or even upset with herself at how she responded.

Because she’s spent years being hurt and disrespected by men. No more.

Not for herself but also for the children growing in her stomach. Children that she strongly believes to be girls. Solana would soon rather die than have anyone treat her daughters the way she’s been treated.

And she knows Roman would and will feel the same.

So, it starts now. The demanding of respect that she’s always deserved.

Regardless of who her husband is.

Dwayne steps forward, gentle hand on her shoulder. “You alright?” Before she can answer, he informs, “I’ll make sure Roman knows about—”

“No,” she interrupts and shakes her head. “I mean, I’m okay, but I don’t want you telling him. He…..he has enough on his plate.” And the last thing she wants is anything else being added to it. 

Dwayne frowns. “I don’t disagree with you, but as the faletua—”

Now she’s the one frowning. “The what?”

“Faletua,” he says it slower, offering and explanation. “It means the wife of the Tribal Chief.”

Solana is temporarily taken back by that. She never knew there was a direct word for who she is to Roman. For what she is to the Bloodline. 

It’s…..surprising, to say the least. 

“Speaking to you the way he did was unacceptable, but going to hit you?” He shakes his head. “Thought he would have learned that shit don’t fly with us by now.”

Curious, Solana crosses her arms and finds herself asking, “what do you mean?”

Dwayne seems a bit reluctant at first, eventually lowering his voice and offering an explanation. “Look, I’m 13 years older than Roman and Rikishi’s twins, so they were too young or not even born to have been around Rikishi when he was a piece of fucking work. Hothead. Impulsive. Used to beat on his wife. Always felt like he should have been the Tribal Chief. Nakoa, Roman’s dad, eventually had to give him an ultimatum: he get some help and straighten the fuck out or he and his entire family would be ex-communicated from the Bloodline.”

Solana hears the word coming out of this man’s mouth, but it’s difficult for her to process said words. Everything seems so…..unbelievable, like it can’t be true. Like the biological father of Jimmy and Jey, who have become like brothers to her, could be the sons of someone so…..vile.

Someone abusive.

Dwayne continues, “he’d calmed down a lot by the time Roman and the twins were born, so they don’t really know much about it. How bad it was, at least.” He then adds over a dark chuckle, “that’s where Jey gets his temper from. His old man.”

Solana has a lot to think on, but she also has many questions, too. Obviously, Rikishi’s behavior hasn’t been a problem for some time. Yes, there was today’s incident, but Solana thinks she knows her husband well enough to know he wouldn’t put up with any bullshit. 

So perhaps today was just a one-off? Fetu was his relative as well, so there’s a good chance his grief is presenting as irritation similar to how Roman’s presented as anger.

And yet…..

There’s this small, nagging part of her that doesn’t believe that. Believes that there’s more at play than what meets the eye.

Is starting to wonder if she now knows who Fetu was talking about when she said she told her brother, Nakoa, not to trust him.

Shaking her head, Solana redirects her focus to the conversation at hand. “Thank you.” Because she’s grateful for this man that she doesn’t know very well but believes to be a good person. Someone who’s good for her husband. “I—I’ll talk to Roman about what happened.” And she will……just sans some details. 

He doesn’t need to know everything. 

It’ll only put more stress on him, and he doesn’t need that.

Dwayne seems unconvinced, but he doesn’t argue. “If that’s what you prefer.”

“It is,” she answers. Switching gears a bit, Solana lowers her voice, sharing, “and thank you for being here…..for him.”

It’s not missed upon her the sad countenance that appears on his handsome face. “Gotta be honest with you, when I got the call, I was shocked. If I had known she was still……” Dwayne sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I understand why he kept it a secret. She….she meant a lot to him.”

More than you could ever know. “I know,” Solana whispers. The realization that Roman should have been back by now causes her to clear her throat. “I should probably go check on him.”

Dwayne nods. “I should probably get going anyway.”

Solana goes to protest, not wanting him to feel uninvited. “Oh no, you don’t—”

“You were right to tell them to leave,” he interrupts, gesturing to the steps. “He does need time.”

Solana says nothing, though feels immensely grateful to have someone who also recognizes that Roman is just a human being who just needs to feel and grieve instead of this machine that can just keep moving like clockwork.

Solana again thanks him for attending and his overall support before seeing him out the door and moving up the steps to check on her husband.

“Ro?” Opening the door to their bedroom, she's partially surprised to find Roman still sitting on the edge of the bed, clothes unchanged outside of the ula fala that lays on the dresser. 

He turns to her as she closes the door behind her and walks over to him. “I just….I need a minute.”

Moving in between his legs, she informs, “it’s okay. They’re gone now.” 

At that, he looks at her with a confused expression. “What do you mean?”

“Dwayne left on his own, but I made Paul and Rikishi leave.” And before he can say anything, she’s explaining, “I understand there’s things you need to get done, get caught up on, but the Bloodline can survive another day without you taking charge.” She sighs and cups his face, reminding him, “today was a lot for you. The least you can do is take the rest of it to just….be.”

She’s partially expecting him to push back, maybe even some irritation for her “speaking” on his behalf only for him to ask, “how did they take it?”

Shit. She wants to lie, feels like it would be an easy short term thing and maybe it would. But, the fact that she’s already keeping this pregnancy from him is more than enough secrecy for her.

“Paul seemed more scared than anything. Rikishi….he didn’t like it, but Dwayne backed me, so it was fine.”

A flash of anger appears in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter if he likes it or not. If you say something, he needs to fucking do it.” And this is what she wanted to avoid. Him getting upset when he doesn’t need to. “I’ll handle it.”

Solana shakes her head. “That’s not important right now.” Because it really isn’t. Especially since she’s already handled it. “Why don’t you change? Lay down. I’ll fix you something to eat. If I start now, I can have it ready by—” 

She’s stopped by Roman reaching her for her, his hands on her waist as he says so quietly, “stay with me.”

It’s such a quiet, little thing, but it’s something he’s wanting.

Something he’s needing. Thus, the answer is obvious.

Solana nods and reaches for the middle of her skirt, hiking it up enough so that she can climb on top of his lap. Roman moves them back on the bed as she lays on top of him, snuggling herself into his chest as he wraps his arms around her, holding her. 

“Thank you,” he says after kissing the top of her head. The vulnerability in his voice is aligned what she’s seen and heard in him off and on all week. “I don’t…..I don’t know if I could have handled with this without you.”

His words cause chills to sprout up her spine. Another thing she can relate to. The loss of her mother was something she once thought she would never recover from, largely because she had to deal with it alone.

But, Roman isn’t alone.

And, he never will be again. 

Holding him a bit tighter, she promises, voice clear and firm, “you’re gonna be okay, Roman."

And, he is.

She’s going to make sure of it. 

[penkura]

last forever [1/13]

Summary: Zoro only offered to marry you to keep you out of an arranged marriage with a man much older than you. You agreed with the caveat of ending it via annulment once you received word from your parents regarding the original engagement, despite your growing feelings for your close friend.

Pairing: Zoro x Fem!reader, mentioned Sanami later (like epilogue later so chill)

Warnings: Marriage of Convenience, Fake Marriage, referenced sex (waaaaaay later on), mutual pining, Zoro is bad at feelings but what's new there, eventual romance I promise, mention of past attempted assault (I'll warn in that chapter), creepy older dude later on

Notes: Hello, this is a fanfic I've been working on for a few months now. I'm still not done, but I figured I would go ahead and start posting it here as a cross post with Quotev and AO3. Sometimes I find this, Zoro and the story, hard to write, but I'm trying. This will NOT be a one-to-one rehashing of the arcs but will have more focus on Zoro and Reader's relationship as it progresses. The first two chapters are written in past tense, everything afterward is present tense, sorry about that. I've been having more fun writing present tense instead of past tense. I have the first three chapters completed, I'm still working on chapter four, but hope to have it done for Monday, and I intend to update mostly on Mondays for this one. Zoro and Reader call each other husband and wife at times, it's in italics on purpose. Hope you enjoy this one.

[Ch. 2]

Never did you think or imagine your wedding day would be like this. In a courthouse in a backwoods town with no real witnesses, to someone you'd only known for about a year and a half now. This wasn't even out of love for him, he'd only agreed to prevent you from being legally forced into marriage with a man several years older than you who had two other wives already.

No, you and Roronoa Zoro weren't in love, but he was trying to help you out so you didn't end up in a bad situation or with bodyguards chasing you down to force you back to your home village. When you had told him the story, he was honestly disgusted hearing how your family was treating you like an object to be sold, instead of as your own person. The whole reason you'd run away from home was to avoid this, but a letter brought to you by your family's personal carrier bird a few weeks ago changed that. As soon as you turned eighteen, if you weren't married or engaged to someone else, you'd be forced into marrying the creep that agreed to this when you were just fifteen. While you broke down in tears out of fear, Zoro told you he'd marry you to keep you from being taken back home. You told him he didn't have to, but he brought up that after your family heard, if they dropped the arranged marriage, you could get an annulment and it would be like this marriage never happened. You'd be free from your family and the creep, still able to travel and live your own life.

You were so grateful you couldn't stop crying and thanked him numerous times, never once telling him you hoped you'd never have to get an annulment with him. Your feelings for him were still new, he was a year older than you, but he'd protected you well in the time you knew each other. Of course, you could hold your own as a swordswoman yourself, but Zoro always tried to leave the recon to you while he took out your bounty targets.

So, a week after you turned eighteen, once you reached a small town with a courthouse, you both immediately went there to get this sham of a marriage completed. The clerk looked you both over several times, asking your ages and you lied, claiming you were both twenty-one when she said you'd need parental approval if you were younger than twenty. She didn't ask for proof, instead mumbling something to herself about how it seemed people were getting married younger and younger every year. No more questions about witnesses, parental approval, or identification to prove your ages, the older woman just filled out the paperwork and had you two sign it for processing.

While it was being processed, she sent you to the other side of the room to sit and wait.

"Thank you."

Zoro just shrugged, wishing the old bat would hurry it up so you could find a hotel and get a room so he could go to sleep. "You don't have to keep thanking me."

Nodding, you bit your lip. It was weird to think you'd legally be husband and wife, despite not being in love with each other, but part of you hoped that maybe over time Zoro would come to love you, and you him, so you'd be a few steps ahead of the curve.

The clerk called you both back over a few minutes later, stamping the papers in her hands and pulling a few more. "You're legally married now, congratulations. I've given you an extra copy since you requested it, and here's an annulment form if you've decided you made a mistake. You have six months to fill out and submit it, at any courthouse, otherwise you'll have to get a divorce."

You nodded and thanked the old woman, who told you two to be careful as you both left. You weren't entirely sure why, but if Zoro knew, he kept his mouth shut about it. Once you left, Zoro started looking for a place to stay while you found somewhere you could have dinner. Neither of you planned to stay in this town for more than a night, so you weren't worried about cashing in any bounties that day.

After finding a place to eat, you stayed nearby while you wrote a brief letter to your family and sent it to them, with your marriage certificate, by your family carrier bird. You really just hoped and prayed that they would accept this information and not still demand you return home, whether they wanted to meet Zoro because they believed your letter, or they wanted you to annul the marriage immediately to marry the creep that agreed to it first. Either way, you had no plans to follow their demands or return home.

You and Zoro didn't meet up until it was about dinner time, not a word about your marriage being spoken but your plans to leave the next morning and head to the next town were the main subject. You split off again after dinner, Zoro giving you the second key to your hotel room while he took a walk, in case you wanted to go and shower or go on to bed. You did so, taking a long shower to keep yourself distracted before choosing one of the two beds as yours for the night, laying face down with your face in the pillow. By the time Zoro did return, you were nearly asleep until he woke you when he opened the door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine…I wasn't sleeping yet."

You weren't sure if it was just you, but things felt awkward with Zoro now. It probably was just you, because he went to bed like nothing was different, telling you that he wanted to leave as soon as possible in the morning. Shells Town was the next destination for the two of you, since a Marine base was there you figured new bounty posters would be available.

You spent the night half awake, unsure of what you were feeling anymore, but you knew one thing.

It was definitely not the kind of wedding day you ever expected to have.

+!+

What do I do, what do I do??

Pacing around the Marine fortress, you didn't know if you should even try to break in and free Zoro or just wait for the month he agreed on with Helmeppo to be up. All of this because he protected a little girl from the brat's dogs and punched him in the face, the spoiled boy using it as an excuse to bring Zoro in like a criminal, and you just weren't sure what you should do. He'd told you not to interfere and when Helmeppo tried to include you in it, you were surprised Zoro threatened him further and said you had no part in the matter.

Stopping, you sighed and crouched, holding your head in your hands and whining. "What do I do…?"

"Hey, you okay??"

The voice above you sounded kind, and you looked up to see a boy with a straw hat and a scarf under his left eye, with another young boy who had pink hair and glasses. Both looked concerned, wondering why you looked like you were fighting a headache outside of the Marine fortress.

"I'm fine…"

"You sure?" The boy in the hat grinned at you, wanting to really make sure you were fine, getting eye level with you while the other boy looked nervously around. "You don't look fine!"

"Luffy!"

You laughed, sighing a bit and standing up, the boy called Luffy following suit. "Yeah, I'm…I'm sure. My friend just…the Marines got him, I'm not sure what to do."

Luffy and the other boy, Koby you learned, both questioned you until you revealed it was Zoro that was your friend, causing Luffy to get excited as he climbed the wall to look into the yard, while Koby was even more nervous than before. He couldn't even believe that you were friends with the notorious pirate hunter Zoro, let alone traveling with him.

"Hey so that's him??"

Koby climbed up with Luffy and nearly fainted, almost falling off the wall when he saw Zoro. You were so focused on the two boys you didn't notice the little girl, Rika, climbing in and over the wall with rice balls in hand. You could hear her offering them to Zoro despite him telling her to scram, before Helmeppo showed up and had her thrown back over the wall, Luffy catching her and surprising you.

"Hey, I'll take her back to her mom's place!"

Luffy nodded and gave Rika to you, letting you run off with her. You got Rika back to her mother's restaurant, making sure she was alright when Luffy and Koby arrived. Luffy told Rika that Zoro actually ate the rice balls Helmeppo ruined, which didn't really surprise you. He had a soft spot for kids, you'd noticed over time, and always tried to help them if he could.

When Helmeppo came back around and started bragging that he was going to have Zoro executed in a few days, Luffy did the same thing and punched him in the face. The three of you ran off, Luffy jumping over the wall to tell Zoro that if he helped him out, he had to join his pirate crew, but Zoro didn't get a chance to fully agree or deny before Luffy ran off to the fortress to find his swords. Koby and you attempted to untie Zoro, but he was arguing against this due to the deal he made with Helmeppo.

"Come on, I only have to last a couple weeks more!"

"He's not gonna let you go! He's gonna have you executed tomorrow!"

"What?!"

Zoro looked at you, wondering if you had heard that or if Koby was lying to him, even though the younger boy had no reason to lie to him.

"I heard every word, that's exactly what he said."

The Marines, including Axe-Hand Morgan, came after the three of you and attempted to fire at you and Koby, but you knew how to use your sword well enough to block them from hitting Koby or you with their bullets.

Luffy returned finally, blocking another set of bullets about to hit the three of you, showing off his rubber powers which actually kind of freaked you out. Zoro, finally having his three swords back, was able to get free and stop the Marines from attacking all of you any further, calling Luffy Captain after agreeing to join his pirate crew. Another shock for you, one that you'd have to deal with later on.

Luffy was the one to beat Morgan, the other Marines all cheering once they realized they were free from the tyrant's reign.

The whole thing made you smile, glad things had worked out, even as Zoro nearly passed out from hunger, making you laugh and shake your head.

"You're so lame sometimes, husband."

+!+

"So why'd you call him husband earlier??"

Face turning red, you looked at Zoro who sat next to you in Luffy's small boat that just barely comfortably held the three of you. Your husband was fast asleep, arms behind his head, but you waved your hand in front of his face to make doubly sure he was asleep, before hearing a light snore come from him.

Scooting across the boat, you sat right next to Luffy who gave you a confused smile.

"Look, Luffy…you can't tell anyone else you recruit."

"Huh?"

You were trying to keep your voice down so Zoro didn't wake, but Luffy acted like he couldn't even hear you.

"Zoro and I are married."

"You're WH–"

You threw your hands over his mouth, looking over to Zoro barely moving, but still fast asleep. You'd quieted Luffy just in time so he didn't wake your swordsman.

"We're married, but it's only because he's helping me with something. We're not in love, we're not a couple. It's…a marriage of convenience okay?"

Luffy nodded, like he understood everything you just told him. He didn't really, but he at least understood you and Zoro weren't in love, just married.

Weird, but he thought he got it.

"Please, don't tell anyone. I'm waiting to hear from my family before we annul the marriage."

That part confused him, but Luffy decided to agree and promised he wouldn't tell anyone, he didn't question you further. He thought you and Zoro were close, he wouldn't have been that surprised if you said you two were in love and together, but if you said you weren't, that this was just a friend helping another friend, he'd believe you.

That, and as soon as his stomach started growling he forgot anything else he wanted to ask.

"Do you have any food, Luffy?"

"Nope!" Luffy grinned and your face paled, looking at Zoro who just snored again and you had a feeling of dread.

"Oh lord what have we done?"

[hayatheauthor]

The Arsonists’ Handbook: A Writer’s Guide To Igniting Fire

This comprehensive guide is crafted to assist writers in creating realistic and gripping depictions of arson scenes. We'll explore the psychological motivations behind arson, the different types of fires, and the intricate dynamics of how a fire spreads.

I personally wrote this blog due to a story I’m working on involving the Salem trials fires, thus the extensive research. I hope this comprehensive guide will help you out with your fiery (written) endeavours! (Heavy on the written). 

Understanding Fire: The Basics

How Fire Starts

At its core, fire is a chemical reaction known as combustion. For fire to ignite, three key elements must be present: heat, fuel, and oxygen. This trio is often referred to as the fire triangle. Removing any one of these elements will prevent or extinguish the fire.

Heat: The energy source that raises the temperature of the material (fuel) to its ignition point. Heat can come from various sources, such as an open flame, electrical sparks, friction, or chemical reactions.

Fuel: Any combustible material that can feed the fire. This can range from solid objects like wood and paper to liquids like gasoline and alcohol, and even gases like propane and natural gas.

Oxygen: Fire needs oxygen to sustain itself. Typically, the air around us provides the necessary oxygen, but in certain conditions (like in an oxygen-rich environment), fire can become significantly more intense and harder to control.

Fire Behavior

Once a fire ignites, its behavior is influenced by several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the environment. Understanding how fire behaves is crucial for writing realistic scenes, especially when it comes to describing how quickly a fire spreads and the destruction it causes.

Spread of Fire

Fire spreads through three main methods: conduction, convection, and radiation. Conduction is the transfer of heat through materials, like when a fire heats up a metal door. Convection occurs when hot air rises and circulates, spreading the fire. Radiation is the heat that spreads through the air, setting nearby objects alight without direct contact.

Stages of a Fire

A fire typically goes through four stages: ignition, growth, fully developed, and decay.

Ignition: This is the beginning stage where the fire starts. It’s often small and contained, but the potential for growth is high.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. During this stage, the fire spreads rapidly, and the heat increases, potentially igniting nearby objects.

Fully Developed: The fire has reached its peak intensity. All available fuel is burning, and the temperature is at its highest. This is the most dangerous stage, where the fire is hardest to control.

Decay: As the fire runs out of fuel or oxygen, it begins to die down. The flames reduce in size, and the temperature starts to drop. However, if there’s still some fuel or oxygen left, the fire can reignite.

Types of Fire

Not all fires are created equal, and understanding the differences between various types of fires can help you write more accurate scenes. The type of fire often determines how it spreads, how it's fought, and the damage it causes.

Class A (Ordinary Combustibles): These fires involve materials like wood, paper, cloth, and some plastics. They are the most common type of fire and are usually extinguished with water or foam.

Class B (Flammable Liquids): These fires involve flammable or combustible liquids such as gasoline, oil, and alcohol. They are more dangerous than Class A fires and are typically extinguished with foam, carbon dioxide, or dry chemical agents.

Class C (Electrical Fires): These fires involve electrical equipment, such as wiring, circuit breakers, and appliances. Water should never be used to extinguish a Class C fire because it can conduct electricity, making the situation worse. These fires are typically fought with non-conductive agents like dry chemicals or carbon dioxide.

Class D (Combustible Metals): These fires involve metals like magnesium, titanium, and sodium. They are very dangerous and are fought with specialized agents like dry powder designed to absorb heat and smother the fire.

Class K (Kitchen Fires): These fires involve cooking oils and fats, often occurring in kitchens. They are fought with wet chemical agents that cool the fire and create a barrier between the fuel and the oxygen.

The Stages of Arson

Arson, the act of deliberately setting fire to property, is a complex crime that involves planning, execution, and, often, a great deal of psychological motivation. Understanding the stages of arson can help you create more realistic and engaging scenes in your writing.

Planning and Preparation

Before an arsonist sets a fire, they usually go through a detailed planning and preparation phase. This stage involves selecting a target, gathering materials, and determining the best time and method to set the fire.

Motive: The reasons behind arson can vary widely. Common motives include revenge, financial gain (such as insurance fraud), psychological compulsion (pyromania), or even a desire to destroy evidence of another crime.

Target Selection: The arsonist will choose their target based on various factors, including the accessibility of the location, the presence of flammable materials, and the likelihood of the fire being discovered quickly. For example, an arsonist might target an abandoned building, a business with financial troubles, or a residence where they hold a grudge against the occupants.

Materials Gathering: The arsonist needs to gather materials to start the fire. This might include accelerants like gasoline or kerosene, tools to break into the target location, and possibly even timing devices to delay the ignition. Some arsonists use household items like matches, lighters, or candles, while others might resort to more sophisticated methods.

Timing: Timing is crucial for arson. The arsonist might choose a time when the target location is unoccupied to avoid detection or ensure maximum damage. Alternatively, they might set the fire at a time when the building is full of people to cause harm or send a message.

Ignition

The ignition stage is when the arsonist actually starts the fire. This is often the most critical and dangerous part of the crime, as it requires the arsonist to be physically present at the scene.

Methods: There are various methods an arsonist might use to start a fire. The simplest method is using a match or lighter to ignite flammable materials. However, more sophisticated arsonists might use chemical accelerants, timing devices, or even electrical equipment to start the fire remotely. In some cases, the arsonist might create a trail of flammable liquid leading to the target, allowing them to ignite the fire from a safe distance.

Initial Signs: The first signs of a fire are usually small flames and smoke. Depending on the materials used, the smoke might be thick and black (indicating the presence of accelerants) or lighter and less noticeable. The smell of burning materials is also a telltale sign, and in some cases, the arsonist might use scented materials to mask the odor of burning chemicals.

Fire’s Progression

Once the fire is ignited, it begins to grow and spread. The speed and intensity of the fire depend on several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the structure of the building.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. Flames spread to nearby objects, igniting anything that can burn. The heat generated by the fire causes nearby materials to reach their ignition points, further fueling the blaze. In a well-ventilated area, the fire can spread rapidly, engulfing the entire structure in minutes.

Environmental Effects: The fire’s heat can cause significant damage to the surrounding environment. Smoke and toxic fumes fill the air, making it difficult to breathe and see. The intense heat can cause glass to shatter, metal to warp, and wood to burst into flames. The fire might also create a backdraft, a dangerous phenomenon where a sudden influx of oxygen causes an explosion of flames.

Aftermath

After the fire has been extinguished, the aftermath reveals the full extent of the damage. This stage involves assessing the destruction, investigating the cause of the fire, and dealing with the legal and emotional consequences.

Destruction: The fire leaves behind a trail of destruction. Buildings are reduced to charred skeletons, possessions are destroyed, and in some cases, lives are lost. The damage caused by fire can be catastrophic, leaving victims homeless, businesses bankrupt, and communities devastated.

Investigation: Arson is a criminal act, and a thorough investigation is usually conducted to determine the cause of the fire and identify the perpetrator. Fire investigators look for clues like burn patterns, residue from

The Psychological Profile of an Arsonist

Arsonists come from diverse backgrounds, but their motivations often stem from deep psychological issues. Understanding the mind of an arsonist can help you create more complex and nuanced characters in your writing.

Common Motivations

Revenge: Many arsonists are motivated by a desire for revenge. They might set a fire to get back at someone who wronged them, such as a former employer, an ex-partner, or a rival. This type of arson is often impulsive, driven by anger and a need to assert control.

Financial Gain: Arson is sometimes committed for financial reasons, such as insurance fraud. The arsonist may set fire to their own property or hire someone to do it, intending to collect insurance money. This type of arson is usually well-planned and methodical.

Psychological Compulsion (Pyromania): Some arsonists are driven by a psychological disorder known as pyromania, where they experience an uncontrollable urge to start fires. For these individuals, the act of setting a fire provides a sense of excitement, satisfaction, or relief. Pyromaniacs often set multiple fires and may stay to watch the fire burn.

Attention-Seeking: Arsonists may set fires to attract attention, either to themselves or to a cause they believe in. This can be seen in cases where someone sets a fire to highlight an issue, make a political statement, or simply because they crave the spotlight.

Thrill-Seeking: For some, the act of arson is about the thrill of taking risks and the adrenaline rush that comes with causing destruction. These arsonists might not have any particular grievance or financial motive but are instead driven by a desire for excitement.

Psychological Traits

While not all arsonists fit a single profile, there are common psychological traits that many share:

Lack of Empathy: Arsonists often exhibit a lack of empathy, unable to fully grasp or care about the consequences of their actions on others. They may not consider the potential loss of life or property and are more focused on their own desires and needs.

Impulsivity: Some arsonists act on impulse, setting fires without fully considering the long-term effects. This impulsivity can be linked to other behavioral issues, such as a history of aggression, substance abuse, or other criminal activity.

Desire for Control: Arson can be a way for individuals to exert control over a situation or person. The fire represents a powerful force that the arsonist can manipulate, giving them a sense of power and dominance.

Isolation: Many arsonists are socially isolated, struggling to form meaningful relationships. This isolation can fuel their desire for attention or revenge, leading them to commit acts of arson as a way of asserting themselves.

Physical Signs and Symptoms of Arson

When it comes to describing a fire in your writing, the physical signs and symptoms of arson can add a layer of authenticity and vivid detail to your scenes. Understanding these signs not only enhances the realism of your narrative but also helps to convey the severity and impact of the fire.

Visual Cues

One of the most striking aspects of a fire is its visual presentation. The flames, smoke, and other visual cues can vary greatly depending on the type of fire, the materials involved, and the environment.

Flames, Colors, and Intensity of the Fire: Flames can vary in color depending on the materials burning and the temperature of the fire. For instance, a fire fueled by organic materials like wood or paper typically burns with orange or yellow flames. In contrast, fires involving chemicals or metals might produce blue, green, or even white flames. The intensity of the flames can also signal the fire’s progression, with small, flickering flames indicating the early stages and roaring, high flames signifying a fully developed fire.

Smoke Characteristics: Smoke is another key visual indicator of a fire’s behavior. The color, thickness, and smell of smoke can provide clues about the type of materials burning and the presence of accelerants. Black, thick smoke often suggests that the fire is consuming synthetic materials like plastics or rubber, while white or gray smoke might indicate burning wood or paper. The smell of the smoke can also vary, with a sharp, acrid odor suggesting the presence of chemicals.

Heat Effects

Heat is one of the most destructive elements of a fire, and it can have profound effects on objects, structures, and people. Describing these effects can make your arson scenes more visceral and impactful.

Effects on Objects and Structures: The intense heat generated by a fire can cause a wide range of damage. Wood and other combustible materials might blister and char, while metals can warp or melt. Glass windows might crack or shatter due to the rapid temperature change. The heat can also cause scorch marks on walls and floors, which are often key indicators in an arson investigation. Understanding these effects allows you to describe the aftermath of a fire with greater accuracy.

Scorch Marks, Blistering, and Charring: Scorch marks are darkened areas that indicate where flames or intense heat have come into contact with a surface. Blistering occurs when the heat causes materials to bubble and expand, often seen on painted or varnished surfaces. Charring is the blackening and partial burning of materials, typically seen on wood. These signs can be crucial in determining the origin of the fire and whether an accelerant was used.

Human Reactions

The physical and emotional responses of individuals during a fire are critical elements in conveying the terror and urgency of an arson scene.

Physical Responses to Heat and Smoke: The human body reacts dramatically to the extreme conditions of a fire. Heat can cause burns, ranging from superficial first-degree burns to more severe third-degree burns that destroy deeper layers of skin. Smoke inhalation is a common and often deadly consequence of being trapped in a fire. It can cause coughing, choking, and disorientation as the smoke deprives the body of oxygen and fills the lungs with toxic gases. Victims might experience blurred vision, dizziness, and confusion, making it difficult for them to escape.

Emotional Responses to Fire: The emotional toll of being caught in a fire can be overwhelming. Panic is a common reaction, as the instinct to flee overwhelms rational thought. Fear and anxiety can paralyze individuals, making them unable to act. However, some characters might respond with determination and resolve, driven by the need to save themselves or others. Describing these emotional responses can add depth to your characters and heighten the drama of the scene.

For a more detailed guide on burns, read how to write burns. 

Common Misconceptions About Arson

When writing about arson, it’s important to address common misconceptions that can lead to unrealistic or inaccurate scenes. Debunking these myths can help you create more credible and compelling narratives.

Fire Spreads Quickly

A common misconception is that fire spreads almost instantaneously. While fire can indeed spread rapidly, especially under the right conditions, there is often a progression that can be influenced by various factors such as the type of fuel, the presence of accelerants, and the structure of the building. In reality, a fire might start small and take several minutes to fully engulf a room, especially if there’s limited ventilation or the materials are slow to ignite. This progression allows for moments of tension and potential escape in your narrative.

All Fires Look the Same

Another myth is that all fires behave similarly, regardless of the environment or the materials involved. In truth, the appearance and behavior of a fire can vary widely. For example, a fire in a well-ventilated area with plenty of fuel will look very different from a smoldering fire in an oxygen-deprived environment. Additionally, fires involving different types of materials—like wood, gasoline, or chemicals—can produce vastly different flames, smoke, and heat. Recognizing these differences can help you craft more nuanced and realistic fire scenes.

Fire and Explosions

Thanks to Hollywood, many people believe that fires often result in dramatic explosions. However, explosions are relatively rare in most fires and usually require specific conditions, such as the presence of flammable gases or liquids in confined spaces. While a fire can cause small, localized bursts (like when a pressurized canister overheats and ruptures), full-scale explosions are uncommon. Incorporating this knowledge can prevent your scenes from falling into the trap of over-the-top sensationalism.

Easy to Identify an Arsonist

The idea that arsonists are easily identifiable or leave obvious clues behind is another misconception. In reality, arson investigation is a complex and challenging process. Arsonists often go to great lengths to cover their tracks, using methods that leave little evidence. The fire itself can destroy crucial evidence, making it difficult to determine the cause and origin. Investigators must rely on subtle clues, like burn patterns, residue from accelerants, and witness statements. Writing realistic arson investigations involves understanding the nuances and difficulties involved in linking the crime to a specific individual.

Real-Life Case Studies

Exploring real-life arson cases can provide valuable insights into the motives, methods, and consequences of arson, helping you to create more authentic scenes in your writing.

Notorious Arson Cases

The Boston Fire (1919): This fire, started by disgruntled city workers, caused extensive damage and highlighted how social unrest can lead to destructive acts of arson. The arsonists used a combination of accelerants and timing devices to ensure the fire spread quickly and was difficult to control.

The Happy Land Fire (1990): A tragic case where an arsonist set fire to a social club in New York, resulting in 87 deaths. The fire was started with gasoline, and the arsonist’s motive was personal revenge after an altercation with a club employee. This case illustrates the deadly potential of arson when combined with crowded, enclosed spaces.

The Oakland Hills Firestorm (1991): Although not initially an arson case, this firestorm was exacerbated by arsonists who set additional fires in the area. The fire destroyed thousands of homes and underscored the difficulty of controlling fires in densely populated areas with dry, windy conditions.

Lessons for Writers

Real-life cases like these offer important lessons for writers. They demonstrate the variety of motives behind arson, the different methods used, and the devastating impact that fire can have on individuals and communities. Incorporating these lessons into your writing can help you create more complex and realistic arson scenes.

Complex Motives: Arson isn’t always about destruction for its own sake. It can be motivated by revenge, financial gain, political statements, or psychological issues. Exploring these motives can add depth to your characters and their actions.

Diverse Methods: Arsonists don’t always rely on the same techniques. Understanding the different methods used to start fires allows you to vary your scenes and avoid repetitive or predictable narratives.

Realistic Consequences: The aftermath of arson can be devastating, with long-lasting consequences for the

Arson in Literature and Film

Arson is a powerful narrative device in literature and film, often used to create tension, drive plot, or explore character motivations. Understanding how arson has been portrayed in these mediums can help you craft more compelling and nuanced fire scenes in your writing.

Arson as a Plot Device

Arson is often used as a plot device to introduce conflict, create suspense, or catalyze a story’s events. It can serve as a turning point in the narrative, forcing characters to confront their past, make difficult decisions, or reveal their true nature.

Catalyst for Change: In many stories, a fire is the catalyst that sets the plot in motion. The destruction caused by the fire forces characters to adapt, overcome obstacles, or seek revenge.

Revealing Character: Arson can also be used to reveal a character’s true nature. A character who commits arson may be driven by anger, greed, or desperation, and their actions can expose underlying flaws or hidden motivations.

Symbolism: Fire is often used symbolically in literature and film, representing concepts like purification, destruction, or rebirth. The act of setting a fire can be a symbolic gesture, reflecting the character’s desire to destroy the past, cleanse themselves of guilt, or start anew.

Notable Examples in Literature and Film

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë: In this classic novel, the character of Bertha Mason sets fire to Thornfield Hall, an act that is both literal and symbolic. The fire represents Bertha's madness and desperation, as well as the destructive secrets hidden within the estate. The blaze ultimately leads to the revelation of Mr. Rochester's past and serves as a turning point in Jane Eyre's journey, symbolizing the destruction of the old and the possibility of a new beginning.

"Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury: In Bradbury’s dystopian novel, fire is used as a tool of oppression. Firemen are tasked with burning books, a symbol of knowledge and freedom, to maintain societal control. The protagonist, Guy Montag, initially takes part in these acts of arson, but as the story progresses, he becomes disillusioned and eventually rebels against the system. The novel explores themes of censorship, conformity, and the power of knowledge, with fire serving as both a destructive and a purifying force.

"Carrie" by Stephen King: In King’s horror novel, fire is a key element of the climactic scene where Carrie White, after being humiliated at her high school prom, uses her telekinetic powers to set fire to the gymnasium. The fire is a manifestation of her rage and desire for revenge, and it leads to the destruction of her school and the deaths of many of her tormentors. The scene is a powerful example of how fire can be used to convey intense emotions and serve as a metaphor for uncontrollable anger and retribution.

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier: The burning of Manderley, the grand estate that serves as the novel’s primary setting, is a pivotal moment in du Maurier’s gothic tale. The fire, set by the vengeful housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, symbolizes the destruction of the past and the erasure of Rebecca’s lingering influence over the characters. It also represents the liberation of the protagonist from the oppressive shadow of her predecessor, allowing her to finally step out of Rebecca’s shadow.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[poemsforchan]

DO IT LIKE THAT

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you live a cliché with your coworker and you just happened to have a crush on him. luckily he seems to feel the same.

requested: by anon -> Is it possible to get a coworker! Chan smut?where he and the reader have to share a bed and he’s really nervous because he likes her. He’s definitely a sub for her and asks her to choke him because it’s one of his fantasies.

warnings: NSFW, oral (male receiving), choking but nothing too serious, chan is a tiny bit submissive but not much, afab reader but no use of female pronouns

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You are stressed.

Stress is a feeling you are used to and is very much present in your day to day life but you don’t know the last time you felt it to this intensity.

The company you worked at had asked you and another employee to go to a meeting a few cities away. Driving back would be too tiring so you were tasked with getting two hotel rooms for the night, something you had to do multiple times in the past. You assured Chris, your coworker, that everything would be taken care of. You scheduled the entirety of the trip from the second you stepped out of your apartment to the moment you got back the day after. Everything seemed fine.

It wasn't.

After a long drive - in which Chris refused to let you switch places and drive for a bit so he could rest - and a boring meeting, you finally reach the hotel; just to find out you only had booked one room. Apparently, your sleep-deprived self forgot to change the room numbers from one to two when booking on the website and you had been so busy that you didn't stop once to confirm if everything was okay before the trip. Because of some concert happening in town, there weren't available rooms and you were presented with a choice: you either suck it up and share a bed with your attractive coworker or you deal with a long car ride back, meaning you would get home by dawn. Objectively, you should choose the second option. You are not working tomorrow so you could simply sleep all day. Going home would prevent having the awkward “do you want me to sleep on the floor?” discussion and it would most definitely keep your feelings in check. You are not a high school girl that needs an excuse to get close with her crush. Absolutely not.

“Well, I don’t mind sharing for a night.” Chan says, that big, stupid, pretty smile displaying his teeth and the perfect dimples. “Unless you don't feel comfortable, which is absolutely fine. I can just drive back and send someone to pick you up tomorrow?”

Maybe you do need an excuse to be near your crush. “I couldn't do that to you. We can just share a room.”

So, together, you make your way to the room. Like a good cliché, there was only one bed in the room but it was big enough to let you sleep without needing to be pressed against Chan’s body. It bummed you out a little. Now there wasn't an excuse to feel his warmth, maybe have your legs touch while trying to fall asleep, his face so close to yours that you could feel his hot breath…

You sigh, maybe a bit too loud since it has Chris turning to look at you. “Everything ok?” he asks but you can only nod as you drop your backpack on the bed and question every life decision you made that led you to this moment. You open your backpack to get your pajamas and almost whine when you remember that you packed the ugliest pieces you got. You were just being dramatic, of course. Your pajamas were simply a pair of old shorts (it had been kind of hot the past couple of days and you didn’t want to risk getting too warm because of pants) and an even older t-shirt with a band logo that was mostly faded. ‘Normal pajamas’, you tell yourself, but you just lost the opportunity to seduce your very handsome coworker with a sexy set.

“So unprofessional, shut up.” you murmur to yourself.

“Did you say something?”

Your head snaps in his direction and you laugh a bit awkwardly. “I said I was gonna change in the bathroom.” You say, lying through your teeth, as you gather the things you need in your arms and speed walk to the bathroom. You feel like you can breathe again when you lock the bathroom door and look at yourself in the mirror. A shower is everything you need right now and you can only hope you come out of it with a clearer mind and one less crush.

You remove your clothes and take a very cold shower so your mind can focus on your shivering figure rather than your coworker’s extremely hot body. It doesn't work. You leave the tub shaking and still thinking about Chris’ arms around you. You brush your teeth thinking about his body. Unfortunately, you can’t really come up with a plan B before you’re walking out the door. Fortunately, you’re glad you didn’t waste more time thinking of a plan B because your mind goes blank as soon as your eyes focus on Chris sitting on the bed. He’s looking at his phone, still wearing his suit and obviously waiting for you to be done so he can shower. You feel like screaming at the sight of his shirt unbuttoned almost all the way, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair messy from running his fingers through it.

At the sound of your steps, Chris looks up from his phone. You notice the way his eyes travel up your legs a bit too slowly until they settle on your face. You wished there was more noise outside because you’re not sure if Chan can hear your heavy breathing or your loud thoughts. You walk to the bed, trying not to stare too much at the man sitting next to your backpack. Carefully, you put your dirty clothes inside a plastic bag before shoving it inside the backpack. Chan still hasn't moved from his place and you can feel his intense stare. Once again, you can’t help but think this is unprofessional. Ok sure - there wasn't anything forbidding a hookup with your coworker. Your contract didn't specify anything about relationships of any kind but you still viewed it as improper.

You look again at Chris and his eyes are now on yours. You watch as his tongue licks his lips and think you don't mind being improper when the object of your dirty thoughts looks this good.

You move until you’re standing in front of him. Chris looks up at you with hooded eyes and shiny lips and something tells you he wants this as much as you.

“See something you like?” you say to the man, his legs spreading to accommodate you in between them.

“Definitely.” He replies, his ears already getting a bit red. You take off your shirt, basking in the attention Chan is giving you and your naked breasts. You slowly fall to your knees, looking up at the man through your eyelashes. This was most definitely a bad idea but how were you going to stop when Chris is looking down at you with those eyes? “I’ve been imagining you like this for so long.” He breathes out, his voice trembling a bit.

“Oh?” You finish unbuttoning his shirt. “You’ve been thinking about me on my knees? You’re sounding like a perv Channie.” You tease.

“N-no, I didn't mean it like that.” He stutters. With his help, you pull his pants and boxers down to his knees so you eye the dick standing tall and proud against his stomach. “I just… think about you.”

“Yeah? I think about you a lot too.” You admit, laying your head on his thigh as you look at him. “You always walk around the office with those tight shirts and pretty smiles. Makes me so weak.” You confess, holding the base of his cock with your hand. Chan hisses at the contact and his hand goes to your head, automatically pushing you closer.

You slightly part your lips to give an open-mouth kiss on the red-ish tip. You look up at Chris when your mouth fits his cock inside and he curses before throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. Moving your head up and down, you watch as the man above you crumbles under your touch. He curses and squeezes between his fingers the fabric underneath him. Your free hand sneaks past your shorts to touch yourself. Chris pushes your head down further when you whine around his dick as you insert a finger inside you. You gag around him and your coworker seems to like it by the way his hips start moving to fuck your face. Tears fill your waterline but Chris isn't even looking at you to see the damage, too focused on the sensations your mouth gives him.

His dick twitches inside your mouth and he immediately stops. Chan looks at you, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. His lips are red, probably from biting it to keep his moans to himself. He looks good - too good for your own good, to be honest. You remove your hand from your shorts and his hand leaves your hair to settle on your cheek, a silent request for you to get up. Your knees hurt but you don't mind it. Chris moves to sit up against the headboard and you take off your remaining clothes before sitting on his thighs. His hands find a place on your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin as he now looks up at you with those intense eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispers. You simply nod, leaning down to meet him halfway. His lips are soft and he tastes just like the mint he offered you after dinner. His kisses are slow and so sweet - you might actually fall in love.

“Do you have a condom?” You murmur against his lips.

“My wallet.” He replies. You get up to search for his wallet and, after following his instructions, you grab the condom. Chris had laid further down, his head now placed on the soft pillows. You go back to sitting on his thighs, opening the package before rolling the condom down his length.

“Are you sure?” You question. Chan nods as he says a small ‘yes’ and it’s enough for you to lead his tip to your entrance before sinking down on it slowly. “I need a minute…”

Chris is understanding. He stays still even if his dick is twitching like crazy inside you. He doesn't move even if you’re squeezing him like crazy. He waits for your signal before he’s moving his hips to meet yours. You place your hands on his chest for support and Chris is so focused on the way you move that he thinks that was the moment he fell in love with you. You bounce on his lap, head thrown back while you moan so sweetly, caring only about your pleasure. Seeing you like that is enough for Chris though. You look down at him, hands squeezing the flesh of his chest and arms as your moans grow a bit louder, needier. “I th-ink I’m gonna cum.” Chan manages to say.

You stop your movements immediately. “You can’t cum until I do.” Maybe it’s the authoritative voice you used (the same one you use when you’re ordering around people at the company that always has his pants tightening) or the hand that slips to his throat and squeezes just a tiny bit to make your point. Chan doesn't know, perhaps it was a mix of both. What he does know is that it has him spilling inside the condom with a strangled moan and a gasp. “You have got to be kidding me.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know why that happened!” Chan starts rambling, saying everything that comes to mind without even thinking. You roll your eyes, get up and pull out his condom to throw away. You thank a higher entity that he had another one in his wallet or it would be a shame that your night ended like this. “I mean I’ve been thinking about- Well not with you obviously! Ok maybe with you, god I’m such a pervert and…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You interrupt his rambling. “It’s hot really.” You murmur under your breath. “Do you want me to choke you Channie?”

Chan looks like he’s about to cry, the tips of his ears a vivid red. “Yeah? Only if you’re ok with it.”

You go back to bed and repeat the same process you did a few minutes ago, except you’re now holding a softer cock. Chris’ eyes widen and he’s about to ask for a little break but then you're sinking down on him again and his dick seems to come back to life. Your hand now finds a place on his neck, fingers squeezing the sides just enough that he feels it but not enough that he struggles breathing. Chan likes the pressure there, mixed with you bouncing on his lap and moaning his name so desperately. You like the image of Chan under you, mouth parted while he whines at the stimulation and pleas to go faster. You apply a bit more pressure and Chris’ eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to say something. The words don't come out but you still understand the warning. You keep the pressure, watching Chan suck in a breath before he’s spilling inside the condom once again. You don’t stop, set on reaching your orgasm as well. You let go of his neck to touch your clit, moving your fingers in circles while you get closer with each thrust. Chris squeezes your waist, helps you lift yourself up a few more times until you reach your high again.

You let yourself fall to his side, laying next to him on your back while breathing heavily. “Are you ok?” You hear Chris ask.

“More than ok.” You turn your head to look at him. “I’m so glad I fucked up the booking.”

“I’m glad you did too.” He sits down on the bed, stretching his arms above his head. “Let's go, we can shower together this time.”

With weak legs and a big smile, you let yourself get dragged by Chris to the bathroom. Today, you will enjoy whatever this is. Tomorrow, you will figure it out.