#i do also miss being able to even just take a personal book into work for my breaks... sad
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inevitablyuncertain · 29 days ago
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recently did an EMT pickup in a jail, I'd love to know more about what it's like to be a librarian at a prison
- a moot (i think)
Hi okay so I worked in public libraries for about 7? years? but the pay in public libraries is notoriously not good :v I've been working in a prison for just coming onto three years. The prison I work in is level three or level four security, depending on who you ask (?), with five being maximum security.
Some bullet point thoughts as they come to me
Some people have been surprised that the prison's set up kind of like a campus, just with like. guards around to make sure nothing stupid happens and people go where they're supposed to, but yeah if someone's scheduled to be somewhere they take their pass for it and walk themself to the building.
Also like college, the catty bitching at each other is both funny to listen to and deeply annoying to be involved with.
In the library, there's me, my supervisor (sometimes, our shifts only overlap a few day of the week), and 7 inmate workers who do the day-to-day checking books in and out, helping guys navigate their legal research, we have a desk with resources for guys that are going home, etc. My job is a) paperwork b) supervise and c) so there's someone to yell at when things go wrong
This is definitely specific to the library (because starting major shit like fights could jeopardize their access to the legal library resources), but the behavior problems are noticeably fewer than in the public libraries. I don't doubt that there's crazy things happening elsewhere in the jail, but frankly I don't even carry the pepper spray and I have not yet felt as though I needed to.
They have access to newspapers and tv etc etc so it's not like the outside world is so foreign to them, but the inmates do sometimes hit you with that reminds you of the culture divide. ("Have you heard about this thing, it's when you send someone a video of Rick Astley's music as a prank. When you do it, you're 'Rick Astley-ing' them."
Also often deeply surreal to hear from like. 20-year-olds who "technically don't have a life sentences, but just like 3 consecutive 40-year ones" or 60-year-olds who ponder that "I think I've adapted to jail so well since it's basically all I've known. I was in juvie since I was 15, and in here after that."
Do kind of miss the public libraries for being allowed to actually talk properly with people. Things I'm not supposed to talk about with inmates: what I do outside of work, anything about my family, where i'm from (especially where i'm from). I get it, but it does wear on you, especially since I have odd hours that don't line up with a lot of the other staff in my building.
idk there's probably more like. Insightful things I could talk about if I gave it some more thought but like. idk they're just guys. Even knowing about why some of them are in here, they are still just guys. They read Johnstone westerns and manga and encyclopedias and Business Planning for Dummies and more of the Twilight series than you'd expect.
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longagoitwastuesday · 2 years ago
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you seem to have a wide taste in books !! what are some books that you would recommend ??
Hmmm I wonder. I have the feeling I just read the same couple of books over and over, and at times only different iterations of the same story, like in that line by Borges ("the various intonations of a few metaphors").
I find recommending books without knowing anything at all about the person asking rather difficult. What I'd suggest to one may differ greatly from what I'd recommend to someone else. I'll give a list of some of my favourite books that I think are enjoyable in general:
— Thoughts by Pascal
— Cain: a mystery by Lord Byron
— The Iliad by Homer
— Crime and Punishment by Dostoievsky
— Othello by Shakespeare
— Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo
— Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand
— The fragments of the Presocratics
— La Regenta by Leopoldo Alas, Clarín
— Tractatus Logico-philosophicus by Wittgenstein
— East of Eden by John Steinbeck
— Vita nova by Dante
— Contributions to the Founding of the Theory of Transfinite Numbers by Georg Cantor
— Caligula by Albert Camus
— North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell
— Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie
— Some essays by Russell. I personally love Mysticism and Logic
— Metamorphoses by Ovid
Poetry is perhaps harder to recommend because at times it translates horribly, but in general I love Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Lorca, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Rilke, Byron, Quevedo, Góngora, Lope de Vega, Horace, Catullus, Ovid, Tennyson, Maiakovsky, Garcilaso de la Vega, Oliverio Girondo, Vicente Huidobro, Emily Brontë, T. S. Eliot, César Vallejo, Luis Cernuda and Edgar Allan Poe, to name a few.
#I talk too much#I wanted to say The tragic sense of life by Unamuno and Philosophy and Poetry by María Zambrano#but I thought maybe they'd be hard to find in translation. They're both approachable texts of philosophy beautifully written though#Unamuno's essay Vida de Don Quijote y Sancho (translated as Our Lord Don Quixote in English according to Wikipedia?) is also beautiful#I adore Schopenhauer and Nietzsche but I'm not sure I'd recommend them to anyone. Probably you can't go wrong with Kierkegaard though#I know what some of these books look like (like Wittgenstein's Tractatus or Cantor's Foundations)#but I swear they're approachable without specific academic background. The last line of Wittgenstein's Tractatus is one of my favourite#lines ever in the history of anything‚ philosophy or literature‚ but to be as hitting as it is you need to reach it at the end of the book#I think despite what it looks like both Cantor and especially Wittgenstein have an aesthetic intent in their writing#Wittgenstein in particular reminds me of Kierkegaard and Rilke and also of Unamuno and Zambrano. And of course Schopenhauer et al.#The Tractatus is very similar in my opinion to Huidobro's Altazor which is just amazing but I don't know how it would translate#These books I like in form and not just in content (although form is content like I think happens in Wittgenstein's Tractatus)#so when possible I'd read them in their original languages.I myself can't read German and know but very little of Russian and Ancient Greek#and a bit of Latin so I must be missing a lot of those. Nonetheless they're great in what I can get through translation#Perhaps you'd have the chance of enjoying them in full#If you can't read Russian I am actually quite specific with the translation of Crime and Punishment haha There's a concept#Razumikhin develops through the book at several points and often translators aren't consister with the word which makes the readers lose#the view of this development. And I happen to think the development works alongside the narrative of Svidrigailov#and also with what happens towards the end with Porfiry and Raskolnikov so I think it's important#In English there are several translations that maintain the coherence such as the one by Pevear and Volokhonsky#(the only one I can remember right now but I could check the rest). Garnett's translation is everywhere but that one doesn't do it#Hmmm Pedro Páramo in English takes some liberties and La Regenta isn't as funny which is what happens with Wuthering Heights#and The three musketeers in translation even when the translations are more accurate#I haven't recommended Wuthering Heights because I take you've read it but that's my favourite book#And I haven't recommended Pandora Hearts because that's a manga and you asked for books but it does some very interesting things#that I think are in line with many of the books listed here (as I said‚ I basically like the same few things retold over and over haha)#There are many books I am itching to recommend but that I can't do freely without some knowledge of the person asking#Like Steinbeck's arthurian novel or idk Gone with the wind#I hope this list is enjoyable enough. I'm not sure if I've been able to avoid being too partial#I suppose one has to bear the conditions of their existence and can't ever entirely get rid of themselves haha
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yourmidnightlover · 1 year ago
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forever?
pairing: mob!bucky x reader
summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.
warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!
a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling
pt 2 -> control
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two months out of forever.
two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.
in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents. 
the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place. 
you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely. 
on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be. 
they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.
so far, he’s been the opposite. 
for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady. 
because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light. 
but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much. 
the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.
the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.
you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.
those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…
you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life. 
peace.
a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together. 
but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door. 
“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe. 
“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”
you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”
“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight. 
-
the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting. 
you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls. 
you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.
“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile. 
“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”
“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”
you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline. 
you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun. 
luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting. 
t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you. 
the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway. 
“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men. 
“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”
as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips. 
“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates. 
in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned. 
you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes. 
you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with. 
you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often. 
you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip. 
“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be. 
“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.
“i don’t-i’ve got it…”
“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.
“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband. 
“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”
then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins. 
“i think he might mind.”
you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away. 
his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.
“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.
your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you? 
you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this. 
your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.
and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think. 
you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted. 
“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly. 
“but the dish-”
“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.” 
“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.
he won’t hurt you.
he has to protect his image.
you’ve embarrassed him.
you’re his wife.
you’re his business deal.
you’ve humiliated him.
he’ll hurt you.
you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident. 
your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth. 
and then there was a knock at the door. 
your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting. 
he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements. 
“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.
automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.
“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft. 
you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was. 
“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”
“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again. 
“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.” 
“you don’t have to-”
“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.
you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you. 
how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing… 
“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.
“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.
“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed. 
sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point. 
but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad. 
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sinstear · 2 months ago
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ㅤI KINDA WANNA KISS YOUR GIRLFRIEND IF YOU DON’T MIND
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tags; 18+, established ellabs relationship, loser!abby, sub!abby, dom!reader, dom!ellie (kinda), cocky!reader, fingering (a!receiving) needy abby, mutual pining between 3 fuckin’ idiots who don’t want to admit they like each other to be honest, smoking, dirty talk, spitting, nipple play. wrote this 3 times 😃 so if i’m missing some stuff, soz!
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You’ve been Ellie’s best friend since you could practically walk, curse like a sailor at a random person in the street if they looked at you funny, and break anything you could find. Abby, who’s been dating Ellie for almost 2 years, wonders if Ellie had ever felt anything other than friendship with you. She wonders if she looks at you in the way Abby finds herself doing. Was it wrong? So wrong to look at someone who isn’t her girlfriend? Maybe but she wasn’t going to tell Ellie that. No.
It probably only started after times Ellie had asked you to pick Abby up from work because she herself was working, and maybe if you hadn’t given her that stupid fucking lazy smile you’d give her whenever she would grumble under her breath at your loud music every single time you did pick her up, then maybe she wouldn’t steal glances at you. Even when her girlfriend was with her.
If Ellie picked up on it, she sure as hell never mentioned it to Abby or You. Ellie was good. If she notices something, she doesn’t say anything until Abby brings it up first. They got each other like that.
Since getting with Abby, Ellie never really moved out from the apartment she shared with you. Her girlfriend spends more time there than she does at her own place so it always made sense this way. You were never a third wheel per say, you enjoyed both their company; even if you were a grumpy asshole most of the time.
You also loved to pretend to be annoyed at the fact they would always wake you up. Acting like it bothered you, but when breakfast came, Abby would be a blushing, flustered mess when you would mock how she sounds. Ellie would sit on the other side of the couch, drinking her coffee and smirking subtly.
Ellie’s sitting on her— your bed, Abby slumped between her legs with her head resting on the brunette’s chest comfortably. She’s reading one of her books, Ellie isn’t sure which one, just knows it’s one from her huge collection and she slowly threads her fingers through the Blonde hair, tugging strands lightly.
“Stop hoggin it,” Abby murmurs, reaching a hand up behind her. “S’my turn.”
Rolling her eyes, Ellie pulls the joint from between her lips and carefully passes it to Abby, slipping it between her fingers and shoving her other hand under her girlfriend’s shirt. The action causes Abby to shiver and wrap her lips around the joint before inhaling.
Both of them are able to share the joint a few more times until the sound of the bathroom door is unlocking, and you walk out freshly showered hair wet and a loose pair of sweatpants hang loosely around your hips with a little too tight shirt on. Of course Abby notices that.
“Can you guys go five minutes without fuckin on my bed’? I bet you’ve both fucked twice since I went in the shower,” you grumbled as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
Ellie snorts under her breath, eyebrow slightly raising. “Told you that you’re welcome to join.”
As you move around your room, you glance over and find Abby’s eyes fluttering closed with each puff she takes, and a subtle grin appears on your lips. “Nah, think you guys would enjoy that too much— is that my shirt?”
“Relax, she needed a new one.” Ellie scoffed.
“Wasn’t gonna say anything, looks good,” You nodded, dropped your towel on the floor and made your way back over to the bed. “Are you gonna share or?”
Abby’s eyes snap open and lock with yours quickly when she finally takes notice of you being a lot closer than you originally were. “No,” She smirked playfully, dropped her book beside her and shook her head. “Don’t feel like it.”
“Oh? You don’t?” You laughed, cocking your head to the side with a soft tut. “Ellie, does your girl not have manners?”
“Only sometimes,” Ellie murmured against Abby’s neck, and snuck her hand back up the shirt. “She doesn’t like to share joints with many people.”
Eyeing her up closely, a deep hum emitted from the back of your throat. “Yeah, I can see that, dickhead,” You scowled and held your hand out. “But I bought the weed, therefore you’re smoking my stuff.”
Blowing the smoke in your face, Abby giggles with a gentle eye roll and passes it to you this time, shivering and softly whimpering when Ellie’s hand cups one of her tits. None of you are seemingly embarrassed by this. Or you chose to ignore Abby’s flushed cheeks.
“Please don’t fuck on my bed again,” You sighed, watching how Ellie practically gropes Abby right before your eyes and not having a single ounce of shame.
“Abby likes when people watch,” Ellie admitted, biting back a laugh when Abby scoffs. “Right, you like when she watches.” Just like that her eyes snap open again and she’s caught. Shit.
“What?” Abby chokes out.
“S’cute,” You started, taking another hit and chuckling. “Think we don’t know, but we do,”
“Know what?”
“Your little staring problem. You think I don’t notice the way you stare a little too long? Especially when it’s just you and me. M’surprised you haven’t drooled over yourself yet.”
“That’s not—”
“So you haven’t thought about it before?”
Ellie’s silently watching from behind, smirking and pushing the shirt up higher, Abby’s perky nipples on display before you can blink. “T..Thought about what?” She mumbles, eyes not leaving yours.
Her lips part and pupils are blown slightly wide when you kneel on the bed and the joint is still between your lips. “You’ve never thought about me fucking you?”
The question hangs in the air, her skin is covered in goosebumps, you’ve got her right where you want her that she seems to only be focused on you. So focused that Ellie manages to get the shirt off her without a problem. “Do you, Baby?” Ellie finally speaks and it’s soft against her ear. “Do you think about her fucking you?”
Placing the joint in the ashtray, your attention doesn’t waver from Abby. It’s always on her for fuck sake, you’ve stole your own glances at her when Ellie’s not here, when she’s in your apartment, wearing your clothes that Ellie lent her. Fuck.
“S..Sometimes.” Abby admitted with a moan, heat pooling between her legs and she doesn’t have the balls to admit just how wet she is right now.
“Ellie?”
“What?”
“Can I kiss her?” The question is innocent and Abby’s heart swells at how softly you ask. Your hand rests on her thigh, eyes roaming her face slowly and that stupid grin would have her melting into a puddle if she was stood up and not lying down.
Abby’s cheeks flush at the feeling of Ellie’s smile against her neck, and the vibration of her laugh sends her into a frenzy. “Do you want her to kiss you?”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes.”
You’re suddenly so much closer to her face, so close that she can see the way your pupils are blown too. Was it the weed? Was it something else? Abby wasn’t sure, but with Ellie’s fingers pinching and rolling her nipples, and your breath against her face, she couldn’t focus. “You want it?” You asked, fingers gripping her chin.
“Uh huh,” Abby nodded, arching against Ellie’s chest at a certain pinch.
“You want it?”
“Please?”
You press your lips to hers, and Abby melts into you with a gentle sigh. She didn’t expect for your lips to be so perfect and soft against hers, maybe it’s because of all the times she catches you using lip balm or some stupid shit you saw on the internet, either way, she doesn’t care. Not when your free hand reaches up and cups the side of her face and kisses her just a little harder. Ellie watches from behind and her stomach flutters and her cunt clenches around nothing at the sight. At the sounds you were easily pulling from her girlfriend.
Whimpering into your mouth suddenly, Abby grips your hand and pushes it downwards abruptly. Pulling away just slightly, you ignored the whine she let out and laughed at how wet she was. “Weed makes you fuckin’ horny, huh?”
Makes her horny all the time, why do you think she’s always riding my cock like a slut?” Ellie piped up, biting and sucking her neck harshly. “Bet you could just slip your fingers right in, always so wet.”
“Want me to fuck you?” You whispered against her lips, squeezing and gripping her thigh. Abby’s quick to nod while you simply tutted again. “Words, Baby.”
“Yes, want you to fuck me,” She whimpered quietly and lifted her hips up at your patting of her hip. Licking her lips and looking away bashfully when you’re pulling down her sweatpants and her boxers, she suddenly feels embarrassed at the noticeable wet patch on the fabric.
“Makes you horny alright,” You murmured and threw her clothes somewhere behind you. Your eyes find Ellie, and for a few seconds you just stare at each other. “Is this okay?”
“It’s okay with me, Abs are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, just— please,” She sighed, legs falling open on their own accord and her cunt glistened with slick before you. “Need you to fuck me, please, please.”
“Someone’s needy,” You commented.
Before Abby could respond to your words, your lips were already back on hers, kissing her hungrily. Your teeth nipped at her bottom lip, hands running up and down her thighs and she shivered. Blunt nails sunk into the skin and Abby whines pathetically at both yours and Abby’s touch. “Such a needy slut,” Ellie murmurs into her neck, fingertips pinching harder at her nipples. “Need to always be full, hm?”
Your thumb finds her clit, and Abby pulls away with a soft whimper, a string of spit keeping the two of you together as her eyes flutter closed and arches into you. “So wet,” You murmured, kissing up and down her jaw. You rub slow circles on her clit, and smile against her skin at her jolts. “Sensitive too.”
“I bet,” Ellie laughed, reaching her hand up and tilting Abby’s head back by her chin. “Only fucked her this morning—”
“Could hear you,” You scoffed, dipping your fingers down and slipping them between her soaked folds, slick coating your fingers embarrassingly quick. “Sound so pretty when you moan,” Your lips brushed against her ear and Abby whined. “So pretty when you’re getting fucked.”
Abby’s eyes fluttered open at your words, cheeks flushed and heart hammering in her chest, to find Ellie already looking down at her with a smirk on her lips and her thumb stroked her cheek slowly. “Open your mouth for me, baby,” She asked, moving her fingers and tapping her lips. “Be a good girl for us, yeah?”
Obediently, Abby opens her mouth and Ellie lowers her face down a little more. You watched the sight silently, fingers still rubbing faster and harsher circles on her clit, and you licked your lips hungrily as Ellie held her mouth open by her chin, and spat a glob of spit into her waiting mouth. Just as she went to swallow, the brunette locked her in a harsh kiss and Abby moaned into her mouth when you’re sinking two of your fingers into her cunt. Her hand grasped your wrist tightly and the other held onto Ellie’s knee tightly.
“So tight,” You growled at the feeling of her walls clamping tightly around your fingers. Abby’s hand grips your wrist harder, hips wildy bucking up into your touch as your fingers brush and curl against her velvet walls perfectly.
Pulling away with a smack of wet lips, Ellie grinned down at Abby’s flushed face, wiped the spit from the corners of her lips with her thumb, and slid her other hand down her stomach. “Look so pretty,” She murmurs softly. “Pretty when you’re stuffed full and being a good girl.”
“More,” Abby whimpered, grinding against your fingers, taking them deeper with each thrust. Her back arches against Ellie’s chest, pushing more up into you when your lips find her neck; where you kiss, bite and suck harshly. “Fuck.”
Your lips curl into a smile at her whimpers, and you barely notice Ellie moving her hand down between Abby’s legs until she gasps loudly and holds your wrist with an iron grip. “This what you wanted? Me playing with your pretty clit while she fucks you?”
“Yes— fuck, please.” Abby chants pathetically.
Littering kisses up and down her neck, another curl of your fingers has her letting go of your wrist and wrapping an arm around your neck, pulling you closer to her. “You think about me when you fuck yourself?” You found yourself muttering into her skin, working your fingers in and out of her with vigor. “Hm?”
The way her cunt clenches around your fingers, and clit throbs beneath Ellie’s thumb at your question is an answer for both of you and it has your heart hammering in your chest. “Course you do, pussy’s made for my fingers, ain’t she?” You’re purposely Pissing Ellie off, and it works when you hear her grumbling behind Abby. “Don’t worry, baby, my cock will be perfect for you.”
Abby gasps, but she’s not sure if it’s the way you’re fucking her so good, or your words that has her flushed and wrecked, but she doesn’t seem to care. Especially not when you lift your head from her neck, lean your face closer to hers and brush your lips against her pink plump ones. “Look so pretty for me, so beautiful while you ride my fingers like a whore,” You smiled. Smiled like you didn’t have your fingers reaching parts she couldn’t even reach.
It usually takes Abby a while to get to where she wants, but when she feels the tightening of her lower stomach, the familiar feeling rising, she closes her legs around your wrist, shamelessly grinding against your fingers. “M’gonna cum,” She whines, eyes fluttering open and closed a couple of times before they find yours again. “Need to cum,”
“Yeah?” You cocked your head to the side, looked down where Ellie had one of her hands on her thighs, keeping it apart and hummed at the sight of her fingers against Abby’s clit. “Gonna cum for me or her?”
“Please—”
“Who are you gonna cum for? Me or her?” You asked again, speeding up your fingers. “C’mon baby, tell me who you’re gonna cum for.”
The loud squelching sounds had the blood rushing to her head, the thumping in her ears louder and Abby’s lips parted with a loud whimper when you’re brushing that spot that makes her toes curl. “You! M’gonna cum for you, please.”
“Yeah? Go on then, cum for me.”
That’s all it took for her body to tense up, like your words were the only things she needed to hear, as her back arches, body arching into you, her gasps come out in short breaths and cums against your fingers with a pathetic whine. The gush of sticky spray covering your wrist makes you grin down at her smugly. “Fuck, made you squirt, huh? Definitely need to do that again, angel,” You murmured, leaning down and kissing her lips with a soft moan of your own. “You’re so pretty when you cum.”
As Abby came down from her high, your fingers buried to a hilt, still inside her, your lips found her ear again and your eyes locked with Ellie’s lustful ones as you spoke. “You’re gonna ride my cock while we show your girlfriend how to fuck her girl right, yeah?”
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 7 months ago
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Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments  
Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech
Jade Leech 
“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.  
Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.  
“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”  
“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”
If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.  
“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed  
“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”  
Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.  
“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”  
He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.
While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.  
After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.  
Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.  
Rook Hunt
“Rook, can I ask you a question?”  
Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”  
“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-” 
“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”  
Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.  
Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.  
“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”  
“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.  
“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”  
And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general. 
“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”  
Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.  
When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.  
“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”  
He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has  
“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.  
“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”  
Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.  
Vil Schoenheit 
“Vil, may I ask you a question?” 
“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.  
“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”  
“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”  
“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?” 
“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.  
“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”  
“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”  
Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.  
“Alright, let’s start here.”  
Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.
“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”  
And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow. 
“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.  
It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.  
Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.  
Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.  
“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”  
It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.  
“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.  
“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?” 
It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.  
Floyd Leech
“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”   
Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~” 
“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”  
His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.  
“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”  
Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”  
He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.  
The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.  
Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.  
“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”  
The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.
Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.  
Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.  
“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”  
“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”  
“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?
But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.  
“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.
“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”  
“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.” 
He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”
He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.  
“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”  
“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~” 
“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”  
They both blink.  
“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.  
“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”  
He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.  
This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.  
“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”  
He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.  
“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”  
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iluvmattsbeard · 1 year ago
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older (m.s)
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master list
student! matt sturniolo x professor! reader
warnings: HEAVY smut/oral (female receiving)/fingering/p in v/creampie/swearing
preview: 18 year old student Matt is a freshman in college. you are his professor who is 28 years old. Matt is a phenomenal student. but during lectures, he can’t help but check out his professor, fantasizing about you. you tell him it’s unprofessional for you to pay more attention to him than any other student. you also tells him you're too old for him which, he tries to prove to you you're wrong.
*not proof read*
a/n: i’m doing a collab with @mwahsturns ! go check out her version of Matt being the professor, click here ,this is my version of the reader being professor! i’m so glad I had the opportunity of working with her. she is lovely and absolutely amazing overall. i hope to do this again. if anyone would also like to collab with me in the future, let me know!
even though Matt was pursuing his YouTube career with his brothers, Matt wanted to do something on his own. in videos, he is known to spread light on mental health and anxiety. as he did some research, he found a community college that fit his standards. he wanted to major in psychology and hopefully see where it takes him. his brothers supported his decision and he couldn't be anymore excited. he enrolled himself and got in immediately. today was his first day and he was currently packing his back pack. "are you sure you'll be able to handle all of this?" his brother Nick asks. Matt was in the middle of shoving his books in his bag, "yes Nick. i'll be okay. i'm just going to see if this is right for me. if it's not, then i'll stick to YouTube." he responds while zipping up the bag in front of him.
"okay I was just making sure." Nick says getting up from the bar stool in the kitchen. "alright, i'm all set. i'll see you guys later." Matt says putting on the back pack and picking up his car keys. Chris and Nick both say good bye to him and he walks out, heading to his car. as soon as he put the address in his navigation, he noticed the estimated arrival time and muttered under his breath, "fuck." it was not going to be a good first impression he thought. when he finally got on campus, he headed straight to his class. he got to the door and opened it, walking inside to see all the students turn and look at him. "you're late." he hears a woman say. he turns to look at you. you had your back facing towards the class as you wrote something on the whiteboard.
you turn around and he locks eyes with yours. "what's your name?" you ask walking over to your desk. "Matthew." he says eyeing you. "okay Matthew, you may take a seat. I'll let it slide since it's your first day." you respond looking up from your computer to catch his stare. Matt nods and walks to an empty seat. he didn't expect his professor to look the way you did. he looked at the board to see your name. "miss L/n..." he whispers to himself. Matt kept his eyes on you as you spoke, "Matthew, you can ask the person next to you to copy their notes that I previously had up. go over it and try to catch up okay?" Matt nods and does as you say. as he took notes, he couldn't help but get distracted by the professor. your white button up shirt with your hair both placed in front of your shoulders, your long black pencil skirt, stockings, and black heels. he couldn't keep his eyes off you.
as time went by, Matt was always on top of his work. his focus was always there in lectures. he didn't really find the subject of the class all that interesting but, his professor was all he cared about. he wanted to stand out and to do so, he needed to focus on what you were teaching about so he could stay on top. Matt was never good in school but, this was different. after one of the lectures, he decided to stick around as other students left. "is there something you need Matthew?" you ask looking up at him. he was still sat in his seat as he clears his throat, "i'm having a little trouble accessing some material at home." he says lying. "let me take a look." you suggest to him. he gets up and walks over to you with his laptop. "you can call me Matt by the way." he adds on as he places the laptop in front of you. you smile a bit, "good to know." you respond and looks at his screen.
you began to open up the material that he claimed wasn't working. you look at him, "are you sure it wasn't working at home?" you ask. "it wasn't last night. I guess you have the magic touch." he says causing you to laugh, "I guess so. anything else you need help with?" you ask. he shakes his head, "not that I know of." he says taking his laptop off the desk. he starts to walk away but you call out to him, "wait Matt." he turns around and looks at you, "yes?" he asks. you stand up from your chair and smile, "I just want to tell you i'm highly impressed by your work. every single assignment you turn in, is beyond what I ask for." you complimented him. Matt grins before speaking, "I am being taught well." you laugh, "thank you. that just means i'm doing my job." you say clasping your hands together in front of you.
as more lectures go by, he couldn't help but start to fantasize about you. he started to imagine how he would look impressing you with something else he's good at beyond his assignments. the way you spoke, he could just imagine the way you would whisper in his ear. Matt would eye your buttoned shirt and imagine how he would undo it. his thoughts were soon interrupted by the professor clearing your throat, "Matt?" you call out. he gulps and looks up at your eyes instead of your blouse, "make sure you're paying attention." you say tapping on his desk before walking away. after class, you ask him to stick around. "are you okay?" you question him. he was sat across from you, "yes i'm fine. why?" he asks. you laugh a bit, "I could tell your mind was wondering off somewhere else. I just wanted to know if something was bothering you." you say as he stares at you. "oh yeah, i'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to." he responds.
"that's okay, just let me know what's on your mind next time." she suggests. Matt nods and it stays quiet for a bit. "how'd you get into teaching?" he asks breaking the silence. "it's a long story." you say laughing a bit. he has this blank face as he speaks, "I have time." your smile fades a bit as you let out a little breath, "well, it wasn't my first choice. I wanted to pursue in something more creative but to my parents it was more of a dream than a reality. I decided to get into education and well here I am." you continued to ramble but he catches you off guard with his next question, "what's your name?" you look at him, "that's a sudden question. my name is Y/n but don't get use to that." you say. "how old are you, Y/n?" he asks curiously and boldly. "none of your business." you respond as he grins, "i'm just trying to get to know you." you hesitate but eventually tell him, "i'm 28." you mutter out.
"are you married?" he asks making your eyes widen a bit, "no but, that's a very personal question. this is starting to get inappropriate." you say getting up from your chair. Matt gets up as well, "it's inappropriate to try to get to know you?" he asks. you turn to look at him, "it's inappropriate because i'm your teacher. i'm not somebody you need to know better." you respond. he puts on his back pack and smiles, "only innocent." he says walking out the classroom leaving you standing there alone.
a few days later, you were at your desk grading assignments as you notice Matt's work getting sloppy. you ask him to stay after class and he does so. it was all apart of his plan. "Matt, your recent assignments have been painfully hard to grade. you were doing good not too long ago, why are you being lazy with your work?" you ask in a serious tone. "i'm not quite sure. why don't you want me to get to know you?" he asks catching you off guard. "Matthew, we're talking about your work here." you say wanting to stick to the serious conversation. "are you scared Y/n?" he asks making you fix your posture, "it's miss L/n to you." you remind him. "answer my question. are you scared you might enjoy talking to me?" he says. "it's inappropriate." you say repeating yourself from last time. "is it inappropriate to ask what you like to drink?" he asks tilting his head a bit with a small smile.
"mainly iced coffee." you answer hoping to move on from the conversation, "now can we talk about your work?" you ask hoping he would cooperate but, he gets up and puts on his back pack, "i'll fix it." he says before walking out leaving you once again, in shock. you sat there wondering why he was acting the way he was.
the next day, you had your back facing the class as you wrote a check list on the board. as soon as you turned around, you do a double take of the iced coffee that was placed on your desk. you look up from it, eyeing Matt as he just grins and looks away to unzip his bag. unbelievable you thought. after the lecture, you ask him stick around as everyone else leaves. "Matt, don't start this." you say sternly. "what? I can't get you coffee for being a good teacher?" he says with a sly smile. you sigh, "that's nice of you but I know what you're doing." you say with your arms crossed. "what am I doing?" he asks not taking his eyes off of you. "you're trying to flatter me." you mutter out. he laughs and puts on his back pack. he looks at you up and down and greets you good bye as he walks out. "what are you up to..." you whisper to yourself.
when Matt arrived home, he began to do his assignments. "how has school been?" Chris asks before taking a sip of his Pepsi. Matt's eyes stayed on his computer, "not much to talk about." he says. Chris rolls his eyes a bit, "nice talking to you." he says. "there is this girl." Matt lets out. "who?" Chris asks now very interested. Matt looks at him, "none of your business." he laughs to himself as he remembers you telling him that. "then why bring it up?" Chris says with a blank face. Matt just laughs again and shakes his head.
the next few days, you start to notice Matt's work going back to being astounding. how is that possible? how did he do it so quickly? Matt continued to get you iced coffee every day. other students were starting to notice. as you sat there, you continue to look at Matt's work and you started to put the pieces together. the coffee, the inappropriate behavior, and he was purposely being sloppy before. you shut your computer as you look at him already staring at you. you felt a sort of shiver go down your spine as this look was different. his eyes were captivating in a way that made you feel disappointed in yourself for even thinking that. you look away and begin your lecture. after, you ask Matt to stick around once more.
"were you being sloppy on purpose?" you ask standing in front of his desk. "maybe." he responds with the same sly smile like always. you let out a sigh, "Matt, why are you doing this?" you ask. "doing what?" he asks trying to be innocent. you turn around and pick up the iced coffee on your desk, "the coffee every day, you wanting to get to know me, asking personal questions, and now I realize you were purposely trying to stay after class." you let out making him lean back in his seat. "and the question you asked the other day. if I was scared that i'll enjoy talking to you? seriously?" you add on.
he looks down and shakes his head with a smile. "what is so funny?" you question with your arms crossed. he looks back up at you, "do you really want to know?" he says. "yes I do." you respond waiting for him to explain. he sits up a bit as he places his arms on the desk, "I think about you constantly." he pauses for a bit, "do you think I wanted to fantasize about my professor?" he asks. you uncross your arms and gulp, "no one asked you to." you say. he laughs a bit, "yeah well I do. you make it hard for me to focus." he says making you look away, "then maybe you should transfer into a different class Matt." you suggest.
"are you sure you want that?" he says making you look at him. it stays quiet for bit as you both locked eyes. you look away quickly and turn around, "I can't do this." you say walking up to your desk. Matt gets up and walks behind you. you stop in front of your desk, placing your hands onto it. Matt gets closer behind you as he presses up against you slightly. you look ahead of you as you felt his presence. Matt moves your hair away by tucking it behind your ear as he gets closer to your ear. you gulp as you stand still, "are you sure you want me gone from your class Miss L/n?" he whispers in your ear. you felt a shiver roll down your spine, "i'm too old for you Matt." you whisper still looking ahead of you. "I'm of age you know." he lets out. "i'm still 10 years older than you..." you reply but he just continues, "just because I'm young, doesn't mean I don't know how to handle you." you let out a breath as he starts to run his hands on your waist, down to your hips.
"i'm your professor Matt..." you whisper. he smirks, "I know. but I can also teach you things." he says turning you around. he steps closer as you lean a bit against the desk, "like what?" you ask looking into his eyes. he picks you up by your waist as he places you on the desk. he was now standing in between your legs as he looks down at you, "I can teach you what it's like to feel good." he whispers. you gulp without breaking eye contact, "Matt..." you whisper back. he places his hands on your face as he pulls you in slowly, closer to his face. your lips were nearly touching, "tell me, do you want that?" he asks. you were filled with mixed emotions. the way you two were, if someone walked in, it would've been obvious what's about to happen. Matt rubs your cheek softly, "use your words." he says in a low tone. his words became more demanding as his eyes grew dark. "teach me then..." you whisper out. he immediately presses his hungry lips onto yours as he kept his hands on your face. your hands were placed on the desk as you leaned into the kiss.
you knew this was wrong but, it felt so right. Matt moves his hands down to your thighs as he places a good grip on them. he pulls you closer, making his grown erection touch your core. you moan out quietly from the sudden action as he then starts to unbutton your shirt slowly as he continues to kiss you with the same eagerness. you buck your hips a bit against his clothed cock as he finally got your shirt to come undone. he then pulls it open, moving it behind your shoulders. now you were mostly revealed at top as your blouse was low on your elbows.
he moves his lips to your neck as he places wet kisses, he begins to suck your skin as he finds your sweet spot, causing you to throw your head back a bit as your eyes went shut. Matt then moves away and looks down at your skirt. he pulls it up slowly, revealing your black lace panties. he begins to kneel down as he pulls them down. you look down at him as he makes eye contact with your wetness. "already so wet for me." he says before moving his head closer in between your legs. he spreads your legs apart slightly as he started to work his way to lick your folds.
your breathing started to go uneven as you let out a breath. he began to tongue the inside of your entrance as you kept your eyes on him. you ran your hand through his hair as you moan quietly. you don't remember the last time someone pleased you. he starts to run his tongue up and down your entrance as your eyebrows furrowed, making your mouth open slightly. the mixture of the wetness of his tongue and your natural wetness was driving you crazy. his tongue worked like magic. he then began to flick his tongue onto your clit as he stuck two digits into your core. you moan from the stimulation as your thighs started to close in. Matt looks up at you as he watches your face change from the way he was moving. his fingers started to go in and out of you as he then started to swirl his tongue around your throbbing clit.
you grip his hair even more as you kept eye contact with him. he was loving the view he had. the way your mouth kept letting out beautiful noises, he knew he was living up to his words. you buck your hips, wanting more from him. he removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls away. he stands back up and licks his lips. "you seemed to enjoy that." he says. "you're looking like you don't mind anymore miss L/n." he lets out as he starts to unbutton his pants. you look at his crotch as he pulls down his pants with his boxers. you felt yourself in between your legs ache. you needed him badly. he strokes his cock as he makes you look at him in the eyes, "do you still think you're too old for me?" he asks, "look how hard you made me." he adds on.
he then grabs you under your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he rubs his tip at your entrance. "M-Matt..." you whine out. "if only you could look at yourself right now. not so inappropriate now huh?" he says with a grin. he then pushes himself into you as you throw your head back from the way he began to stretch you out, "fuck." Matt moans out lowly. you moan at the way he started to thrust slowly. you didn't know if you could take all of him but, he made sure you did. he starts to thrust harder into you as he pushes himself deeper into you. you wrap your legs around him as you pull him into a kiss. he kisses back as he now starts to pound into you. this made you moan in between kisses. your one hand rested around his neck as the other gripped behind his hair.
"keep it down." he says while going back to kiss you, muffling your moans. you shut your eyes as you melt under him. he loved the way he was stuffing you right now. he was finally fulfilling his imagination. you started to push against his thrusts as he gripped your thighs. his thrusts were deep, making your eyes fog up. you didn't know it was possible to feel this good. especially, from your student. he pulls away from the kiss, biting your lip softly. he pushes you down onto the desk, causing some stuff to fall off. he puts your legs together as he continues to thrust at a fast pace. you cover your mouth as you moan into your hands. the position he had you in hurt so good. "fuck i'm going to cum." he groans. "m-me too." you moan out. he spreads your legs and places his thumb on your clit as he started to rub in circles. you were a moaning mess as you gripped onto the edge of the desk.
Matt then releases in you after one last hard thrust. you both cum at the same time. he thrusts out his high as he pulls out of you slowly, watching his cum drip out of you. he grins feeling accomplished. you sat up on the desk as you caught up with your breathing. Matt pulls up his boxers and pants, buttoning it back up. he grabs his back pack and puts it on. he looks at you still on the desk as he smiles, "i'll keep this a secret." he says before walking out.
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a/n: turned myself on 💀 LIKES, COMMENTS, REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!
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trippinsorrows · 9 months ago
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looking through your eyes + ten
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authors note: i think ya'll will be pleased with majority of this chapter. as far as the ending scene, let me know what ya'll think roman should do. i have it already planned, but i'm always so curious reading other perspectives. btw, they've been married almost four months, for context.
also, to those who want to know about the subplot of solana's bitch ass daddy plotting to kill roman....it's still a subplot. stay tuned.
passages from 'the courage to heal' do not belong to me.
if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!
cw/tw: violence against women, references to csa, character briefly discussing csa, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes
song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes
masterlist
words: 10k (no comment)
Learning to be intimate is rewarding, but it is not always comfortable. As one woman said, “I kept myself safe, but I also kept myself alone.” Becoming intimate means peeling back the layers of protection to let someone in. It means going to the place where you’re comfortable and then taking one step more. One step, not twenty.
Solana must read the passage at least half a dozen times, sitting with the words, meditating with them and doing her best to cope with the discomfort she’s experienced at various points while working her way through the book that’s brought an equal amount of questions as it has answers.
She knew right away going into this section, Healthy Intimacy, that it would most likely be the hardest chapter for her. But not even for the reasons that she initially thought, reasons that would have been the case before a certain Roman Reigns entered her life.
Every day that passes with him seems to bring about a new level of comfort, a new slice of happiness, a new type of contentment. 
She enjoys talking with him and being around him. She looks forward to his meeting her at the end of work and struggles with endless worry when he doesn’t make it back home until the wee hours of the night.
His touch, whether that’s his hand on her back or both hands on her waist as he holds her against him, no longer triggers an automatic tense, uncomfortable feeling. Somewhere along the way, the need to identify his touch as ‘safe’ waned and was replaced with an automatic knowing. Like she knows that it’s okay for him to touch her, because she’s safe. Because she’s safe with him. 
That, along with her continued and also growing attraction, has caused her to think more and more what it could be like to be with someone in that way. The thoughts have been fleeting, far and few over the years, typically followed up with abject horror. But lately….lately she’s been less and less scared and more and more hopeful.
Optimistic that maybe….just maybe, she could one day know what that’s like. To have that experience in a healthy and non-traumatic way with a safe person. With someone who truly desires her in said healthy way.
Someone….someone like Roman.
It’s scary and terrifying and exciting and nerve racking and moving and every other emotion to exist, but on top of all that, for the first time in her life, it’s a possibility for Solana. 
And she wants to take that chance, even if doesn’t work out, even if it’s not what she thought it would be. To be able to say she at least tried, to say that she overcame her fears…it would be monumental.
It would feel like the breaking of mental and emotional chains. 
And it starts today.
Closing up the book, Solana untangles her legs and marks her spot in her book. She gives Dulce a light pat on the head and walks into the bathroom. Opening up the drawer, her eyes land on the pair of scissors. Nothing fancy. Just a pair of regular scissors.
Solana takes a deep breath and grabs them. 
Using one hand to let down her hair from the messy, half-effort bun, she gives her head a good shake. Once, twice, and then a third time. For a brief second, she hesitates, her father’s constant belittling returning to the surface.
“You don’t need short hair. You’ll look even fatter with it.”
Solana shuts her eyes as she thinks of all the times Roman has called her beautiful, has made her feel beautiful. The endless support from Bayley and Naomi. The borderline inappropriate comments form the twins almost every time she sees them.
It all brings an emotional smile to her face as she takes another deep breath.
One step, not twenty.
And she cuts.
________
Samantha can count on one hand in all of the years that she’s known Roman Reigns the times that he’s surprised her with a visit. 
Zero.
He’s always always given her a heads up for his arrival or plans to visit, solely for the mere fact that Roman is a man who doesn’t like to wait. When he wants pussy, he wants it then and now. And she’s never been one to deny the Head of the Table anything he’s ever asked for. 
So when she finds him sitting at her desk, feet propped up with an unreadable expression, it takes her off guard. 
Only for a minute. 
“I knew it was only a matter of time.” Samantha is quick to kick the door shut behind her, locking it right as she tosses her purse on the nearby chair. “You can’t go too long without me.” This fact alone is enough to make her cum right then and there. The fact that even with his roster of women he rotates through, she remains number one. 
Roman knows where it’s at. 
And him coming to her, at her job of all places, just proves it.
Eye dropping to his crotch, she licks her lips at the thought of that thick, beautiful dick in her mouth. Fuck, she’s salivating at just the thought. “You want me on my knees, daddy?”
Samantha starts to kick her shoes off when he finally breaks the silence.
“I want to know what you said to my wife.”
Samantha’s smile drops in under a millisecond. Instantly, she’s scowling. “What?”
Roman doesn’t hesitate to repeat himself, every word perfectly enunciated with his heavy, baritone voice. “What did you say to my wife, Samantha?” 
This….this isn’t how she was expecting this to play out, and it shows in the sudden stuttering, “I—I don’t—”
“She came back from that bathroom upset, and I don’t like seeing her upset, so I’m only gonna ask you one more time—” Samantha nearly jumps back into the door when he suddenly bangs his fist on her wooden desk and growls, “what did you say to her!”
Stammering, she answers with a combination of fear and desperation, “I just—I told her the truth.”
It seems to be the wrong answer, as Roman looks 5x angrier. “And what the fuck is that?”
Samantha gathers herself a little better, voice more even as she answers with misplaced confidence. “That she could never please you. Not how I can.” And with foolish bravery, Samantha steps toward him. “That you’ll always come back to me.”
“You fucking bitch.”
That makes her still with her movements. He’s called her all kinds of names when they’ve fucked, and she’s loved it, loves being fucked hard and rough, his preference. But there’s something about this that she doesn’t love. 
It’s because he sounds legitimately upset with her.
And that, in turn, upsets her, because he cannot seriously be upset that she said some shit to that little girl.
“Why does it matter? It’s not like she means anything to you.” Samantha has to actually laugh. In no universe can she see someone as strong and powerful as Roman caring about a girl like that. But, it’s when he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t voice some type of agreement that her confidence dwindles a bit. “R–right?” Still, nothing. And it’s with that nothing she realizes with all of the anger and shock in the world why he’s so upset.
“Oh my god. Are you serious right now? Her? You really have feelings for her?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “What the fuck, Roman? What the hell is so great about her?”
There is absolutely nothing that girl brings to the table for her to have someone like Roman Reigns interested in her. It doesn’t make any goddamn sense. What the hell is attractive about a scarred, sliced up, fat bitch?
He finally speaks, warning her in an almost menacing tone. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“That girl is weak, Roman. You can’t be the head of the Bloodline and have someone like her at your side. She doesn’t deserve it.” By now, Samantha has moved over to him, her hands planted on his chest, his eyes closed. “You need….someone strong at your side. Look at what you’ve done just by yourself. Imagine…imagine having a queen to rule with you.” She licks her lips, going in for the kill. “I can be that for you. I can give you an heir. Look at how long it’s been and still nothing, no baby. She’s broken, Roman. That bitch—”
Samantha is silenced by him jumping up from his chair as he shoves her against the wall, hand on her neck. It’s not the first time they’ve been in a similar position. She loves to be choked during sex, and he’s adept at doing just enough to get her off without her passing out. 
But this time, there’s no pressure, no sexual aspect, no foreplay.
This….this is different.
Because this is the first time she’s ever actually been afraid of him.
“If you ever in your fucking life speak on her again, I’ll kill you.” Samantha’s eyes are wide, hand grasping at his. He’s still not actually applying any sort of pressure, probably more so placement  to evoke a level of fear. A reminder that he could end her life in a matter of seconds if that’s what he wanted. “If you ever speak to her again, I’ll kill you. Fucking look at her, and you’re a dead bitch.”
Samantha barely has time to process his threats when he says something in Samoan and steps back, releasing her as she dubs over and gasps loudly from the shock of it all. 
Seconds later, she’s on the floor, laying on her side after fucking Nia has landed her big ass foot in Samantha’s head. 
Nia is looking down with a wicked smile that promises a level of pain. “You talk too fucking much.” She can’t tell if it’s directed to herself or Roman, regardless, he looks unbothered, outside of staring down at her with disgust.
Samantha has no idea where the hell that bitch came from, but her unexpected blow nearly has her seeing stars. She’s writhing on the floor, on her side, cradling her head when Nia yanks her up by her extensions.
“Oh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Nia kicks her a second time, in her side, and Samantha is almost certain she heard the subsequent cracking of her rib from the impact. Tears fill her eyes. “I’ve wanted to kick your ass since we were kids.”
Helpless and feeling so confused as to how he could do this to her, Samantha sets her teary gaze onto him. She does her best to generate as many tears as she can. “Roman, please—”
“You’re fucking delusional if you really thought I would ever make you anything more than what you were to me.” Samantha sniffles, vision blurred and stomach aching from both the physical and emotional impact of his words. “Nothing.”
A sudden anger fills her, meshing with the growing physical pain. She did this. That fucking bitch has taken Roman from her, her Roman.
“You wanna know what she is to me?” He crouches down and reaches for a lock of her hair, answering just as icily as the disgusted look in his light brown eyes. “Everything you’re not.”
Samantha snarls almost, not even angry at his words as much as her mind is trying to navigate any and all ways to make that little troll pay for this. Pay for stealing her man.
But it’s as Roman is walking out, that he barks his last order to Nia. Not necessarily a necessity given the fact that he’s certain she’s dreamed exactly of how this very moment could and should go down. Granted, this is the one symbolic thing he needs to ensure takes place. 
“Break her fucking jaw.”
________
Handling the Samantha situation is just one of many things to be checked off of Roman’s to-do list for today. He’s got meetings, contracts to review, spreadsheets to update, shipments to see sent off, and a million and one other things. Most of which he’s far from thrilled about but also know needs to be done, regardless if he’d rather say fuck it all just for today. For just a couple hours, even.
Delegate, perhaps. But these are things that can’t be delegated. He, as the Head of the Table, needs to put his signature on to make it official.  
And he’s got his Wise Man fresh on his heel to remind him of such responsibilities.
“And if my Tribal Chief can find it in him, we should also review Nick Aldis' proposal.” Roman’s instantly scowling. He fucking hates Aldis. The bastard is smug and thinks himself more important than he is. That Roman won’t end his fucking life with one snap of his finger. 
Roman is halfway listening to Paul when he walks past Alicia who stands up from her desk. “Sir—”
His dismissal is swift and brusque. “Leave me alone.”
“But—”
One murderous look, and Alicia is back in her seat. Roman briefly overhears Paul chastising his secretary for her insubordination when he opens his door and immediately realizes why Alicia was most likely trying to speak to him.
Roman sees Solo standing almost awkwardly in the corner out of his peripheral vision, but his attention is solely on the other unexpected guest.
Focused on the way her almost flesh toned dress hugs every curve that drives him fucking insane sometimes, the way she bites down on her bottom lip in that way he’s learned she does when she’s unsure of something. And he’s especially focused on her hair that’s chopped down to where it lightly grazes her shoulder.
“I tell you, good help is so hard to find—” Paul is silenced as he finally walks in and sees Solana. “Oh, it’s you.” Roman shoots him a look that would absolutely kill if it had any sort of physical impact. “I mean, Solana, what a surprise—”
Roman easily moves back to focusing on his wife who looks absolutely fucking stunning. He directs his command though to Solo and Paul. “You two, out.”
Solo doesn’t need to be told twice, but Paul seems to meander, even as Roman walks over to Solana. And it’s when Roman has his hands on Solana’s hips and the room is still not cleared, he repeats in a calm voice that’s solely because of Solana’s presence.
If not for her, he’d be screaming at his Wise Man.
“I said get out.”
Roman can practically hear the nervous gulp. “But, sir, we have work—”
Solana frowning pisses Roman off in a way he has to keep from showing. But it’s when she finally speaks and it’s an offer to leave that he really has to reel in his rage. “I can go—”
“No.” That’s the fucking last thing he wants. “Paul is leaving.”
It’s not a suggestion, not a request, not a preferred action.
It’s a fucking demand.
And his Wise Man must realize this, because he’s quickly following in line with Solo and finally leaving Roman alone with Solana who seems still unsure about her presence.
“You have work to do—”
“You really expect me to get anything done when you come in my office looking like this?” He motions to her outfit and sees the way her cheeks tinge reddish as she bites back a smile. “Not happening, sweetheart.”
“I thought it looked nice.” The bashful way she says as such, as if she’s unsure it was an accurate assessment blows his mind. She looks down at the dress as if it’s not the woman wearing said dress that has him pushing back unholy thoughts.
“It doesn’t look nice. You look nice, Solana.” Another one over of her curvy body, and he mutters, “more than nice.” He brings his hand to her hair, brushing his fingers against the ends. “You cut your hair.”
She nods, an almost look of determination in her soft expression. “It was time,” is all she says, and Roman doesn’t need to ask for clarification. This meant something to her. Cutting her hair has a deeper meaning than just wanting something new, and whatever the reason, he’s proud she found it in her to follow through. 
He hates when she asks him, still unsure, “does it…does it look bad?”
He’s not sure he could ever use Solana and ‘bad’ in the same sentence. Ever. “You could never look bad.” 
She smiles, clearly pleased by his compliment. Good. He likes seeing her smile.
“Come here.” Roman takes her hand and leads her over to his desk where he sits down in his chair and doesn’t think twice about guiding her onto his lap. Roman feels her tense for only a couple seconds before she relaxes against him.
“As pleasant a surprise it is to find your fine ass in my office, I know you came for a reason.”
Roman is extremely perceptive. Always has been. He’s noticed the increased comfort Solana has developed and continued to develop with him. The way her discomfort at being looked at too long or even touched in any sort of capacity has shifted into bashful smiles and an almost light in her eyes at being complimented. At someone finding her to be anything but every lie she’s ever been fed.
Her confidence is growing, slowly but surely. And he likes that shit.
So he’ll do whatever he needs to do to keep it growing. 
“It’s nothing serious.” It doesn’t have to be. She could come to his office every day if that’s what she wanted. He’d have zero complaints. “I just…I was baking Sopaipillas, and I know you like them and I felt bad because I’m bringing Jimmy and Jey some—”
It’s not until that moment he sees the Tupperware container on his desk. Her thoughtfulness is so unfamiliar but very much appreciated. He chuckles as his fingers carefully tap against her hip. “Thank you, but you know if you keep feeding they asses, they gon’ keep coming over.”
She’s smiling almost, defending them to a certain extent. “They’re really not that bad.” And she’s not entirely wrong. His cousins can be entertaining at times, but beyond that, he likes seeing her comfort level with them increasing as well. 
For her to be as comfortable around them as she’s become, especially with them being men, is extremely significant given her trauma.
He’s proud of her for that just as well.
Still,Roman shrugs and calmly points out. “I spend most of my day with them.” Her other hand lays on his chest as he admits, “I don’t want to come home and see them. I just want to see you.”
Solana gives an expected almost shocked expression followed up with a slight confession of her own. Her voice is soft, like she’s unsure about what she’s about to say but is going with it regardless. “That’s why I wait up for you to get home…because I want to see you too.”
He believes this to be true, but he also knows there’s something else to it. “You worry about me.”
She nods, nervously licking her lips. “I’m trying to work on it though.” She’s been working on a lot of things, a lot of difficult, most likely mentally taxing things. And as proud of her as he is, Roman also recognizes the importance of pacing oneself.
He gently grazes the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Just focus on you, alright?”
The corner of her lips lift into an almost playful grin as she asks innocently, “what if I can do both?” Roman studies her, sees and hears the playfulness. It’s unlike her, but he fucking loves it. She squeals and almost giggles against him as he brings her closer to his chest, her hand squeezing his shoulder as he remains mindful of the placement of his hand on her hip.
Growing comfort or not, he still wants to be respectful of her boundaries.
Still wants to maintain her trust.
“I got me. Always.” Her gaze is on him, softening by the second as he adds on almost quietly. “Just need you to be okay too.”
Okay is such a big word, so layered. She’s not sure she’ll ever be fully okay. Too much trauma. Never enough healing. But there may be some level of okayness she can achieve, and it does feel like that’s something that’s in progress. “I’m getting there.”
And a large part of her healing journey is largely due to the man underneath her, staring at her with almost a sense of fascination, like he’s so enraptured by her. Like he’s smitten with her. The person she once believed no one could ever want has a handsome, powerful man like Roman Reigns holding her, looking at her, wanting her.
A line from the book resurfaces to the front of her mind.
One step, not twenty.
With that as a motivating and supportive mantra, she slowly moves her hand from his shoulder to his face, his beard prickling against her skin.
“Solana…..” She’s not sure she’s ever heard him sound so pained. “Baby, you can’t touch me like this and expect me to not want to kiss you.”
The butterflies in her stomach grow exponentially. Baby. She’s not entirely certain, but she feels like he’s called her this before, that he’s referred to her as such on a different occasion. So, it’s not a mistake, not a one time thing. It’s yet another sign that there wasn’t a dishonest bone in his body when he said he wanted her.
That he wants her.
Her heart is beating a mile a minute as she pools together all of the courage in her body and again chips away another tiny section of her wall of protection. “So kiss me.”
It’s not until this moment that Solana sees Roman actually appear genuinely surprised at something. He asks, maybe as if he needs to make sure he heard correctly, but Solana would bet it’s less that and more him ensuring consent. “Are you sure?”
He’s been so good at that. Consent. And it’s meant the world to her. His patience with all of her baggage.
Nodding, she quickly remembers his preference for verbal acknowledgements. “Yes.”
Solana doesn’t really remember her kiss with Roman at their wedding. She doesn’t really remember much from the actual wedding at all, to be honest. It was….it was more traumatic than anything, which is why she does her best to keep it stored away with the other too difficult to sit on memories.
But this….this she is certain she will never forget.
There’s an almost hesitancy when his lips touch hers, a space he’s leaving open in the event that she changes her mind. She’s grateful for that, but it’s not necessary. Her ‘yes’ was as genuine as his apparent interest in her. 
And when he picks this up, picks up the fact that she truly wants this, he deepens the kiss, his hand moving up to her lower back as he pulls her closer to him. Roman’s full lips are soft and warm, and the way he moves his mouth against hers is both reserved and hungry, a strange but well balanced thing only he can manage. Like only he can achieve. He kisses her with a passion  that she feels is only a fraction of everything he feels toward and for her. 
Solana’s hand slides to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing up and across the skin, teasing the strings of hair that refused to mold down. She’s not sure if this was the right move because he makes a sound against her mouth, an almost mixture of a moan and groan, and pulls away. The separation and her subsequent light panting makes her suddenly aware that they’d been kissing longer than she realized. That she’d gotten so plunged in the experience that time seemed a nonfactor.
Her eyes flutter close when Roman brings his lips back onto her, this time peppering kisses along her jawline. Her head tilts back, an unconscious thing that grants him full access to the nape of her neck, which he easily makes his way down to. It’s a different, pleasant sensation that has her nails scraping against him.
“Roman….”
“So fuckin’ beautiful….” He says something else, something she can’t understand because it’s said in Samoan, but it unintentionally triggers something for her. A new level of bravery, an ability to ask something that makes her insides light afire and heart rate exceed what’s probably safe and healthy. But, it’s a hill she wants to eventually be able to get up and over.
And he’s made her feel safe enough to be the one to do it with.
“Roman.” Her voice must give away her need to say something because he pulls away from her and is focused directly on her. She licks her slightly swollen lips. “I want….I want to try—”
“Whatchu mean he busy? Man, you trippin. Uce always got time for family.” Jimmy’s loud unexpected voice is enough of a disruption and mood killer that Solana quickly jumps off Roman’s lap and moves away just enough to adjust her hair and dress. “Soso!”
Solana brings herself to look at her husband’s cousin as he finally walks in the office after dismissing Alicia’s warning. The first thing she notices is the tupperware bowl in his hand and white substance on his fingers. “I hope you don’t mind. When I saw your driver, I figured you had these little sugar things in the back so I just grabbed em’ all.”
If not for the fact that Solana is still trying to settle herself, she’d point out how the other bowl was supposed to be for Jey. But that seems irrelevant at the moment. 
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Jimmy seems completely unbothered by Roman’s threat as he plops down on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the glass coffee table and asks with all the obliviousness in the world. “So what ya’ll doing?”
When Roman shoots up from his desk and starts toward his cousin, Solana places herself in front of him, hands on his chest. His attention is immediately down, focused once again on her.
“It’s okay. I—I’ve got training with Bay and Naomi anyway.” Swallowing her nerves and pushing back thoughts of how….how nice it felt kissing him, she quietly offers a hopefully acceptable alternative. “We can talk tonight.”
This doesn’t seem like Roman’s preference but something he can live with. “Fine.”
She knows he’s obviously annoyed at being interrupted, and she is too, to a certain extent. But, Jimmy meant no harm, and she hopes Roman can at least recognize as much. Solana says bye to Jimmy and is near the door where she sees Solo waiting for her when an idea, more an urge, becomes too prominent to push away.
She turns back around and leans up, pulling Roman down by his shoulders and kisses his cheek. He gives her a look that tells her he’d be pulling her back for more if not for her cousin, and it makes her stomach somersault all over again.
But, she doesn’t give him the opportunity, just a small smile as she walks out for good this time. 
And it’s after she’s gone, the Wise Man back in the room to help minimize the chances of his Tribal Chief killing one of his cousins that Jimmy uses the distraction to pull out his phone and send a text in the group chat. 
Group Chat: Operation RoSo
Jimmy: Ya’ll! Code red! Code fucking red!
Jey:?????????
Bayley: Is Solana okay?!
Naomi: ^^^^^^
Jimmy: Man, I just got to Uce office, and good thing I walked in when I did. They acting all weird and shit. Soso just ran out of here but not after telling him they’ll ‘talk’ tonight!!!!
Jey: I’m too high for this shit right now.
Naomi: Babe, how exactly is that a code red???
Jimmy: They was obviously arguing before I got here! And ‘talking’ tonight??? That ain’t nothing but part two!
Bayley: Jimmy, that seems like a bit of a stretch.
Jey: A big ass stretch. Man, leave them two alone.
Jimmy: Naw. We gotta expedite this plan. I can see the writing on the wall. If we don’t move fast, they never gon fall in love. They might even be starting to hate each other now!
Bayley: Now you’re just being dramatic.
Jey: Agreed. How I get out this chat?
Jimmy: I don’t wanna hear it! I’m the master strategist so let me do my thing! 
Jimmy: Babe. You and Bayley have SoSo all done up and nice this evening. Make her think ya’ll are going out or something.
Naomi: Why?
Jimmy: Damnit woman, because I said so!
Naomi: 🫤
Naomi: I’m trying to figure out who the fuck you think you talking to. Don’t get your ass beat.
Jey: I’m muting this shit. Ya’ll not gon get me killed. Roman don’t like people in his business.
Jimmy: Just have her ready, and I’ll text you the location and the time she needs to be there.
Jimmy: We gotta save RoSo from themselves!
________
Solana misses the blow from Naomi by only a fraction of a second, but before she has time to think about it, another one is coming, forcing Solana to quickly jump to the side.
“Nice,” Naomi compliments. “Try more offensive positions though. Try to hit me.”
Solana knew that was coming, knew that Naomi would be pushing her today, as she has the last couple times. It only makes sense. Solana recognizes that she’s improving, that she has improved a lot since she started. It seems only natural that Naomi would continue to push her to further the progression of her skills.
“Don’t be afraid, Solana! Naomi can take it,” Bayley encourages from the sidelines, drinking some of her Gatorade.
Solana does her best to not get too distracted, knowing that can be quite literally fatal if this was a real situation. 
Naomi lunges at her again, and Solana manages to block it with her forearm but also lifts her foot, managing to kick Naomi away.
“Nice!” It’s such a weird thing to be applauded for. “But remember to retract your foot faster next time. I could have twisted it and grounded you.”
Solana commits that to memory just as Naomi steps back and Bayley walks back over. She then compliments, “I know I said it already, but the haircut looks amazing on you.” She quickly adds in a manner that’s more telling than asking. “Just have to even some areas off.”
Solana half smiles. She expected Bayley to need to go in with actual shears to shape up some areas given the fact that Solana’s impromptu haircut was literally just her taking some regular scissors and chopping at least five inches off. 
But before Solana can say anything else, she sees why Bayley ended her break to get back into the training. 
It’s evident by the knife in her outstretched hand.
“This is a Benchmade Bailout. It’s a folding knife. A little bigger than what we’d like you to carry on you, but a good place to start.”
Carrying….Solana hadn’t even allowed herself to think about that part. Of course they’d want her to start keeping a knife on her once teaching her how to use one.
Naomi then advises, “we’re not gonna do any fight training with it today, but we do want you to get used to the feel and weight of it.”
Solana can feel her heartbeat increasing. She can’t remember the last time, if ever, she’s held a knife of this nature. Her left hand is against her shorts, tapping against the spandex, a continued nervous habit.
Bayley sees this and offers assurance. “It’s okay. We just want to go over the basics.”
Solana does her best to focus not on the past, but the present. The here and now. Another recommendation from her book. She also strangely remembers the countless times Roman has asserted he won’t let anything happen to her. 
“I’ve got you.”
The safe feeling she has when he’s around. He’s not physically present, but the recollection of his words anchor her.
Taking a deep breath, Solana takes the knife from Bayley, its coolness taking her by surprise. She never takes her eyes off the blade. 
Meanwhile, Naomi goes into basic tips and information. “Right off the bat, if you ever need to use it to defend yourself, go for the major arteries.” She then begins pointing to the various body parts as she lists them off. “The neck, stomach, chest area namely. It’s your best bet at getting someone almost entirely immobilized.”
“And this might be graphic, but don’t be afraid to go for it twice. Sometimes people can still be standing with just one hit.” Solana is grateful for the fact that Bayley is trying to be careful with her words, vague to a certain extent but clear enough so she can understand.
“If you just wanna get them away and not potentially kill them, maybe go for the hand or foot, depending on how they’ve got you pinned.”
“But by the time we finish your training, no one will get the chance to pin you.” Naomi gives a comforting smile and squeeze of her shoulder. “Not to mention Roman would never let you be in that position in the first place.”
Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.
Bayley suddenly clears her throat, almost awkwardly. 
Solana frowns, looking lost by the otherwise random in interjection. “What?”
“We’re not supposed to tell you, but Roman is taking you out to dinner tonight.” Naomi’s answer is appreciated, but it doesn’t make sense. 
“He what?” Solana is confused because she literally just saw Roman this morning and came straight from his office to the Warehouse to train without him mentioning a word of this. “He didn’t say anything to me.”
“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Bayley adds, but there’s something almost unsure about her answer. “So, I’ll take you to my salon afterwards to touch up your hair now, and then we can also figure out glam while you’re there.”
“Yes.” Naomi claps and carefully removes the knife from Solana. The knife she completely forgot she was holding. Naomi comments on that. “See? You forgot about it for a minute, didn’t you?” Solana nods. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.” 
The encouragement means the world to Solana as she offers a quiet but meaningful, “thank you.” They’ll never know how much their support means to her. 
Ever.
Bayley comes and stands beside Solana, sliding her arm around her with that infamous sly smile.”You never have to thank us for being your friends, Solana.” Words have never hit so deeply, Solana having to hold back tears. Friends.  “Now let’s figure out what the slay is gonna be for tonight.”
________
The minute Solana walks into the restaurant, she realizes that something is off. 
And not even in a dangerous sort of way, more so, there’s something she’s not being told sort of way.
It’s a beautiful upscale restaurant that has decor that probably costs more than some people’s mortgage payment. 
But it’s barren. Not a customer in sight. 
Walking up the three steps that lead to a higher level, she looks around, confused as to the fact that a restaurant that probably requires reservations six months in advance is vacant. 
Digging in her small purse, she pulls out her phone to text Roman. Bayley and Naomi encouraged her to continue to play dumb, but this isn’t right. 
She needs to talk to him.
“Solana?”
Her head snaps up to see Roman who also just walked up the same steps she did minutes prior.
“Roman?”
He seems surprised to see her, an unexpected expression for someone who allegedly planned this dinner. “I—I don’t know what’s going on.” He walks over to her as she explains. “I was told—”
“Probably the same thing I was told,” he finishes for her and takes in her appearance, Solana’s hands smoothing over her dress. Looking just as captivated as he’d looked at her this morning in his office, Roman ghosts the back of his hand against her cheek. “Sei uno splendore….”
She hasn’t a clue what he’s said, but something tells her it’s a compliment of some sort. Still, Solana asks with that same bashful smile that seems to always fall on her face when she’s around him, “are you gonna tell me what you just said?”
Roman winks and answers, plain and simple, “naw.”
Smiling even harder, before she can say anything else, another voice enters the conversation.
“Soso, girl, what you doing here?”
Both Solana and Roman turn to a smiling Jimmy who's wearing a poorly feigned look of surprise. 
“Jimmy?” Solana is genuinely confused while Roman looks like he’s genuinely considering murdering his cousin for the second time today. “What—what are you doing here?”
Roman is completely uninterested in the why and more so on the how he’s going to end the other man. “I’m going to fucking kill him, Solana. I don’t care anymore.”
Jimmy completely ignores Roman and answers her question with an answer that makes no sense. “Ahh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.”
He gives Solana a side hug as she answers his question as well, hoping to avoid witnessing a familial crime. “Bayley and Naomi told me—”
“You know what, it don’t even matter. You here. Big Dog here.” He gestures around them. “Looks like this nice ass restaurant has been rented out by some coincidence. Might as well enjoy a nice dinner.”
Roman closes his eyes, seemingly trying to count off. “I’m literally going to snap your fucking neck if you don’t get lost. Now.”
Solana moves over to Roman just enough for him to reach and gently tug her into him. He doesn’t need to be getting this upset. She naturally lays her head against his chest, fingers grasping the sides of his shirt.
Jimmy lifts his hands in a surrender manner. “Hey. I can tell when I’m not wanted.” Solana smiles at the look she can imagine on Roman’s face at that. “Ya’ll be safe now. Soso, I’ll be at the crib in the morning for breakfast.”
“Why the fuc—” 
Solana reaches up and redirects his focus onto her. “It’s okay.” Solana looks over at the table that’s beautifully decorated with a stunning centerpiece. “It’s….it’s sweet.” Her diversion also, thankfully, a long enough distraction for Jimmy to depart, leaving the two of them alone.
Her preference.
Roman’s as well, clearly.
Solana then takes in the situation, a little relieved to finally know what’s going on. It’s obvious she was set up. Roman too. But regardless of the deception, it’s deeply appreciated. Her friends going to such lengths to set up something nice like this. 
Roman, calming down a bit, doesn’t necessarily disagree with her, but instead asserts, “they’re interfering, and I don’t like that shit.” 
Her smile dims a bit as she offers, “we can leave—”
“No.” He shoots it down immediately, hands on her hips. “Just hate that I finally get time alone with you, and it’s because of fucking Jimmy.” Her eyes shut when he kisses her forehead and murmurs, “been thinking’ bout you all day…”
And the smile is back as she takes his hand and leads him toward the table, Roman pulling her chair out for her. 
Having the restaurant entirely rented out is a luxury she’s not used to but appreciates, especially with how catered the service is as well as the fact that they don’t have to wait long for the food. Conversation flows easy between them, more Roman asking questions about how she’s doing, if she needs anything.
He’s always so attentive, and she’s so grateful for that. 
Grateful for him.
It’s the same type of attentiveness that causes her to comment after the waiter comes and takes their plates, clearing the table. “You seem stressed.”
And not just because of the date setup.
He shrugs, partially dismissing but not outright denying. “Just a long day.”
It seems to be a recurring theme with him. Solana has noticed for a while now how his early days always bleed into late evenings that sometimes spill over to the next day. It doesn’t seem sustainable to her. “You have a lot of those.”
“I’m the Tribal Chief.” He says it with pride, as he should, but there’s something else there. Something she can’t outright identify. “Comes with the territory.”
And Solana recognizes as such, but as large of a man Roman is—in many different ways—he’s still just a man. “Is it ever too much?” She crosses her arms across the table, leaning forward almost. There may be no other attendees present, but there are still workers, so she’s mindful of her volume. “I mean….”
“Do I ever get exhausted?” She nods. “Sure.” That wasn’t the answer she was expecting. Roman does such an excellent job always wearing that mask of calm, cool, and collected. Outside of his obvious temper, he’s always so well put together. It’s something she envies, to a certain extent. “But someone’s gotta do it, and as it’s my birthright, the responsibility falls on me.”
She sits on his words, understanding where he’s coming from but also wondering just how he manages such a weight. She knows he’d headed the Bloodline for some time now, since he was 18 years old. That’s a large burden to carry at such a young age and for him to do it so long and as well as he has, it’s impressive.
He certainly lives up to his reputation.
Solana nods and does her best to ease into what she’d really like to tell him, to have him know even if he never in life takes her up on it. “You always say that I can talk to you…”
Roman doesn’t hesitate to reaffirm it too. “You can.”
She knows this. He’s….he’s made it abundantly clear that he wants to speak with her, to know what’s on her mind. “That goes both ways.” Something speedily flashes in his eyes, briefly affecting his otherwise neutral expression. “You can talk to me too.”
For a second, she regrets saying anything, regrets second guessing his abilities to handle things. The last thing she wants is to insinuate he’s somehow incapable of taking care of business. But, if he’s insulted by her offer, he doesn’t show it, just says a simple, “thank you.” She offers a small nod when he seemingly changes the subject. “How’s training?”
There’s a bit of a sting at what feels like a slight form of rejection, but she understands better than anyone that opening up can be hard, so she respects his wishes.
“Good. I….I think I like it.” It’s the truth. While initially terrified of being put into such a foreign situation, Solana has found herself growing increasingly content with this new part of her weekly routine. Training has assisted, to a great extent, in her growing confidence and surety with herself. There’s something comforting about learning how to defend herself, how to keep herself safe. “Today was a little hard though. They’re teaching me how to fight with knives. It’s…..uncomfortable, but that’s how I know I need to do it.”
If there’s anything she’s learned in the past couple months, it’s that nothing about working to overcome trauma is easy. That doesn’t, however, make it any less important.
Or beneficial. 
“Not if you absolutely don’t want to.” To be fair, Roman wasn’t even informed that this was something the girls were starting with Solana. He makes a mental note to remind them that while they handle her training, the specifics of what she’s taught needs to be run by him at all times. He probably would have shot down the knife training.
Solana was literally present and witnessed her mother be stabbed to death. Solana herself was also stabbed. 
That seems almost cruel to make her learn how to wield the very weapon that took so much from her.
“Wes used to use knives to hurt me.” It comes out more quiet than she intended, a natural effect of sharing something so painful. She points to a small scar on her neck, the exact date and nature of how it happened, something she’ll never forget but has little desire to elaborate on.
“And I know….I know you won’t let him hurt me anymore, but….I don’t want him to have that power over me anymore either. He knows I’m scared of them, and he’s always taken advantage of that fact. I don’t….I don’t want him to have that anymore.”
“Then he won’t,” Roman agrees. He can understand her logic, and he respects the hell out of her wanting to take back that power. He supports the hell out of it too. “Not if you don’t let him.”
She gives a sad smile, shaking her head. “As strange as it is, I think….Wes and I are both victims.” Before Roman can press her for clarification, she explains, “my father always kept his contact limited with my mom. He said she would make him weak like she made me.” Just saying it takes Solana back to countless times and occasions where her father would talk down on her mother, talk down on Solana. It’s a weighty memory. “Having my mom…having her love for the time that I did made a big difference for me. Wes never got that, so I always wonder how things could have been different if he did.”
Solana has a big heart. Pure. A mind-boggling phenomena to Roman considering everything she’s been through. “It still doesn’t make what he’s done to you right.” Kind heart or not, it’s imperative she knows there’s never a good enough reason or excuse for anyone to do what he’s done to her.
She nods, “I know.” It’s still a work in progress, Solana learning to unlearn the victim blaming she’s placed on herself for so many years. But, that much, she’s come to accept.
She never deserved any of Wes or her father's abuse.
Roman can see the way memories might be coming back to the front of her mind and moves to redirect again. “You wanted to talk to me about something earlier.”
Oh.
For a second, she wants to lie. To make up something. To come up with a story that’s hopefully believable enough for him to not poke holes through. And then another line from her book resurfaces.
Calculated risks are different—you weigh your chances and step out onto the ice only when you’re relatively sure it’s solid.
Solana is certain she’s never met a more solid person than Roman.
Scooting back in her chair, she feels his watchful gaze around her as she moves around the table and is only inches away from him when he realizes what she's doing and beats her to it, gently pulling her onto his lap. He’s always so careful around her.
Solana moves her arms around his neck as he rests one hand on her hip.
She takes a deep breath. “I was...I was working out of my book this morning, and it was the chapter on…on intimacy and—” She has to pace herself, knowing that if she doesn’t, she won’t get through the conversation. And she has to do this. She almost feels like she needs to do this. “I think I always thought I couldn’t have that because of what happened to me, but…..but I think I can.” 
And this has been such a powerful and moving revelation to walk into. For so long, Solana has lived in fear and trauma, haunted by the horrific memories of her sexual assault. It’s inaccurately painted her views of what should and could be something beautiful and special with the right person. She never thought that could be possible for her though, believed that her chance had been destroyed by two sick individuals.
But if the past few months have taught her anything, it’s that there are decent people in the world. Decent men in the world. Jimmy. Jey. Solo.
Roman
She’s still very much nervous, and even talking about it has her pushing back a level of anxiety, but the desire to overcome that trauma, to be able to experience that as a woman, to not be held down by the shackles of her past, is stronger than it’s ever been before.
“And I want to try.” She licks her lips, nervously adding on and explaining as best she can, “but, I can’t do it right away. I need….I need to build up to it, and I know—that has to be frustrating for you—”
“Solana.” His interruption is quiet but firm. “We’ll go as slow as you want.” His finger is moving in slow circles on her hip, an action that provides her a strange sense of comfort. “Whatever you need is what we’ll do.”
Solana releases a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding in. Him agreeing isn’t something she necessarily didn’t see coming, she just didn’t realize it’d come so easy. 
She almost feels it’s too good to be true.
Suddenly unsure, Solana double checks. “You’re….you’re okay with that?”
He doesn’t miss a beat with his answer. “Only if you’re sure this is what you want.”
It’s a profound statement. There’s a lot of things she’s not sure of that she’s been making herself do, regardless. 
But this……
This is something she wants.
Something she maybe even needs.
Solana is careful with her answer. “I’m gonna be 29 this year, and the only sexual experience I’ve had is being raped as a child.” There’s an equal combination of emotion and conviction as she affirms, “I don’t want that to be my story anymore.”
And it won’t.
Because she won’t let it.
Not anymore. 
“Then we’ll do this.” She nods, still nervous but also comforted by his support. “You know I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for, but I also need you to be good about communicating with me.” His eyes move up and down over her, resting slightly longer on her chest, which is understandable given the revealing nature of her dress. “And you also know how attracted I am to you, to all of you, so I need you to stay clear with me on what you are and aren’t comfortable with, okay?”
It’s fair and completely understandable. Roman is still a man. A man with needs, and he strikes her as being an otherwise handsy man, so him wanting and needing to know where her red zones are is important.
“I understand.” And she’ll make an active, concerted effort to be on top of that. To practice saying no and cutting things off when she needs to. “What—what about you?” He gives her a look. “Is there….is there anything you’re not comfortable with?”
Again, he takes her in, head to toe. His tongue leaves his mouth to slowly gloss over his bottom lip. “Baby, you can do whatever you want with me.”
Her smile is bashful as she looks away. Him being so….outspoken about his attraction and desire for her is still a new thing she’s trying to navigate, but it’s not unwanted. Nor does it feel bad to have a man like him want her so badly.
Not at all. 
Deciding to continue to stay on the ledge she’s already started to trail, Solana brings her hand to his chest. “So….so if I asked you to kiss me again….”
He chuckles, Solana’s eyes shutting as he brings his mouth to her jawline, “whenever,” her nails claw against his chest as he moves his lips to her nose, “however,” finally he’s teasing the corner of her mouth. “Wherever you want.” 
And it’s at the exact moment their lips connect again that a phone ringing once again steals away another groundbreaking moment. 
Solana can feel the irritation in his muscular body and smiles against his lips. 
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” She doesn’t necessarily doubt it as he kisses her cheek before pulling his phone out and answering as she lays her head in his neck. He barks out an unkind, “what?”
It doesn’t deter her as he keeps his grip on her hip, Solana enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. She’s starting to realize being this close to him makes her feel safe. His presence alone gives her that feeling, but this is something different, something almost…deeper.
She doesn’t try to listen in on his phone call, but it’s made virtually impossible not to, given the fact that she’s literally on his lap. However, that’s ended when he switches to speaking in Samoan. Still, it’s not hard to pick up on the fact that he’s growing more annoyed with every second that passes. 
He then gives a heavy sigh, switching to English, “I’ll be there in a bit.”
Her stomach drops, a frown appearing that she does her best to quickly push away. She had a feeling the call would end that way. 
Before he can explain to her the obvious, she lifts her head and assures, “it’s okay. I should probably get back to Dulce anyway.”
“Damn dog is so needy.” Solana smiles at the scowl on his handsome face. For someone who doesn’t care for dogs, she’s noticed he seems to interact with her puppy more and more as the days pass. He brings his hand to her chin, ensuring she keeps her gaze on him. “Don’t wait up, alright?”
It’s an expected request, one he should already know she’ll do her best to, but most likely won’t, abide by. 
“I make no promises...” 
________
Having such a small dog means that he or she can be in the most random of places and blend in seamlessly because of said smallness. It’s why in looking for Dulce after getting out the shower, Solana damn near searches every corner and crevice of the first and second floors of the mansion. Outside of a room that’s been locked and closed off the past two weeks, Roman not really giving her a reason why nor has she pushed.
She’d never been in it anyway.
It is, however, out of the norm though for Dulce to not be nearby. She typically likes to stay close to Solana.
Or even Roman.
So for a moment, Solana starts to get concerned. But after searching her room, the kitchen, the dining room, and even the backyard a second time, Solana is finally able to locate Dulce in the least expected place.
Roman’s room. 
She didn’t even realize Dulce’s bed was still in there, still in the original spot on the side of his bed.
The side she had slept on that one night.
“Dulce, you can’t stay in here.” Solana knows Roman isn’t a huge dog person, and Dulce being in his room is probably the last thing he’ll want to see when he gets back. But it’s in reaching over to pick up her puppy that something unexpected happens. 
Dulce nips at her.
Solana gasps, momentarily taken off guard. That’s the first time Dulce has done that. “Dulce, no.” Again, Solana goes for the grab only for the puppy to plant her bottom and back legs into the bed. Now Solana is just straight up confused. “What is wrong with you?”
Thinking maybe she can lure the puppy with a toy, Solana turns to leave, almost to the door when Dulce’s whimpering and the patter of her little feet stops her. Solana turns around and moves to grab her when Dulce scampers right back over to her bed, plopping her little body down.
It’s when she does that, Solana starts to catch on.
“You want to stay in here?” Dulce’s reply is a bark followed by the wag of her tail. Solana frowns. “We can’t…..this is Roman’s room.”
And yet even as the words leave her mouth, she thinks about that. Thinks about the fact that a part of working up to being intimate with Roman includes being close to him, touching him, in his bed perhaps. And though she still doesn’t remember everything from the night she got drunk, she remembers waking up in his bed and falling asleep again in the same bed with zero issues.
She felt….she felt comfortable. 
She felt safe.
“We can stay for a little while.” Deep down, Solana knows Roman won’t be upset with her. If anything, he’ll be more annoyed that she didn’t listen and decided to wait up, but her laying in his bed for a few minutes won’t generate anger.
Solana puts her phone on the nightstand, making sure the ringer is still on. The likelihood of him texting or even calling her is slim to none, but still….she doesn’t want to miss it if he does.
Laying on his bed is the initial plan, but there’s a chill in his room that has her moving under the covers just to provide her that slight warmth. It’s not intended to increase her comfort and definitely not intended to lead to her falling asleep.
But that’s exactly what happens. 
It’s also the last thing Roman expects to find when he makes it back home a couple hours later. 
Solana asleep in his bed. 
He knew she would try to stay up, knew she would end up falling asleep in trying to stay up, but he didn’t know she would end up doing all of that in his room, in his bed.
It’s unexpected but far from unwanted, a strange sense of satisfaction at seeing her sleeping so comfortably, so peacefully in his space of all places. 
He’s careful in his movements around the room, gathering clothes to change into post shower. Roman doesn’t want to disturb her, to wake her up, especially since he has a good guess that she didn’t intend to end up in his bed and would be unnecessarily apologetic. 
Apologetic for something he’s halfway considering asking her to make a permanent thing.
Roman manages to finish his shower without Solana so much as moving an inch. If only her damn dog was the same, because he’s barely able to open the bathroom door when Dulce is at his feet, whimpering.
Small ass dog with an even smaller ass bladder. 
Before she can progress to barking, he’s got her up in his arms, guiding her out the room, down the stairs and into the backyard where she thankfully wastes zero time in doing her business. Roman is grateful, not wanting a second to pass where Solana could wake up, freak the fuck out, and leave.
He wants her to stay right where she is.
And it’s in sliding into the bed with her, moving his arm over her body and gently pulling her into him, he realizes another reason why he doesn’t want her to leave. There’s an unfamiliar almost instant peace he has at the feel of her next to him, like this is how it should be, like she should be with him.
Like she’s supposed to be with him.
But he clearly wasn’t thinking straight when he moved her, because she’s suddenly stirring in her sleep, eyes slowly blinking open.
Fuck. He didn’t mean to wake her up. 
Roman’s half expecting her to freak out, to panic at being this close to him, at being in bed this close to him. But she again surprises him with a quiet murmur that’s more an acknowledgment than anything. “You’re back….” He watches as she frowns almost, an indication of worry, asking in a voice full of sleep. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He brings his hand to her cheek, recognizing that even though she’s talking, she’s very much still half-sleep. “Go back to sleep.”
Solana gives a little nod and the moment he pulls his hand away, she inches closer to him. He shifts their positions, so he’s on his back, and she’s tucked safely into his side. In what feels like seconds, she’s fast asleep. 
Yeah….
A discussion about her moving into his room is definitely on the table, preferably sooner rather than later. It makes sense to him for a lot of reasons, namely the fact that she’s clearly comfortable sleeping with him in this way but also the fact that she’s expressed a desire to work up to being intimate.
Roman’s had sex in a lot of different places, but there’s no way in fucking hell he could ever have his first time with Solana be anywhere but a bed. 
His bed.
He plays around with a few different ideas on how to broach the subject before sleep prevails over him too.
It’s the fastest he’s fallen asleep in years.
And he’s certain it has nothing to do with the long ass day he had but everything to do with the woman besides him.
But his sleep is short lived by the vibrating of his phone on the nightstand. Irritated at the interruption of his sleep, he’s not surprised. Roman’s always been a light sleeper.
He peers down to make sure Solana remains undisturbed in her slumber, and seeing that she’s still sleeping as peacefully as before with her body somehow more over his than he remembered, he grabs his phone.
Paul: Sorry to disturb you so late, sir, but I got the files you requested for Miller. Emailed. As we already know, he’s almost a million in the hole. Has been in debt over the past twenty years. Never in the green. The bulk of it was accumulated in 2005. 500K. Summer 2005. Strangely, in that same month, it was cut in half to 250K. Then mysteriously zeroed out in late 07.
Roman sits on the brief summary provided by his Wise Man. It doesn’t add up. He already knew Miller was in the hole. The man is a fucking idiot when it comes to finances, so him being that deeply in debt isn’t surprising, but him somehow getting rid of a quarter million debt is. The fucker isn’t smart enough to pull that off.
Roman: Who was the creditor?
Paul: Still looking into that. 
Roman: Anything significant about 07’?
Paul: Not that I can see. Still digging though.
Roman doesn’t like mysteries. Can’t stand unanswered questions. They’ve always driven him fucking insane. It’s why he finds himself unable to fall back asleep, an inconvenient thing given the fact that he’ll need to be up and out of bed in a little under three hours. Still, he can’t get the dates and information out of his head. 
How the fuck did a dumbass like Miller clear his ledger to that extent? It’s not unheard of. Roman could have done it. Easily. But, he’s also significantly smarter than his wife’s dumbass father. 
Even more, what the hell did Miller need or have done for fucking half a million dollars? 
Was he moving product? Weapons, maybe? Human trafficking? Just the thought of that last one makes Roman want to place his fist through the nearest wall. 
But it’s Solana stirring on top of him that serves as the unintended trigger that helps him fill in the rest of the gaps.
He’s quick with the text to the Wise Man.
Roman: When was Solana’s mother killed?
Paul: Sir?
Roman: Answer the fucking question.
There’s a brief delay followed by those three dots and an answer.
Paul: 2005. August. 
Wheels start turning as Roman begins putting the harrowing pieces together. Miller went into half a million dollar debt in August of 2005 that somehow got slashed in half at the end of the same month. The same month that Solana and her mother were attacked, and only one of them made it out alive.
Half…..
2007….
Roman does some mental math. Solana was born in 95. She’ll be 29 this year. That puts her at age 12 back in 07’.
12.
The same age she was when she was raped.
The same year the largest chunk of her father’s debt suddenly zeroed out and disappeared like it never happened in the first place.
And just like the night he found out Solana was a survivor of childhood sexual assault, the unbridled horror and disgust that filled him in knowing the truth, Roman is starting to wish he wasn’t so good at connecting the dots. That he wasn’t able to put two and two together.
Because the picture is more fucking horrifying than anything he’s encountered in some time. If ever.
Because he’s now faced with the dilemma of just how in the hell he’s supposed to tell Solana that her father is responsible for her mother’s murder but also her being raped.
Because now he’s faced with the dilemma of if he should tell her at all.
Roman closes his eyes.
Shit just got infinitely more complicated.
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firewasabeast · 8 months ago
Text
Move In With Me
(idk guys it's Saturday so have some rated M feelings I guess) ao3 link
The scent of sex is heavy in the air. They're both out of breath, exhausted in the best way when Tommy pulls out and drops down next to Buck.
They're a mess. One of them will have to get up soon and get a rag to wipe them down. Tommy's pretty sure it's his turn. He's also pretty sure Evan won't be getting out of bed anytime soon.
Sure enough, Buck flops his arm down over Tommy's chest. There's a few inches of space between them though, so Buck's arm relaxes and falls to where it's barely touching his side.
“Mm,” Buck whines, eyes closed and face half smushed into the pillow. “Wanna hold you.”
“Scoot closer,” Tommy suggests with a laugh, tugging at Buck's arm.
“Nope. Can't. Can't move.”
“How about I move then?” He doesn't wait for a reply. He didn't really expect one in the first place. He raises Buck's arm enough to slide underneath it, resting Buck's hand over his heart. The pounding thud thud thud is beginning to calm now, but his heartbeat is never regular when Evan is beside him.
Buck wiggles ever so slightly until his head is resting against Tommy's shoulder. “Better,” he murmurs with a smile, pressing a kiss to the soft, warm skin. His eyes are still closed. He has no plans on opening them.
Evan's brain may be able to shut off post orgasm, but Tommy's can't always do the same. He loves being alert in these moments. Adores the closeness, the snuggles, the way it makes him feel small and protected in Buck's arms.
He runs his fingers through Buck's hair, listens to the pleased hum that comes from low in Buck's throat at the sensation. He can feel the vibrations of it against his shoulder and it gives him chills in the best way.
These last six months have been the best of Tommy's life. Evan had brought a light into his world that he hadn't realized was missing. As cheesy as it sounded, it really did feel like his world had gone from black and white to full of color the second Evan stepped inside of it.
He was love and he was joy and he did his damndest to see the good in people. He made Tommy feel worthy of a love he'd long given up on.
He loved Tommy's mess, and Tommy loved his in return. The lack of judgement from either side was so refreshing. To be able to confess all your past sins and still have the person sitting across the table with nothing but love in their eyes and adoration in their hearts was something they had both wanted, needed, craved.
Tommy loved that his place was open to Evan whenever he wanted to be there, which was the majority of the time. Occasionally they'd end up at the loft, but more often than not they were at Tommy's place. When Tommy would get off shift and come home to Evan's Jeep in the driveway his heart would skip a beat and a smile would be on his face before he even realized it. He was always hurrying a little faster to get out of his car on those days, opening the door to see where Evan would be. Sometimes, he was working out in the garage, or cooking in the kitchen, or sitting on the couch with a book in his hand, or on the back porch staring up at a nest in the neighbor's tree.
Wherever he'd end up, Tommy was just happy he was there.
Tommy twisted his head at a slightly awkward angle to press a kiss into Buck's hair. “I love you, Evan,” he whispers. Tommy's not even sure if he's awake anymore, but he needed to say it anyway.
Buck moves even closer, hitching a leg to rest over Tommy's, wrapping his arm fully around Tommy's waist and giving him a squeeze. “I love you too,” he replies just as quietly.
Tommy takes a deep breath, uses his other hand to give Buck's a squeeze. “Would you like to move in with me?”
There's a moment where Buck's body tenses, and Tommy has a flash of anxiety where maybe this is too much too fast now. But then Buck is propping himself up on his elbow and staring straight at Tommy. “F- For real?”
Tommy nods, the best he can anyway with the way he's laying. “For real. I mean, if you don't want to yet it's-”
He doesn't get to finish his sentence, because suddenly Buck's mouth is on his and it's a dirty, sloppy, wet kiss with tongues roaming and moans that radiate throughout their bodies. Buck moves until he's seated on top of Tommy, his ass pressed against Tommy's dick in a way that has all the blood rushing from his head.
“I thought you couldn't move,” Tommy teases, his hips already grinding up against Buck's ass.
“Sudden burst of energy.”
Buck moves down Tommy's body, kissing his neck, sucking just below his collar bone, moving down his pec, and lingering over his nipple. Tommy's letting out little gasps now, and Buck loves to watch the way he can make him fall apart so easily. He keeps moving down his abs, over his belly button, until he reaches Tommy's cock.
Breathlessly, Tommy asks, “Can I take this as a yes, then?”
Buck sucks on the head of Tommy's cock, eliciting a whiny, “Fuck,” out of him.
He pulls off with a pop, staring hungrily into Tommy's eyes. “It's a yes.”
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moviecritc · 11 months ago
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someone better ⋆ daniel ricciardo smau
pairing: daniel ricciardo x biologist!reader
summary: you were nervous of attending your first gp, and your boyfriend's fans don't make it easier
warnings: lots of hate to reader
a/n: my love for daniel is going downwards, so i'm writing this before i can't stand him
english is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes
masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd
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danielricciardo just posted a story!
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[caption: how i missed this 🇦🇺]
yourusername just posted!
📍Melbourne, Australia
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liked by danielricciardo, yourbff and 1,473 others
yourusername first day in melbourne and i'm loving it 💓💓 being able to work with the marine animal reserve for this week is an amazing experience.
(but i already miss perth ngl)
yourbff we missed you at the zoo 🥺
user1 what is daniel doing in this girl's likes?
user2 i was wondering the same thing! user3 she looks cute, but not daniel's type at all user4 daniel posted at story in the same beach as her! and i recognize his tattoos in the second picture
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The next day
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danielricciardo just posted a story!
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[caption: not some random person saying we met them when we aren't even in the paddock yet]
yourusername just posted!
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liked by danielricciardo, yourbff and 2,430 others
yourusername sometimes all that a girl need is explore the great barrier, being photobombed by a quokka and being accused of being rude
oh and my boyfriend is also there
tagged danielricciardo
view all comments
danielricciardo gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous
user1 simp simp simp simp user2 he's so down bad helpp
landonorris she's rude with me, does that count?
danielricciardo no. shut up
user3 THEY'RE SO CUTEEE
user4 are you interested in adoption?
yourbff taking a bath with a toaster real quick see you later
user5 this is what i call a hot ass couple
user6 and she's a woman in stem!!! we love a smart girl - sporty guy trope
user7 I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE SEEING, they're so romance book coded
user8 we've all seen the pictures she looks absolutetly stunning... and he's there
user9 every relationship in the grid:
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funnier-as-a-system · 5 months ago
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Hi this might be a weird question but. How do you know if there are Other People in Your Head? Cuz. My partner who is in a system has been walking me thru symptoms of DID bc. They think I might have DID or smth similar bc of some Symptoms I've Exhibited. But I've never noticed anyone else in my head. (Tho. I am a Notably Different Person rn but I still have memories?? Like I'm missing some but I remember things! I'm just. Suddenly a Different Guy)
(Sorry this is probably stupid u don't have to answer this)
It's not a stupid question at all, anon. Figuring out such things can be difficult even under the best of circumstances, so I'm happy to help.
First things first, having DID doesn't always present as "Other People in Your Head". Sometimes, it can be closer to what you describe, where you're just Suddenly a Different Guy on occasion. Depending on where you live, this experience might fall under OSDD-1 and not DID, but for simplicity's sake, let's just call it DID.
DID is different from person to person. Some folks have very separate and distinct people in their head. Other folks feel more like one entity who becomes different people over time, or as one person who has several facets to them, each with their own unique identity. Still others are somewhere in-between. This middle option(s) sounds a lot like what you describe; within the plural community, you'd probably find the most similarities with median systems, who experience less separation between selves and often describe switches* as more like "becoming someone else" rather than "someone else takes over". They may not actively perceive other selves as Other People in Their Head, but still showcase multiple identities (which correspond with different selves) at different points in time, and may or may not experience memory issues.
* a "switch" is what it's called when whoever is in control of the body changes
Speaking of, memory issues can vary in DID, too. Sometimes you may not remember anything that happened while a different person/guy/self was in control, other times you may remember bits and pieces, still other times you may remember everything but feel disconnected from it, and sometimes you may even have no problems recalling memories at all. Median systems often report fewer or less severe memory issues, although this is not an inherent rule of being median.
There's also the possibility that perceiving the (potential) Other People in Your Head is just a skill you haven't unlocked yet, and right now you're only able to notice when your current identity is different in some way to how it was previously. That's common among those who have DID. In that case, working on communication can help. But it's also okay if you're never able to perceive anyone else in your head. Whether you are or are not a system is not dependent on mastering every trick in the book – especially as you'd be hard-pressed to find a system who finds all of them useful!
I'd recommend looking into median systems and seeing if any of that is relatable to you. You may also wish to look into OSDD-1, but again, depending on where you live, this may not be a separate diagnosis from DID, and not all those with OSDD-1 are or are like median systems. There's no foolproof way to determine if you're a system, but I'd say that's your best bet if you want to find systems who can understand and relate to what you're experiencing.
I hope this helps, and I wish you and your partner luck in figuring things out, anon!
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notjustjavierpena · 2 years ago
Note
Hiii!!! Can you do some phone sex with dbf!joel? I’ve seen it around but I’d love your take on it 😈
Pillow
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Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator
A/N: I love you, anon. This is so fun to write! Keep it coming.
Summary: Leaving for college after fucking your dad’s best friend a whole summer is sure to bring along some withdrawals symptoms.
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)
Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), pillow humping, f masturbation, daddy kink, phone sex, dirty talk, m masturbation, mutual masturbation, somehow also a bit of fluff
Word count: 2.3k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48953992
Pillow
Physically, Joel is annoyingly far away from you when you finally leave for college again, but in your mind, he is very much present all the time during classes. He floods your brain with filth, sweet nothings, a sudden memory of how it feels to kiss him and how his fingers feel inside you.
You miss him and it’s frustrating.
Frustrating to a degree that you haven’t quite experienced before, one that makes you want to say a naughty word just to see him drive across the country to tell you off. It must be withdrawal symptoms, you think, as a result of spending a whole summer being so close to him. Every day bouncing on his dick with his hand on your throat, able to see him, have him, whenever you wanted.
Yes, you have his number in your phone’s contacts, but so far all you have messaged him is that you’ve arrived safely, and his dry response of a simple smiling emoji and a thumbs up tells you that he is not the type to text regularly. You’re surprised he even knows how to use emoticons.
It’s Friday night after your first week back and you are alone in your room. The dormitories are quiet, empty of students who have gone out to celebrate the so far successful survival of being back to having their noses in the books again. Even your roommate has gone out despite her being notoriously known for staying in to read ahead. You wonder if something’s happened to her over the summer that’s changed her — just like you have changed from enthusiastic to filled with dread, unable to say why to anyone. 
“Just don’t feel like going out to get hammered,” you’d said instead, head in your pillow as you had tried to hide your blues. Is this heartbreak?
Your face is still squished into your pillow, arms wrapped around it to feel something close to an embrace. All the other decorative ones have been thrown onto the floor. Your blanket has been discarded too since it’s still warm at night. You have one leg tucked under your body as you scroll mindlessly through your Instagram feed and watch stories of people in bars, singing loudly and drinking beer.
It’s been an hour since you texted Joel, the famous non-texter, that you missed him. The radio silence is driving you insane, even more so because you do not wish to be the person who demands constant attention. 
But the text has sent your heartbeat skyrocketing. Yet the pulse isn’t just evident in your chest; it’s moved down south so quickly. You miss him, yes, but fuck, you miss his mouth, soft tongue on your clit, pads of his fingers rubbing against that little spot inside you that made you a believer. Though above all, you miss his cock that fits perfectly inside of your, now wet, cunt.
Eyeing the floor, your gaze falls upon your new silk pillow. It was a birthday present from your roommate, something about the silk covering being good for your hair’s health, but right now, it’s going to serve a greater purpose. 
You snatch it from the floor and haul it onto the bed, impatiently getting onto your knees to pull your hoodie over your head, exposing your chest, and tug your underwear down to your knees. It’s not like you’re in a hurry since it’s still early, but you are too lazy to take your panties all the way off.
You consider getting up and locking the door for a moment, but you should be able to hear if your drunk roomie stumbles towards your shared room, so the need to get off wins over your laziness once again. 
From previous experience, you bunch up the pillow how you like it. The silk is tricky since it’s smoother than your normal pillow, but you manage to straddle the fabric how you want it after holding it in place. It’s so soft and comfortable against your very sensitive skin, cooling against your wet heat.
You reach down between your legs to spread yourself open a little, letting out a soft sound as the bunched-up stuffing of the cushion settles right where you need it the most. Your heart is beating out your chest as you start rutting your pussy against the silk, seeking out some kind of disappearance act for the constant ache and dread in your body from being exposed to missing Joel fucking Miller. 
You get lost in the sensation quickly. Warmth spreads across your chest as your breathing becomes heavier. Your sensitive clit throbs, earning friction that gets you humming in pleasure. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel his lips ghosting along your neck and you imagine that he is the one touching you between your legs, chest towards your back, and arm around your waist, so he can cup your mound and plunge two fingers into you. Your walls clench, a higher-pitched moan bouncing off the walls.
You grind harder against the pillow. Your thighs tense a little as you rock back and forth, cunt fluttering as you feel closer to the edge by the second. Oh, how you wish to have his face between your thighs right now. His warm, thick tongue fucking you open as his nose bumps against your swollen nub. 
Your hips stutter. Not yet. You wonder if you could wait long enough for a reply. Probably not.
You move to get on your hands and knees, looking down between you and the pillow. There’s a stain on the silk, your arousal having seeped onto the fabric and made a darkened wet patch. Your cunt clenches once more, and another sticky drop of slick drips from you. 
“Shit,” you moan quietly at the sight. You are about to reach for your phone to cheekily snap a photo of your mess to send to Joel, but before you can open the camera, a message from Joel ticks in. 
You almost come at the mere sight of seeing his name on your phone. It’s still coded in as Joel (dad’s buddy). There’s no need to open it as you read it at the top of the screen. 
I have some time. Can I call you? -JM.
You don’t reply. Instead, you call him without a second thought. The beeping sound of your phone ringing has you shivering, but he picks up on the third ring.
“Joel,” you breathe shakily into the receiver. 
You hear Joel’s breath hitch in his throat at the tone of your voice. You imagine that he has tensed up since there’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then, “What're you doing?” 
“Thinking about you.”
“What are you wearing?” From his tone, you can hear that it’s meant as a joke with a tinge of mockery too. You suppose that you deserve that, but you won’t let him get away with being snarky about this. He needs to know this isn’t just to get adventurous with him, but rather to relieve you of misery. 
“Nothing, Daddy, I miss you… It hurts,” you pout despite him not being able to see. 
“Where does it hurt?” He plays along. All mockery has vanished. He clears his throat, it sounds dry.
“My little pussy. She needs you,” you make sure your bed squeaks as you start moving on the pillow again. Joel is quiet except for a deep exhale as he listens. It has your head swimming once more in record time, clit throbbing impatiently as you’ve already edged yourself once. 
“Fuck, baby. I can hear ya. Got anythin' between those pretty legs?”
“Not my hand,” you say truthfully. You put your phone on speaker to grip the edge of the pillow, snapping your hips forward in your seat. 
“What then?” 
“My pink silk pillow,” you moan softly as heat starts pooling below your navel again. You want him to join you, but you’re not going to ask.
“Jesus Christ,” Joel breathes deeply in through his nose, a half sigh and moan, “We’ve been apart for a week and you already do this. Gettin' out of hand, baby girl. Don’t ya think so?”
“I can’t function without your cock, Daddy” you feed his ego. It won’t harm anyone because you’ve found your statement to be absolutely true, “Miss being sore. You made me hurt so good, Joel.” 
“And now you’ve replaced me with… bedding?” Joel teases, but you hear him shuffling around like he is moving through his house. 
“Yeah,” you giggle breathlessly, bunching the pillow up even tighter. You wiggle your hips to seat yourself against the silk as before, a little crease of it nudging against your clit. It makes you push your pelvis harshly yet slowly into it. An idea pops into your mind, “Wanna see?”
You hear the sound of sheets, the clinking sound of his belt being unbuckled, and then the pull of his zipper. That was quicker than you thought. 
“Hold on,” he replies and moves his mouth away from the receiver. You prop up your phone against the wall on the floating shelf above the head of your bed, listening to the faint sound of pants being shoved down.
When he finally calls you and the FaceTime logo appears on the screen,  you press the green answer button and stare right into the camera. If this was a planned call, you would have thought about your looks and your pose, but Joel will see you just how you are right now. 
He isn’t disappointed. 
“Fuck, look at you,” he says instead of hello. You cannot see his cock, only his broad naked shoulders, mouth that’s slightly agape, and his eyes, which have become a darker brown with his arousal. 
“Daddy’s so potty-mouthed,” you reply innocently, sitting up a little straighter to show off to the camera. You move slowly up and down on the pillow, back arched to push out your chest and one hand curled around your breast. 
“How long have you been draggin' your cunt all over that pink cushion, young lady?” He asks in a low voice. His shoulder is moving in a way that tells you enough, and if you could close your eyes without feeling rude, you’d be able to see how it looked when stroked his dick.
“A while, a little after I texted you,” you reply. In the corner, you can see yourself moving on the pillow as your tits bounce slightly. It turns you on to see yourself masturbating more than you’d like to admit, “I’m so horny for you.”
“Bet you are,” his eyes roam hungrily over the screen, “So what are you waiting for?” 
“What do you mean?” You pant. 
“You want me to see you come, ain't that the plan?” His breathing is accompanied by the sound of his fist pumping his cock, “To show me how good you can treat her when I’m not around to do it?”
You nod as you moan loudly. Sweat has started to form on your chest and breasts, glistening prettily for him as you thrust your hips faster to chase your climax. It climbs steadily, like a coil tightening in your abdomen, starting from behind your cunt. 
On the other end of the line, Joel’s heavy breathing is slowly turning into moaning as well. He is getting closer as well, trying his hardest to get to where you are. 
“Daddy,” you cry feebly, “I’m gonna fu— come.”
A tingle is creeping up your spine. You’re so close, letting go of your breast to pull the fabric taut with both hands as you rock against it. Where you’ve been panting before, you hold your breath right before you come.
Every single drop of tension in your body seeps out of you as the coil finally snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. Your world fades from view for a few seconds, your mouth hanging open in a loud groan. You ride it out without hiding your pleasure from the world, hoping that you truly are the only person in your dormitory right now, concentrating on staring into the camera lens as you gain your vision back. 
Joel swears at the sight, speeds up his hand. He scrambles for his phone to angle it towards his dick. 
“I’m gonna wreck that little cunt when I see you next time,” he promises through gritted teeth, suddenly letting out a deep grunt of satisfaction as he comes. He paints his hand, nearly dropping his phone amid the intensity, “Fuck, sweetheart.”
You’ve collapsed into your bed, pulled your phone down to hold it away from your face, and stare lovingly at Joel as the camera returns to his face. He looks a little flustered, cheeks slightly pink from the blood coursing through his veins. 
“Stay on the phone with me for a while. I promise not to fall asleep,” you plead, swinging a leg out over the edge to pick the blanket up from the floor with your toes. You throw it over yourself, suddenly chilly when the air hits your sweaty skin. It’ll be easier than hiding the evidence by cleaning up too. 
“Alright, lemme go wash my hands first,” he says, leaving the frame. You hear his feet patting across the bedroom floor, but then you hear nothing else.
When Joel returns, he gets under the covers as well, “So, how was your first week at—“
You’re snoring ever so slightly. He smiles to himself but doesn’t end the call just yet, watches you fall deeper into slumber for a while before deciding it’s enough. He shoots you a text before plugging his phone in for the night.
Fell asleep on me, Sleeping Beauty. I miss you too. Props to you for not getting foul-mouthed like me. I’ll remember that. -JM.
.
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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️
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windvexer · 4 months ago
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Do you know if there's a chance that someone just... Can't do magic? I feel like none of my spells work despite trying different methods and advice, I've never been chosen by a deity like most practicioners seem to be, I feel like there's something I'm missing fundamentally that means I just can't make magic. How can I check, so I stop giving myself hope and then having it crushed?
Perhaps a bad faith take, but I doubt most practitioners have been chosen by deities. I am of the opinion that many people believe they are supposed to be chosen and then use very lax systems of omen reading to justify that such-and-such god is claiming them.
Over the years, many people have asked me for help getting their spells to work, or solving such-and-such magical blockage.
And unfortunately, just about every time, the end result is that the person really has not done as much work as they think they have done, and they are still more or less on square one (or square zero) of practice.
Here are the sorts of questions I would ask you if we were chatting about this:
Focus
What specific school of magic are you trying to learn? "Witchcraft" and "magic" are not schools. Are you trying to learn Traditional Witchcraft? Lodge Magic? Chaos Magick? Appalachian Folk Magic? Dianic Wicca?
Out of the school of magic you are trying to learn, how many books have you read about it?
Out of those books, how many of them focused on actual technique and theory? As in, explaining the magical theories as to why this system works the way it does.
Do you have a clear understanding of why this magical system works the way it does? Can you describe it to me?
Within the magical system you have chosen to study, is there a clearly laid groundwork for what practitioners are supposed to have to do before they are valid/initiated/adept within this system? If so, have you achieved all of those requirements?
How many months of ongoing study and practice do you think is reasonable until you are ready to move to a new school of focus?
Learning Plan
Witchcraft is a complex and variable skill that, like writing a novel, requires a working knowledge of many diverse skillsets.
What is the specific goal you are working towards at this time? "Getting a spell to work" is not specific enough. "Casting a prosperity spell that is able to generate small amounts of cash, gifts, or benefits within a 2 week period" is the type of thing I mean.
What is your lesson plan to achieve that goal? An example might be, 1) read a book on prosperity magic, 2) study and research 5 accessible plants related to prosperity, 3) learn an energy raising technique, 4) learn how to charge correspondences, 5) learn how to add correspondences to candle spell, 6) learn magical timing techniques.
Even if you do not have a lesson plan, can you name the top 3 things you have been actively practicing to try and become a better practitioner? Examples might be energy raising, visualizing techniques, talking to spirits.
Once you formulate a lesson plan, ask yourself how many hours you think is reasonable to spend on each step. If you don't think you've ever successfully raised energy before, do you think it's fair that you might require 10 hours of practice learning your first energy raising technique before you can do it?
Could you explain to me the steps you believe are required to perform magic? Include how many hours you've spent practicing techniques applicable to each step.
Practice
Think of magic as being like learning to close a restaurant by yourself. You must be experienced in all of the stations, and have in-depth knowledge about the standards required. Do you also have such experience and understanding when it comes to your own craft?
Outside of reading and study, since the start of your practice, how many hours of concerted effort have you put in trying to perform magical techniques? This includes energy work, casting spells, sensing energies, divination, talking to spirits.
Write a list of each specific magical technique you have tried to learn. Not just "energy work" but, "Earth-roots grounding visualization to raise or balance energy into the planet." "Gathering energy into the lungs and exhaling to release excess energy." "Trying to contact the spirits of tarot cards." Be very specific. Next, write down how many hours you think you have spent practicing each technique. Which techniques have you spent more than 10 hours practicing, even if that practice is across years?
Write down every spell you ever remember trying to cast. How many are there?
Of all the spells you've tried to cast, are they from a wide variety of intents (such as prosperity, protection, luck, binding, conjuring), or are they mostly one type (e.g., prosperity)? Write down how many different kinds of spells you've tried to cast, based on intent. Have you practiced at least 5-10 spells in each category?
Technique
You've asked me, so given the way I do things:
How long does it take you to cast simple spells? Do you think it might be reasonable to expect that casting even a simple spell could take 30 minutes or more?
When you work spells, how long does it take you to raise energy? This can also include hours/days spent finding objects/ingredients of natural power. Would you say that you spend at least 10-15 minutes raising magical power for every spell that you cast?
When you work spells, how do you imprint/program energy? How do you stamp it with your intent so you know it's going to do what you want it to do?
When you work spells, how do you deliver them to their target? What techniques and methods do you employ to make sure they can get to where they need to go?
Before you cast spells, how much divination or investigation do you perform to make sure the spell will be effective for your purposes? Even a perfect screwdriver will fail where a hammer is required.
Do you use traditional techniques like aligning your spells to planetary timing, gathering taglocks, casting circles, or calling quarters?
Hygiene
How often do you perform self-cleansing? Otherworldly grime can obfuscate magical power.
Have you ever cast, or had others cast for you, unblocking or unbinding spells to help open the roads of your power?
How often do you engage in managing your personal energy? For example, centering/reclaiming exercises to pull escaped energy back into yourself, or energy gathering exercises to build up personal power.
Resources
Of the people you are asking for magical help, are they all a part of the same group who carry similar worldviews and would tend to suggest the same advice?
Of the people you are asking for magical help, how many of them are able to affirm that they are mentors, teachers, spirit doctors, or consultants qualified to help people with the problem you have?
Do you have a group you can work with to practice skills, such as energy charging and energy reading?
When you cast spells, do you have someone you can send photos of the spellwork to, so they can try to perform readings or diagnosis on what's actually going on?
Reality
Have you chosen a start date for your practice (such as, "I've been a practitioner for 2 years,") but in reality you have only tried to practice magic for a very limited time (say, 1 or 2 months out of that period)? If so, is it possible that you are comparing yourself to the success of a practitioner of 2 years, instead of a practitioner of 2 months?
Does the kind of magic you believe in dictate that rigor and technique are required to achieve results? Or are you more working in the "visualize and believe" arena?
Are you comparing your successes to people who are telling the truth about their practice? Is it possible people you are comparing yourself to are not using rigorous self-assessment when they calculate their own wins?
Are you comparing your successes to people who may have been practicing for decades or more on intensive paths, or who have spent thousands of hours honing their practice within a single area?
Are you being realistic about what actual success looks like? For example, casting a protection spell, something not protected against happens, and then deciding that because something bad in general happened, the entire protection failed.
Anyway Anon, to actually answer your question: no, I don't believe some people just "can't do magic." In very rare circumstances, some people may have serious blockages or entanglements going on that must be resolved before they can do magic. Others may require less intensive spellwork like unblocking to clear the way (like idk, maybe granny prayed over you in the crib that you'd never get involved with all this evil occult stuff).
It's my experience that almost everyone who thinks they can't do magic, if they were being very honest with themselves, would have a hard time coming up with actual lists of things they have done to try to be better at magic; they have perhaps practiced for a handful of hours across several months; they are not learning core skills (like energy work, divination, or trancework); and they are not working off of tried-and-true systems, but are rather setting up camp at the intersection of every possible shortcut (clear quartz, rosemary, and roses are universal substitutes; you don't have to use any physical tools or ingredients; visualization is the same as energy raising; intent is all you need; traditional methods of targeting such as obtaining taglocks are irrelevant; casting a circle is irrelevant; magical headspace is irrelevant; building and consecrating of holy areas such as altars is irrelevant; astrological timing and places of power are irrelevant; going to great lengths to obtain or preserve power is irrelevant).
The other 3% of people pissed on a fairy tree when they were kids and need to spend a couple of months working with a mediator to rectify their relationship with the spirit world.
Do feel free to DM me, if you like.
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loveandleases · 5 months ago
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G's, M's and Isaac's most embarassing memory (for G with and without MC if possible?), most fond, most cherished?
Sure thing! Going to put it under a cut because it got quite long.
💙 G
Most Embarrassing: The first time G's parents came to visit them at Uni, a certain roommate was having sex in the room, and G's parents thought it was G x Chris.
Most Fond: Back in Uni, G, Cam, and MC would pull all-nighters at the cafe. Early on G was following in their parent's footsteps of going to medical school with the end goal of becoming a surgeon. They really struggled and one of their ways of coping was drawing in the margins of their books or even Cam and MC's. The pages would have a little dog or a cat, just dressed in a lab coat.
One late night, after a long cram session, G was exhausted and a bit vulnerable. Cam was listing off random get-rich-quick schemes so that he could drop out and just become a photographer. (Each idea worse than the previous one). MC glanced over at G, noticed one of their doodles, and said, "You'd probably treat patients better if they had fur."
It was such a simple, offhanded comment. But that night, something about it just resonated with G. The thought just lingered, and for the first time, they were considering what they might want. That one little sentence from MC became a catalyst, it planted a seed of doubt about their future - and it threw their plan on its head. Regardless of what happened between them, they can fondly reflect on that moment in time. Because that comment changed their life for the better.
Most Cherished: (Ex) Their first kiss with MC (which was also G's first kiss.) It was unexpected, yet everything they could have hoped for if they allowed themselves to dream big. (Ex/Friend) When G was in the process of figuring out if they wanted to be a Vet, they had gotten Cam to agree to come with them to volunteer at an animal shelter. They were tasked with bathing the animals. Which was fine....at first. About 6 animals in, G had noticed that Cam kept scratching, to the point that he thought he was having an allergic reaction. Nope, Cam just caught fleas. So, every Christmas. G gifts Cam flea shampoo. The tag always says “Just a little something for our favorite shelter stray.”
💛 M
Most Embarrassing: Before M was a writer, they used to work at the cafe. One day a person walked up to them and asked them out.
“Hey, would you maybe want to go out sometime?”
M, as oblivious as ever, misunderstood completely and thought they were being asked if the person wanted their order taken outside. Without missing a beat, M grabbed the person’s coffee, nodded enthusiastically, and said, “Sure, I can take that outside for you.””
The person was so confused as M casually walked to the door, set the order down on the sidewalk, and gave a little wave. “There you go, all set!”
In the person’s eyes, not only did they get turned down for a date, but M had essentially kicked them out while smiling.
Most Fond: M had struggled for years trying to get published. There would be days when they were supposed to be helping in the kitchen of the cafe, but instead, they were jotting down things for their book on stray pieces of paper. They read all the books you will find in the Cafe, leafing through them hoping that each bit of knowledge they gained would help them become a better writer.
It wasn't needed, but M was certain there was just something wrong with their work. Until one day, it just happened. Their manuscript was accepted. The first people they called were their mom's. It was one of the best moments in M's life thus far. Even though they were barely able to afford rent, and the only food in their fridge was a jar of marmalade.
Most Cherished: After their first book was published and it picked up traction, it became quite popular. M was struggling with writer's block, which they tend to do. So they visited the cafe and the first thing they saw on the counter, was a copy of their book. M had thought about giving up so many times, but to be in that place it was a full circle moment for them.
💜 Isaac
Most Embarrassing: Isaac and Ardent used to have a thing. One day the two of them are in the little elevator of Ardent's apartment building. Their hands are roaming one another's bodies, sliding underneath fabric, both of them caught up in the heat of the moment. Now imagine their surprise when the first face and voice they see is Ardent's mother when the elevator door opens.
Most Fond: When they became sober, truly sober. Kara really kept Isaac in check, and reminded him what he was doing it for. Who he was doing it for. It took a lot to get to that point, and Isaac doesn't believe they could have done it without Kara there to support them.
Most Cherished: Spoiler, but I can say it involves their mother.
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redflagshipwriter · 11 months ago
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Hot Ghouls Chapter 10 1/2
Masterpost
At 8:00 pm, Danny scraped himself off the counter at his work-study position and gathered up his books. His replacement, Angelica, was already setting up by adjusting the height of the spinning chair in front of the best computer. She was a little older than him, a Junior maybe? She had been his training supervisor.
A patron came up while he was putting his notebooks in his bag. Angelica checked them out, soft beeps marking each book. He hung around a few moments until she finished and the student went out the door.
“Hey, Angie?” He asked. “I saw you're on closing Saturday. I'm on opening.” Danny fidgeted. “Would you be okay with a trade?” He was going to have to stay out late tonight, and there was no way he’d be able to catch up on missed sleep on Friday. He knew from experience that he’d be staggering all Saturday if he really had to be at the library by 8 am.
Angelica blinked and paused for a moment as she thought it over. “Tentatively, it's fine,” she decided. “I'll text you when I know for sure. I have to check with Birdie.”
Danny put his hands up. “Fair enough,” he said agreeably, “I owe you one either way for trying.”
“It's not a problem, I have to work the same hours either way.” Angelica opened up a browser and then started setting up whatever schoolwork she had to keep her occupied until midnight. “Have a good night, Danny. Take care out there. Stay away from banks.”
He promised that he would and then he slouched out onto the dim campus. It was pretty dead at the moment. People were mostly off campus, or in their dorms getting ready to go out for the night, Danny figured. He started the walk home on autopilot.
Danny hadn’t forgotten that he promised Jason he’d focus on their problem, and it didn’t matter that Jason had been kind of a creep about it. It was still high up his priority list.
But the more he thought about it, the more freaked out he was that Waters had managed to do it in the first place. It should have been impossible. There had to be a factor that they didn’t know about, but Danny wasn’t enough of an expert on piercing the veil between life and death to figure that out without tanking his grades. He hadn’t been able to get a hold of Vlad yet, either.
His tentative theories all seemed bonkers. Maybe Waters had gotten hold of some kind of magical focus, or gotten sponsored by someone with a lot of hocus pocus. Maybe Waters was a tool for someone else’s scheme, as opposed to just being a useless tool like usual. It was also possible that Jason was the weird factor. It seemed like a big coincidence, though, that Waters would stumble upon a sacrificial victim who actually was already eligible to reside in the Infinite Realms. Vlad had said it would be possible for a ghost on the living world side to get sent packing by Waters’ bullshit, but that possibility was outright silly. What ghost would A: be in the human world; and B: get caught by Jeremy friggin Waters or even sillier, C: want to get engaged to Danny?
It was a moot point. Jason gave Danny some weird feelings that he suspected might be like, puberty related, but he definitely wasn’t a ghost. Danny could tell that, at least. He was a flashy-dressing biker tough guy. He was probably a community theatre escapee, what with the cherry red helmet with weird face shape molding and his dramatic play to lounge around one of Danny’s regular study spots, but come on. He was just some dude. Kind of a dorky dude, even.
‘Massively hot, though,’ Danny had to acknowledge. He could never let Jazz know. Or Sam. Or Tucker. Or-
He shuddered at the thought of his parents meeting his accidental fiance.
Just, no. The only person he could probably trust around Jason was, idk… Wulf?
“I need better friends,” Danny muttered. He jogged down the final set of concrete stairs that led off campus and into the city itself.
It was debatable as to whether there was any point in going back to his apartment. The backpack on his shoulders wasn’t that heavy. If he went there, he’d basically dump his luggage and change and then have to go…
Danny made a face and fished out his phone. He optimistically changed directions before he could finish typing his request to crash at Jazz’s place for the night. On the one hand, she would know firsthand how little sleep he was going to get. On the other hand, this would shave hours off of his travel.
He was nearly to his sister’s apartment near the main Gotham U campus when she sent back a message.
:( I’m not home tonight, but my roommate is! If you can ghost in without her knowing, go for it! But she really can’t know, I can’t have guests when I’m not there to supervise.
Danny typed up a message with a little emoji robber accusing her of criminal actions before he remembered he shouldn’t bite the hand that let him crash.
You’re saving my entire afterlife, he sent instead.
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immortalmsmoon · 1 year ago
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Naruto General Headcanons
A/N: i have quite a bit of requests but i have no motivation to write person 5 I'm so sorryyyyy it might be a while before i post them. if you have any other requests though please make sure to send something in!
Cast Line Up- Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, and Kakashi
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Naruto~
This kid has SO MUCH energy, but at a certain point in the evening he crashes so hard. Like you cannot get him to do ANYTHING because he's half asleep. 
Has broken his arm twice. The first time when he was like 6 he fell off a tree while he was climbing it. The second time he was splashing paint on the great faces and as he was coming down he hit his hand on the ground too hard. 
When he can’t sleep he sits on the roof of his apartment complex and stays there for a while, usually until the sun rises. 
Likes to paint his nails frequently, usually bright colours, a big fan of bright oranges and greens.
Never has chapped lips. No matter how dry out it is he just never gets them.
After the chunin exams he holds a deep adoration for Neji, because he was able to change his point of view and become better and stronger, and Naruto finds it really impressive. 
Sasuke~
Likes to draw, while he was in the academy he often found himself doodling on his work. If someone ever approached him about it he would deny them and tell them they were seeing things. 
Sometimes when he feels really alone, he likes to turn on his TV for background noise and deep cleans/rearranges his bedroom. He does this usually once a month.
Can play guitar, and does sometimes. It reminds him a lot of his family, specifically Itachi, so he usually keeps it locked in the back of his closet. 
A very avid reader. Has tons and tons of books.
Loves to stargaze. Spends a lot of nights, especially rough ones when he feels alone, watching the stars, usually in a tree or clearing. 
After he left the village, for the first few months he actually missed being there, and missed Naruto and Sakura’s theatrics. He got over himself pretty quickly though. 
Sakura~
VERY good at makeup, but because she's a ninja she rarely gets a chance to do it, because she usually sweats it off. 
Used to wish her hair was blonde because Ino has blonde hair, and she was incredibly popular. 
Very very flexible. 
Also has a very large sweet tooth, and will take most sweet food over savoury or sour food. Can also handle spice VERY well. 
Her legs are stronger than her arms, and she tends to use them more in training and combat. One of her favourite people to train with is Tenten.
Kakashi~
Hates ramen. Cannot stand it. It's been like that since he was a kid, and honestly he's not sure why, he just really cannot stand it. 
Has very nice hands. They are usually fairly soft because he hates how his hands feel when they're dry. 
Once tried to read a book that wasn’t Make Out Paradise and couldn’t even get past the second chapter. 
Very lazy. His ideal day is staying inside his house in a comfy robe and soft slippers reading the day away.
Insomniac, and very good at hiding it. His bags aren’t obvious, and if they are he covers them up with makeup.
Hates being fussed over, but secretly likes to fuss over other people. He can’t really help it, he’s just lost so many people that he has to fuss over the people he loves.
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the-ineffable-dance · 1 year ago
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Holy Palmers Kiss
Throughout their history together, the romance between Aziraphale and Crowley has mostly been expressed through incredibly subtle ways. It's been centuries (if not millennia) of nothing more obvious than a surreptitious brushing of hands or yearning looks when they think no one is watching. And of course, when they have plenty of deniability.
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Good work, Aziraphale... hand on the chest of the Thin Dark Duke, and if anyone asked, you were just making sure that young lady didn't get bumped.
And this is for a very good reason. It quite literally isn't safe for them to be openly romantic with one another, even now. Demons like Hastur and Shax are constantly popping up... Michael and Uriel are always watching... eyes are everywhere.
They have certainly gotten closer to being open in the years that separate the two seasons. Crawley sprawls all over that bookshop like he has a personal vendetta against chairs - removes his glasses as soon as he steps foot inside (which is an incredibly coded action that I would love to take a more in depth look at in the future) - gives up the keys to the Bently... And Aziraphale himself has those longing looks - calls him up to talk enough that Crowley knows his "tones of voice" - and then, we get The Ball.
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Technically, The Ball is for Nina and Maggie... or at least that's what Aziraphale says. We get the lovely little moment in the pub where he and Crowley try to come up with the best ways to get humans to fall in love with each other. But the moment Aziraphale mentions Jane Austen having characters dancing with each other and realizing how in love they were, I think at least for him the focus changes to this... THE BALL IS FOR CROWLEY. And once he starts giving away books to make sure the ball will be perfect, there can be no question. The entire idea is a way for him to be able to dance with Crowley.
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That's why, for me, the most romantic moment in all of Good Omens, at least from Aziraphale's point of view, is this moment right here.
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Vavoom! Sorted! Look at the way Crowley even curls his fingers around Aziraphale's hand! This is peak Aziraphale romance as a fan of Jane Austen.
But he's also a fan of Shakespeare. Even the gloomy ones. And every time I watch this scene, I'm reminded of a different ball from one of the gloomy plays that Crowley would hate and Aziraphale would swoon over. Romeo and Juliet. A fitting parallel to an angel and a demon being in love.
In Romeo and Juliet, at the end of the first act, is another ball. Romeo tries to get Juliet to kiss him, and she turns him down with this...
"For saints have hands that pilgrim's hands do touch/ And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss"
There's quite the back and forth here between Juliet and her Romeo about hands and lips and such, (and eventually Romeo gets his way) but the parallel for Aziraphale in this exchange is unmistakable. He, as the angel, is the saint (and stand in for Juliet), Crowley his pilgrim. Snogging in public would be absolutely out of the question for our dear prim and proper Aziraphale... but this is a chaste kiss, and one that he is showing the world. A public declaration of his love for Crowley. A Holy Palmer's Kiss.
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It's certainly debatable if Crowley would have picked up on it. Like a lot of their coded language there are times when one of them misses what the other is trying to say. But in my opinion, this was not only a public declaration, but his confession to Crowley. This is his "I love you" as much as "I forgive you" is.
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Just for fun, here's how Romeo finally gets his kisses (but let's have Crowley stand in for Romeo and Aziraphale for Juliet, shall we?)
Cro. Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. (They kiss)
Azi. Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Cro. Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again. (They kiss again)
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