#combined body difficulty

[wikiritmica]

[transmechanicus]

Woke up from my little power outage nap and couldn’t even manage to eat a full box of macked cheese, grad school will fuck you up for life kids, do it at your own risk.

[anantaru]

・✶ ｡ synopsis — capitano feels way too large on top of you, his presence almost frightening you, but don't you worry because he has a soft spot just for you <3

warnings — size kink/size difference, scary man only sweet for his s/o, fem! reader <3

how come, your bedroom always feels so much more smaller and slightly more searing with capitano in it? archons, look at you, you're halfway done into becoming a mess for him, feeling your difficulties to breathe as his towering frame castes a long lasting shadow on top of your goosebumps ridden body.

oh dear! his presence was simply overwhelming, right? cruelly dominating, and undeniably powerful— his cock, snugly in between your legs and twitching as he carefully slid his length over your wet cunt, unable to tear his eyes away from how nasty you've been drooling and squeezing your pussy for him.

every movement capitano makes made sense, you could even compare it to his battles. as if he thought about it more clearly, like he was attempting to shrink the space between you both while not realizing that it was simply impossible to get any closer.

fuck, you cannot stop yourself from watching him, or his pelvis being slicked up with your liquids as he slowly, with controlled breathing, presses his enormous tip inside your hole.

his broad chest heaves, his muscles flexing and tensing as your legs instantly begin to shake. well, his entire body was a monument to his strength and authority, how in your eyes truly, the first harbinger was the epitome of perfection.

"too much for you again, my love, no?" he utters, voice rough, boring his cock deep into your soul as his flesh teased all over your sloppy walls, making you wince of the constant, yet delicious burn.

your voice trembles with neediness, ecstasy as the sheer size of him was daunting your body and mind.

although you notice how only with you, his grip was firm, yes, but not painful, each movement calculated and precise, as though he's constantly aware of his own strength and would rather die than hurt the love of his life.

your hips can’t help but lean up into him, feeling the solid plane of his cock nudging at your sweet spot, exploring and conquering your pussy with slow but sharp snaps forward— so dense, in fact, that your tits bounce up and down with his powerful movements.

capitano practically molds into you, immediately fills all the space inside your cunt with the overwhelming presence of his cock rocking back and forth made you immediately dizzy— a carnal want erupting for him to pleasure you day and night, day and night.

your strong boyfriend, your pretty boy, he's so solid, so real, gripping at your hips and pressing his thumbs into your flesh— grinding himself deeper and deeper inside, like he wants you to touch yourself because you simply cannot stop thinking about wanting to rub your clit so fucking badly in combination of being so fucking full of him stretching your fluttering hole so damn nicely.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[kikidoul]

── SPORTS CAR.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ 양정원 x fem! reader content enemies to lovers (implied) ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content car sex jungwon's kinda mean here (whoops) unprotected sex (wrap it up pls) slight degrading pussy eating reader's a virgin here jungwon's reader's first fingering and etc . . .!? 1875 — mlist. req

note. the moment i saw the words 'sports car', i knew i had to use tate mcrae's song... please listen and stream so close to what, thanks! also, its been a while since i wrote smut so hopefully this is readable... taglist. @tfwbluu, @hoonstqr, @riqomi

You’ve disliked Jungwon the moment you laid your eyes on him. He has everything you hate—his dashing good looks, his signature infuriating smirk that never fails to stir flames of anger and the list goes on. In conclusion, you despised him, right to the core. You tried your best to avoid him, at all costs, treating him like he was the plague that could infect you the moment you’re near him. However, you didn’t expect to find yourself in your current situation. 

The back of the car was cramped and definitely not spacious enough to fit two people. But none of you cared, both hooked onto the addictive tastes of your lips—like sweet poison. You gasped into the kiss when Jungwon pushed your dress up and up, until the fabric rested around your waist, revealing your embarrassingly soaked panties. Instead of removing it, he simply tugged it aside and glided his finger against your folds, grinning into the kiss at how you flinched at the sudden contact. 

“For someone who hates me, you’re soaking wet,” he murmured, lips grazing against yours. 

“Shut—fuck!” You snarled, only to bite down on your tongue when he parted your puffy folds, index finger sliding in until he was knuckles deep. It was by instinct that your hips bucked forward, craving more but Jungwon held you down, clicking his tongue in disapproval. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t think so,” he hums, adding another finger in, gaining a high-pitched whine that bounces off the car. 

“J-Jungwon, please,” you begged, looking at him with half-lidded, teary eyes and Jungwon felt the breath getting punched out of his lungs with how breathtaking you looked. 

“Please what?” 

“Please touch me,” you whined, your hands now holding his broad shoulders as you tried to pull him closer. 

As much as Jungwon wished to keep teasing you, pushing you to the edge, he too, was reaching his limit. His cock twitched in the constraints of his pants at how stunning you looked underneath him. Compared to your usual quiet, calm appearance he saw during school hours, the current you was a huge contrast. Your hair was spread out like a halo, the eyeliner you wore was faintly smudged, proving to be a deadly combination especially with your swollen, parted lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered in his state of daze and if it was any other moment, you would have thrown him a weird look. 

You said nothing, choosing to tug him down to crash your lips together in a fiery, messy kiss. Your hands traveled down his body, struggling to remove the belt while you were being devoured by him. Jungwon lent a helping hand, easily unhooking his belt and pulled both his pants and boxers down. You broke the kiss, nervously gulping at how his cock stood upright and proud. The tip had turned an angry shade of red and purple—a sign he had been neglecting himself. 

“What’s wrong? Did I meet your expectations?” He teases, tipping your chin up with his finger. 

“No, I didn’t expect you to be this big,” you retorted, catching the way his eyes darkened at your response. 

In a blink of an eye, Jungwon manhandled you until you were shoved down to your knees, the back of your feet pressed against the back of the driver’s seat. The space was so small and narrow that you were sure you’ll be having difficulty getting up later but the thought flew out of the window when he cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. The way he looks down at you, like you were his prey made you clenched down on nothing but thin air, nails digging into the carpeted ground beneath you. 

“How about you put that mouth of yours to good use?” He sneers, one hand resting on his lap while the other grabs his cock, slowly pumping himself. 

You leaned forward, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear and opened your mouth, as wide as possible to accommodate him. Jungwon moved his hand to your head and without warning, he pushed your head down, forcing you to take him in one go. You made a startled, choked sound at his action, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, blurring your vision slightly. You’ve never done this before and you relied on your instincts, slackening your jaw and hollowing your cheeks. 

You slowly bobbed your head, tongue darting out to trace the protruding veins on the sides while you used your hands on areas you couldn’t reach. You knew you were doing the right thing, considering how Jungwon had sunk into the seat, head tilted back to reveal his unblemished skin, his Adam’s Apple moving up and down as breathless moans spilled from his lips. The grip on your hair tightened, legs parting as his hips jerked upward at a particular, harsh suck to his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re made for sucking my cock, princess” He panted, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. Your eyelids fluttered shut when he reached down with his free hand, brushing a lone tear away—the action so tender and sweet that it made your heart melt. 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you swallowed the remains until the tip hit the back of your throat. Jungwon’s mind spun at how warm and tight your throat felt. He couldn’t help but wonder if it’ll feel the same when he’s deep inside you. A throaty whine was ripped from the depth of his throat at his incoming climax, fucking into your mouth. It didn’t take him long to reach his orgasm and you choked at the feeling of warm, thick liquid sliding down your throat. Your lips ached when he pulled out, gripping your face and forcing you to open your mouth and you swallowed in front of him, earning a pleased sound of approval from him. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He purrs, eliciting a desperate, needy mewl from you as you nuzzle your face against his palm.

“Jungwon, please…” You begged, “Need you.” 

Cursing, Jungwon tugged you up and the two of you shifted about, limbs knocking against one another. The lingering pain was nothing as compared to the arousal coursing through your veins. Finally, he pulled your panties down, tossing it to the floor as his right leg dangled off the backseat, positioning himself between your legs. You could hear your heart pounding against your ribcage, watching with bated breath as he slid a condom over his cock, unsure of how and when he had even grabbed it. 

The words slid out of your mouth before you could think. “I’m a virgin.” 

He froze, eyes flickering up to your face—looking for any signs that you were joking. When you clearly wasn’t, his eyes softened, concern and worries written all over his handsome face. “Wait, are you sure you want this? I don’t want your first time to…”

His voice trailed off but you knew the implication behind his words. You gave him what you hoped was an assuring smile. “Yes, I want this. I want you, Jungwon.” 

His breath hitched in your throat and he wasted no time, pulling you closer to spread your legs, revealing your awaiting hole. You bit down on your tongue when you felt him entering, inch by inch. You blindly reached out, grabbing onto the door handle behind you to ground yourself as you were being split apart on Jungwon’s cock. After what felt like years, he bottoms out. You felt light-headed, on the verge of losing yourself to the feeling of him inside you. Jungwon, on the other hand, felt like he was in heaven. 

“Shit, princess, tell me I can move, please,” he rasped, thighs twitching with anticipation. All he needed was a mere nod from you to succumb to his desires. 

Jungwon wasted no time in pounding into you, his thigh muscles burning at the force used. The car was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, along with your sounds. You tossed your head back and it was only right for him to lean down, lips trailing kisses down the expanse of your neck as he left hickeys behind in his trail. The sensation of him biting and sucking on your skin made you whine out loud, eyes rolling up and mouth forming an ‘O’ shape when his cock hits the same, sensitive spot without fail. 

You weakly raised your legs, wrapping them around his waist and tugged him forward. The brief change of angle allows him to hit deeper, his cock practically kissing your cervix with every thrust, eliciting pleased sounds from the two of you. Jungwon had to grab your legs when he felt them slipping, slinging them over his broad shoulders instead. His head traveled lower, wrapping his lips around your left, hardened nipple and gave a light suck, drawing a high-pitched mewl from you. 

“Ngh, m-more,” you panted, feeling your mind slowly blanking out as you get drunk on the intoxicating feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, rearranging your insides to fit the shape of his cock. 

You felt the signs coming—the way your legs spasmed and the way your stomach tightened. “Hah—g-gonna—” 

“Yeah? You wanna cum for me?” He coos, moving away from your nipple covered in a layer of saliva, whispering into your ear with his hot breath grazing your sweaty skin. 

You couldn’t muster the strength to reply, choosing to frantically nod your head instead. Jungwon smirks, his long, thick fingers rubbing circles on your stretched out clit and that was enough to push you over the edge. Your body shook with the pure intensity of your orgasm as hot, transparent liquid was squirted, only for it to land on your bodies, the backseat and the floor too. Jungwon followed a few seconds later, releasing into the condom and thankfully, he didn’t collapse on you, holding himself up with one arm pressed against the headrest. 

You laid there, pliant and exhausted to move an inch while Jungwon slowly pulled out, drawing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness feeling. None of you said a word as he grabbed a packet of wet wipes, taking extra care in wiping you clean before doing the same for himself. That was, until he broke the growing tense silence. 

“You alright?” He murmured, handing you a plastic bottle of water, to which you gratefully accepted as you downed the content in one go. 

“I’m fine, I just didn’t expect to end up here,” you replied, earning an amused chuckle from him. He lightly nudged your shoulder with his, flashing you a genuine smile, his cute dimples peeking out from his cheeks. 

“You know, this shouldn’t be a one-time thing, if you want.” 

You blinked, arching an eyebrow. “Yang Jungwon, is this you trying to ask me out? If yes, I think we’ve missed a few steps of the process.” 

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault that you dress like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself.” 

Flustered, you whacked his shoulder but he merely laughed, unfazed with your reaction. 

“You’re such a pervert!” 

“Yeah, but you’re stuck with me now.” 

“...I haven’t said yes yet.” 

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 1 - Breast Worship

Price x F!Reader - 1.5k (on ao3)

summary: Price pays special attention to one of his favorite parts of you. (Reader's POV)

cw: soft piv sex, price has a big dick, reader is plus-size with big tits

The slide of John’s cock inside of you is just on the right side of painful, your head thrown back against your pillows and your eyes screwed shut as he fills you slowly. 

“There we go,” he rumbles above you, calloused palm stroking your hip. “Takin’ me so well, hm?”

Your breath hitches as he bucks forward, sliding another inch deeper. “Fuck, John, yes–”

He swats your ass once, light for him but still stinging, tsking. “Language, love.” His hand drifts down further, groping at one soft thigh and petting you, your skin sensitive to the rough texture of his fingertips.

You nearly choke on a cry as he continues pushing forward, his heavy balls settling against your cunt a relief in spite of your difficulty getting in your next breath. You feel him in your guts. “Oh, God.”

He settles himself against you, chest warm and wide. Your breasts are squished a little uncomfortably beneath him, but the skin-to-skin contact more than makes up for it as he runs his hands up either side of your body, tracing all your dips and curves and giving you his weight. 

You run your hands down his back, nails scratching along his muscles as you grip him tight with plush thighs and breathe through the sensation of him so deep inside of you. Your body adjusts quickly, well-experienced at taking him inside of you even if it's always a stretch, and it only takes a few heartbeats for you to be nudging him with a foot, urging him to fuck you.

He props himself up on one hand above you, cupping your face with one massive paw and stroking your cheekbone. “Alright, love?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him down so you can press your lips to his, sharing his breath. John takes the chance to ravage your mouth as he wants, tongue stroking along yours as you leak steadily around him, cunt holding him tightly.

He tears himself away from you, head dropping to rest between your breasts, his head rising as your chest heaves. “Goddamn, sweetie, the way you squeeze me…”

You press your hand to his face now, stroking through his beard as he looks up at you, tits pressed against both of his cheeks. ”Fuck me, John,” you say, voice throaty and rough with need. 

He groans, burying his face back in your neck as he pulls out, forcing himself to go slowly if the way his grip against your hips turns nearly bruising is anything to go buy.

You cry out when he bucks back into you, filling you to the brim again. You can’t keep yourself from tearing up as he settles into a steady pace, only pulling out about halfway before burying himself to the hilt again and again, cockhead brushing your cervix on every thrust. You let the tears fall, know that John only gets more aroused the more of a mess you are for him. 

“John!” You cry at a particularly rough thrust, burying your nails into his shoulder.

He’s panting as he pushes himself above you, hands fisted against the mattress on either side of your head as he fucks you that much harder, lips twisted up in his own pleasure. His stomach presses against yours, his hair just long enough to feel soft instead of ticklish. 

“Sweet fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?” He asks, pulling nearly all the way out on every thrust now, sweat dripping down his neck. “Jesus, look at these tits.”

You gasp as he buries his face back in your chest, quickly moving to your right breast and taking as much of it into his mouth as he can. Your gasp melts into a moan at the hot suction against your nipple, fingers curling tightly through his hair and holding him close as he echoes your moan against you.

“John, John,” you pant, eyes squeeze shut as he continues to fuck you, the combination of a thick cock in your pussy and a hot mouth on your tit enough to make you feel like you’re melting. 

He’s drooling around the mouthful he’s got, pressing himself as deeply into you as he can. When he first pulls back he looks nearly feral, pupils blown wide and lips slick with his spit. He leans back just enough to look at his work, fucking you a bit more slowly now.

He grunts a moment later, shifting so one hand can cup the underside of your breast and lift as he slows to something just above grinding inside of you. You huff, the feeling of sweat-slick skin being exposed to cool air not something you particularly relish.

“Look’it that,” he breathes, brushing the irritated skin just below your nipple with a thumb.

“Beard burn,” you supply, feet twitching as you contemplate the best way to get him to move again. “Not quite as bad as chafing, it won't last long.”

He nods but you get the sense he’s not really listening, his thumb still stroking the bit of skin that’s nearly back to its normal color. He shifts then, scooting down your body now so he’s looking at your chest instead of your face.

You open your mouth to complain, needy and ready to be fucked again, but before you can get a word out he pulls his cock nearly the whole way out of you before burying himself back to the hilt, knocking any thought of speaking from your mind. 

The pace he sets now is quick and deep, the head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot on every thrust and kissing your cervix, your slick making the glide of him inside of you feel unimaginably good. Your thighs grip him tightly, knees locked around his ribs and holding on for dear life. 

He presses his open mouth to your breast, almost rubbing himself across your chest as he kisses every bit of your skin – your tits are far from small, he’s got a lot of area to cover. His spit cools quickly on you, making you shiver beneath his assault as he does his best to suck your entire tit into one mouth.

You scratch his scalp, pulling as he massages your unkissed breast with his hand, cock still fucking you open quickly enough to keep your eyes unfocused and your mouth limp. Your pant openly as he rubs his face against you, the extra sensation of his beard only driving you closer and closer to your peak. 

“Feels s-so good, John,” you pant as he moves to your other breast, kissing and biting his way across as he shifts his weight, hips never pausing. You whine a little when he massages the tit he was just abusing, the feeling of his rough hand on sensitive skin making you clench down hard on him. 

He groans above you, hips snapping against yours that much harder. You squeal when he bites your nipple, back arching into him for more as you writhe beneath him. “John!”

He’s close to feral above you, chin digging into your soft skin as he nips you with his teeth, leaving his marks behind as he seemingly tries to cover your entire chest in his saliva. The quick bursts of pain combined with the way his hands are massaging you yanks you right to the edge of orgasm, your breaths hiccupping.

“Close, close, John, ‘m close–” you gasp, nails digging into his scalp as you push against him as much as you can on your back, teetering on the edge. 

When he bites one nipple and pinches the other at the same time, you fly off it, vision nearly whiting out as you moan and squeeze him tight. Your nipples are throbbing but it only adds to the pleasure, a sharp bite of pain to contrast the sweet squeeze of him inside of you.

He loses all coordination a moment later, face dropping to rest in your cleavage again as he fucks you without thought, rough and nasty as you start to come down. You whine and cry a little more, the overstimulation wracking your body and sending goosebumps down your arms.

“Fuck, fuck,” you hear and feel him grunt into your skin, his hot cum spurting inside of you as his hips slow down, his thrusts slowing until he’s just grinding into you, cock buried as deep as it will go.

You hold tight to his shoulders, heaving beneath his heavy weight. A moment later he pushes himself up, cupping your right breast and examining it closely. 

“Pretty,” he purrs, running his thumb over the indentations of his teeth patterned over your skin. 

“Felt good,” you say, melting beneath him.

“Yeah?” He looks up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen. He glances down at the other side of your breast, smacking it lightly enough that it could almost be a tap. “Should make this one match then.”

You’re already moaning before his lips even touch your skin again.

[kiddotarot]

YOUR FACE STRUCTURE AND PLANETS RELATIONS

Explanation = 1H and 2H are the house which shows your face structure and the part of your head, voice. And any other planet which influence these houses can decide your face structure and any other combination in your planets can also effect it so you can mix different planet and can recognize your speciality. Special Thanks to jay for teaching me this much ☺️ enjoy!!!

SATURN = If your saturan is in first house or it's aspecting your 1h or it is dominating your chart then you can have some kind of marks on your face , there can be something related to teeth shape. You can always wear a mask of serious person but you can have dark humor, silly jokes is not for you . You can look much mature then your age and saturan is a dry planet so it can also make your hair dry no matter what you try or your body can have high metabolism.

MERCURY = you can have a young look or you can look more younger than your age your facial freature can never change . They can be witty childish and there hair cut will be never stable like the always experimenting with there hairs for example me . Can have big forehead, jupiter prominent people can have big forehead but in Mercury case it shows there sharp and active mind .

JUPITER= There face can always look like laughing Buddha means they can have full cheeks where ever they smile there cheeks lift up. And there body or face can have fat or high metabolism. They often find difficulties for jaw line or sharpness. If it retrogated there nose can be little crooked or sharp and big . There ear lobe can be big and soft fluffy . There ears can be big or charp if there jupiter is exalted ( pisces) again big forehead.

MARS = They always have sharp freature but if mars aspecting your 1H or its in 1H you can have problems of pimples, marks ( specially jupiter and mars have a connection) . Very sharp eyes but small . Dominated mars with Rahu or saturan or strong mars can have big eyebrows and if mars is in prominent position or your Atmakarka they can have joint eyebrows. If your eyebrows is thin then you have sun and mars connection. They can have broad sholders, angry face expression, Specially male can be attractive , strong mars can also give you big arms and chest . Waek mars can give blood imbalance. And mars and moon connection can also make you to put you hair short .

VENUS = The person can have beautiful face and sharp nose there chin can be very structured for example = Lana bel ray , venus and rahu connection people can have big eyes and almond shape eyes, these person can easily become famous or actors in there life. Thery are always changing there appearance or fashion they set the trend in the society can also go for surgery and changing freature. Jupiter and venus person can have beautiful face and full cheeks smile example = margot robbie.

MOON = These people change very fast just like moon phase and can have problems with digestive system . They can have a yellowish color of skin regarless there skin tone . They are very preety and cute . If Jupiter and moon have a connection they or Jupiter is in moon sign they can eat to much but never gain weight or eat less much but gain weight . There is no sexual attraction like venus but people can look young , preety like moon and emotional. Example = Taylor swift ( moon and jupiter connection) great smile and expressive. Moon and ketu connection can also give expressive and beautiful eyes. Moon and rahu connection can give a person over expressive nature . Venus and moon connection people are the most beautiful person.

RAHU = These person are always changing they can be hard to recognize over time can have surgery example = Kardashians . They can loose there weight very fast . If rahu is bad placed they want to change in there appearance but no one gonna notice it. There teeth can also have something different like long legs . Rahu in mars sign can give injury but they can have goid facial freature and attractive personality.

SUN = There eyes can be small , and there skin can be yellowish at the some time in there life they can have long hair but later hair lose can be problems for sure..sharp and small eyes but very expressive and sharp . They can be not so tall but have normal height. But they hold authority in there presernce and there appearance. There chest can be big and havy good and perfect and facial freature sun and jupiter connection can give them handsome and leadership qualities and looks.

[melshifting]

THE ULTIMATE SPORTS & HOBBIES SCRIPTING PACK ꒰ 01 ꒱ .☘︎ ݁˖

❝ It’s not even fair how good they are at everything.❞

— VOLLEYBALL

♫ ㆍ Your inner clock adjusts to match the rhythm of every match—so you never mistime a jump, hit too early, or react too slow.

♫ ㆍ Your arms and hands never sting or swell after a hard dig or block, no matter how intense the play.

♫ ㆍ No matter the lighting or gym, your depth perception stays crystal clear.

♫ ㆍ You can instantly spot weak points in any team’s formation after one rotation.

♫ ㆍ Your intuition about out balls is always right. No hesitation when letting a deep shot go—you just know when not to touch it.

♫ ㆍ You’re naturally synced with your setter—even if you’ve never played together, you feel their rhythm instantly.

♫ ㆍ Your serves are never accidentally out—you’re free to risk jump serves, floaters, or short serves.

♫ ㆍ Tape never peels, pads never slip; everything you put on stays in place without needing constant adjustments.

— DRAWING/PAINTING

♫ ㆍ Even at the most detailed and intricate strokes, your hand maintains perfect precision, removing the need for rulers or corrections.

♫ ㆍ Your brushes never wear out or fray, they always stay in perfect condition.

♫ ㆍ Without trial and error, you mix your paints knowing instinctively the exact color combination to achieve any shade.

♫ ㆍ You can draw or paint in complete darkness—your muscular memory and spatial awareness allow you to create impeccable pieces.

♫ ㆍ You have an intuitive understanding of anatomy and proportions. Everything and anything looks realistic and dynamic, regardless of perspective.

♫ ㆍ When something doesn't look right, your eye immediately identifies the problem, and you know how to correct it without starting from scratch.

♫ ㆍ References appear in your mind like flashcards—if you’ve seen it once you can mentally flip back to it when sketching.

♫ ㆍ You’re not sure why, but your favorite pen seems to stretch for extra pages, your paint tubes never dry out, and your erasers don’t crumble.

— ICE SKATING

♫ ㆍ Your blades never need sharpening—they’re always at their optimal state.

♫ ㆍ Even on cold trails, you maintain flexibility and warmth, eliminating the risk of stiffness or injury.

♫ ㆍ You never forget your choreography mid-routine—your muscles narrate the performance before your brain even finishes thinking.

♫ ㆍ Your spins are always perfectly centered—your balance is so impeccable that your spins look flawless.

♫ ㆍ Even the most intricate routines are fixed in your mind after seeing them just once.

♫ ㆍ Your body mechanics are so finely tuned that high-difficulty steps become your signature moves.

♫ ㆍ After you fall, your clothes never get soaked or uncomfortable. You bounce up, and it’s like nothing touched you.

♫ ㆍ Your costume/outfit never tears, rides up, or itches.

— WRITING

♫ ㆍ Every time you reread your work, the mistakes or awkward parts stand out just enough to catch, but not enough to make you spiral.

♫ ㆍ You never forget that one specific word you’re looking for, it bubbles up exactly when you need it.

♫ ㆍ You're so good at describing a feeling or detail, that readers often say “I’ve never seen it written like that before” because it’s deeply accurate.

♫ ㆍ You never lose the initial feeling that made you want to write something in the first place.

♫ ㆍ You keep what matters without over-polishing—you know which edits would please a reader and which would dilute your voice.

♫ ㆍ Your notebooks/docs never lose structure, even if you’re jumping between ideas.

♫ ㆍ When you need inspiration, you always “randomly” stumble upon the right book, show, or quote.

♫ ㆍ Your back never hurts from long writing sessions; you shift naturally and stretch intuitively between sessions.

[hockeyboistrash]

not a couples costume | n.h

summary: a mistaken couples costume turns into something more

a/n: so I may have gotten a bit carried away with this 🫣 I didn't mean for it to get this far. sorry it's late coming out I've had technical difficulties and work. can we also appreciate how hot nico looks in this gif

“Oh, we’re not a couple.” You said for what felt like the thousandth time tonight. It was truly a coincidence that you and Nico came to this bar dressed up for Halloween in a couples costume. You didn’t even know he would be here tonight let alone wear something that paired well with your costume. The two of you worked in the Devil’s organisation and have only spoken in passing. Whenever you did though, any train of thought would be gone. You wouldn’t be able to focus on your work for the rest of the day, his smile imprinted in your head. God you love his smile. Nico was the same. He always hoped to see you when he was walking into the arena, feeling a little deflated when he didn’t. 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” You playfully glared at him. To be honest, you could’ve walked away from him by now and gone back to your friends, you probably should’ve, but you didn’t. You let your eyes roam his body from head to toe, from the tight shirt that hugged his muscles in the right places to his hand holding the neck of his beer bottle firmly as he took a swig of his drink. You were unabashedly checking him out. Nico wasn’t complaining though because he was doing the same thing. He loved the way your ass curved perfectly in your costume. 

“I don’t know what you’re on about.” Nico shrugged, smirking as he took a sip of his drink. 

“No one is going to want to hook up with me tonight if the entire bar thinks we’re a couple.” You pointed out. Nico’s grip tightened and his smirk fell. He hated thinking about a pair of hands roaming your body that weren’t his.

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked. You hadn't realised how close the two of you were sitting until you felt his warm breath against your ear. “I did save you from some sleazy guy earlier.” How could you forget? That’s how you ended up in this position in the first place. Some guy wouldn’t take no for an answer and Nico swooped in, saving you from the interaction. You still remembered how his fingers felt against the bare skin of your hip, the cold making you shiver slightly. You didn’t mind though. In fact you wish it was still there.

You were brought out of this bubble you and Nico were in by a waitress sliding a jug of some colourful cocktail onto your table. “Oh we didn’t order this.” You told her and she just smiled at you.

“It’s the prize for winning the best couple’s costume.” Was all she said before walking away, picking up empty glasses from tables.

“I should really get going.” You groaned, thinking about how bad of a combination the cocktail jug is with work tomorrow.

“We can’t let this go to waste.” Nico said, pushing the drink between you, a straw facing you both. “Besides, are you going to tell coach that you left me to drink this all by myself and that's why I'm severely hungover.” 

Nico pouted slightly, his warm chocolate brown eyes giving you puppy dog eyes. He didn’t want tonight to end. Not yet anyway, afraid that this will be the last time you speak. You weren’t particularly close before tonight. “Fine.” You agreed, feigning annoyance. You weren’t annoyed that much. Sure you wanted to go home so you didn’t feel rough the next day at work but Nico wanting you to stay with him made your stomach do flips. “But this is the last drink.” You said and his pout quickly turned into a grin. It was infectious making your lips twist into a grin.

Nico’s tongue caught the stray straw, having a sip of the colourful concoction in front of you, the image giving you impure thoughts making you clench your thighs. You wondered what else his tongue could do. 

The conversation flowed between you as the jug slowly emptied. Nico talked about his summer in Switzerland, coming second in the world championships. You listened intently as  he spoke about things he loves, his lips tugged into a smile the whole time. You could sit here all night and just listen to him talk. It felt like you were making up for lost time from all those missed conversations you had before tonight. 

“Come on.” Nico said, holding his hand out for you once he stood up. You gave him a questioning look as you put your hand into his, wondering where he was taking you. It wasn’t until you stopped at the dancefloor that it clicked in your head making you giggle.

“If you wanted to dance you could’ve just asked.” You shouted into his ear, the halloween playlist filling the bar making it difficult to be heard. 

“Didn’t know if you would have said yes.” Nico admitted, blush creeping onto his cheeks not that you could tell in the dim light. 

The two of you danced, getting lost in the music. Your bodies were pressed against each other, your ass flush against Nico’s crotch, his hands gripping your hips not wanting to lose you in the crowd or to keep you against him. You welcomed it though. It felt like it was just the two of you in here. Nico pressed soft kisses along your collarbone up to your neck and along your jaw before reaching your lips. You turned around, your hands moving to caress the stubble on his jaw as you deepened the kiss. You could feel Nico’s grip loosen, his fingers lightly sliding down to the curve of your ass. It was then that the fog lifted bringing you back to the reality that you were currently in the middle of the bar making out with Nico. Nico who you work with. 

You moved your head to the side, breaking out of the spell that was cast on you. “We can’t do this.” You sighed, gently pushing Nico away making him frown slightly. “We work together.”

“Technically we work for the same organisation, not together. Besides, no one has to find out. This could be our little secret.” He said, his fingers gently tilting your chin so you were looking back at him. “If you can honestly say you don’t want this we can stop now but I think you want this as much as me.”

You bit your lip, looking at him through your eyelashes. You wish you could say that but you couldn’t because you did want this. You wanted Nico’s big hands caressing your thighs as his lips found your sweet spot. “I want this.” You told him. “I want you.”

That was enough for Nico to grab your hand and drag you out of the bar into the cold New Jersey night. The worries from earlier slipping to the back of your mind as you climbed into the Uber, Nico’s hand resting dangerously high on your thigh.

[jaebeomsbitch]

Mine (E.M.)

Summary: Possessive Eddie... that's it.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, PinV, unprotected, slight breeding kink.

A/N: No plot at all... Please let me know of other kinks for kinktober (that are appropriate (!)) that y'all would like me to write next!

*--------------·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·--------—----*

You had no indication what spurred him on. Absolutely no clue at how you’d end up tonight. Your boyfriend was horny, that was obvious from the way his hands were on your ass grabbing a handful of fat when no one would notice, fingertips sliding up the inside of your skirt tracing the line of your panties, whispered dirty words in your ear. 

That still didn’t explain how you ended up here. Your legs on Eddie’s shoulders, thighs pressed deep into your chest with Eddie’s weight. 

“Mine, you’re fucking mine” he growls, hips pistoning into you. The force jolting you up on the bed, his balls slapping into your ass, loud moans and answered “yours.”

His tongue delves into your mouth possessively trying to sear the taste of his mouth into yours. He wants you to remember the taste every second you’re not with him, remind you that you belong to him and him only. 

You were never one to want to belong to a man but when he’s nipping at your neck marking you up with hickies and grunting out “mine, you fucking belong to me.” Your heart pounds into your ribs, eyes rolling back, your slick juices sliding down to your ass in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“This fucking pussy’s made f’me. Bet no other guy can fuck you like I can, huh? Can’t this greedy little cunt up, look at her she’s fucking pulling me in begging for my cum” he groans, staring at the way your pussy swallows up his length. There’s a thick white line of your pent up juices around the base of his cock. 

“A- mmm I-“ incoherent broken noises leave your throat trying desperately to answer but your brain can’t hold onto a string of thought. Every slap of skin against skin sends a jolt up your spine, scrambling your brain further. When did he shift positions? 

His strong hands hold your thighs into your stomach, cock slamming into you so hard you lose your breath for a second. You brain feels fuzzy as you try and gasp for breath. Heaving in small puffs of air with difficulty. The loss of oxygen giving you a head high as the shocks of pleasure jolt up your body. 

Your fingers grip the sheets, your head thrashing in the pillow as you barrel towards your orgasm like a pinhole in a dam ready to break. You clench your teeth, pussy fluttering, stomach tightening. Eddie’s heavy breath and murmurs of “fucking cum slut, wanna be mine forever huh? Want me to fill you up” and “pussy’s mine, belong to me” vaguely  flits into your ears. 

The band tightens into a place you’d never thought you could reach. You heave for air, coming hard with a loud cry. You tremble under him like a woman possessed. Drool dripping down your chin, eyes in the back of your skull, back arched impossibly, jaw slacked, tongue moving wildly with gibberish.

“Oh- fuck” Eddie practically whines, the hard press of his hipbones onto your ass bringing you back down to earth as he cums inside you. You grip the sheets tighter pulling them off the corners as you feel the heat of his cum inside you. The schlick of your combined cum filling the room as he slows down with pants of his own. 

Hands letting go of your thighs leaving back red marks that will bruise tomorrow. His arms shake as he slowly pulls out of your sopping cunt, his eyes rolling back at the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum fluttering around nothing. 

He collapses besides you, arm thrown over your waist, heavy breaths into your neck. 

“Fuck” he whispers, voice raspy from all his screaming dirty talk. 

“What the fuck was that for?” You grunt, opening your eyes slowly looking down at your sweaty boyfriend. 

“Just wanted to remind you” he murmur, nuzzling into your neck.

“Well what a fucking reminder” you laugh breathlessly. 

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤHOCKEY DRAMA * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N is a hockey player of the Boston High-school hockey team, and during one of her games, her temper is tested by her opponent while her boyfriend, Matt, is watching.

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　Physical fighting, blood, bruises.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N adjusted the straps of her helmet and took one last look around the locker room. The muffled noise of the crowd, which already filled the gym, pulsed through the walls. The tension in the air was palpable. This game wasn't just another game of the season; it was the decisive game that would define the regional champion. And for Y/N, there was an extra motivation: Matt. Her boyfriend was in the audience, and she wanted more than ever to impress him with her performance.

While sliding across the ice during warm-ups, Y/N observed the opposing team, known for its physical and aggressive play, looked more determined than ever. Among them, one player in particular stood out: Lilian. Tall, robust, and with a look that exuded competitiveness, Lilian had a reputation for being ruthless. Y/N knew she would have to pay attention to her throughout the game.

The opening whistle sounded, and the game began with frenetic intensity. Y/N moved with agility, looking for gaps in the opponent's defense. Every pass, every deflection, was meticulously calculated.

And it didn't take long for her to find an opportunity.

With a quick sprint, Y/N escaped to the right, receiving a precise pass from her teammate and, with an elegant movement of her stick, sent the puck directly into the corner of the net.

The electric sound of the puck hitting the net was followed by a roar from the crowd. Matt, who was sitting in the center bleachers, jumped to his feet, cheering and shouting her name, a huge smile taking over his face as his hands grabbed the front of his brothers' hoodies, shaking their upper bodies with euphoria.

Y/N's confidence was high, but the game was far from won. The opposing team increased the pressure, and Lilian, especially, seemed to have fixed Y/N as her main target.

In one of the most critical moves, Lilian came forward with force, bumping into Y/N with an intensity that bordered on brutality. Y/N managed to stay upright but felt the impact reverberate through her bones.

She returned Lilian's gaze with firm determination. She would not allow herself to be intimidated.

The minutes passed, and the game became increasingly fierce. Y/N was determined to score another goal. Her ears seemed to constantly search for the loud and firm comments of encouragement that escaped her boyfriend's lips, drawing strength from there. With a combination of speed and precision, she advanced towards the opponent's goal again.

But Lilian was there, and this time, she wasn't willing to allow Y/N to pass. In a split second, Lilian collided violently against Y/N, knocking her onto the ice. The impact was so strong that Y/N felt the air leave her lungs, her hands quickly letting go of the stick and gluing to her chest covered by heavy clothes, trying desperately to take a long breath.

The referee blew the whistle, signaling a penalty, but the damage was already done.

With anger boiling inside her, Y/N stood up with difficulty, breathing harshly. She felt humiliated and enraged. Without thinking twice, the girl skated towards the locker room, ignoring the screams of her teammates and her coach, who called for her, cutting through the silence that had settled in the gym after the incident.

The door closed behind her back, muffling the sound of the crowd and the frenzy of the game, echoing like a dull thud throughout the space. In the silence of the locker room, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to control the storm of emotions that was stirring inside her.

She sat down on the main bench, removing her helmet and running her hands through her sweat-damp hair. Anger burned through her veins, not just because of Lilian's aggression, but because of the frustration of feeling like she was letting down her team and, especially, Matt. He had come to watch her play, and all she wanted was to put on a spectacular show for him.

Tears began to form, but Y/N took another deep breath, refusing to let them fall. She wouldn't give in.

The girl closed her eyes tightly, trying to center herself, but as she did so, a stab of pain appeared above her eye. A wince scaped her lips as she touched the painful area, noticing something warm and wet on her fingers. Raising them to her eye level, she saw blood.

The anger, which was already intense, intensified even more. The girl felt her blood boiling as her hands shook with hatred. The sight of blood dripping from her eyebrow was the trigger that was needed for her uncontrolled fury.

Without thinking twice, Y/N put the helmet back on harshly, ignoring the pain. She wouldn't let Lilian get away with that. Y/N got out of the locker room with firm slides, determined to show that no one would take her down without consequences.

Back on the ice, Y/N felt a new surge of energy, this time fueled by anger and the need for revenge. Her eyes were fixed on Lilian, who didn't seem to expect her to return so soon. With impressive speed, Y/N skated directly towards her opponent, leaving her coach's questions behind.

When the distance between them closed, Y/N kept going, hitting her shoulder against the other girl with all the strength she had. The impact threw Lilian to the ground, who fell onto her back, surprised and in pain, a loud cry scream echoing afterward.

The referee blew his whistle frantically, but Y/N ignored his and Lilian's screams. Her focus was absolute.

She took the puck from one of the opposing players with surprising dexterity and began advancing towards the goal. Every movement was fierce, precise. She was in a state of flux, where nothing else mattered other than the next goal.

With impressive skill, Y/N scored one after another. The crowd was in a frenzy, and the energy in the gym was electric. Matt, in the bleachers, watched everything with wide eyes, his screams standing out among the crowd. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Y/N was playing like never before, in a way he himself had never witnessed.

With each goal, Y/N felt increasing satisfaction. She was showing everyone – her team, her opponents, the watchers, and especially Lilian – that she was really good. Blood was still running from her eyebrow, dripping onto her lips held by the mouth guard, the metallic taste flooding her tongue.

When the final whistle sounded, declaring her team's victory, Y/N felt a wave of relief flood her body. She dropped the stick on the ice floor and ripped off her helmet, taking her mouth guard off of her lips, finally breathing properly, her eyes darting around the gym as euphoria took over her body, adrenaline rushing through her veins like lightning.

It was at that moment that she saw Matt jump over the railing that separated the bleachers from the ice. The brunette ran towards her, slipping slightly on the ice, a consequence of his inappropriate sneakers, leaving behind the screams of his brothers who tried to dissuade him.

She felt her heart speed up even more, wetting her lips in anticipation.

When Matt finally reached Y/N, he quickly threw himself in front of her, raising his arms and cupping his girl's face with both hands firmly, his gaze filled with concern and love. His blue eyes scanned the cut on her eyebrow, trying to wipe away the blood on her skin with trembling fingers.

"Y/N, baby, are you okay? You're bleeding so much. Let me see this..."

Y/N, still breathing heavily, felt a wave of emotions wash over her. Before Matt could continue, she cut him off with a passionate kiss, wrapping her hands around his thick hoodie-covered waist and pulling him closer, the significant height that her skateboards provided her aiding her in her action.

It was a kiss full of intensity, relief, and love.

Matt sighed deeply, the hot air hitting the girl's cold face, causing the blush in the area to intensify, feeling enveloped by the passion and strength that emanated from her.

When they finally separated, Matt hugged her tightly, his body shaking slightly with the adrenaline that took his body along with his heart racing at a thousand miles per hour. His large hands hugged her head against his own right shoulder, his fingers stroking her tied hair gently.

"I'm so proud of you, Y/N. You were amazing. I've never seen anyone play like you played today. You were so strong, so brave..." Y/N smiled against his covered skin, feeling his hushed words warm her heart.

"It was all for you, babe. Every goal-"

"Y/N!" The coach shouted, approaching with quick, steady steps, his ice-appropriate sneakers keeping him upright. "What in God's name was that? This is a hockey game. What, are you trying out for the gymnastics team? If you do that again, you'll be out!"

Matt watched him with wide eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to hold back his laughter.

"Sorry, coach. I just did what I had to do." Y/N rolled her eyes, letting out a breathless laugh.

The coach shook his head, opening an almost imperceptible smile.

"You played with your heart today, kid. Just try to keep a little more control next time, okay? We don't want you to miss big opportunities."

"You got it, coach." Y/N nodded quickly, Matt's arms still holding her tightly, one arm grasping firmly around her waist, keeping her close.

"Now take her to the infirmary, boy." The coach approached, casting a glance toward Matt while patting her right shoulder.

"Yes, sir, I'll take care of her."

"You better."

© vanteguccir

[writingsully]

A passionate teacher

Pairing: Neteyam x female human reader

Summary: Neteyam teaches you Na'vi, but he gives his lessons a little twist to make it more interesting.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Suggestive content, hints of sex

It has been a while since you moved to Pandora. You had always been intrigued by the beauty of the moon and the bond its inhabitants had with Eywa. You came to Pandora to study the Na’vi. You wanted to learn their ways and educate other humans about it so that both species could live in peace together.

Learning the way of the na’vi meant you had to live with them and that included learning their language. When you signed up for this position, you expected you would watch the indigenous from afar, not to live with them. You never expected to really interact with them since they don’t have a good bond with humans, so you never learned the language.

However, one certain olo’eyktan named Jake Sully, thought it would be a good idea to take some humans under his wing. How else were you supposed to learn their ways? Luckily, Jake and some other na’vi spoke English which made it easier for you to communicate.

This is how you ended up dating the olo’eyktans eldest son. Not long after your arrival, Neteyam started to show interest in you. Lucky for you, he spoke English, so you bonded quickly.

It was now a couple of months later, and you still had a lot of difficulty with the language. The pronunciation was most difficult for you, which is why you also struggled with your vocabulary. Today, Neteyam took a day off to help you. You were sitting on a branch beside a small lake, the sound of the running water combined with the wind blowing through the trees and the distant sound of sturmbeests and direhorses grazing, had a calming effect on you. This was your so-called study spot. The relaxing atmosphere made it easy for you to focus which is why you came here so often.

Today, you had been working on greeting others and introducing yourself. You were proud to say you had mastered that pretty well. Right now, you were focussing on different body parts.

‘What do you call this?” Neteyam asked as he placed a kiss on your hand. You blushed slightly at the sensation of his soft lips against your skin. Even though you had been dating Neteyam for a while now, he still made you nervous.

‘Tsyokx,’ you said without hesitation. You’ve been studying the names of body parts for a week now, some of them you knew by heart, while others were more difficult for you.

‘Sìltsan (well done),’ he praised you while moving his lips up your arm, toward your shoulder, placing a kiss. ‘And this?’

You thought for a moment, his lips on your skin were making it hard for you to focus. ‘’Etnaw?’ it was more a question than a statement and Neteyam raised his brows.

‘Don’t be so uncertain, yawne. You know more than you think,’ his yellow eyes stared into yours and you could feel your cheeks heat up even more. His big eyes showed so much love and compassion and they were really complimented by his long lashes. They were so beautiful, almost ethereal. You swallowed before repeating yourself, but this time with more confidence. Neteyam nodded, praising you again.

He moved his hand up your arm slowly, admiring every inch of your skin. He took hold of your elbow gently, tracing his index finger up and down the joint softly. His touch was very gentle, like he always was with you. His gaze flicked from your elbow to your face, making eye contact again. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to tell him the name of the joint. You knew what the elbow was called in na’vi, but you struggled with the pronunciation. ‘Puntil,’ you said hesitantly, knowing you mispronounced it. Neteyam kept staring into your eyes while he held on to your elbow. ‘That’s not quite right, yawne,’ he said, his voice gentle and patient. You blushed again at the nickname he used for you and looked down shyly.

The na’vi reached his other hand up to your chin, grabbing it gently between his thumb and index finger as he guided your gaze back to his. ‘Let’s try again,’ he said. ‘P…puntil,’ you tried again. You knew you had to pop the p, but for some reason you really struggled with it. ‘I’m sorry,’ you apologised when Neteyam shook his head again.

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said gently. ‘You’re learning.’ His gaze was soft and patient, making you feel comfortable around him. You often wondered how he was always so patient with you since you struggled with the same words over and over again. ‘Try after me,’ he said as he let go of your chin. ‘Pxuntil.’

‘Puntil,’ you tried again, shaking your head in frustration when you didn’t pop the p again.

‘It’s okay, y/n,’ he said. ‘Let’s try again.’ He pronounced it for you, after which you mispronounced again. It kept going like this for a couple of times until you finally got it right.

‘Pxuntil,’ you said, and your eyes grew wide when you finally got it right. ‘Neteyam, I finally did it!’ you exclaimed excitedly. A smile crept on his face, his excitement matching yours.

‘Good job, tahnì,’ he said before lifting your arm up to his lips, kissing it softly. His eyes were fixed on yours when he kissed your elbow, and you could feel your cheeks heating up again. You enjoyed him rewarding you with kisses. It made you motivated to keep going.

He allowed his hand to slowly trace over your arm and up to your neck. His fingers lingered on your ear. ‘How do you call this?’ he asked again, leaning closer to you. You noticed your heart started to beat faster when he leaned in, and you hoped he would come even closer.

‘Mikyun,’ you breathed, not really paying attention to him anymore. Your eyes were focussed on his soft, beautiful lips. Oh, how you wished he would kiss you right now.

The boy leaned in even closer, his lips now close to your ear. His breath left goosebumps against your skin, and you swallowed hard when he whispered in your ear. ‘Siltsan.’ He pressed his lips to your ear and placed a gentle kiss, making you gasp at the tingling sensation his lips left on your skin. Neteyam noticed your reaction and he decided to take it a little further by grazing his sharp canines over your lobe. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, enjoying the sensation.

‘Don’t get too distracted, sevin,’ Neteyam whispered before pulling away. He chuckled when he saw how red your cheeks have become. He knew you could make you flustered easily, and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

You opened your eyes when he pulled away, already missing the heat of his skin. You saw him reach out his hand to your face as he gently placed it on your cheek, rubbing circles on your soft skin with his thumb. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes again. Neteyam smiled at the sight of you relaxing into his touch. ‘Ma y/n,’ he started with a husky voice. ‘Keep your focus. What is this?’

You smiled at his words. You didn’t want to focus anymore. You wanted to be cuddled up against your boyfriend, to use his large body as a bed. ‘Hmm?’ you hummed, ‘what is what?’

Neteyam chuckled again, but his grip on your face tightened slightly, to keep you alert. ‘How do you call this?’

‘A cheek,’ you said playfully as you opened your eyes to look into his yellow orbs. He raised his brows at your sass, clearly amused by your sudden change of demeanour.

‘And now in Na’vi,’ he said. His voice was stern, but you didn’t miss the playfulness underneath. You hesitated for a moment; you forgot the translation. You couldn’t let him wait too long though for his gaze became more intense as the seconds ticked by. ‘Fwang,’ you said eventually.

Neteyam’s gaze softened a bit, but his grip on your face didn’t loosen one bit. ‘No, yawne. That has to do with smell.’ His voice was as patient as ever, which made you feel comfortable enough to make mistakes. ‘Can you guess again?’

You shook your head. ‘I don’t know,’ you whispered.

Your boyfriend smiled slightly before giving you the proper translation. ‘Flawn,’ he said, his intense gaze never leaving yours.

You sighed in frustration. ‘It sounds the same, so it counts as correct. Can I get a kiss now?’ you asked, hoping he would still give you your reward.

He chuckled again and shook his head. ‘They do look alike. But you got it wrong, so you’re not getting a kiss yet.’  

You pouted slighty, as he removed his gaze from your eyes to your nose. ‘I’ll give you another chance,’ he said. ‘What is “nose”?’

‘Ontu,’ you said immediately, earning a smirk from Neteyam. He knew what you were doing. You weren’t doing it for learning the language anymore. You were doing it just to receive his kisses. The na’vi slowly leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your nose. He rested his lips on your skin a little longer than necessary before pulling away.

A smile appeared on your lips when he kissed your nose, and you couldn’t help but blush at the sensation of his skin against yours. You noticed how he looked at your lips after he pulled away and you bit your lip slightly. You wanted to kiss him so badly right now, but you knew you had to wait till he kissed your lips. Neteyam’s gaze never left your lips, and you knew what his next question was going to be. Before he had time to speak, you answered.

‘Seyri,’ you said hastily. The na’vi chuckled as he shook his head. ‘Patience, sevin. You have to let me ask the question first.’ He looked at you as he spoke, his eyes held a hint of playfulness, and you knew he enjoyed this little game you made. He leaned in closer to you and hovered his lips above yours. You could feel his hot breath fan on your lips that were so eager to kiss him. Just hurry up, you thought.

‘What do you call your lips?’ he asked as he leaned in just a little closer. His lips grazed yours slightly as he spoke, which made goosebumps appear on your skin.

‘Seyri,’ you whispered before leaning forward. You expected his lips to crash onto yours and you furrowed your brows in irritation when you saw Neteyam leaned back. ‘What are you doing?’ you asked him, your voice full of curiosity, but also a hint of impatience.

Neteyam smiled, enjoying the fact that he was in control. ‘Patience, ma y/n,’ he said as he placed both of his hands on either side of your face. He started leaning in again and stopped when his lips hovered above yours. ‘Siltsan,’ he whispered before gently placing his lips onto yours. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. You tried to kiss him more eagerly, wanting more of him than just this one, slow kiss, but he didn’t budge. Instead, his lips were glued to yours, frozen in place.

After a long, frozen kiss he pulled away slowly. ‘Like I said before,’ Neteyam whispered. ‘Patience, darling.’

Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart beat quickened when he called you “darling”.  You felt butterflies in your stomach as you looked at him with pleading eyes. ‘Please, Neteyam,’ you begged. ‘I have had patience for long enough. I just want you to kiss me, please.’ Your hands reached for his neck again and you pulled him back in. This time, he allowed you to and, as his lips touched yours, you were surprised he kissed you more eager now. His lips moved faster than before and one of his hands slowly slid down your back to your waist. He used that hand to pull you onto his lap, making you straddle him, without ever breaking the kiss.

You allowed your hands to slide down from his neck to his chest, his shoulders and then his arms, feelings his strong muscles tense under your touch. His hand gripped your waist a little tighter as he pulled you further into his lap. You gasped when his other hand reached under your leg and squeezed the soft flesh there. You noticed how the kiss started to become hungrier as he licked your bottom lip, begging for entrance.

You opened your mouth as you gave him permission to explore your mouth. His tongue fought with yours and you couldn’t help but moan a little when he squeezed your leg again, his long fingers grazing your inner thigh. Your hands reached back up to his neck and took hold of his braids to softly tug at them, earning a low growl from him. The kiss started to get more heated, and you felt a wetness appearing in between your legs. You couldn’t help but grind against Neteyam’s thick thighs in an attempt to release some of your tension.

Suddenly, Neteyam pulled away from the kiss. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were half lidded and full of lust. ‘Maybe we should take this somewhere more private,’ he said as he allowed his hands to roam over your legs and your bum.

‘But this is our private spot, ‘Teyam,’ you wined as you pushed him onto his back. ‘I don’t want to stop now. I have been waiting for far too long.’ You slid your hands over his chest and belly, down to his loincloth.

Neteyam chuckled slightly, admiring you from underneath. You could see him considering his options and you leaned down to place a kiss on his neck before taking the skin in between your lips, sucking at it slightly. This earned a growl from deep in his chest and you could feel him swallow hard.

‘Alright,’ he said, his voice had gone down an octave and it created even more butterflies in your stomach. ‘How can I say no to you? I have kept you waiting for long enough.’

He pulled you in for a kiss again and gently traced his fingers over your sensitive skin. You certainty wouldn’t mind all of your na’vi-lessons to end this way.

[wikiritmica]

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + thirty

authors note: had some unexpected difficulty with this one. hopefully, the enjoyable parts, are, in fact, enjoyable.

cw/tw: fluff, angst, and drama

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

cast+ masterlist +story playlist + taglist request form

words: 11k

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Solana sighs, watching the water run over her hand and the makeup sponge in the palm of said hand expand with the cascade of water that drenches it. Using her wrist to shut off the water, she starts squeezing the excess.

The distraction of applying her makeup is appreciated as it deprives and prevents her from gawking at her naked husband showering behind her. 

Solana volunteered to shower first, hence her being further along in her routine. With sexual activity off the list due to her pelvic rest restrictions, separate showers have been their go-to for the past week. At least until she’s cleared.

Something that Solana finds herself looking more and more forward to with each day that passes, because whether it be pregnancy hormones or her burning attraction to her husband, the lack of physical intimacy between them is……noticeable.

Clearing her throat, and her mind, she finally answers him. “Yes, Ro. I’m sure.” She’s only said as such at least three times now, but that’s besides the point. “I told you. I want it to be a surprise.”

Roman’s sigh is heard under the sound of running water as he moves the loofah over his shoulders. “It’s a tattoo, Solana. Don’t know how much of a surprise that sort of thing should be.”

He’s not wrong, necessarily. But, he also doesn’t know the full context, and he can’t, because it’s part of the surprise of it all. 

“We stick to the plan, Roman.” Solana uses the towel on the counter to blot dry the sponge, just for good measure, before reaching for her foundation. “You drop me off, go to your therapy session, go to Fetu’s place to get the letters, see Ava, I go see Bayley, and then we meet back up at the house later this evening.”

Simple, sweet, and easy. 

If only her husband felt the same way. 

“I told you I don’t need to go this week.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you do, Ro. You didn’t go last week.”

Solana can practically feel his gaze on her through the glass doors. “Last week was a shit show, Solana. I wasn’t trying to be anywhere but with you.”

It puts a small smile on her face. Even when he’s being his usual almost harsh self, there’s still a speck of sweetness usually reserved just for her. 

“That’s even more reason to go, baby.” Especially since he made sure she didn’t miss her weekly appointment with Gail, which brings her to her next point. “I think you should go weekly like I do.”

“Weekly?” The perfect combination of horror and surprise in his voice makes her roll her eyes. Her husband can be so dramatic sometimes. “Solana, that shit is already…..uncomfortable enough, and now you want me to do it every week?”

Waiting until she’s done applying her foundation, she explains, glancing at him through the mirror. “It helps you to get to the point where you start opening up more, Roman.”

At least, that’s been Solana’s experience. Satisfied with the coverage, she hears the water shut off and moves to grab her concealer, unwilling to view the sinful sight of her husband’s nude body stepping out the shower before he can towel himself. 

“I don’t even know if she has that availability, Sol.”

And just like that, the focus is no longer on avoidance of temptation nor the blending of concealer. It’s on a single word. Solana turns around, uncaring of his nudity. “S–she?” Roman glances at her, grabbing the towel off the rack. “Your…..your therapist is….a woman?”

Roman secures the towel around his waist with a knot, as she turns back to the mirror, trying to settle herself. “Yeah.” He then asks, looking at her through that same mirror. “Is that a problem?’

“No, no. Of—of course not. I just. I—I didn’t know. That’s…..that’s all.” Solana’s answer is a concoction of stumbled words that make sense but don’t mesh well. Roman moves to stand beside her grabbing for his deodorant when he’s hit with another question. “Is—is she pretty?”

Applying said deodorant, he clarifies, “the therapist?”

“Yeah.”

Roman chuckles, finishing his application to both underarms. “I guess. Wasn’t looking at her like that. She’s not my type.”

He has to bite back a smile at the way Solana’s eyes widen when she looks at him through the mirror. “You—you have a type?”

He knows exactly what's going on now, and he also knows exactly how to handle it.

Fully immersed and dedicated to setting her up for his ‘trap,’ Roman nods. “Of course, I do.”

A part of him feels a modicum of guilt at her worried expression, even if he can tell she’s trying her best to play it up as indifference. “Wh—wh—what’s your type?”

He doesn’t say anything, just slowly moves to stand behind her, uncaring of the droplets of water that stream down his chest from his wet hair. 

“Well…….” Roman maneuvers his hands down to her legs. “I like thick thighs….” His fingers dance up to the meat of her deliciously thick thighs. “Curvy hips…..” His focus never leave her, watching every tiny, shaky breath that leaves her mouth and the way her eyes flutter from his touch. “A nice ass….” Solana’s head tilts back against his chest when he grabs and squeezes her ass cheeks before lifting his hands to her chest. “Big ass, perfect titties that fit perfectly in my hands….” Satisfaction fills him seeing how she sighs with pleasure from him gently squeezing her breast. His mouth drops to her ear, breathing with a sly smile, “and they look even better when she’s riding me.” 

“Roman,” she giggles, a blush filling her cheeks. He's partially taken back by her cheeky play into his game. “Pregnant?”

“Of course.” His hand is splayed protectively across her stomach, lips to her temple. “Mine...”

Their gazes locked through the mirror, she breathes, “yours…”

He lifts his hand, tilting her chin, craning down to capture a slow, sensual kiss. Eventually breaking it, recognizing they have to stop themselves, he reminds, “I only see you, Sol….alright?”

She nods, a soft smile on her pretty face. Content with settling her insecurities, he taps her ass and continues getting ready, acquiescing to her request. “I’ll talk with her about weekly meetings.”

“Thank you.” Her appreciation and the relief in her expression overpowers his discomfort of having to do that feelings shit once a week, but if it’ll make her happy, he’ll deal.

Because that’s all he wants.

Is to make her happy.

“I’ve been thinking….” Roman is in the midst of moisturizing his body when her quiet voice breaks their brief silence. “Remember how you told me to think about, ya know, going back to school?”

He nods. “Yes.”

She hesitates, obviously trying to find the right words. “I think….I think I want to try.” She clarifies, taking a deep breath. “I want…I want to be an RN.” Roman takes a step back, a growing proud look on his face as she continues to explain. “And, I know it probably sounds crazy, because I’m pregnant with twins, and we’re going to be parents, but I just….” she pauses, Roman detecting the emotion building. “He took so much from me. They all did, and I want it back.”

He’s not entirely certain, but he’d take a good guess that the all she’s referring to is her mother, Xavier, and Wes. Roman is unsure what to make of the sudden, potentially temporary shift Solana has made regarding her mother. Once a saint, now grouped with her abusers. It’s not his place, however, to dictate how she feels about that, because her being upset is more than valid.

Regardless of him not wanting to think about if he’d ever even met or be with his wife if she wasn’t “raised” by Xavier, the hell she went through was undeserved.

And, it didn’t need to happen. But, it did, largely because of her mother.

Her mother’s selfishness.

Solana continues to explain, almost rushed and nervous. “I wanna go for a bachelors in nursing. I could go the associates route, which would only take two years instead of four, but a bachelors in nursing is more preferred when it comes to hiring, and—”

“Solana,” he interrupts, moving back by her, gently cupping her face. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll support and help or make happen. That’s it. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Her voice is quiet and unsure. “You really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.” It’s an easy answer that doesn’t call for any thinking. Just a natural, obvious thing. “My only concern would be you stretching yourself too thin.”

“I thought about that,” she confesses. “Having the girls and being in school at the same time will be a lot, but….it’s what I want. I—I have to at least try.”

And, he understands that. Understands why this is important to her. Why she needs to do this. Another thing for herself. Another way to reclaim her life.

“Okay, then you’ll do it.” Curious, he asks, “are you think of starting this upcoming spring?”

She shakes her head, holding onto his waist. “No. That’s too soon. Maybe fall of next year. The girls will be a couple months old versus me being halfway through this pregnancy.” Her eyes light up, lips curving into a smile. “You know they’re due in May, right?” No, he didn’t know. Obviously, her being two months would put her due date in May, but it’s not necessarily something he thought about from this perspective. “That means you all will share a birthday month.”

Fuck.

It will.

Another thing he didn’t think of.

And something he doesn’t know how to feel about.

“That means every year when we celebrate their birthday—”

“Solana—”

“—we’re celebrating yours.”

“I don’t—”

“This isn’t up for debate, Ro.” Her counter effectively silences him, the assertiveness both surprising and sexy as fuck. “This is our family, and we’re going to do it the right way.” She hugs him, pressing herself against his now almost completely dry chest. “Think about it. You’re their daddy. They’ll probably love sharing a birthday month with you.”

Daddy

Roman doesn’t know how to feel or respond to that, to any of it outside of objection. He’s already made his thoughts and feelings about his birthday clear to his wife, and while a part of him dislikes that she’s not exactly respecting his wishes, he knows why, too. And, he can’t fault her.

It’s the same way he works to help her pull away from the grips of her trauma.

“We’ve gotta pick out which room should be their nursery, too.”

Another statement that makes sense but is also something he’s unsure of how to feel about. “Hmm?”

Solana looks up, explaining, “they should probably be in a room close to ours, ya know?” No, he doesn’t know. “And, I want to paint their rooms, but—”

“You can’t be around that shit while pregnant, Solana.” Because that much he knows. Safety. Everything else is…..questionable.

Her expression is a mixture of agreement and disappointment. “I know. Maybe after they’re born, I can do the painting and we can just wait a month or two before we……are you alright?” Solana’s shift in tone as well as her question pull Roman from the distancing he didn’t even realize was happening until she said something.

“Yes.” A bit of an automatic answer, one she clearly sees through.

“Ro….”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “Just have a lot on my mind. That’s all.”

He’s partially expecting her to push, albeit gently, for him to open up and talk with her. She goes for a different, unexpected route, however. “Roman, are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Asking what she’s referring to is unnecessary. He already knows. “No. I’ll be fine. Ava’s going to be there, too.” Not that he necessarily needs anyone with him, but seeing his cousin might be nice. They haven’t really spoken since their aunt’s funeral. An understandable and necessary space for both to grieve as they so chose.

“I know.” She nods, hands lifting to his shoulders, moving up and down. A soothing gesture. “I just don’t want you to feel alone in this….”

“I’m not,” he reassures, adding almost quietly. "You've made sure of that.”

Because she has. Because as he’s told her before, there’s no way he could have handled all of this without her. No way in hell. Not in a way that was remotely good, or even healthy, at least. 

“Besides.” Roman moves his hands to her hips, thumbs moving against the fabric of her robe. “You have your own things to take care of.” Things is one way to put it, Roman flipping the question onto her. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

Her smile is soft and also reassuring. She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine, too. I’m not really nervous about telling Bayley. It’s…..it’s everyone else.”

And the telling she speaks of would be telling Bayley that they’re not just friends. They’re family. Cousins.

It’s a decision she came to after sitting down and speaking freely with him about how she wants to handle this, ultimately deciding it best to go about it in small doses. Start with Bayley. Then tackle and figure things out from there. He looks down, studying her, “you don’t think they’ll respond well?”

There’s a delayed response. “I don’t know if they’ll accept me.”

And he gets it. Gets her. Knows that feeling all too well.

“They will, Solana,” he comforts. “The way they showed up for your party, how….nice they were to you. I can’t see them not accepting you.” And, it’s the truth, just like it’s the truth that there will be hell to pay if any of those fuckers even try to reject his wife.

Fucking hell. 

—--------

There’s a part of Solana that wishes Roman was there with her. That wants him beside her as she gets her very first set of tattoos, but it’s the mere fact that it’s a set and not one, as he thinks, that is why he can't be there.

Not to mention one of the tattoos, what it is, is a surprise. A surprise just and for him. One she won’t let her anxiety ruin for her.

Especially considering she’s not alone. 

Far from it.

“I should get a tramp stamp while we’re here.”

Mickie’s voice is a welcomed break from some of the growing anxiety stirring within Solana. 

Turning to the woman behind the exclamation, setting her focus and gaze on the other two, Cam and Melina, also helps to settle Solana. It’s been a while since they’ve gathered, since they’ve been around each other, really.

Because life has just been so hectic and chaotic. Great, too. But, a lot of other things sprinkled along the way as well. And while it’s a bit difficult to not be honest with them, even about the pregnancy, Solana is grateful to be surrounded by good friends as well.

“Shut up, Mickie,” Melina dismisses, angling her body more towards Solana as they all wait in the lobby of the tattooist, Roman’s, who will be doing their tattoos today. “So, are you gonna finally tell us what’s been going on with you?”

Cam nods. “We’ve been worried.”

Solana frowns. She knows, and she feels bad for it. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been MIA. It’s just….” She takes a deep breath. “Roman and I…..we hit a bit of a rough patch, and we’ve been trying to work through it.”

It’s a sort of lie, and a bit of the truth, namely highlighting the argument that occurred before her medical emergency. Lies and secrets that built up into an ugly climax, even if it did end up strengthening them in the long run. Still, it certainly wasn’t enjoyable in the moment.

Melina frowns. “I figured it had something to do with your marriage.”

“Did you try sitting on his face?”

“Mickie!” Cam scolds, rubbing her temples. “Sex does not fix everything.”

Mickie shrugs, defending herself and her typical antics. “It might!”

“Ignore her. We question if she’s been taking her meds as prescribed."

“Optional,” Mickie disregards. Solana makes a mental note to circle back around to that. Medication adherence is critical for the sustainability of their recovery. 

“We’re sorry,” Cam apologizes. Probably both for Mickie and also what she just shared. “Is there….is there anything we can do to help?”

No. Because there really isn’t an “issue” anymore. Sure, Solana and Roman still have things to sort and work through, but it’s nothing they can’t tackle together. “No. We’re gonna….we’re gonna get it together.”

Because they will. 

They’re already in the process of doing so.

“Well, while you guys are doing that, please don’t cut us off. Like I said, we’ve been worried about you,” Melina asks. A fair request.

Cam nods. “She’s right. Even if it’s just like….a text or emoji. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

And Solana appreciates that. So deeply. More than they could ever know.

“I will,” she promises. “And, I was actually hoping if maybe we can see about rescheduling that girls trip?”

Surprised looks all around, Melina being the one to double check, “seriously? Even with….whatever you have going on with Roman?”

There’s a bit of guilt at making them think the situation is more than what it is, that it’s even still going on, really, but for the sake of privacy regarding the pregnancy, it’s a must.

Chewing on her bottom lip, Solana assures, “I’ll talk to him.”

Truth be told, Solana is unsure how said conversation would go. She knows that being pregnant has definitely caused Roman to tighten his grip—and her security—her gaze briefly falling to Bautista who stands by the door, surveying the perimeter. And, she understands it. She just hopes that he can understand why she still wants to do this. Feels a need to almost do it. Because once the girls are here, that’s it. They’ll definitely be limited to their ability to just and do things, so before that availability is greatly minimized, Solana wants to take advantage of this time.

And going on a girls trip with her closest friends seems like the perfect way to do so.

Mickie snorts. “You sure that overprotective man of yours won’t try to tag along?”

Melina rolls her eyes. “Like he wants to be around us.”

“But, he always wants to be around her,” Cam comments with a sly smile. “I could see him making that sacrifice.”

It’s hard for Solana to hold back her smile, a blush forming on her cheeks. “If he did come, he’d probably stay somewhere else.”

Because Solana can definitely see him wanting to tag along. Just not staying under the same roof as herself and her friends.

That seems too much forced socialization for him.

“I’ll just talk to him and see what he says,” she decides. “I really don’t think he’d say no.”

Emphasis on think.

Because again, Roman’s protectiveness since finding out about the pregnancy has definitely been kicked up a few notches. Or more.

“Well, just let us know so I can repack my suitcase,” Mickie bounces from side to side, gasping. “Wait, so we saw the design you made for our tattoos, but what’s the other one you’re getting?” 

The smile on Solana’s face could be seen from the stars. Grabbing her sketchbook from the seat beside her, she starts flipping through, seeking the one she’s excited most about.

“Let me show you...”

—---------

“You’re quiet today.”

“I was quiet last time.”

“Ehh. Debatable.”

Roman’s infamous glare is on the woman who’s lazily shuffling the abnormally large Uno cards. But, before he can follow up with a smartass comment, she hits him with an unexpected question. “What’s your earliest memory?”

The glare deepens. “What?”

Rolling her eyes, she asks again, enunciating each word. “What is your earliest memory?”

“Why is that relevan—”

“Last I checked, mental health is my specialty. I don’t tell you how to do your mafia shit, do I?” A pointed, fair question. He’ll give her that. “Now again—”

“Fine,” Roman relents, more eager to shut her up than anything. Leaning back into the sofa, he takes a minute, having to dig through a ton of shit to recover said memory. “I was young. Maybe 5 or 6. I don’t know, but I’d fallen or tripped or some shit, scraped up my knee, so I’d asked my….my mother to help me up. She said no. My dad just looked at me annoyed and walked off. They both did.”

Lita leans back in her chair as well, pausing the shuffling to ask him, “what do you make of that?”

Roman shrugs, looking away, intentionally not wanting to meet her studying stare. “Make of what?”

“Your earliest memory is that of sadness. Of not being supported and helped by the two people in your life who should have done just that.”

His response is carefully but truthfully worded. “I don’t make anything of it, because that’s just how it’s always been. I’ve always had to take care of myself.”

Because he has. Because as wonderful as Fetu was, she wasn’t always around. That just wasn't physically possible. As much as she could, sure, but there were most definitely plenty of moments where she wasn’t. Where she wasn’t there to help and support him when maybe he needed it, because she couldn’t be everything all the time. 

That’s what his parents should have been for him.

But, they weren't.

“You still feel that way?” Another unexpected question. “Like you have to take care of yourself?”

And here comes one of the many dilemmas with this therapy shit. The point is to share. He doesn’t want to share, more than that, Roman can never show his hand regarding the absolute hold Solana has on him. The depth of his love and devotion to and for her. 

It’s….dangerous, to say the least.

But, she’s also the first and only person to pop in his head at Lita’s latest probe.

Finally, he settles on a very Roman answer. “Comes with the job.”

Her smile is knowing. “Nice deflection.” A pause. “What about your wife?”

Naturally, his shoulders tense up. She’s never asked about Solana before. “What about her?”

Lita makes a face. “What’s that like? The whole arranged marriage thing.”

And just like that, his irritation is mounting. He’s here to work on him. “This shit isn’t about her.”

“Defensive.” Lita’s eyes narrow, but it’s nothing negative. More….assessing. “You’re protective of her.”

Roman finds it easy to justify his said defensiveness without giving the real reason away. “She’s my wife. It’s my job to protect her.”

Lita’s countenance is calm and inquisitive, as she asks most unexpectedly. “And who protected you?”

Silence.

“What?”

She shrugs, laying out the facts. “You protect everyone else. The Bloodline. The Cosa Nostra. Your wife. Yourself as a child. Who protected you?”

Roman can’t deny there’s a bit of a waver in his tone and expression. “I didn’t need to be protected.”

“Yes, you did,” is her calm, leveled counter. “Roman, children need to be protected. It’s the natural hierarchy of things. Young, innocent, and green, you’re not supposed to know how to navigate the world. It’s something we learn over time as we grow, but it’s as we’re growing and learning that we’re supposed to be protected when we can’t do it for ourselves. It’s what gives us that feeling of safety and security and trust, all things we should have from a very young age.” Her voice and expression soften. “You clearly didn’t have that. You didn’t get to have that, which is why you obviously struggle with it so much as an adult.”

There’s a good almost two minutes of silence as Roman is forced to sit on and allow her insight, correct and accurate, to marinate, stirring up an abundance of uncomfortable, unfamiliar emotions. 

“I’m gonna tell you something, but I swear on fucking everything, you repeat this shit to anyone, and I’ll kill you, your husband, and your three kids.” A scarily calm prelude to a confession he’s not sure just why he’s about to make. 

Regardless, he watches a brief flash of fear travel across her face before she replies just as calmly, “you have my word. Not a soul.”

Having her word doesn’t really do much for Roman. People lie on and about that shit all the time, hence him needing to make it clear what she stands to lose should she make the deadly mistake of fucking him over or betraying him. Because as much as she thinks she knows about him, he knows a hell of a lot more about her.

Leverage.

“Solana is pregnant.” A quiet, low admission followed by difficult words and a layer of vulnerability. “And, I don’t…..I don’t know how to feel about that.”

A horrible, awful thing to say aloud, especially considering the huge scare they had not even two weeks ago, but an accurate, truthful thing, nonetheless. Because in the midst of that crisis, yes, Roman was concerned about a grim outcome. Concerned what that would do to his wife, concerned about him potentially contributing in some way to said outcome. Concerned for losses of lives not even yet lived, but it’s out of that crisis, out of that danger zone, that the reality is setting in.

Partially fueled by his wife’s words this morning.

Daddy.

Father.

Parents. 

He doesn’t know shit about any of that, nor does he feel any way in particular about it.

“How do you think you should feel?” Lita asks, head tilted. 

“I don’t fucking know,” he mutters, running his hand down his face, shrugging. “What Solana’s feeling.”

“Do you experience emotions the way she does?”

An easy answer. “Hell no.”

“So not necessarily a fair comparison then, is it?” Rhetorical. And followed up with a sigh. “It’s different for women, sometimes. She’s carrying and will grow the child, thus forming a bond before the baby even arrives. You could even argue that it’ll be a bit easier for her. Regardless, whatever you feel or don’t feel is valid, Roman.”

More silence.

And vulnerability. 

“I can’t be like them,” a quiet, almost heartfelt admission. “I can’t….I can’t be like my parents.” He looks away, knee shaking and foot tapping. “They fucked me up. I can’t….I can’t fuck up my own kids.”

Lita leans forward. “You are not fucked up, Roman. Do you do fucked up things? Sure. Maybe. We all do from time to time, and let’s be honest, it’s not like you were given a fair shot. The deck was already stacked against you before you were even fucking born.” She shakes her head. “Now am I saying you’re perfectly fine and don’t need to work on anything? Hell no. It might take years to help you process the shitstorm that’s been your life, but if you’re willing to put in the work, I’m willing to walk beside you the entire way through.”

He doesn’t say anything, partially overwhelmed by all of this. This therapy shit just might be one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

Albeit clearly needed.

“And for what it’s worth, whether you believe me or not, I think you’re gonna make a great dad.” She shrugs again, leaning back in her chair, a small smirk on her face. “Ya know, when you’re not being an asshole.”

The latter comment is appreciated, a break from all of the heaviness of this conversation. Lita clears her throat and goes back to shuffling, asking casually. 

“Now, are we stacking today or not?”

Roman looks at her, aware of the double meaning. Pushing against preference and comfort, recognizing the importance of this, of all of this, he answers.

“Stacking.”

—---------

It’s been some time since Solana has felt this nervous. The apprehension coursing through her is about what and what when she realized she’d accidentally left Fetus’ letter and her sonogram photo in the bathroom back at the house. Ironically enough, an event that transpired and caused her to run out on the woman sitting directly across from her.

Bayley

They’re in her salon, just the two of them, sans Solana’s security who stand by the door and outside the building, surveying and monitoring.

It’s an uncomfortable silence, one that has her tapping her foot against the metal footrest of the salon chair.

And, it’s a silence that Bayley is ultimately the one to break.

“Look, Solana,” she starts off, sighing heavily. “It’s obvious something is going on with you, and I don’t want to push, but you asked to meet me, alone, and here, so I’m really hoping you can give me something.”

And she will. Solana is ready, albeit nervous, to give her more than something.

“I—I was suicidal on my wedding day.” An unexpected, shocking admission that has Bayley’s eyes widening. Solana’s head drops as she revisits that painful day. “I—I was so low. Felt so sad and confused and scared and just….empty, but I still—” Her voice cracks. “I still remember when you asked me how I wanted my makeup, and it was the first time in a long time that anyone asked me what I wanted. Gave me some autonomy in my life. You did that for me, and I will never forget it. I will never, as long as I live, forget what you did for me that day.”

A small act of kindness that truly made a difference.

Maybe even saved her life.

Bayley’s eyes are misting. “Solana….”

Sniffling, Solana grabs her sketchbook and pulls out the letter. “I have…I have been distant. I know. But, it’s not because you did anything. All you’ve ever done is support and love me when I needed it the most, and I’m so grateful. I….” Shaking hands reach over the stack of papers. “I only hope that can continue after you find out the truth.”

Bayley frowns, accepting the papers. “The truth?”

Solana nods and wipes at her eyes. “I found that letter when sorting through my journals. It’s from….from my mother.” At that, Bayley looks almost guilty.

She shakes her head, trying to hand the stack back to her. “Solana, I shouldn’t be reading this then. It’s personal.”

Calmly, Solana objects, placing a hand over Bayley’s. “Please. I….I want you to. No, I—I need you to.”

There’s still indecision, but it’s followed by a reluctant nod as Bayley’s focus shifts to the letter. 

Solana has to look away, has to focus on the beauty of Bayley’s salon. It’s been some time since she was here, but the calm, serene atmosphere hasn’t changed. It’s welcomed and needed to help soothe Solana as she waits for Bayley to learn the truth that Solana herself hasn’t quite fully processed. 

She’s starting to though, trying to gradually put the pieces together. 

Starting with Bayley.

A few minutes pass followed by a breathy, “oh my God….” Solana finally turns her gaze back on the other woman who lifts her head. “You’re….you’re my cousin?”

Solana chuckles. Knowing it is one thing. Hearing Bayley say it, acknowledge it, is something entirely different. 

���Apparently so,” Solana manages to answer with a watery chuckle. “I—”

“Your mom….was Aunt Alma?” It’s less being posed to Solana and more just a general statement bred from shock. “Holy shit, I don’t know how—this is a lot.”

“I know.” No one knows that more than Solana. “And….and I understand if you need time and/or space from me, I just—”

“Solana.” Bayley places the papers down on the counter and moves out of her chair, walking over and gently holding her hands. “Why the hell would I want or even need space from you?” She shakes her head, a genuinely warm, amenable smile on her face. “You’re mi familia, prima.”

That’s what makes her break, that shatters the damn holding up the waterworks. Solana pulls Bayley into a tight hug, both women a mixture of all the feels, tears streaming down their faces.

It’s a sustained hug that only ends as Bayley pulls back to chuckle, stating, “I can’t believe we’re really family.” It’s such a proud, happy exclamation. “We—we have to tell everyone. My dad…..Aunt Paloma.” Her eyes widen ever so slightly, as she also puts two and two together. “Wait, that makes her your—”

“My grandmother,” Solana finishes in a small voice. “I—I want to tell her too, but I—I don’t feel ready.”

“Of course.” Bayley nods, apologizing and offering. “I'm sorry. Whenever you’re ready. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to handle this on your own.”

More appreciation. An abundance. “Thank you, Bayley. I–I want to tell your parents at least, but I’m….I’m nervous.”

Bayley frowns, asking, “why?”

Her head drops, insecurity rising, “I don’t…..I don’t know how they’ll take it. If….if they’ll believe it. Believe me.”

Because as Bayley said, this is a lot to take in. A lot to process. 

A lot to believe.

“Solana, when I tell you that my parents, my family, our family, already loves you, I mean that shit. They love you, and to find out that you’re….that you’re Aunt Alma’s daughter?” Her eyes start watering all over again. “You have no idea how much closure you’re going to give so many people. How happy they’re going to be. I promise you, not only will they believe you, they’re going to love you even more than they already do. I sure as hell know I do.”

Solana’s smile deepens as Bayley wipes at her tears. “How about this? We’re having a get-together at the restaurant this Friday. Come a little early. We can tell them together, yeah?” Solana finds herself nodding, not even really needing to think about it, feeling an immense amount of comfort and appreciation.

And love.

“I—I think I’d like that.” Because having Bayley beside her will truly make a difference and help alleviate some of her anxiety. Will be a tremendous source of support and relief.

“Me too,” Bayley agrees, blotting at her eyes. “Got me crying and shit. You know I hate tears.” The two ladies share a laugh as Bayley gestures to Solana’s clavicle. “New tattoo. New family members. And a new hairstyle? You really are spreading your wings, Solana.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Bayley clears her throat and takes a step back, moving behind Solana and playfully lifting her hair, asking, “so….” She leans down, hugging her cousin. “What are we doing today, prima?”

—---------------

“I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Roman’s gaze falls over to his cousin as she brings the beer to her lips, eyes focused on the forest before them.

Choosing to have therapy and returning to Fetu’s place to retrieve the trunk with her letters probably shouldn’t have been done on the same day, but it was a decision already made, nonetheless.

Not to mention seeing and speaking to Ava for the first time in a couple weeks is helpful in a way he didn’t expect. Even if it’s mostly just them sitting in silence while sharing a pack of beer.

He’s quiet at first, eventually agreeing. “I know.”

Ava takes another sip before smiling bitterly. “Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw us right now?”

A small smile falls on Roman’s face. “Probably cussing us out for being all soft.”

Ava laughs. “Yup.”

Because that was his aunt. She could be equally brutal as she was supportive. But, it was always with love. She led and lived her life with love.

Her own kind of love.

Ava looks over at Roman, “how you been holding up?”

An honest, fair question he’s not sure he wants to answer, but he does so regardless.

“Well enough.” It also feels like an honest, fair answer, because he truly feels out of that initial haze of guilt and grief that paralyzed him in the immediate days of Fetu’s passing. It still hurts. It’ll always hurt, but having Solana, her support, her love, has truly made a difference. “You?”

Ava’s smile doesn’t meet her eyes as she playfully nudges him. “Well enough.”

Roman shakes his head, looking away again, muttering, “she’d probably be happy we’re not trying to kill each other, at least.”

It’s not missed upon him how Ava doesn’t say anything. Not first, at least.

“Don’t speak too soon.”

Roman’s suspicious gaze falls back on her only to refocus on the sound of a running vehicle, his defenses rising and grip on the beer tightening as an SUV pulls up and into the driveway right behind his own car.

He turns to his cousin, question accusatory. “What the fuck, Ava?”

Roman places the beer down on the steps and stands up, Ava following suit as the truck comes to a stop.

He asks again, just in a different way. “What did you do?”

She lifts her chin, asserting, “we need to make this right.”

He’s understandably confused until he sees the driver and passenger doors open, two familiar faces stepping out.

Roman curses and looks away.

“Uce.” Jimmy’s solemn voice travels as he and Jey make their way towards the steps leading into the house. “We need to talk.”

“Like hell we do,” Roman dismisses. Looking back towards his cousins, his focus is on Jey.

And Jey’s focus is right back on him. 

Ava rolls her eyes. “Roman, you know Fetu wouldn’t want—”

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he snaps, unapologetic. She really shouldn’t have. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

“Aye,” Jimmy cuts in. “She’s family too, Roman.”

“My issue isn’t with her though,” is his immediate, sharp response. “It’s not even with you.”

“It’s me, right?” Jey finally speak, an edge and irritation to his voice. “Go on and say it. You think I was wrong for defending my pops?”

And Roman, true to Roman, doesn’t hesitate to speak his mind. “I think you’re a fucking idiot for defending someone who was clearly in the wrong.”

“Roman!” Ava scolds, grabbing his arm. “This isn’t the way to go about this.”

“Who the fuck you calling an idiot, Uce?” Jey snaps, Jimmy having to move over to his brother to restrain him. “I’m not gon’ keep letting you fucking talk to me any ole’ kind of way. This shit gon stop today.”

Roman jerks his arm from Ava’s grasp, walking down a step. “And what the fuck are you gon do, huh? You gon’ challenge me again? You know how that turns out every fucking time, Jey.”

“Would you both just calm the hell down?” Jimmy pleads, clearly exasperated. “Ya’ll both are such damn hotheads that you can’t see past your anger.” He shakes his head. “We’re better than this. We’re brothers.”

There’s something about that brothers word that triggers Roman.

Perhaps it’s the digging into his childhood in therapy earlier today or continued grief, but something about Jimmy using that word ticks him off.

Jimmy and Jey are brothers.

Jimmy, Jey, and Solo are brothers. 

Jimmy, Jey, Solo, and the rest of Rikishi’s sons are brothers. 

And that family bond/dynamic is something that can’t be mimicked or duplicated. They've been close, yes. Friends, yes. But brothers? Like them? Sure. But, actual brothers is something Roman has never really experienced since his family was killed that night.

It’s a dynamic he noticed when he lived in the Uso household following the murder of his family. Until he was twelve and Rikishi put him out, forcing him to live on his own.

Where were his brothers then?

And deep down, Roman knows Jimmy and Jey aren’t to blame for their dad’s actions, knows that they were kids too at the time. The same age as him. They were innocent.

But, they’re not kids anymore. They’re grown ass men who should be able to distinguish right from wrong. Something Roman can acknowledge Jimmy is doing. 

He can’t say the same for Jey.

Jey scoffs, shaking his head, anger rising. “Naw. This exactly who he is. Who he always been. He’s always thought he was better than us! That he the best!”

“I am the best!” Roman snaps, unable to keep his own unmanaged emotions from creeping into this intervention turned argument. “That’s all I know! That’s all I’ve ever known! Is to be the best!” A confession coming from a place much deeper than the three before them could probably ever realize. 

Or, maybe not.

Ava’s voice shifts into something softer. “Roman….”

“None of ya’ll could ever fucking understand what that’s like! To have to always be fucking perfect, cause none of you could ever do what I fucking do! What I've been forced to do!”

A surprised, almost sympathetic expression on Jimmy as he tries to step forward. “Roman, we not trying—”

“Man! Listen to him!” Jey’s expression, however, is anything but shocked or sympathetic. It’s just a continuing, growing thing of anger. “Man, you got your head so far up your ass you can’t even see or think straight! You not God, Roman. The world don’t fucking stop and end with you just cause you the Tribal Chief, and you not above our rules and ways.” A scoff followed up with a dangerous inclusion. “And neither is Solana.”

Roman pauses. A shift. “What the hell did you just say?”

Jimmy attempts to intercede. “Jey, that’s enough.”

“Pops was wrong, yes, but Solana was wrong, too, and the fact that you can’t see that is what’s so messed up. That you can’t see why you was wrong is messed up.” Jey continues, the anger simmering into something slightly more manageable. “I love Solana like a sister, but that don’t mean I can’t hold her accountable—”

“Accountable?” Roman interrupts, fist forming at his side. “Your dad tried to hit my wife, and you talking about some fucking accountability?”

“What?” Ava gasps, turning to Jimmy and Jey. “Ya’ll didn’t tell me that! You just said—”

“They said what they wanted you to know,” Roman cuts off, hoping Ava realizes just why she shouldn’t have interjected herself.

Family or no family. 

“Ya’ll, we not getting nowhere.” Jimmy runs his hand over his face. “Can we please just sit down—”

“Why?” Jey scoffs, breaking away. “He don’t want—”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to him,” Roman does them both a favor, saying what they’re both feeling. “To either of ya’ll.”

Because while a part of him understands what Jimmy is trying to do, the focus should be less on a conversation with the three of them and more on a conversation with his twin who seems completely beyond rationality at this point. 

“Fuck you, Roman!” Jey’s outburst is unsurprising, the traces of the hothead lying dormant revealing itself. He always knew it wasn’t completely settled. He just didn’t know it would return for something like this. “I’m done with all this shit!”

The feeling is fucking mutual. Roman turns to head back into the house, ignoring the call of Ava who fails in her efforts to get him to stay. 

Running her hands through her hair, she turns her focus to the twins, fully prepared to snap on them for not giving her the entire picture when she sees an irate Jey is heading to the car and a defeated Jimmy going to the passenger side.

“.....Fuck him!” Another enraged outburst as Jey slides into the passenger seat. “I hope he get exactly what he deserve!”

The door slamming accompanies the frown on Ava’s face.

Just what is that supposed to mean?

—-----------------

The drive back home is a long, quiet, heavy one. Roman’s grip on the steering wheel is relentless almost the entire time, his knuckles practically white.

He’s pissed at Ava. Pissed at her involvement. Pissed at Jimmy. Pissed at his misdirected focus. And pissed at Jey for all the things but one thing more than the rest.

Solana.

The fact that Jey is using Solana as a scapegoat. That he’s using Solana and the situation with Rikishi as an excuse for what his anger is really about and towards. It’s towards him. Jey is upset with Roman, but he’s using Solana as the face of that anger, and that irks Roman more than anything.

Because he knows damn well Jey’s prideful ass is still upset about what went down at Solana’s party, which could also be another reason he keeps pulling the Solana card. Perhaps there is some anger there towards Solana.

His grip tightens.

That only further incenses him. 

Solana didn’t do anything fucking wrong, and the fact that Jey refuses to acknowledge that shows just how deep this shit goes. 

Reveals that the incident at her party only helped to revive what was never really dead.

Indicates that perhaps this needs to be handled the same way it was handled before. 

Tribal Combat.

Before, it was for the ula fala, and Roman doubts that’s what Jey wants. Not that he could handle it, even if he tried. But, Tribal Combat doesn’t have to be for the mantle. It can be for many other things, including settling scores.

And, it seems there’s certainly a growing score to settle with his cousin.

Finally arriving home, Roman does his best to leave the weight of his day with him outside before he steps foot into the house, because he doesn’t know what kind of day his wife has had, either. Intermittent check up via texts would indicate her day went fine, but he also indicated that his day went fine, which couldn’t be farthest from the truth. Regardless, his pregnant wife doesn’t need anything else put on her, especially not all of his muddy shit.

So a deep breath is taken as he turns the knob and steps foot into his home, immediately hit with a delicious and familiar scent. He can’t name it, but he knows it. One of his favorite dishes prepared by his wife. A welcomed, helpful thing for a heavy soul.

“Baby, is that you?”

Solana’s voice is clearly coming from the kitchen, a small smile on his face. Just the sound of her voice is enough to evoke pleasant emotions.

The hold she has on him truly is dangerous.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he shouts, barely able to take another step when she yells again, voice more urgent.

“Wait!” He does, his smile shifting. “Don’t come in yet! It’s a surprise!” Roman rolls his eyes, more from amusement than irritation. “Close your eyes!”

A small sigh. “Solana, you know I don’t—”

“No arguing!” She cuts him off, the determination making him chuckle. “Close em;!”

Well, this is certainly unexpected but slightly appreciated as it helps to ebb away the stress and tension that’s had him weighed down, literally and metaphorically, for most of the day. 

Solana knows good and well he doesn’t like surprises, but what he hates more is upsetting his wife. So, he obliges. 

“Alright, they’re closed,” he informs.

“You promise?”

Another small smile. “I promise.”

Roman feels slightly bad for keeping his sweet, naive wife out of the loop regarding just how effective his training has been over the many years. Because he absolutely can hear the moment she starts walking from the kitchen, through the living room, to the front door. Partially betrayed by her heels, a little by her sweet perfume that travels with her, but also his excellent senses.

As he is also very aware that she’s facing him, standing right before him, waving her hand in front of his face to ensure his eyes are really shut. But, he won’t spoil that for her.

“Okay.” She takes his hands, starting to gently tug him forward. “Just….just follow me.”

And, he will. Wherever she goes. Always.

The small smile is stapled on his face as she asks along the way if he’s looking or “peeking,” to which his answer is a simple no. But, it’s humorous to him how he can just see the nervous expression on his wife’s pretty face, the way she’s chewing down on her bottom lip, probably unsure of his veracity. 

He helps her a bit as she directs him to sit down, most likely at his seat at the head of their dining room table. Solana moves her hands to cover his eyes, explaining, “okay, you can open but keep your eyes forward and on the table. Don’t look at me.”

That dims his smile a bit. “Solana—” 

Her lips, soft and full, are pressed against his cheek before she shifts, dropping her hands to clearly to stand behind him. “Trust me.”

A difficult yet easy thing to do. One of the many contradictions he finds himself navigating these days. “Alright.”

Her giggle soothes him just a bit more. “Okay, open…..now!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

And, he does, immediately taken back by the extent of what he sees. He knew she cooked, could tell by the aroma the minute he walked into the door, but he just didn’t know how much she cooked.

“Holy shit,” he breathes. Roman’s eyes jump from dish to dish, the table completely covered with various items.

“I made all your favorites,” Solana explains in the sweetest, most her voice, still behind him. “Chicken Flautas. Sausage and Rice Skillet. Chicken Birria Tacos. Fajitas. Enchiladas. Desserts too, of course. Tres Leches Cake. Sopaipillas.” It seems like the list is endless, Roman’s appreciation growing with each item she lists.

“Sol, you didn’t have to do all this.”

She really didn't. He’s forever appreciative, more than willing to consume the whole damn table if he could, but he’ll always prefer her taking it easy over anything. “You should be re—”

“Baby, I am. But, being on pelvic rest doesn’t mean I can’t do all the things I enjoy. Like cooking. Besides, I wanted to do something nice for you….” It takes a lot of restraint for him to not look at her as she moves her hands to his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “Plus….it might…it might lessen the blow if you don’t….if you don’t like them.”

Another confused expression. “Them?”

Roman hears the deep breath she takes followed by a shift from behind to beside. Bypassing the previous instructions, Roman finally lands his gaze on his wife after a day of absence.

And what a sight.

“Solana….”

It’s hard for his brain and eyes to work together on what the focus on first. The sexy red dress low cut by the chest, accented with a black bow that accentuates her ample cleavage and something else. But, that’s battled with the difficulty he has in also not focusing on her hair that’s jet black at the roots, fading down into an almost dark red. Still the same length, just a new color combo.

Bloodline colors.

Solana biting on her bottom lip briefly pulls him from his alternating focus. “I know it’s a lot…” Her fingers go to her hair, blood red locks intertwined in her fingers. “I’ve always wanted to dye my hair red, but I didn’t know if all red would look good on me, so Bayley suggested—”

“You look beautiful, Solana,” he cuts in, unable to stop himself from angling his body so that he can pull her between his spread thighs. “You always look beautiful, but this….”

A hopeful, nervous inquiry. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” he breathes, having to work hard to redirect his focus to the other new change. Right by her clavicle on the left side of her body, covered with Saniderm is fresh ink. 

siempRe tú  

All black and lower cased letters with the exception of the ‘R’ that’s uppercase and blood red.

He has an idea, but not the specifics. “Solana….”

Her smile is warm and bashful. “It means ‘always you’ in Spanish.” She angles her head down, hand carefully placed around the perimeter of it. “The ‘R’ is for you. For Roman. That’s why it’s in red.” His gaze darts to hers, locked in, intense, meaningful. “Because it’ll always be you, Ro. Always and forever.”

It’s a lot to take in. He knew she was getting a tattoo, knew that it was on her list of things that she wanted to do, but he was under the impression she was getting a mental health themed tattoo. Hence her and her new friend group going together, as they were all planning to get one.

But this…

“You got a tattoo for me?” 

Loving him is one thing, being with him is one thing, but putting something permanent on her body for him is something entirely different. 

She nods, moving her hand to his face, gently stroking his beard. “I did. And the truth is I wanted your full name, but I don’t know if that would be…safe. If it would give away the truth of our relationship….”

She’s not entirely wrong. But, he himself doesn’t know just how he would feel about that. 

Undeserving.

He ghosts his hand along the edge of the Saniderm, chuckling in disbelief. “It looks amazing.”

Her smile is bright and appreciative. “Thank you.” Solana moves her hands to the bottom of her dress. “I designed them both myself.”

And yet another frown. “Both?”

It’s in her lifting her dress and turning to the side, Roman puts together what Solana was referring to when she said them earlier. 

The new hair.

The new tattoo.

The other new tattoo. 

Because inked on her side is yet another new piece of artwork. The word breathe, except the ‘B’ is actually a butterfly whose body is made up of a semicolon. Once again, Roman’s hand is near her soft skin, Solana explaining, “this is the one we all got together.”

And, he can understand why, Solana having explained to him the symbolism behind a semicolon for people with mental health struggles.

People like herself. 

"It looks amazing, Solana." Because it does, and the fact that she designed both herself just makes it even better.

Her smile is warm and loving. "Thank you." It shifts though, quickly almost, into something slightly solemn. “Ro….” There’s persistent and consistent difficulty in not getting so caught up and consumed in all the things stirring within him at all of these unexpected things, but it’s helped by her continued explanations. “Do you remember….when I was in the hospital and you asked about the butterflies on my wrist? What the other three were?”

“Yeah.” A quiet answer as she moves herself onto his lap, her hands on his chest. 

Her smile shifts once more into something still slightly sad yet proud. “One was for Dulce, and the other two….they were for Lina and Leya.”

Another bombshell that has him speechless, an effect hardly seen, if ever, in the Head of the Table.

“I first started to have the dreams when I was in the hospital, and…..and I didn’t know then that they would actually be coming, of course, but….but just the idea of them….it made a difference.” She swallows, wiping her eyes as a lone tear escapes. “So, I want to get the butterflies as tattoos, but I want you to be there with me for that.”

Roman nods, understanding why she didn’t want him around for this round. Because of the first tattoo, because she clearly wanted it to be a surprise, and a surprise it certainly is. 

"Of course, I'll go with you."

Partially because he too wants to follow her lead.

Wants to get a tattoo for her.

But, he has time to figure that out.

And, he will figure it out.

Solana kisses his cheek, mumbling a 'thank you,' asking once more. “So you really do like them?”

Her nervous question evokes a small sigh as he brings his hand back to her cheek. “I love them.” An honest answer, as he also tips over the edge of comfortably. “I—I don’t know how I feel about the tattoo for me, not because I don’t like it, but because it’s so permanent. You putting me on your body like that….”

“It’s what I wanted,” she reassures. Her voice is firm and unwavering. “I love you, Roman. I’ll always love you.”

But, I don’t deserve it.

Thoughts that float through his head. Thoughts that should be shared, and he will. As uncomfortable as it is, he promised Solana he’d try to be more open with her.

But, not tonight. Not when she’s had a seemingly nice day and has gone above and beyond for him. They can have that. Have tonight. He’ll give her that much. 

She stands up and kisses his forehead. “Come on. The food is getting cold.”

Dinner is shared amongst the two of them, conversation sprinkled throughout a bit of overindulgence on Roman’s part, an extended gym session in his near future but so worth it. 

Always worth it. 

Naturally, he helps her put away what’s left over, not much, and clean up the kitchen before he guides them into the living room. On the sofa, her body leaned back into his, his arm protectively around her, the other lax on the top of the sofa. Dulce sleeps comfortably on the loveseat opposite them, also full and content from her homemade dog friendly dinner. 

“You wanna tell me how your day really went.” Not a question. More an option. A knowing he should not have put past her. She’s learned him too well.

His mate in every sense of the word. Whether he feels deserving of her or not.

Sighing, he kisses the top of her head. “Not really.”

Her fingers dance gently across the top of his hand. “Roman….”

He knows where this is going, can see it a mile away, and while his preference is to put it off for tomorrow, he knows it’s all inevitable. “Ava….Ava arranged a meeting between me and the twins.”

Solana looks up, eyes full of curiosity, “did you know?”

He shakes his head. “No.” Because, if he did, he would have never gone. “It didn’t go well.”

“Ro…”

“Not even Jimmy, as much as Jey. It feels like…..like we’re in our twenties all over again, and he’s trying me. I thought we were past this shit, but clearly not. He thinks I'm in the wrong with the whole Rikishi situation.” And before she can even ask, he answers, unapologetic. “I told him to fuck off.”

She sighs against him. “Roman, it’s….I don’t want that to get between you two.”

“It shouldn’t,” he agrees. “But, it’s also deeper than that one situation. I think Jey’s probably been feeling some sort of way for a while, and this situation along with your party just broke the camel’s back. Regardless, I’m not changing my mind. He’s wrong, and that’s just that.”

“He’s your family, Roman.”

“That doesn’t mean shit, Solana, and you know it.” She of all people should know that. “His loyalty is clearly to his father, and that’s fine, but right is right and wrong is wrong. He’s wrong, and Rikishi was dead wrong, too. Whether they wanna see and/or acknowledge that is on them.”

She doesn’t say anything, continuing to look up at him, eventually asking in a small voice, “so what does that mean for ya’ll?”

His answer is honest. “I don’t know.” 

Because, he doesn’t. This isn’t like when they were still kids, for all intents and purposes. They’re grown men and should be able to handle it as such, but Jey seems incapable of that, consumed and controlled by his emotions. And, Roman doesn’t have time to deal with that shit. Nor a desire to. Jey is going to have to work through his shit before they can even attempt to attack this again. 

Or, as he was thinking earlier, they lay it out in the ring.

Tribal Combat.

Solana, however, doesn't need to know that part. Not yet. If it becomes a sure thing, he'll share it. For now though, it stays with him.

“But, it’s not a priority right now.” Or much of a concern, really. Not compared to everything else he has going on. “You’re my priority.” Navigating this pregnancy is a priority. Not Jey being in his fucking feelings over stupid shit.

“I don’t like this.” Roman can admit, at least to himself, that he doesn’t, either. But, it is what it is. And, he voices as such.

“We just have to see how it plays out.” However and whatever that may be. “How did it go with Bayley?”

The corner of her lip lifts into a half, sad smile. “Are you trying to change the subject?”

Possibly. “Trying to see how my wife’s day was.”

Solana rolls her eyes, thankfully, agreeing to the transition. “It….went good. She….she was happy.” 

“Yeah?”

Nodding, Solana chews on her bottom lip, sharing in a soft voice. “Surprised, of course. But….she didn’t question it. Didn’t seem like she wanted like….proof or something.”

“The proof is in the letter, Sol.”

“I know. I know. I just….I think I was nervous she would….” Solana shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. She’s happy that we’re literally family and even offered to help me tell everyone else.”

Roman nods, happy for his wife. Happy that it went over well, though he had little doubt it would. Regardless of whatever unprocessed feelings still linger towards Bayley, deep down, he truly does trust she loves Solana. As a friend first. Now as family.

“So when is that supposed to happen?” 

“This week.” The answer surprises him a bit. He wasn’t expecting that so soon. Regardless, if it’s what she wants, good for her on going for it. “Which brings me to a question….a favor I need from you.”

“Baby, how many times I gotta tell you doing things for you is never a favor? It’s my job as your husband.”

Solana chews on her bottom lip, angling her body more towards him. “You haven’t heard what it is, yet…” There’s a pause between her initial statement and the rest of it. “Bayley’s family is having a get together at their restaurant this Friday—”

“Okay…..” And it’s when she gives him that look that it dawns on him. “Oh hell no.”

“Baby, please,” she pouts, hand to his chest. “I want you there with me.”

“Around people?” The word people is laced with disgust and irritation. “Solana, you know I hate people.”

“They’re….they’re my family, Roman.” It’s a pointed, poignant counter, one that definitely tugs out a bit of guilt from him. “They’re gonna be the girls’ family. I want you to have a relationship with them as well.” He looks away, slightly comforted by her hand gently moving up and down his chest. “Please?”

The guilt was already pushing him one way, but it’s the ‘please’ that pushes him over the edge. “Okay, I’ll go with you.” Roman scowls, not from the way she moves to climb on his lap, straddling him, kissing his cheek, but from the thought of this forced socialization. “But, I’m not talking to anyone.”

Solana frowns. “Roman…”

“Or, I’m sitting in the car.”

“Roman, you are not sitting in the car,” she protests, informing. “Dwayne and Matteo are gonna be there, too.” 

“What? Why?” They’re not even her family. 

“Because I invited them,” she answers so calmly, fingers playing with his beard. “Bayley also invited Naomi, so I don’t know if Jimmy will be there….”

“There’s food. He’ll be there.” She smiles a little at his deadpanned tone. “I still don’t get why you invited Dwayne and Matteo.”

“Because they’re your family, and you like Dwayne. It’ll give you someone to talk to. Maybe even Matteo too…..”

Roman sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Solana, I know you want me—”

“I just want you to be happy, Roman.” An honest, kind, almost vulnerable thing that makes sense for her. That’s just who she is.

His hand moves in comforting circles on the small of her back. “I am happy, Solana. I have you, and I’ll have them.” His gaze moves to her stomach, briefly darting to her tattoo. “That’s all I need.”

“No, it’s not.” Unexpected disagreement. A testament of her growing assertiveness, something he both appreciates but also dislikes. Dislikes how adept she’s become at reading him. “But, I understand you need time. Just know I’m not giving up on this. I have family and so do you. And we deserve it. To be surrounded by and have people who love and care about us. Because…because that’s who’s going to love and care about the girls, too.”

He’s silent. Sitting on her words. So heavy and true. Accurate, even if they stir up more of those damn emotions.

Finally, he settles on a response that's almost second nature at this point. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” She kisses his cheek, laying her head in the crook of his neck. A few, comfortable minutes of silence pass before anything else is said. “Ro, can I ask you something?”

A sigh and kiss to her temple. “You can ask me anything, Sol. You know this.”

If only he knew what she planned to ask though. “How many kids do we have in your dreams?”

Shit.

It’s an innocent question, really. One that should provide an easy answer but not for the fact he’s thinking about what she shared with him when she was in the hospital. About wanting more kids. 

Several more kids.

Normally, Roman could easily get away with a little white lie. But, it’s the delay in his answer, as well as the gruffness in his voice, that betray him. “Just the girls.”

Solana lifts her head to look at him, a knowing, crafty smile on her pretty face. 

And right away, he knows he’s fucked up.

“It’s the five, isn’t it?”

A last minute effort to sway her. “No, I get a vasectomy after the twins.”

She shakes her head, clearly seeing past his bullshit. “No, you don’t.”

“Solana—”

“It’s Lina and Leya—”

“Sol—”

“A little boy afterwards—”

“We can’t—”

“And then another set of twins, right?” 

Damn. 

The joy on her face is a stark contrast to the horror on his when she proudly announces, “we’re gonna have five kids.”

“Solana, we are not having five kids.” Just saying it aloud makes his head hurt. “You think my blood pressure is high now? Are you trying to kill me?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic, Ro.”

“No, you’re being delusional if you really think I’m gonna give you five children.” Because as much as he loves this girl with everything in him, she’s clearly not thinking straight. “What am I gonna do with all them damn kids, Solana? I’m too old for all that.”

Leave it to her ass, and she’ll have him pushing 60 with a toddler and a college freshman. “And what about Dulce?”

Solana pouts. “What about her?”

“You saw how she was with Jey’s kids.” The mentioning of said children prompts their puppy to lift her head, eyes alert and searching. “See, the damn dog got PTSD just from that one day. Imagine if it was all the time.”

Solana moves her hands to the collar of his shirt, adjusting it as she calmly explains, “our kids won’t be like them. You won’t let them be like them.”

She has a point there. It’ll be a cold day in hell before any of his children exhibit even a fraction of the disobedience that marks Jey’s entire offspring. 

An idea crosses his mind, Roman suggesting, “what if I got you another dog instead?”

But, at that, not only does Dulce lift her head again, she makes a low growling sound. 

Solana bites back a smile. “I don’t think she likes that idea.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like the idea of people thinking we’re fucking Mormons or that I’m breeding you out or some shit.” But, it’s in saying that second part aloud, he finds himself asking, “do you have a breeding kink?’

Because talking about having three more kids when she’s not even three months pregnant with their first set is almost asinine to him.

And his eyes nearly widen when she shrugs and answers in a small voice“I don’t know.” What the actual fuck? “I just want more kids, Roman.”

“We can have one more,” he compromises. Because three is manageable, especially considering they’ll still need a son for him to have an official heir.

Too bad she’s not going for it. “Three.”

“One.”

And Solana’s journey to assertiveness continues as she grabs his face, stating firmly, “three.”

“Solana.” He shifts, carefully lowering her hands from his face. “I love you, but I’m telling you right now, we’re not having five kids, and that’s just that.”

She rolls her pretty eyes, muttering, “we’ll see” and climbs off his lap, walking out of the living room.

“Yeah, we’ll see alright,” he huffs, scoffing and shaking his head. “This girl done lost her damn mind.” Looking over at Dulce who’s been privy to the whole scene, he finds himself asking, “can you believe her?”

Dulce’s response is a bark. Agreement, clearly.

“Thank you,” he responds, rubbing his temples and leaning back into the sofa.

He could sure use a drink or something right about now.

Five kids?

Hell no.

He's always been unable to say no to her, but there's a first time for everything, because over his dead body will he produce five children.

Absolutely fucking not.

Solana suddenly comes up from behind, leaning down and hugging him. “Fine. We won’t have five kids.” Relief fills him as she kisses his cheek. It’s about damn time she comes to her senses. “We’ll have six.”

The sound of her giggling as she runs off is conjoined with his eyes widening as he stands up to go after her because what the fuck?

This girl most definitely has some type of breeding kink.

“Solana!”

[anantaru]

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ ACE OF SPADES

part two. | rich boy aven masterlist.

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your first date with rich boy aventurine is more fun than you initially expected, who knows where things will go from there // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. fluff, slightly suggestive, rich boy au, reader wears a dress, flirty aventurine, a/n. this will have a part two if you can't tell, fem! reader ♡

you turn your face to the left and let your visual perception take in the luxurious casino you've been invited in— undeniably, your first reaction was dedicated to the chimes of whistles of various slot machines announcing wins and losses, in combined action with racketing noises of their shafts being pulled.

your jaw parts and your eyes grow, it felt surreal to stand here with an expensive dress hugging your body tight, a small gift from your date, nothing more, nothing less. rich boy aventurine slowly slides his palm over the back of your hand to lure your thoughts back to himself as he intertwines his fingers with your own.

you stiffen, it didn't take a genius to notice that you were slightly nervous about your first date with the infamous gambler. if only he would've picked a better place to get to know each other— alas, in a way it was exactly what you've expected.

well yes, aventurine choose the probably, most unromantic spot for a first date— but, you got a dress as a gift, together with an embellished necklace and a free entry to a luxurious, private casino.

so, did you really mind? hmm, not really. in fact, it was quite unique and exciting to be here, you also felt safe by his side, and especially intrigued to get to know more about his, quote on quote, playground.

men, or how people called them here; high rollers in pretentious suits, glide like sharks over the soft tumble of the dice. it's all very crowded and distracting, needless to say it was interesting to witness, but you notice how your heart was thumping faster, that's when you began to feel yourself getting difficulties to breathe evenly.

snugly pressed against aventurine, you walk past the shrill murmur of crowds and bells of roulette wheels as the gambler spins you towards his chest, his hand carrying on to hold yours gently, "are you okay? you look a little nervous," he says nonchalantly, although his handsome voice told you a different story, an affectionate perception, "our table is right there, we can take a seat and talk if you want. "

your gaze slowly shifts to where aventurine was pointing his head towards as you look at a large table right next to the exclusive sight of exquisite gold and silver fountains and statuaries. this must've cost a fortune, you were certain that this area alone was the most breathtaking one.

you awkwardly glare up at him, your breathing picking up on tempo, "of course, but..." your last note was drawn out as aventurine cocks a curious brow at you, "would it be okay to excuse myself for a bit?"

you continue shortly, fists balled, "it's a little stuffy here, you see, i'd love to take some fresh air without bothering you about it,"

in all honesty, the air was, well, utterly despicable. the lofty mixture of overpriced cologne and sweat penetrated your nostrils to the point where it began to ache and scratch your brain.

despite the fact that everything was overwhelming in its entirety.

being embarrassed by your human reactions might be an imprecise wording and false emotion to feel, you shouldn't feel bad about this. although you felt awkward and uneasy to ask aventurine if you could take a swift breather outside.

what if he found you to be boring now? or even worse, ungrateful when it was him who made it possible for you to see something like this in the first place.

a high class casino that could never be visited by the ordinary.

he looks at you through his glasses and you could swear his eyes had a mellow glow, a tender glimmer of serenity as his lips carve into a handsome smile, "oh of course, lets go right away so you won't get nauseous," he utters out, his stomach sitting heavy with lead and eagerness to look out for you.

you freeze for a second, "uh, wait, i really don't want to ruin this night for you," and sigh, letting your gaze wander around everywhere but his direction before tapping out a nervous rhythm against the soft marble on the floor.

all aventurine does was laugh airily, "you're adorable,"

"you're not ruining anything, in fact, you really couldn't, even if you tried,"

ugh, everything about you is just so pretty, you're sweet and angelic and he's glad he's bought this dress for you, it fits you like a second skin— aventurine takes note of your beauty, he stores it into the most important places in his brain so he could dream about you later.

memorize how this dress looks on you. closer and closer.

"but here, take my jacket, okay? it's rather cold," he flips his jacket down his shoulders before draping it over your own before suddenly closing the distance from his lips to your ear— silent, there's a voice next to your skin, it's deep, handsome and smoking hot. barely above an octave as it holds a teasing verge to it, "i wouldn't want you to catch a cold, yeah?"

you hum in agreement as you rest your hands above his clothed chest, butterflies storm through your belly and settle heavily inside as aventurine wraps one arm around your waist, his breath wafting around your lovely lips.

you felt the need to kiss him, and so did he, feel the same towards you. for a moment, you two linger feeling each others warmth a little longer, relishing in your precious attempts to getting to know each other better. it's slightly awkward, you could tell that aventurine noticed how your eyes were fighting the urge to keep admiring him.

yet, he's not complaining— he could never, not when you're so cute, and your touch on him was consistently warm, your trace firm but confident, content and safe.

he hopes you will enjoy yourself tonight, and maybe, only maybe, you will invite him over to your place later.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl: Part 3

Feyd-Rautha x fremen!reader

Notes/Warnings: mentions of blood, injury, death.

Words: 1460

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Feyd POV

He can’t recall a time when nerves have taken over his body the way they do now. Normally, fighting, or the thought of fighting, or witnessing a fight pumps fire through his veins. The anticipation of bloodshed and screams of pain are like the crescendo of a good high, but today, he can’t grab hold of that euphoric feeling. It’s not there, there is nothing to grab hold of, because today, it’s you fighting. 

Feyd sits beside his uncle in the stands as he watches you enter the arena, and immediately, he recognizes his first mistake. The hand not holding your blade is raised to shield your eyes from the brightness of the sun. He should have found a way to train you outside. He should have gotten you used to an environment that is much brighter than your home planet. Though he has no idea how he could have arranged that, if the blinding sunlight is the difference between your life and death, he sees no road to self-forgiveness. 

“You think to take that one for a wife?” the Baron asks as your opponents join you in the arena. The six prisoners enter from three corners, honing in on their prey, but you’ve yet to step into your fighting stance. Your body anxiously twists in all directions to take in the men descending upon you and only you, your hand still acting as a vizor from the light. “She hardly seems capable. She’ll have a blade run through her before five minutes have passed and you will have gathered the masses to witness a bore of a show just like your useless brother.”

Feyd ignores his uncle, knowing the old man speaks only to agitate him. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you finally prepare yourself, spreading your legs, bending your knees, and dropping your hand so it may join its twin around the blade’s hilt. 

One of the men is bolder than the others and he runs ahead. He takes the first swing at you, but you dodge him, ducking under his knife and throwing your arm out as you pass his legs. The sharp edge slices through the back of his thigh, and he instantly drops to his knees. You turn to face his back and thrust your blade downward into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder. When you yank steel from flesh, blood sprays, splattering your thin clothes, and drains down his bare chest. Feyd can see the body heave before it falls. 

There’s the girl who killed my men, Feyd thinks as a rush of claps roars through the crowd at the first death. He knew you hadn’t shown him everything you’re capable of during training. Maybe you just needed the threat of imminent danger to display your full potential. If that’s the case, then fine. Feyd doesn’t need you to prove yourself to him, he needs you to show the people of Giedi Prime the woman they will soon be bowing to. 

The next is the smallest of the six. Skinnier, shorter, but filled to the brim with fury. His anger is his mistake and it’s clear you know it. You don’t fortify yourself. Instead, you watch as he leaves behind the other fighters and charges with a scream that echoes through the arena. A side shift of your body and a quick swipe of your blade and he pauses, his arms go limp, and he stumbles past you. A wash of dark red flows from his neck.  

You rid yourself of three more. Not without difficulty, but you manage. Their bodies are littered around you, the evidence of their demise soaking your form. Your shirt sticks to your figure from the amount of blood weighing down the fabric. Your arms are dyed scarlet from layer after layer of the red fluid. With each of your steps, scarlet prints are left behind. Exhaustion is evident, but you’re not done yet.

The final man is broader, thicker, taller than you and some of the now-dead prisoners combined. He could crush your windpipe with a squeeze from one meaty hand. He could break your bones with a sharp flick of his wrist. All you have to do is stay out of his way. You’re faster and your limbs are leaner; you should be able to outrun him, but you need to move, now, before he traps you against a wall. 

You jump back from his swing, barely evading the sheer power and force that could have cut you right down the middle. Before you can recover from the attack, he leaps at you. You fall onto your back, blade skittering out of reach. Feyd swallows hard. He refuses to blink. 

“Well, this doesn’t look good for your girl, does it?” the Baron says, sucking at his pipe.

Feyd wishes he could disagree, but you haven’t found your footing. You’re crawling backward, trying to gain some distance from the predatory stalk of a confident aggressor. A blade swipes toward your face. You turn your head, receiving a slash across the cheek, and from how quickly you bleed, it appears deep. At least your head is still attached to your shoulders. 

You kick at his knee, knocking the joint out of place and momentarily rendering him unable to take another step. With the spare second, you scurry to your knife, getting your hand on it just as you’re yanked back by your ponytail. Feyd winces at your shriek, fingernails digging crescents into his palms, jaw aching from his clenching teeth.

Your head wacks against the ground and you’re eyes pinch shut. Potential concussion. You’re disoriented. You need to move. Move, Fremen Girl, Feyd internally snaps, but you’re not moving. The man towers above you, his feet on either side of your thighs. Feyd leans forward in his seat. Your eyelids slowly flutter. 

“Move,” Feyd mutters. 

The man’s whole body goes into the downward jab of his blade. He expects the pointed tip to land right between your eyes, but when you twist out of the way at the last second, it clashes with the ground. The over-expenditure of force knocks him off-balance and he falls on top of you, his chest slamming into yours, crushing you entirely.

Jumping to his feet, Feyd rushes to the edge of the balcony. The crowd is silent. He can’t breathe. Are you breathing? You better be fucking breathing, Fremen girl.

Suddenly, your knees bend and with the last of your strength, you roll the man onto his back, your thighs straddling his hips. His jaw is slack. His arms flop to his sides. Your knife is plunged into his chest. Then with both hands wrapped around the hilt, you pull out and stab into his heart once more, this time twisting the blade. 

As the crowd erupts in cheers, Feyd finally exhales. His shoulders release their tension. 

You stand on wobbly legs and wipe the back of your hand across your scarlet cheek. You’ll need stitches, but you’re alive. Feyd turns, heading for the stairs so he can meet you at your extraction from the arena.

“Not yet, nephew,” the Baron stops him. 

Feyd glances over his shoulder to find his uncle’s gaze still fixed on where you stand. Feyd’s brow pinches and he eases back to the balcony railing as three more prisoners stumble into the arena. The crowd dies into silence. His head whips to his uncle. 

“What is this!” he spits. “What did you do! She’s done!”

“She is done when I say she’s done,” the Baron says, sucking at his pipe once more. “Now sit down and watch the show, or should she live, I will give her to Rabban.”

“You will not!” Feyd shouts. “All of Giedi Prime knows the challenge you set and she met it! She is mine now and I say she's done! Bother Rabban if you want more entertainment!”

The Baron won’t argue further, not now. People were shocked enough that Feyd’s first potential bride would have to face six prisoners compared to the three for his brother’s brides. Whispers of gossip were uncontrollable and even managed to make their way through the halls, passing from servant to servant. They questioned the integrity of the Trial if centuries-old rules could be changed for one woman, and altering them again after you’ve won would be a great disappointment to all who witnessed. The Baron’s thirst for excitement has made him forget that, but Feyd is happy to remind him. 

The crowd suddenly gasps and Feyd turns his head. You’re trying to step away from the prisoners, but those steps are wobbly. The knife has slipped from your grasp. Feyd rushes off to the entrance of the arena.

[that-one-p00k1e]

Just Like a Movie Scene, Table for Two

Their love language towards you - Obanai, Giyuu, & Sanemi x reader (separate) | part 1

TW: most likely OOC

Been getting lazy lately, might start writing for Mashle Idk😞 Also Giyuu's part ended up being wayy longer than intended😢

Obanai Iguro - Gift Giving & Quality Time

Not much needed to say here tbh, it's quite obvious from how he treats Mitsuri.

Due to his traumatic past, he nurtured a distaste for women. To add to that, most females in the Corps were weak and lacked physical strength, furthermore skills in hunting demons. Thus, he looked down upon them even more. But once he finds a girl who could light his candle, he'll pour every ounce of himself to give her the love he thinks she deserves. It'll take time for him to open up to you, but the signs wouldn't be discreet.

He'll give you gifts from time to time, offer you to hang out with him or have lunch together. He'll listen to you talk your heart out, admiring the way your face lights up as you tell him how your day went. You mostly did the talking, he just occasionally hummed or nodded to indicate himself paying attention. If possible, he'll take every chance to spend any unoccupied time with you. Your bright and beaming presence had become one of his escapes from the dark and bitter reality of this world. 

During those times together, he'll take mental notes of all the things you mentioned you like, and always put it into consideration when deciding on a gift for you. He'll find a way to combine the different things you adore into one form of a present. It may take him quite the effort and time to put his mind into it and figure out a conclusion, but it never goes to waste as long as he could bring out that beautiful smile in you.

Giyuu Tomioka -  Acts of Service & Quality Time

He is no less than a man of few words; having difficulty interacting with others. Thus, when it comes to commitment in a relationship, he'd prefer to execute it through physical effort rather than going vocal. Other than not being able to express his feelings verbally, he believes actions tend to speak louder than words. He would be the kind of person that pays attention to the smallest details of your body language. Had you made subtle gestures of discomfort, he'll take notice of it rather quickly and immediately tend to it.

Once, he was in the middle of listening to your daily rambling when he saw how you kept rubbing your hands together and occasionally placing it on your neck, presumably seeking warmth. Without much thought, he took off his haori and placed it around you, making sure to cover your hands with its long sleeves. “You're cold.” If he could, he would've cupped your hands by now to provide further comfort. Unfortunately, he knew well that his hands were no less colder than the weather itself; not to mention how unaccustomed he also was to physical contact.

Being in the position of a Hashira means holding many great responsibilities; the more responsibilities to bear, the less time available to be spent together alone. Hence why Giyuu tries his best to see you whenever he can. If he had an empty schedule for the day, his first thought would be spending it with you. He'd take you out on a walk around town and market at night, and get you things he noticed your eyes have taken interest upon (despite your resistances and denial). If not in the mood for a crowded environment, you two would sit together somewhere more  secluded, like a pond located in the woods.

He was glad that you were the one who always started the conversation, knowing how he could only do otherwise. Though even if there were to be silence itself between the two of you, no sense of awkwardness could infiltrate the comfort you both had by simply being in each other's presence.

Sanemi Shinazugawa - Physical Touch

He may not admit it, but he's often touch-deprived.

It was agony for him to hold back the urge to come up to you and just circle his arms around your waist whenever he saw you; his ego and pride refusing to let his guard down. He didn't want to seem weak, to let his well-known indifference falter and be viewed as soft in the face of others. Yet, behind closed doors, he clings to you like his life depended on it. He's been craving your touch for the whole day, especially after having to put up with lower-ranked slayers who drained his mental energy (berating them to death).

He'd come home falling into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finally could let his muscles loose. The two of you would tell how each other's days went, with him laying on your abdomen as you played with his hair. He tried his best to stay awake and keep listening to you, really, but the feeling of your fingers skillfully easing the nerves in his head through the scalp was driving him to the edge of falling into slumber. Eventually, as the fatigue was too strong to be fought back, he finally surrendered and let his mind drift off to sleep, all in the while of your melodic voice.