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inagetawaycarxo · 4 years

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Dating Mob!Boss Roman Reigns Would Include

❛❛ Can you imagine dating a Roman mob boss❜❜- @shieldgirl18

WARNINGS: Mobster themes, mentions of sex and sexual content, adult themes.

A/N: I know you said imagine, but I just couldn’t help myself and I had to write a headcanon.

GOT A ROMAN REIGNS OR WWE REQUEST? SEND IT IN!

You were wary of him at first. And a little bit scared. You knew who he was, what he did. You nervously spoke to him or shuttered whenever he talks to you.

You tried your best to keep your distance. But Roman never made it easy for you. You avoided him like the plague, but he kept showing up.

Eventually, you get to know him. The real him.

Roman will try and woo you.

Like buying you flowers, expensive jewellery, gifts, luxury gifts, paying your bills. Intimidating anyone who is disrespecting you.

Buying you dresses and taking you to fancy restaurants.

Both of you end up getting to know each other even more.

Roman will wine & dine you.

After having dinner, both of you take a stroll or walk down the street. Talking about really anything.

Roman likes to be close to your side. Or holding your hand. Or wrapping his arm around you, pulling closer to his side.

Roman likes to walk you home. He knows his enemies are watching him, and they might attack you or worse kidnap you and Roman can’t live with that.

Roman has some of his guys to watch you at a distance, making sure none of his enemies attacks you or kidnaps you.

Though you enjoy going to fancy restaurants, you prefer simple dates.

Like a picnic on the beach, going for walks, taking a stroll in the park or beach, and so on.

You didn’t fall in love with him for hid money or looks, you fell in love with him because of his charm, his kindness, his loyalty, his personality, the way he goes out of his way to listen to what you say, make you laugh/smile. Also, his looks are a plus.

After a lot of dates. Roman and you eventually became boyfriend and girlfriend.

Roman always making time to spend with you.

Roman is the first one to say, “I love you.”

It happened when Roman and you were walking along the shores of the beach. When Roman suddenly in his tracks. Making you stop as well. You looked up at him in curiosity.

Roman gently removed his arm from around you. Turning to face you. He quickly brought his hands up to your face, cupping your jawline. Staring deeply into your eyes. You gulped. Heart rate rapidly increasing.

“Ro…” You whispered.

“I love you.” Roman confesses making your heart flutter. Mouth a gap. Before a smile graced your lips.

“I love you, too.” You confess. Making Roman smile. Roman will then lean his head down. Lips ghosting over your lips. His eyes fluttering closed, as well as your eyes. Romans lips pressed against yours softly.

After that, a lot of “I love you’s.” will be said, between the both of you.

Roman always ringing you. Especially, in the morning.

Roman will continue to get you gifts. Though you insist his love is enough.

You try your best to stay out of Roman’s mobster lifestyle. But unfortunately, you can’t avoid the inevitable. Roman’s enemies make sure of that.

You found out the hard way that you can’t escape the inevitable when one of his enemies tries to kidnap you. lucky for you, Roman still has his men bodyguarding you.

This is when you found out Roman had hired two of his men to watch over you.

Which you weren’t too happy with that. You demanded them to take them to Roman which they reluctantly agreed.

If you weren’t too angry you would have gawked over his luxurious house. But you were livid. You stormed into his house. Ignoring the maids and his other men. One of the guys in front of you leading you to Roman while the other one was behind you.

The guy in front of you stopped at a door, opening it for you. You stormed in.

“Are you insane Roman? Having your men watching over me. WHAT THE HELL?” You shout. Making the rest of Romans men look up at you. Roman stopped whatever he was doing. Looking at you in shock.

“Y/n...” Roman started to say. Standing up.

“No, don’t y/n me.” You fumed. Roman gave his men a dismissive look, and they all stood up. Leaving the room.

“They were meant to be on the down-low.” Roman replied.

“How long have they been watching me? Do you not trust me?” You asked him. Giving him a demanding look.

“Of course, I trust you. I just don’t trust my enemies. If I lose you, I could never forgive myself.” Roman replied truthfully.

“Roman, you won’t lose me. Just tell your goons to lay off.” You sighed. Cupping his jawline with your hands. looking into his eyes intently.

“Then move in with me.” He proposed.

“Roman.” You scoffed. Then let out a nervous laugh.

“Your joking right.” You nervously chuckled.

“Dead serious, I love you and you love me; besides, you will be safe behind these walls. And we will get to spend a lot more time together.” Roman spoke.

“Okay.” You barely gasped out. Making Roman smile brightly.

“Good, I will organize all of your items, clothes, furniture to come here. I love you.” He spoke. Kissing the top of your head. Then taking out his phone. Unlocking it and going into his contacts he quickly pressed a contact. Then the call button. Bringing it up to his ear.

Roman’s thumb stroked your jaw as he talked on the phone. Organizing the moving company to get your stuff. Then telling the address of his house.

Roman will make sure you are all settled in. Making room in his walk-in closet. Which is just a room.

Introducing you to his maids and the men who work with him.

You try and avoid him when he is doing mobster stuff. You don’t want any part in it. But sometimes you get curious and ask him.

Sex with Roman is passionate and rough.

Roman likes to take his time with you. caressing every inch of your body.

Also, teasing you a lot.

Roman buying you lingerie. Especially the expensive lingerie.

Whenever he is stressed you will dress up in lingerie. Standing at in the threshold of the bedroom or his office. You will then proceed to take his mind off of whatever is stressing him.

Bringing him lunch and snacks as well as beverages. His maids will do it but you kind of took over that role.

Having sex on his desk in the office.

Clearing all his stuff off his desk. Grabbing the side of his face and bringing his face down to yours. Kissing him feverishly. As he lays you down on the desk. Ripping each other’s clothes off.

Roman will then trail kisses down your body. Sucking on your nipples. Then trailing wet kisses down your stomach till he reaches then waistband of your panties. Pulling it off with his teeth all the while looking at you.

Roman will then proceed to bring his mouth down to your wet core. His warm breath fanning over it. Making you tremble. His tongue will then slip out of his tongue. Flicking his tongue against your clit. Which will make you grip the edge of the desk (if it’s a bed then it’s the sheets) Roman will then move his mouth down. lapping his tongue between your folds. Then he just sucks. Eating you out like he is famished. One of your hands holding onto the edge of the desk, while the other hand is grabbing a handful of his hair. Looking up at you as you tremble and whimper underneath his touch.

Roman will continue to eat you out till you come.

He will either swallow your cum, or stick his fingers into your sensitive core, coating his fingers with your juices. Pulling them out way too fast causing you to whimper. Roman will then stick them in his mouth sucking them. All the while looking at you.

He will give a few more likes before removing his mouth away from your core. Freeing his growing cock from his pants.

You will look at him through glazed eyes. Reaching out to grab his cock. Though roman won't let you. he will pin your hand above your head. While the other one grabs his cock.

Roman will align his cock up with your entrance. The tip of his cock, rubbing your wet entrance. Making you let out a choked gasp. He will then rub his cock between your folds before penetrating into you.

Both of you letting out loud moans.

Romans thrusts are rough. Pushing your back into the hard desk even more.

Roman will leave kisses on your neck and shoulder.

Though sometimes he mostly fucks you doggy style on the desk.

Both of you are in pure ecstasy.

The both of you don’t care about how loud the both of you are when having sex.

When Roman eats you out he will either suck, zig-zag lick, or weave his tongue between your folds. Pinning your hips down. Or grabbing and squeezing your boobs.

Getting thigh burns whenever he eats you out. But it is totalling worth it.

When you give Roman a blowjob, you will first start by kissing your way down his stomach.

Sitting in between his legs. Or kneeling in front of him. Freeing him from his boxers and jeans or dress pants.

Bringing your mouth down to his cock.

Swirling your tongue around the tip of his cock. Then licking his shaft to the tip to swirl your tongue around the tip again.

Roman can't help but moan. Grabbing a fistful of your hair. Or gripping it.

When you put his cock in your mouth, he loses it. He can't help but tilt his head back. Eyes closing tightly, as you bob your head up and down. Sucking him at a slow teasing pace, before speeding up. Eyes watering as you deep throat him. Romans grip on your hair gets tighter. You get even wetter. Salvia, slightly coming out of your mouth.

Roman’s moans and how he moans your name are music to your ears.

Looking at him through glazed watery eyes.

You will also play/massage his balls, bringing him closer to his climax. You hum against him. The vibrations and you playing with his balls sends him over the edge.

His cock convulsing as his warm cum goes down your throat.

Swallowing every last drop of his cum.

Roman will open his eyes when he finishes watching you swallow his cum.

If you are giving him head underneath his desk and he is on the phone, then he will try to express his moans.

You are sure to have carpet burns or swore knees after giving him a blowjob, as well as a, swore jaw and throat but you aren’t complaining.

Always teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock. Before entering you.

Or riding him on his office chair.

Eating you out on the desk.

Thigh tiding him when he is not giving you the attention you need.

Giving him a blowjob underneath his desk, as he is on a phone meeting.

Roman loves the lotus position, as well as you riding him, reverse missionary, missionary, sex against the wall, or desk, shower sex, bath sex, sex in the kitchen, the doggy style position, downward doggy, and any doggy style.

He likes to pull your hair, as well as spank your ass. And dirty talk. A lot of dirty talk. As well as choking.

Roman will likely either cum in you or your mouth.

Roman likes to take care of you after sex. Cleaning you up. Making sure you are okay.

Roman likes to make love to you if you go through a scary situation which you mostly do.

Roman threatening anyone who hurts you.

He doesn’t tell you this, but he punishes the people who hurt you.

You try to not be present when one of Romans clients comes around. You lock yourself in the master bedroom or make yourself scares.

Romans kisses are soft or rough.

His hugs are comforting and make you feel safe. he likes to hold you close to him.

When both of you go to sleep. Roman will pull you flush against his side or chest. A protective arm wrapped around you.

Thigh kisses, neck kisses, shoulder kisses, kissing your nape, your back, arm kisses, course kisses against your lips, hand kisses, soft kisses, passionate kisses, rough kisses, jawline kisses, cheek kisses, forehead kisses, kissing the top of your head, ear/lope kisses.

Roman getting jealous when one of his men cheeks you out.

Roman may be a mob!boss but he still is soft and domestic with you.

He will do what any normal boyfriend will do.

Like, help you cook.

Help you wash up if you cook.

Though he tells you that’s what the cooks are for.

Watching movies with you and tv shows. Especially Netflix.

Roman has all of the paid channels.

Buying you gifts and clothes, handbags, shoes, jewellery, even brought you a car.

Taking you to fancy restaurants and on vacations. Especially on cruises. And helicopter rides.

Your family and friends were disappointed in you, so they don’t speak much to you. when you tell Roman, he asks if you want him to talk with them, but you decline.

When you first saw roman with blood on his hands and his clothes you felt lightheaded and ran off. Roman chased you claiming they betrayed him, and they had it coming. But you still couldn’t help but think that person has still a person.

Having fights about how he won't let you have a job. Or go out alone without one of his men guarding you.

Unbeknownst to you Roman, visited your friends and family to tell them that they hurt you. and well, of course, intimate them.

Both of you have often talked about having kids.

A lot of deep conversations.

Roman worrying about your safety a lot.

Roman not hesitating to hurt anyone who threatens to use you against him. Or blackmails you.

#wwe x reader #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns #wwe #wwe headcanon #wwe headcanons

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matildainmotion · 6 years

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Mothering/ Making - but what about the Mating?!

Spring has sprung at last. The bluebells are out in our garden. The apple tree is in blossom and a pair of wood pigeons that nest there are clearly busy. It is the month of May. The mating season has begun.

Mating. The thing that often, though not always, precedes mothering. A mate: your partner; your other half; your significant other; your wife; your husband; your spouse; your girlfriend; your boyfriend; your man; your woman; your dear one; your queer one; your ex. Have I left yours off the list? Please add them in….

I feel nervous as I sit down to write about this. I have said before that I aim to challenge the ‘professional versus personal’ paradigm around which our lives are organised and via which the personal gets a poor name. But isn’t this theme getting a little toopersonal? It is okay to talk about mothering – it’s personal but valuing it is what I am advocating. It is okay to talk about making – it’s both personal and professional – that’s the point. It straddles both. But your mate? Your partner? Isn’t that a step too far? It feels like a ‘hot spot.’ It is tender, difficult, awkward, and yet it is huge. An elephant in the room, or a father/ mother/ non-binary other, just outside it. All the more reason to brave it. Here goes….

In part I am nervous raising this topic because in doing so I could summon up the image of a group of mothers sitting round having a moan about their men. This is not my aim – quite the opposite in fact. It is also not the only reason why I feel nervous. Inevitably this is where I need to get personal….

I have a husband. I still flinch slightly when I use this term. I like it because I love my husband and I loved our wedding. I want to honour the seriousness of my lifelong commitment to him. I do not like it because of the plethora of assumptions it brings with it about who I am and how my life is organised. It makes me a participant in the ‘proper world’ of marriage and all it brings – for better, for worse. I participate in the ‘properness’ and yet I also identify myself as outside or even against it, certainly not one of its unequivocal proponents.

Back to my husband. We met whilst making. We made a show together. Then another. Then we made a home, and then, a baby. I remember when our son first arrived I did not feel the instant overwhelming maternal love that some describe – the love grew later - but I did feel protective at once, responsible for this raw bundle of life with such palpable needs. This has continued. The children and my care of them – we now have two – are, for me, a given. I cannot not respond to them. If anything this is a confession, not a boast. Judgements aside, I am simply noticing that the children’s place in my day, as part of my time, is unquestionable.

I am in the extremely privileged, and weirdly traditional, position of being, for the most part, supported by my husband financially, which means I have been able to be a full time mother. I love it. I never resent the fact that I do most of the childcare, but I might if I had to give up my creative practice to do so. Along with the children being a given, it has felt essential for me to keep making – the critical quality of this need is the origin of Mothers who Make. So, I HAVE to mother, I HAVE to make – these two take up more than all my time, but what then of my marriage?

Mothers Who Make acknowledges the challenges, as well as the joys, of mothering alongside making, but if I am honest the truly fractious, difficult fault line, or conundrum for me since becoming a mother has not been how to sustain my creative practice, but how to sustain and care for my relationship, for my mate. At night in the tiny window of time after the children are asleep (they go to bed late) I often have a choice: do I see my husband for an hour or do I do some work? At weekends we take it in turns: I give my husband some time to work while I am with the children, then we swap – no time for us. All too often the making and the marriage feel pitted against each other, even though I know that in fact the latter grew out of the former and the two are inextricably connected.

Mothers Who Make meetings and events are adult-centred spaces but the children are welcomed and integrated. Such spaces are rare in our cultural topography yet whilst I am busy broadcasting about these to the world, showing that it is not only possible but good for all of us – adults and children alike – I do not manage it at home. At home we are child-centred and the adults needs are marginalised. We squeeze in our needs around the edge of the children’s or we don’t get them met at all. It is not how I wish it to be, but it is difficult to change. There are several reasons for this, some personal, some to do with the children we happen to have, some connected to our patterns of work - working in the arts our work spills out into every corner of our lives, demanding its own nurturing, and in subtle ways makes it harder for us to assert our adult-connection and ownership of the home space.

Another key reason, not particular to us, is the shortcomings of the nuclear family structure. Within a Mothers who Makemeeting a small community is formed for the duration of the session. Mostly there are more adults than children present in the space, and collectively, sitting in a circle, it is possible to hold the structure of the meeting in place, to keep the space adult-centred even whilst the children interrupt, shout, cry and run around us. With a circle of two, at home, it is harder. I am not saying it is impossible – for some it works, but I believe we need a greater diversity of structures around which we could build our lives. The royal fairy tale goes: man meets woman, they fall in love, marry, settle, have two or more children and live happily ever after. We know it is not real or even necessarily desirable, and yet it is amazing how potent it still remains, how far we compare ourselves against it, so that any other narrative becomes a daring deviation or, worse, a failure.

Whilst the bluebells and the apple tree may be blooming in the sunshine, the carrots that my son planted in one corner are only tiny shoots, barely showing through. Allotment gardeners talk about the month of May, when the winter brassica’s are over and the summer’s first broad bean’s have not yet come in, as ‘the hungry gap.’ There is little or no fresh produce, whilst everything grows. After our initial season of courtship and mating, my husband and I are in ‘the hungry gap’ – we’ve been in it for a while. The children are young and growing but not yet grown, and there is almost no time to feed our relationship. I trust we will come out the other side into a late summer romance, but it is a struggle. I wish we could find another gentler, more joyful way through, not just buckling down and bearing it. We are in the midst of trying, seeing if and how we might house my mother, the indomitable granny, who is as close as we can come to an extended family model, seeing if and how we might be able to reconfigure our home/ work spaces to better meet our needs.

Here then are my month’s questions for you all: what’s your way through? How does it work for you? How does it not? What is blooming? What is struggling to grow? We need a plurality of stories, diverse gardens, a new sustainable ecology, within which to nurture ourselves, our work, our children and our mates be they men, women or queer - they are all dear.

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chroniclesofawkwardness · 6 years

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Ite, emoji est

For as long as I can remember, expressing myself verbally has never been easy. My mind seems to move much faster than the rest of me. I can’t tell you how many jokes I’ve spoiled through the years because I made the comedically fatal mistake of leading with the punchline instead of building up to it. The joke would sound great in my head, but unfold more awkwardly than a junior high dance with the boys on one side of a dimly lit, poorly decorated gym, and the girls on the other. You remember, don’t you? Everyone just sat around looking confused until the DJ announced, “Alright, lets slow it down a little bit.” Water Runs Dry by Boyz II Men would come on, but even then nobody really knew exactly how far apart to stand or what to do with their hands.

My mom attended the same Catholic school as I did. She told me that the nuns who chaperoned her school dances would make sure that there was enough room for the Holy Spirit between dance partners by separating them with balloons. If a balloon popped, so goes the theory as I understand it, the partners had gotten too close. As for the Holy Spirit, I have no idea what happened to Him (or Her). Mom never said whether He escaped or was was squashed to death. Maybe He (or She) was punished by being forced to write in a right-handed desk despite being a natural lefty, which was a favorite corrective action option among the brides of Christ at the time.

By the time I got to high school, there was just one nun left. I took four years of Latin from her, and three of those years were spent in classes at her apartment. Though I left the parochial education system after my freshman year, my parents wanted me to continue studying with her because she was the best at what she did. A true master of her craft, Sister D. was very demanding. She didn’t care if the Reds had blown a four-run lead in the bottom of the ninth the night before, or if the most awkward of all school dances, prom, was approaching. I had to bring my A-game when it came to Virgil’s Aeneid or Cicero’s Orations Against Cataline. If I didn’t, it was going to be a long night, much like games of Cards Against Humanity years later. Sister wouldn’t allow me to feign ignorance of Catilinarian conspiracies to overthrow ancient Rome, just as players in CAH wouldn’t let me play dumb when it came to smegma or pixilated bukkake. Teachers may not have been able to dispense corporal punishment as in years past, but they could still prepare you for future traumatic experiences.

Trauma can also come from something seemingly as innocuous as a text message. My texting skills have gotten better over time, but I still haven’t mastered the art. One area I struggle with is the use of emojis. I knew what they were long before I tried using them consistently, but this did not occur without a learning curve since I was more familiar with their predecessors: icons and emoticons.

I initially encountered icons when we got our first computer that ran on Windows 3.1. I knew we’d arrived in the 90s when all I had to do was click on any one of dozens of tiny pictures to be instantly transported to the far corners of the Internet or deep within the bowels of the computer itself. Hundreds of years from now, maybe historians will mark the beginning of the end of humanity as the mid-90s. This was when almost anything you could ever want became available with just a click of a mouse. Along the way, we became so dumb and temperamental as a species that we had to have things explained to us using short words, microscopic pictures, and dioramas that had previously been confined to second-grade classrooms.

When I got to college, I learned yet another use of icons. They are important to Orthodox religions because they represent significant figures within each Orthodoxy’s narrative, such as Jesus Christ, or Saint Sava. When I visited the Krušedol monastery on Fruška Gora near Novi Sad, Serbia in 2006, I was struck by both the reverence religious practitioners displayed toward the symbolism of the icons, and the presence of a distinctly modern donation box despite the fact the monastery was originally built in the early 16th century.

If reverence towards the symbolism of icons and the occasional donation can take the place of words unspoken, one could make the same argument for the precursor to the emoji, the emoticon. Entire sentences could be replaced in just a few keystrokes:

😊

😉

The last two are supposed to be a face with its tongue sticking out and a head exploding with rage. Word doesn’t know what to do with everything, but it did convert the smiling and winking faces above into emoticons without even asking me first.

Until I upgraded my phone in January 2018, I was largely incapable of viewing emojis, let alone sending them. I lost out on a lot of laughs while texting because my Samsung Galaxy S III (which I held onto long after its heyday) would essentially give me technological middle fingers in the form of blank squares whenever someone would send me an emoji too complicated for my 2012 technology to handle.

Fast forward to July 17th, also known as World Emoji Day. As one of several event leaders for a volunteer organization in my city, I was asked via text to choose which emoji best represents me. Our board wanted to create a Facebook post featuring our contributions to honor the occasion.

Without a second thought, I chose the eggplant emoji. I proudly explained that as someone who eats healthy most of the time, the eggplant symbolized the plant-based diet I try to follow. My objective was to encourage others to eat well without coming across as pretentious.

A few minutes passed before my phone buzzed in reply.

Uh, Dave… would you mind choosing another one? The eggplant emoji has some vulgar connotations. We wouldn't want your choice to be misconstrued.

As luck would have it, I was on my way to work when the response came in. By the time I got to the office, I could read it, but I couldn’t answer immediately since there’s a strict policy against using cell phones at our desks. Eager to share what had just transpired over the course of the eggplant exchange, I told a co-worker about being asked to choose another emoji even though I felt the eggplant suited me best.

He started laughing uncontrollably.

When he’d finally calmed down, I asked him why.

Dude, the eggplant emoji looks like a dick. Don’t you know that?

I did not know that. When looking in the mirror, I don’t see the resemblance. I have no clue who thought of it, or how it caught on. Still, I had to confess my ignorance just like in Cards Against Humanity the first time someone played the smegma or pixilated bukkake white cards. We got a good laugh out of it, and I didn’t mind being shamed because I knew I’d have my shot at revenge on this coworker soon enough. By his own admission, he doesn’t “word well” so I’d just have to let him talk. Without fail, he’d say something that would give me a chance at a verbal jab in his direction.

The worst part was having to wait two hours to reply to the member of the board. She’s one of the nicest people I know, and her smile really does light up a room. She’s someone who makes the most of life, and I’m glad she’s a part of mine. When I went outside on a break, I texted my apology and chose the apple emoji instead. I half expected her to inform me that the apple emoji symbolizes both temptation and adultery, but such a reply never came.

I also want to acknowledge my friend Liz, who didn’t judge me despite my use of the eggplant emoji early in our interaction when I sent her several of them simply because they were the most ridiculous things I could think of while we were both enjoying a conversation. She could have easily dismissed me as a creep who just wanted to get in her pants, but she didn’t. I imagine she laughed hysterically when I told her portions of this story.

Going forward, I’ll stick mostly to sentences. Punctuation should be enough to convey my thoughts and emotions without using emojis or their ancestors. Yet I could just be late to the emoji party. Maybe they do add value to language instead of invading, conquering, and dumbing down everything in their path.

I’m not quite ready to scream: Veni, Vidi, Emoji from atop the seven hills of Rome. Maybe by the time I am, there’ll be an emoji specifically for that feeling; that’s one I’d proudly use. For me, it would signify acceptance. As my language changed, so did I, for the better.

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