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nyx-umbrakinesis · 2 days

Text

minors DNI

Alastor x Lucifer x FReader

Warnings; 18+ only, P in V sex, biting, blood, blood consuming (Alastor mild), threesome, anal sex, reader is a brat, small amounts of Dominance/Submission.

4250 words

Good Morning.

Buzzzzz.

You hear the static hum as awareness seeps back into your consciousness.

Warmth is the second thing that registers with you. A warm bundle under your right arm that smells of pome fruit, and aftershave. Your arm tightens slightly in possession, as you feel the same done to you from a weight over your own abdomen.

A strong arm resting over your waist, the smell of woodsmoke tinged with iron drifts over your shoulder as you feel breath against your cheek, you know the sound you heard means he’s awake.

“Good morning dearest,” Alastor’s cheerful voice is never tired, and you groan in complaint, he chuckles, and you feel your hair being moved off your forehead as the press of his lips meets the side of your temple, you can feel the ever-present smile on his face even with your eyes still closed.

Snuggling down into the warm plush pillow, your bladder decides to make itself known as you feel pressure and the need to relieve yourself, grumpily you start to shift around, prepared to clamber over Lucifer to get out of the bed, knowing there’s no way you’d get past Alastor, as he’s very clingy in the mornings.

As you sling one leg over the Fallen Angel’s waist, Alastor’s arm pulls you back against him, “and where do you think you’re running off to Dear?” a slight growl in his voice, as Lucifer finally rouses, a sound of complaint in the back of his throat as I’m pulled away from even cuddling him anymore.

“We talk about this every morning Al... I have need of the facilities.”

“Well, Dearest, you know the rules,” came his taunting sing-song voice, as he taps your nose condescendingly, even Lucifer, who has turned over by now to observe, chuckles at your predicament.

“Five more minutes,” you grumble.

“Correct, ‘five more minutes’” Alastor hums, pleased, wrapping both arms around you, effectively trapping you, but being mindful not to squeeze your lower abdomen.

Lucifer snuggles against your front now, boxing you in, and you whine in complaint, but Alastor simply responds by wrapping a long leg over the top of yours, pinning them down too.

“You two will be the death of me,” you whinge.

“Good job you’re already dead then isn’t it my sweet,” Lucifer laughs.

“Don’t you start too,” I complain, making both men laugh.

“You know how needy Alastor is in the morning love, just let him do his thing,” Lucifer says, kissing you gently as you blink your eyes open, smiling at him.

“Yes, my King” I say with a mischievous grin at him, knowing it irks Alastor when you give Lucifer reverence of his station. As evidenced by the increase in the sound of static from behind you and the annoyed huff that makes your hair ruffle slightly.

A devious thought enters your head, quickly you grasp Alastor’s knee, and gently tug him even closer to you, causing a pleased sound from your Deer Demon as he presses himself against you fully.

You then wriggle your bum. A sharp inhale comes from behind you, as Lucifer snorts in laughter, knowing full well what you’re doing.

“Do you really think you want to do that right now dear?” Alastor’s voice warns you as the stimulation causes a slight swelling to press against you.

You giggle, “Absolutely,” wiggling again causing his claws to prick your hip as he hisses.

“You’re looking to be punished... aren’t you dear?” Alastor taunts his nose burying in the crook of your neck, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as it tickles you slightly as he sniffs you.

“Me? Never,” you feign shock as Lucifer basks in your warm embrace, pressing his head against your soft chest, his eyes closed as he listens to the pair of you in amusement, his own morning issue throbbing slightly between his legs, but he wasn’t going to let you know about that yet, not when taunting Alastor is so much funnier to watch.

You try to wriggle away from Alastor again as he sniffs your neck harder, effectively tickling you, causing you to flinch and laugh, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay you win,” you laugh as he doesn’t let you go.

Alastor stops his antics, his grin triumphant as you look over your shoulder at him, your bladder spasms again, reminding you of its growing desperation, “all right, now let me up,” trying to wriggle out of his grasp, he growls once more and you huff, increasing your resistance.

He puts head back in your neck and his teeth sink into your flesh in warning, causing you to yelp in surprise. Lucifer laughs at your predicament, “It’s not time yet,” he chuckles.

“How long,” you say in a whiny voice.

“Oh... right about... ... ... now,” Alastor says cheerfully as he releases all his hold on you, leg and all. Lucifer also lets his embrace relax, accompanied by a laugh.

You huff in annoyance; Lucifer lets you hurriedly clamber over him to get out of the bed.

“Oh Dearest? Do hurry back...” Alastor says amused, “You wouldn’t want us to ‘relieve’ ourselves without you after all,” of course he knows Lucifer also has a hard on.

You are feeling stubborn, so stick your finger up over your shoulder as you go to walk out of the room, you feel a light thud on your back, you look around in annoyed confusion as a duck falls to the floor with a squeak, your eyes narrow at a suspiciously ‘innocent’ looking Alastor.

Annoyed and deciding to be disobedient this morning you decide to take your sweet arse time, lest he get too cocky in his control over you. As much as you badly want to rush back to them and not miss out on a second of time with them, you decide to take a shower too.

After a shower, knowing full well you’ve earned unescapable punishment by now you decide that you should go for all or nothing, and go downstairs to take things a step further, so you make a coffee for yourself, taking your time to drink it, smirking to yourself as Husk asks why you’re so happy today, you give a non-committal answer, mind already back upstairs.

Deciding you’ve left them both (Alastor) to stew for long enough, you prepare a coffee in his favourite mug for him and a plate of pancakes for Lucifer knowing full well there’s no chance Alastor would let your attitude go unpunished for long enough that they don’t get wasted.

Wandering back upstairs, you school your features before walking back into the half bayou bedroom, as soon as you open the door you hear the moaning, you close the door swiftly behind you so no one else can hear.

Looking over at the bed to see Alastor’s red piercing stare directed unerringly at you, as Lucifer, hooked sideways across his lap, gets teased with his claw tips, stimulating the head of his aching weepy cock.

Alastor looks threateningly at you; Lucifer’s eyes are squeezed shut as he whimpers, Alastor expertly keeps up with teasing him, his claws gently pressing into the clearly abused flesh.

“We’ve been waiting for you Dear, poor Lucifer has been taking all my attention while you’ve been absent without leave,” his static voice dominating the room.

Your hands shake, half in fear, half in excitement, you know what Alastor’s displeasure means for you, but deciding to play it cool, you breeze over to the bed, placing the mug and plate down on the bedside table, “I brought breakfast,” you say ignoring his statement, despite the heat pooling in your belly, and moisture saturating your undergarments.

Alastor’s smile turns absolutely feral, you look into his eyes defiantly as Lucifer whimpers as his hand releases him, you feel rather smug at being able to draw such emotions from his easily readable eyes.

You shriek as a clawed hand grasps the front of your night gown, Lucifer is indignantly shoved aside with one hand, in favour of swiftly pulling you down on top of Alastor, who keeps a firm, sharp grip on you, making you wince as his eyes darken to radio dials.

“I suppose you found your little stunt terribly entertaining,” he purrs as he pulls your face down to meet his brutal kiss, as Lucifer huffs in annoyance at being neglected now, so he presses himself into your side, kissing your shoulder as your nightwear gets shredded, exposing heated flesh.

The world spins, and you feel the plush mattress on your back as you’re caged in by long arms, not many have been in this position with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, you feel rather smug, as you moan into the kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your eager mouth as you give as good as you receive.

Lucifer’s tail winds around your arms, pulling your wrists together as he starts kissing your neck. The dual attentions making you moan.

“You my Dear, I’m afraid, are in big trouble.” Alastor's voice is back to being deliriously happy, which makes you more nervous, as it means he has formulated a meticulous plan for revenge, not driven by emotions anymore.

His nips to your body, are indeed punishing, making you cry out with every single bite, not too deep, but enough that each one bleeds, he makes sure to taste every single one, getting lower and lower as he goes, Lucifer lying beside you, watching with heavy eyelids, stroking his impressively thick cock as he watches Alastor’s progress down your body.

You lick you lips as you spot the bead of precum on top of his tip, but Lucifer just smirks and bringing his palm up to the top of his cock gathers the moisture to rub into his already moist skin, he tsks at you, fully agreeing with Alastor at your need for punishment.

Which is technically giving you exactly what you want, but you’d never tell them that.

You wince and gasp as your attention is drawn back to Alastor with another sharp bite that smarts, and makes you hiss, right around your nipple, Alastor smirks again, suckling at the blood in pleasure before moving on, down your stomach, small bites that leave marks in a straight line slightly off centre, avoiding your belly button, before sinking his teeth into your right hip.

He keeps his torment up, until he spreads your legs open wide, Lucifer catching your left leg to keep it open, and Alastor keeping his hand on your right knee joint, making sure you stay spread wide as he inhales your mouthwatering almost floral fragrance of arousal.

The sound of jazz floating across the room as the radio comes to life startling you slightly, drawing your attention away from the sinful demon between your legs briefly, before a sharp piercing pain on the inside of your right thigh causes you to cry out, your eyes shooting back down as your still bound hands tangle in his hair, catching on his antler in your haste.

You feel a huff of air as he laughs, still keeping his teeth lodged in the meat of your inner thigh, he bites a little harder, causing you to half moan, half cry out in pain, you tug sharply on his hair in protest. His smile, impossibly widens, keeping his teeth steady, threatening you for just a little longer with them, before withdrawing, and licking the wound soothingly as you whimper.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself Dear?” Keeping up with the soothing action of running the flat of his tongue on the reddened, bleeding bite, this one worse than all the others.

“I brought you a coffee,” you say cheekily as he growls in warning, knowing the kind of brat you can be.

You cry out as Lucifer’s teeth sink into the other side of your neck as he punishes you this time.

“Don’t be naughty sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to provoke our dear Alastor now, would you?” Lucifer says lovingly, his bite not nearly as vicious as Alastor’s had been.

“No, my Liege,” you say to wind Alastor up even more, by giving Lucifer more attention and respect than Alastor.

You gasp as you feel cool air suddenly hit your puffy, excited mound as your underwear meets the same fate as your sleepwear, tossed unceremoniously aside.

A rough tongue plunging inside you, you feel immediate sparks from static inside you in his annoyance, making you moan as your inside's spasm, almost like a mild electric shock.

“Already so wet love?” Lucifer comments, his hand hadn’t stopped rubbing his own throbbing need even once.

All you can do is whimper in response before Alastor drags his tongue out and up to your needy clit, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it just once before pulling away, making you whine in protest, feeling empty, desperate in a different way than this morning.

“Ready to apologise yet Dear?” Alastor raises a brow.

“Make me,” you growl back, making both men laugh in delight.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will.” He mutters, his fingers sinking deep inside you, as Lucifer gives attention to your non agitated nipple, his long tongue making you arch your back into his mouth, whining for more.

Alastor’s fingers firmly but slowly rubbing the inner walls of your soaking wet pulsing heat, your hips buck, trying to make him speed up, the tips of his fingers bumping your soft g-spot each time, making you feel frenzied.

Feeling a tentacle wrap around your wrists as Lucifer’s tail releases you, your arms raising above your head are pinned, making you let go of Alastor’s hair, a sound of complaint escapes you.

You do spot Alastor’s wagging tail over his shoulder, making you smirk.

You protest again at not being allowed to touch.

“Touching is for good little pets, not brats who don’t follow the rules,” Alastor growls with a harsh push of his fingers, making that thrust in particular hit your cervix, making you cry out again.

Lucifers tongue and sucking mouth not giving a moments reprieve. His hand a blur on his own length now.

You feel the tightening in your stomach as you get built up on their combined efforts.

Just as you feel yourself about to burst, everything stops, Alastor's fingers stop, and even Lucifer withdraws from your chest, as you open your eyes you see Alastor’s fingers wrapped in Lucifer’s hair, clearly having dragged him off you.

You pant, the flush in your cheeks and mess of your hair from the heat of the moment making you look delightfully debauched, you see Alastor’s arousal through his pyjama trousers, (The annoying deer hadn't even gotten nude yet, much preferring the power dynamics of having both you and Lucifer bare and at his mercy, before indulging you both, only after you are desperate and needy for him).

You whine, arching your back enticingly, trying to make one of them (Lucifer) break, and take pity on you.

“Ah, ah, ah” Alastor says, his smile unchanging, a sting from a slap to your inner thigh, lower than the bite, punishing you again for your obvious attempt at manipulation.

“Say it,” Alastor demands, his claw tips digging in where he left his hand on your trembling inner thigh.

“Please,” you try again, making Alastor laugh and Lucifer to moan.

“Nice try, but you know what I want to hear Dearest,” his voice lowering, static crackling, his eyes darkening to dials again as he teases you by taking over stroking Lucifer, your hands still bound, keeping you from touching either of them.

You growl again in need, frustrated and trying to tug fruitlessly at your restraints... both men of power laugh at the pathetic look in your eyes as Alastor breaks down your resolve.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Louder pet,” Alastor demands with another slap to your thigh, another tentacle taking over to stroke Lucifer for him as Lucifer whines and moans, falling back onto the bed as the tentacle is fast and rough with him, making his hips buck, the sight driving you mad.

“Okay, Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t follow the rules... please, I need you, PLEASE.” you struggle against the tentacle restraining you.

“Lovely,” Alastor praises, the audio stimulation far better than any other so far as you beg him.

His fingers return to your weeping slit and your head throws itself back as he starts thrusting inside you at a much more pleasurable pace than before, as he takes control of both yours and Lucifer’s pleasure simultaneously, working you both to your peaks.

He stops once more, an evil grin on his face, as you both cry out to him, begging for mercy, it’s music to his ears, they twitch in pleasure, as he greedily observes both of your needy swollen throbbing cores.

Slowly he kicks off his own trousers, making sure you’re both looking, before excruciatingly slowly, dragging himself up your body and sinking inside your glistening, soaking wet, boiling heat with uncanny accuracy.

You feel like exploding around him instantly as your tight hole stretches to accommodate the intrusion, you moan and thank him profusely.

His tentacle resumes its torment of Lucifer, as he sharply thrusts his hips inside you once, wanting to hear the melodious cry you always make when he overstimulates you.

Without fail, the keening whine escapes your throat at your heat tightens from the feel of his cock hitting so deeply inside you with a jolt, fuzzy static filling your ears.

“Please Al...” You pant, trying to move your hips, but he stalls you by gripping you tightly, keeping himself fully seated within you for a while longer as he watches Lucifer’s plight.

You look over and Lucifer is certainly a sight to behold.

Flat on his back, moaning, his hips rising and falling with every rub of the tentacle around him, claws cutting through the mattress below him, eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat covering his lovely, unblemished body, cheeks puffed out, wings spread out and crushed below his body, feathers rustling as they tremble.

You feel the return of the blood flow in your arms and your attention is brought back to Alastor as he starts thrusting consistently now, making your head return to the pillows as you scramble for purchase on his back, nails digging in deeply making him groan.

You moan in supplication, needing more, he leans forward kissing you as his hips pump his cock as deep as possible inside you, his hands helping you raise your hips to the correct angle that has you babbling and incoherent and you feel your entire needy sex clenching as his cock nudges your soft spot inside with precision.

Moaning muffled by his mouth, trying to kiss him back, but being quite useless as he uses his body to bully yours into submission, crying out as the feeling is too delicious for words to accurately justify.

“Fuuuuckkk...” feeling more like a doll than a thinking feeling being at this point.

Alastor hums, pleased, and pulls out of you, making you grab at him in panic, tears in your eyes at the thought of being left in such a state... denied pleasure.

He laughs in amusement as he scoops you up, and deposits you on top of Lucifer, who’s tentacle friend had withdrawn as you were dropped onto his lap.

He’s in just as much of a state as you, “H-hello... love,” he manages to pant.

“Mmmmm,” you reply slumping forward over his chest as you feel Alastor behind you, directing Lucifers cock inside your desperation, making you both moan in relief but also cry out at the pain, even with Alastor preparing you Lucifer’s girth still makes you burn, once you get accustomed, you realise your shaking legs are too weak to ride him, and you almost cry again.

Alastor chuckles, and strokes your back, “patience Dear,” he coos.

You moan as you feel wetness between your cheeks, groaning in pleasure as you feel Alastor working your other hole to stretch you in preparation to take them both.

Otherworldly sounds escape you straight into Lucifers mouth this time as he holds your face, kissing you to help you through this.

“So tight love, you’d have thought we’d never done this before,” Lucifer says between kisses and his own noises of pleasure.

You can only whimper as Alastor stretches you with a third finger, thrusting, testing over and over again until he deems you ready.

You cry out once more as you feel the thick head of his cock pop past the tight ring of muscle, that was still quite tight around his own impressive thickness.

“Almost there, Dear heart, you’re doing so well my love.” Alastor praises, his caressing not stopping as he eases inside you, you're panting and gasping not stopping.

Lucifer kissing your face and neck in support as he lets you breathe through this part, leaving your mouth unoccupied, grasping his shoulders tightly.

Finally, Alastor manages to go balls deep within your most private channel, praises and caresses not stopping as your mind and body try to catch up, slowly you calm down enough.

“Good pet,” Alastor praises, you nod your head to indicate he can move.

His hips move in little thrusts this time as Lucifer holds still, getting your body more pliant and used to the feeling again.

Your fingers dig into Lucifers shoulders harder, drawing blood, he doesn’t mind, his own hands are in your hair as he keeps you both steady and still, showering you with love and kisses as Alastor’s on your hips keep you still.

Alastor is currently making you make the sounds that come out of your mouth, music to both their ears... it's the closest they think they’ll ever get to heaven, or back in Lucifer’s case.

Once they both silently agree you’ve had enough care and preparation, they both begin moving in tandem, your volume increasing as you are trapped helplessly between them.

A blur of overwhelming sensation from the two powerful men.

Lucifer thrusting up into you, rubbing every inch inside you and feeling Alastor through the other side of your walls, making him moan as you are stuffed to capacity.

You feel so much heat and tightness, Alastor’s attentions causing slight pain as he speeds up his own thrusting, rolling his hips. Gauging from your sounds, exactly how far to push your limits.

They work your body like a finely tuned instrument, Alastor’s fingers pressing into your hips, like the keys on a piano.

While Lucifer’s fingers start rubbing your clit, strumming like a guitar... or acting as the bow he uses on his fiddle.

Your moaning reaches a crescendo, you cry out as the innumerable sensations overcome your body.

Squirting violently around Lucifers cock, the cries tearing from you becoming so loud that Alastor adjusts the radio with his power accordingly, as Lucifer tries to hush you with his mouth on yours again.

Both of them moaning as your holes grip them both like a vice, it’s so tight Lucifer feels a throb of pain, he can’t move an inch, but it matters not as the sensation of you squirting a torrent right onto his pelvis has his own pulsing reach its limit, as he explodes deep inside you, spurting without even needing to thrust, already buried so deep not a single drop escapes.

Alastor waits patiently for you both to finish, his smile soft, before chasing his own end, using your relaxed body, lifting you by the hips to work his length in and out of you at a speed the isn’t quite painful for you, but enough of a stimulation for him.

He growls as he bites you on the nape of your neck, one last time, his balls drawing up and reaching his inevitable end.

“Mine.”

Alastor pumps his load deep inside you, his hips smoothly thrusting through the transition as his balls empty, making sure to fill you and not waste any of his seed either as you feel the warmth flooding inside you, as he finishes filling you up.

All three of you slump in an exhausted pile on the bed, Alastor’s ears and tail twitching, Lucifers wings rustle, and you... you’re a trembling mess between them spasming at the slightest twitch within you.

Alastor is the first to recover of course and withdraws gently, then proceeds to help pull you off Lucifer, you and the King of Hell both make sounds of protest as Alastor’s swiftness makes your bodies jolt.

Alastor obviously doing so to entertain himself and punish you again for your audacity this morning.

Situating you so that you’re cuddled into Lucifer’s chest, who presses a kiss to the top of your head bringing his arms around you.

Alastor makes a noise of displeasure drawing your attention... “Coffee is cold,” he says in disgust, placing the mug back down, and uses his powers to vanish it and the plate of pancakes, much to Lucifer’s annoyance, but he says nothing, content to have you in his arms.

A hoarse laugh escapes you.

Alastor grumbles, and snuggles back in behind you, spooning you again, a facsimile of when you first woke up, but now you’re all a sweaty mess of tangled nudity, he kisses your temple again, before nuzzling the back of your neck, smelling you.

“Good morning indeed.” You chuckle.

A/N

Please be nice this is my first time🤣💜💜

@lustylita

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #lucifer hazbin x reader #lucifer hazbin smut #alastor x lucifer x reader #radioapple x reader

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hd-junglebook · 1 day

Text

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X Reader

Part 1

a:n This is a little shorter than I wanted, but it's jack's intro and I think it's really cute. pretty much a bunch of fluff. the next chapter will be released on Friday since I am working on Lukes next. Message me to be added to the tag list and lmk what you think.

Masterlist Link

Summary: Jack and Y/N meet by chance at their local coffee shop on a day clouded with uncertainty. A piece of good news finds its way to Y/N, giving her the strength to keep moving forward.

Word Count - 3685

...

The air in the dimly lit home is heavy and oppressive, like a thick fog that clings to your skin as you stumble through the door. The alcohol coursing through your veins dulls your senses, making the world around you feel distant and muted.

Jason sits on the worn couch, his posture rigid and unmoving, like a statue carved from ice. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now bore into you with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine.

The shadows cast by the weak light play across his face, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the deep furrows of his brow.

As you come into view, disheveled and intoxicated, his features contort with a mixture of anger and disappointment. The lines around his mouth deepen, his lips pressed together in a thin, disapproving line. His eyes narrow, the icy blue of his irises almost grey in the gloom, like a winter sky heavy with the promise of snow.

"You're home late. Where were you?" His voice is calm, but it carries an edge.

You try to steady yourself, but the room spins around you, the walls closing in as if to suffocate you. You struggle to find your words, your tongue thick and clumsy in your mouth, the taste of regret bitter and metallic.

"Out with the girls," you manage to slur out, the words sounding hollow and unconvincing even to your own ears. You kick off your heels, the clatter breaking the heavy silence like the crack of ice on a frozen pond.

He rises from the couch with a deliberate slowness, his movements calculated and menacing, like a predator stalking its prey. The air seems to grow colder as he approaches, the chill emanating from his body palpable even from a distance. He closes the distance between you, his presence looming over you like a gathering storm.

He latches onto your purse, his grip tight and possessive, his fingers digging into the soft leather like talons. "You were flirting with other guys, weren’t you?"

His words are laced with accusation, each syllable like a shard of ice piercing your already raw nerves. The cold fury in his voice is like a winter gale, cutting through you and leaving you shivering in its wake.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you shake your head, movements jerky and unsteady, as if your body is fighting against the weight of his accusations.

"No, Jason, I told you, I was just out with my friends. I wasn't flirting with anyone." The words feel hollow and meaningless. The chill of his gaze seeps into your bones, leaving you numb and aching.

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming as he towers over you, his broad frame blocking out what little light remains in the room. "I don't believe you, Y/N. You've always been too friendly with guys. I know you're hiding something from me."

Desperation claws at your chest, you plead with him, your voice cracking with emotion, "I'm not hiding anything! Why can't you trust me for once?" The question hangs between you.

Your words are a desperate prayer for understanding, for forgiveness, for a chance to thaw the barrier that has grown between you and salvage what's left of the love you once shared.

His grip tightens on your purse, his knuckles turning white with the intensity of his hold. His eyes blaze with a fury that seems to consume him from within.

Under the weight of his gaze, you feel small and insignificant.

"Because every time I trust you, you betray me! You're always sneaking around, meeting up with guys behind my back. I can't take it anymore!" His voice rises with each word, the volume cutting through your silence,

Tears spill over onto your cheeks, the hot saltwater a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that fills your chest. They cascade down your face, leaving glistening trails that reflect the lights.

"Jason, please… I love you, but I can't keep doing this. I can't live like this anymore." The words come out in a choked whisper.

For a moment, his expression softens, the hard lines of his face smoothing out like snow drifts in the fleeting warmth of the sun.

"You're just like all the rest. Always looking for an excuse to leave me. Well, go ahead then. Leave. See if I care."

With a final, wrenching sob, you turn away from him, your footsteps heavy and leaden as you make your way towards the door.

The cold metal of the handle bites into your palm as you grasp it. But before you can turn the handle, Jason's voice cuts through the silence, his tone suddenly weary and defeated.

You pause, your hand still resting on the doorknob, your heart pounding in your chest as you brace yourself for whatever new accusation or insult he's about to hurl your way.

But when you turn to face him, the expression on his face is one you've never seen before. Gone is the anger and the suspicion, replaced by a look of guilt and shame that makes your stomach twist.

"I've been seeing someone else for the past few months. I... I didn't know how to tell you."

You stare at him, your mind reeling as you try to process the implications of his words. All this time, while he was accusing you of sneaking around and betraying him, he was the one who was being unfaithful.

"How could you?" you whisper, your voice barely audible over the roaring in your ears. "How could you do this to me, to us?"

Jason shrugs, his eyes cold and unapologetic as he meets your gaze. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but what did you expect? It's not like we were going to last forever anyway. You pushed me away, always nagging and complaining about every little thing. I felt like I was suffocating in this relationship."

"When I met her, it was like a breath of fresh air. She understands me in a way you never could. She doesn't try to change me or control me like you do."

You thought you knew him, thought you understood the depths of his love for you.

…

2 months later

You stood in line at 'The Brew' coffee shop, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping you like a comforting embrace. The rich scent of roasted beans mingled with the subtle sweetness of vanilla and caramel.

Ahead of you, a charming elderly couple deliberated over their order, their laughter filling the cozy space. The woman poked her husband, her lips curved into a playful smile. "Do you think we should try something new today? Maybe one of those fancy lattes?" Her voice was a melodic lilt.

Her husband chuckled softly, the sound a deep, rich rumble that seemed to emanate from his very core. His hand rested gently on his wife's shoulder. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled down at her.

"You know how much I love my black coffee," he said, his voice a soothing baritone. "But if you want to try something new, I'm more than happy to indulge you."

As you waited patiently, your eyes wandered to the man next to you, who seemed lost in thought. He was engrossed in a conversation on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, creating a series of deep lines that etched themselves into his forehead.

He shuffled his feet nervously, the movement causing the light to catch on the polished leather of his shoes. His gaze flickered to the menu before him, a brief moment of indecision flashing across his face.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him, admiring the way the soft, golden light of the café danced across his features, The angles of his jawline were sharp and defined, a stark contrast to the soft, inviting curve of his lips.

The air seemed to crackle with an invisible energy. Who was he speaking to, and what stories lay hidden behind those piercing, enigmatic eyes? The questions danced on the tip of your tongue, begging to be asked, as the world around you faded into a blur of color and sound.

the man beside you turned, his eyes catching yours in a moment of recognition. His lips curved into a charming smile, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards as he spoke.

"Oh hey, you're my neighbor, right?" he asked, his voice smooth and warm, like honey drizzling over freshly baked bread. “You live on Baker Street?”

You blinked, surprised by his sudden acknowledgment. Your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks, "Yes, I do" you replied, your own voice soft and hesitant, a stark contrast to his confident tone. You felt your shyness begin to fade, melting away like frost under the warmth of his gaze.

"I'm Jack," he said, extending a hand towards you. His movements were fluid and graceful, his arm cutting through the space between you with a sense of purpose.

As he reached out, you noticed the way his fingers flexed, the tendons in his hand shifting beneath his skin like the strings of a finely tuned instrument.

You shook his hand, your own fingers grazing against his skin. His hand was warm and firm, his grip strong and reassuring. You could feel the roughness of his palm, the slight calluses on the skin.

"I'm Y/N," you said, your own name sounding foreign and new on your tongue.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Jack said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. The light seemed to dance in his irises, like stars winking in a midnight sky. "I've seen you around, but we haven't had a chance to chat."

"I'm usually too shy to say hello," you admitted, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. The heat rose in your face, painting your skin with a rosy hue. Your gaze darted away from his, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his attention.

"Well, I'm glad I broke the ice," Jack said. His words were punctuated by a soft chuckle, the sound rich and inviting, like the first sip of a perfectly brewed cup of coffee. "I'm a bit of a chatterbox myself."

You laughed, finding yourself drawn to his easygoing nature. The sound of your laughter mingled with the ambient noise of the coffee shop. As the line moved forward, you approached the counter, your steps falling into sync with Jack's.

Standing nervously, your gaze fixed upon the menu, you tried to focus on placing your order. Jack stood beside you, his voice was a soothing hum, his sapphire eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched you deliberate over your choices.

As you opened your mouth to speak, Jack's voice broke the silence. "Can I have a banana muffin? And whatever she's getting, we're together." His words caught you off guard, and you turned to face him, your eyes wide with surprise.

Before you could protest, he raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a playful smirk. "Yeah, I'd like a banana muffin and a green tea as well, thanks." You uttered to the cashier.

The barista nodded, punching in the order as you stood there, momentarily stunned by Jack's gesture. You managed a small smile, your heart pounding erratically in your chest.

…

You collected your drinks and made your way to a nearby table. Settling into your seats, you wrapped your hands around your warm cup, the heat seeping into your skin and grounding you in the moment.

Jack's gentle gaze fell upon your hands, and you suddenly became aware of your own nervous habit. Your fingers were picking at your cuticles, a subconscious gesture that betrayed your inner anxiety.

"You should stop doing that, you'll do some serious damage to your cuticles," Jack said softly, placing his warm hand over yours.

"Nervous habit," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the hum of conversation around you.

Glancing at Jack, you found his piercing gaze already fixed upon you. His eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, seemed to see right through you, as if he could read your every thought and emotion. You felt exposed, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable.

"So, Y/N," Jack said once you had paid, his voice smooth as honey. "What brings you to The Brew today?"

You fumbled through your words, your shyness threatening to hold you back. But as you looked into Jack's eyes, you saw nothing but patience and genuine interest. He listened intently to your every word, his focus unwavering as you spoke.

"Just a quick drink to fuel my day," you replied, your fingers fidgeting with the cardboard sleeve of your cup. "I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Sounds like my kind of day," Jack said, his lips curving into a sympathetic smile. "I play sports, so I spend a lot of my down time at coffee shops."

A playful glint flashed in your eyes as a sudden burst of confidence surged through you. "Oh, so this is something you do all the time? Talk to pretty girls in coffee shops?" you said, your tone light and teasing.

Jack's eyes widened, and he sputtered, caught off guard by your unexpected quip. You raised your hands in surrender, a grin spreading across your face. "I'm kidding, Jack. What do you play?"

a laugh escaped his lips, the sound rich and warm. "Ice hockey for the Jersey Devils," he stated nonchalantly, his eyes searching your face for any sign of recognition. You nodded, a hint of uncertainty in your response. The name sounded familiar, but it was never a sport you had invested much time in.

You vaguely recalled Jason, your ex, being an avid Rangers fan, and you assumed the Devils must have been the team he was always passionately screaming about during games.

"I don't know much about the sport, but it sounds like fun. Do you enjoy it?" you asked, your tone genuine and curious.

Jack nodded, his response somewhat reserved, as if he didn't want to delve too deeply into the subject. Shifting the conversation, he inquired, "What do you write?"

"Novels, mostly," you replied, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about your passion. "Romance usually, and when I can, I help out with this sports magazine, ya know."

"I love reading romance novels," he said, his confession causing your eyes to widen in surprise. You hadn't pegged him as the type to enjoy the genre, but the revelation only served to intrigue you further.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to add you to my mailing list," you said, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

With each sip of your green tea, you felt your nerves slowly melting away. Jack's laughter filled the air, the sound rich and infectious, and for a moment, you forgot all your worries.

As you finished your muffin, savoring the last few bites, Jack turned to you, his eyes holding a hint of something more profound.

"I'd like to see you again," he said, his voice a gentle whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Maybe we could exchange numbers if you want to, of course?"

A surge of excitement coursed through your veins, your heart beating a little faster at the prospect of seeing him again. "Yeah, I'd really like that," you said back. You smiled, feeling a flutter in your heart as you exchanged numbers, your fingers brushing against his as you handed him your phone.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N," Jack said, his voice warm and sincere. His eyes lingered on yours, holding your gaze for a moment. "I hope to see you around."

"I hope so too, Jack," you replied.

…

The sterile smell of disinfectant mingles with the faint aroma of latex gloves. You sit nervously in the doctor's office, your foot tapping an anxious rhythm against the tiled floor. The ticking of the clock on the wall seems to echo in your ears.

The door opens, and the doctor enters, a warm smile gracing their features. Their white coat rustles slightly as they move, the fabric crisp and pristine. The doctor's presence brings a sense of calm to the room.

"Hello, Y/N," they say kindly, their voice soft and soothing. They take a seat across from you, the leather chair creaking slightly under their weight. "Let's get started, shall we?"

You nod, swallowing hard as a lump forms in your throat. Your hands fidget in your lap, fingers intertwining and untwining as you try to calm your nerves. The doctor begins by asking about your medical history, their pen gliding smoothly across the clipboard as they jot down notes.

The conversation shifts to your recent symptoms, and you describe the fatigue that has left you drained and listless, the nasal swelling, and the tender breasts that have made even the slightest touch uncomfortable.

After discussing your health, the doctor suggests running a few tests to confirm your suspicions. "We'll start with a urine test to check for the presence of hCG," they explain, their tone reassuring. They hand you a small plastic cup, its surface cool against your fingertips. "I'll be back shortly to collect the sample."

You take the cup, your hand trembling slightly as you rise from your seat. As you make your way to the restroom. The tile floor feels cold beneath your feet.

In the privacy of the restroom, you take a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies that flutter in your stomach. You follow the instructions, your movements mechanical and precise. As you cap the sample, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

You return to the examination room, the plastic cup clutched tightly in your hand. The doctor takes the sample, offering a reassuring smile as they prepare to run the test.

The minutes seem to stretch into hours as you wait, the silence broken only by the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of voices in the hallway. The waiting is the hardest part. The doctor returns to the room, a reassuring smile on their face.

"Thank you, Y/N. Now, while we wait for the results, can you tell me the date of your last menstrual period and any potential dates of conception?"

You take a deep breath, trying to focus your scattered thoughts. As you provide the information to the best of your recollection, a knot forms in your stomach, the memories of those moments flooding back to you.

The doctor nods, jotting down the details on their clipboard. They ask a few more questions, their tone gentle and understanding, the conversation flows naturally.

After what feels like an eternity, the doctor excuses themselves to check on the test results. The room falls silent, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, each second a reminder of the life-changing news that awaits you.

When the doctor returns, they have a file in hand. They take a seat beside you, their expression softening as they meet your gaze. There's a warmth in their eyes, a sense of understanding that puts you at ease, even as your heart races in anticipation.

"Y/N," they begin gently, their voice filled with compassion, "the urine test came back positive for hCG. It looks like congratulations are in order—you're pregnant."

A wave of conflicting emotions washes over you, a tempestuous sea of feelings that threatens to overwhelm you. Tears well up in your eyes, a mixture of joy and sorrow, hope and fear. The doctor places a comforting hand on your shoulder.

They talk about prenatal care, healthy lifestyle choices, and the importance of self-care during this transformative time but it's tempered by a sense of overwhelming sadness, a bittersweet realization that this moment is not quite as you had imagined it.

…

As you step into your home, the weight of the news settles upon your shoulders. Your hand instinctively finds its way to your stomach, a gentle caress that acknowledges the life growing within you.

You look around the living room, your eyes falling upon the photographs that adorn the walls and shelves. Images of you and Jason, frozen in moments of happiness and love.

One by one, you lift heavy pieces of furniture, rearranging them with a vision of a brighter future. The familiar layout melts away, replaced by a canvas upon which you can paint your hopes and dreams.

Framed photographs and cherished trinkets that once held sentimental value now seem like relics of a bygone era, you gather them up, your heart no longer clinging to their memories. The walls, once adorned with the echoes of a broken past, now stand bare, ready to be filled with the laughter and love of a new chapter. You run your fingers lovingly over the smooth surface of your stomach just as you finish your cathartic cleanse, your phone chimes with a message.

You pick it up, a smile spreading across your face as you see Jack's name on the screen. You settle into the couch, sinking into the soft cushions as you eagerly open the message.

"Hey there, I was thinking about you. How about dinner tomorrow night? I know a great little Italian place."

Your fingers hover over the screen, poised to type a response, but hesitation grips you. Your fingers hover over the screen, poised to type a response, but hesitation takes hold. The news of your pregnancy weighs heavily on your mind, a secret that both excites and frightens you.

You know you should tell him, but doubt creeps in, insidious and persistent. You and Jack aren't even officially dating yet. Your relationship, while promising, is still new and undefined.

The thought of burdening him with this life-altering news so early on feels unfair, potentially derailing the tender connection you've begun to forge. What if the prospect of fatherhood sends him running?

"Dinner sounds perfect," you type, hitting send before you can second-guess yourself.

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3

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eggyrocks · 3 days

Text

bruised part five -> my person

m.list

♪ now playing: remember by alex g ♪

Iwaizumi's certain he's being punished. Some kind of penance for a transgression in a past life.

Her arms are wrapped loosely around his neck, and his arms are hooked under her knees as he carries her towards their apartment on his back. And he can feel too much of her: her cheek resting against his shoulder, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against his chest, and the warmth of her breath on the skin of his neck.

It makes it harder to focus. It makes him want to forget about how it was Bokuto's shoulder she was resting on when he arrived to bring her home. And that's something he won't let himself forget.

And as if she can hear this thoughts and decides she wants to torment him, she squirms, nuzzling in closer to him, and whispering softly, "Haji," in his ear.

He swallows before he answers. She's the only one who calls him that. "What's up?" he asks, trying not to let his rising heartbeat or twisting nerves seep into his voice.

"This is like," she starts, and then pauses, blowing out a hot stream of air that lands right on Iwaizumi's neck and goes straight down to his gut, "fucking, the millionth time you've picked me up drunk."

"Yeah," he agrees with a chuckle. "Well, you're a sloppy drunk."

She offers up a hum in agreement. "You must really fucking love me to put up with me this much."

Iwaizumi thinks that his heart leaps up into his throat, for just a second. "Of course I do," he confirms. "You're my best friend, dumbass."

There's nothing she has to say in response. She turns her head to bury her face in the fabric of his shirt. The rest of their walk back is silent.

It's only a few more minutes before they arrive home. Iwaizumi doesn't let her down once they cross through their front door and he kicks off his shoes. He ignores the smug sort of look that (the somehow still awake) Kyotani tosses in his direction and brings her directly to her room.

He thinks that she's asleep by the time he deposits her on the edge of her bed, and he's ready to throw a blanket over her and slink back into his own room. But the second he places her down, a hand goes tight around his shirt, and she yanks Iwaizumi down to lie beside her. "Stay with me tonight," she says, not once opening her eyes as she lays her head down on his chest and wraps an arm around his middle. "Like when we were kids."

It's not anything like when they were kids. When they had sleepovers and she managed to convince them both that there were ghosts and demons lurking, and they needed to stay together for protection. Or when her parents would fight and she would sneak through his window, staying the night with him just so she wouldn't be alone.

It's not anything like that, Iwaizumi thinks, as he hesitantly settles back against her pillows, and places his arm over her shoulders. "At least take your shoes off," he mumbles.

Through the darkness of her room, he can almost see the way her legs shuffle and struggle to kick off her still tied shoes. But she does so without ever lifting her head away from his chest, flicking her ankles so her shoes soar across the room, landing in a spot they're almost certainly not supposed to be.

She sighs, content, and wiggles in place, like she's trying to settle in deeper to him. "Did you know," she starts, voice heavy with sleep and intoxication, "that you've always been my person?"

Iwaizumi looks up at the ceiling. Shadows from the light outside her window shift and reshape. "Whaddya mean?" he asks, barely a whisper. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat.

"I dunno," she mumbles. "You're just my person. Like, our lives are so intertwined. I dunno who I'd be without you. Like, if you disappeared from my life tomorrow, I dunno how much of me would be left. I'd be like, a new person, y'know?"

And there's no one she'd pick over you.

Iwaizumi breathes evenly and deliberately. There would've been a time in his life, and maybe it was pretty recently, that those words would've made his chest swell up with pride. Because of course he's her person. She's always been his. That's how it's always been. It's always been them.

But now, the words twist in his chest like a knife.

I don't think she'd have room for a romantic partner that's not you.

"Don't worry about that kind of thing," he says, turning on his side, facing her and pulling her into a tighter embrace. "I got you."

Her voice is muffled, so he almost doesn't hear it when she says, "I know."

Tonight, he can be selfish. Tonight, it can be just them. He can hold her in his arms and he can't pretend that things don't have to change. Tomorrow, he will make room. But tonight, it's just them.

an: enjoy this written part :) i loved to write it. also im still working on the 500 follower requests dont worry

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @hikikaimar @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @causenessus @frootloopscos @0moonii @ekeio @milkwithspicyicecubes @michivrse (please complete this form to be added, it is the only way to be added)

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ihatealimore · 2 days

Text

Lover, You Should've Come Over

(word count: 1.432) (angst, comfort)

Sitting alone in the dim room, Kurapika finds himself consumed by a painful wave of regret. His hands curl into fists at his sides, fingernails digging dents into his skin as he thinks about (Y/N). A beautiful woman with sharp eyes that saw right through him.

"I pushed her away," He mutters to himself, the extent of his actions weighing on him heavily, "I was so concerned about dragging her down with me... I didn't consider what it would do to her."

The memories of their past together begin to seep into his mind like venom spreading its poison throughout an unsuspecting body. Their laughter echoing through empty halls, the way she'd playfully tugged on a lock of his blonde hair whenever they sparred together. Each memory brings forth another flood of bitter sorrow that gnaws at the edges of Kurapika's already damaged heart.

"She deserved better," He whispers hoarsely against the icy silence that wraps around him, "And I... I couldn't give it to her."

The taste of regret is sour on his tongue, but nothing stings more than remembering how (Y/N) had looked at him when he walked away, pure understanding reflected in those knowing eyes. A silent acceptance that cut deeper than any blade.

"(Y/N)," Kurapika breathes out, the name slipping from his lips like a prayer.

His gaze focuses on the empty space before him as if he could summon her back with just his longing.

"I'm sorry. I should've stayed," He murmurs quietly into the stillness of the room, shame lacing every word, "I miss you..."

A strained sigh escapes Kurapika's lips, his eyes dull and filled with sorrow, "If only I could see her again..." His voice trails off into a broken whisper, the words hanging stubbornly in the stagnant air surrounding him.

He would give anything to see those bright eyes again, to see her smiling at him so tenderly, to feel the warmth of her skin against his own. The pain plaguing him seems unending, spiraling deeper within his chest with every passing second.

His hand instinctively moves towards where he imagines (Y/N) might be sitting if she were here, an empty gesture aimed at filling a void he himself had created. He misses everything about her, her stubbornness, her recklessness...

But most importantly, how understanding she was, even when things didn't make sense.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Kurapika declares quietly as if making a vow to himself, "I just want another chance."

The blonde-haired man's hand hovers over his phone, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He contemplates calling her, the weight of his decision making his heart pound louder in his chest. His fingers itch to dial her number, a series of digits he had memorized by heart.

The screen glows softly in the dim room, casting an eerie light onto Kurapika's face as he scrolls through his contacts until (Y/N)'s name comes into view. Her contact picture is one they'd taken together during happier times, both of them smiling so brightly that their joy seems almost tangible.

His thumb hovers over her name for what feels like an eternity, every second amplifying the heavy silence encompassing him. The fear gripping at him feels strong and suffocating. What if she doesn't answer? Worse yet... What if she does?

"(Y/N)..." He says under his breath, steeling himself before finally pressing down on her contact information.

As he brings the phone up to his ear, Kurapika bites down hard on his lip. He can taste the metallic tang of blood dripping into his mouth but he barely registers it. All he can focus on is the rhythmic beating of a dial tone, a stark contrast to his erratic heartbeat.

His grip tightens around the device as every passing second becomes a harsh reminder of how much time had been wasted, how many words were left unsaid, and how many actions were done out of fear instead of love. His breath hitches when after several agonizing moments, her voicemail greeting plays.

But even just hearing her recorded voice gives him a brief sense of reprieve, grounding him back to reality from where regret and pain drag him deep within its clutches. It isn't enough though. He needs more than just echoes of her voice trapped in a digital recording.

Hearing the beep indicating it's time to leave a message, Kurapika takes in a deep breath before speaking. His voice quivers slightly, but he presses on, "(Y/N)... It's me, Kurapika."

He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

"I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now but... I miss you."

The words taste bitter on his tongue, an admission of guilt and longing wrapped together.

There's another tension-filled pause before he finally lets out what had been gnawing at him all night long, "Please come over. I need to see you..."

With that final plea hanging heavily in between them, even if she isn't there physically, he ends the call. His phone drops back onto his lap as he leans back into his chair, letting out a sigh full of uncertainty and vulnerability.

She may not come... But at least now she knows how desperate he is without her.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, Kurapika had begun to lose hope. The silence is deafening and doubt claws at his insides with a vengeance. He spends the passing hours aimlessly pacing around his apartment, trying to distract himself from constantly glancing towards his phone.

When he hears a subtle knock echo through the room, the Kurta freezes in place, heart pounding fiercely against his ribcage as he makes way to the door.

Dread and anticipation swirls within him as he gently pulls open the door, revealing (Y/N) standing there under dimly lit hallway lights, her silhouette creating shadows that dance across her features.

For a moment, it seems as if time itself has stopped, everything silent except for their shallow breaths mixing together in sync before he finally releases an audible sigh of relief.

"Kurapika?" Her voice is filled with surprise, and before she can utter another word, he has already thrown his arms around her. His grip is tight, a desperate hold born out of fear that if he lets go even slightly, she'll disappear.

He buries his face into the crook of her neck, every inch of him attempting to memorize her, the way she feels against him, the faint scent of her hair mixing with the outside air lingering on her clothes.

A shaky breath escapes him as he tries to gain control over his racing heart, albeit in vain, because now that she's here within his reach again... He doesn't want to let go.

"Kurapika?" She echoes and the sound of her voice, so close and filled with concern, causes something warm to bloom in his chest. As she returns his embrace and begins to rub soothing circles on his back, he feels a few of the knots in his stomach start to unravel.

"You sounded... Unwell in your voicemail. Are you okay?" Her words resound through him, genuine worry laced into each syllable.

"I..." He swallows hard as he draws back just enough to look at her, meeting those beautiful eyes that hold nothing but sincerity, "I've been better," It isn't a lie but it doesn't feel like the whole truth either.

"I can tell," She replies quietly.

He lets out another trembling breath before tightening his hold around her again, not ready yet to fully face what's been haunting him for so long without having her close.

For now, he wants to linger in her arms. Holding onto her as if she's his lifeline, Kurapika allows himself to sink deeper into her embrace, her comforting warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes and into his cold existence.

He presses his face further into the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent deeply, "Just let me hold you for a bit longer," He murmurs against her flesh, hoping she'll understand just how much he needs this right now.

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere," She whispers against his ear, the softness of her voice flowing into him and further calming his anxious thoughts.

Kurapika's heart constricts at her promise, gratitude washing over him in waves. He tightens his hold on her further, as if conveying all the unspoken emotions through this one gesture.

He doesn't know how long they stood there in silence, time seeming to lose its grip on him as he simply allows himself to exist within this comforting bubble with her by his side... And for once, it feels okay to let down the walls around him even if it is just for a little while.

This feels like home to him, something he thought he had lost forever.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hxh x reader #romance #hunter x hunter x reader #writing #kurapika #kurapika x reader #kurapika oneshot #idk if this is any good lol #tried to be poetic

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sunkissed-zegras · 4 hours

Note

Paige nsfw hcs pls

─ warnings | NSFW under the cut! read at your own discretion!

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | the long awaited nsfw headcanons for paigey, i finally got the motivation to write it after i kept reading the INSANE smut yall keep writing (keep it up im lovin it) also this is such a mess, this is just rambling and not organized whatsoever, but wtv i hope yall enjoyed :)

woo, where do i even begin?

let's begin with the obvious, paige is a TOP, i can't stress this enough

i genuinely can't see anyone topping her she's just .... a TOP

but that doesn't mean she won't let you take the reigns every once in awhile, esp after a bad game/tiring practice because everyone once to be taken care of sometimes

i'm def not the first person to say this and certainly will not be the last but STRAP GAME GOES SOOOOO HARD

i feel like at first she's gonna be weirded out cus like... she likes only girls for a reason??? and she has her mouth and fingers??? why would she need a piece of plastic to make her girl feel good???

but the first time y'all try it, she's hooked

she forgets ab her hands after that

jk but like

yeah she's HOOKED

she gets really into it LOL, def can imagine her calling the strap her dick

oh and she fucks HARDDDD like, no room to breathe or anything

like you'll be gasping for air after and she'll be super duper proud

i read this one fic with like the dual ended one (i didn't even know that existed) and then i was like yep, yes this is the oneee

with positions, i can't see her doing anything more than like missionary (cus she loves to see your pretty face) and like from the back

but as soon as she discovers riding, it's OVERRRRR for you

she's making you ride her strap anytime she can, cus she loves it

she has her hands on your hips as she's guiding you and she LOVES IT so fucking much, like the power she has over you makes her go feral

oh and do not get me started on sucking her strap, cus again she loves the power she holds over you

she has your hair in a ponytail and the more you get comfortable with the whole thing, she WILL make you gag

she acts like it's her dick (yeah i know we covered that) but like esp when you're sucking her strap, she will just dirty talk u the entire time

"you like my dick, pretty girl? like gagging on my dick?" cus yeah, u do

oh and yes, she does have breeding kink

it breaks her heart that she can't get you pregnant 😪

but she sure as hell will pretend to!!!!!

will 100% bend you over and just yap about getting you pregnant

also if she's fucking you in missionary, she expects you to look at her the entire time

so if you turn away, she will grab your face and keep you looking straight at her

FUCK IDK WHY THAT'S SO HOT

paige is a D1 yapper i fear, and that would 10000% seep into the bedroom LMAO

mostly praise cus babygirl would feel really bad but when she gets into, she GETS into it

like she will call you her slut as she's about cum

that post-nut clarity goes hard the first time tho cus she's like no way i called my gf a dirty fucking slut 😭😭 she sits with her thoughts for a good 10 minutes trying to recollect herself

she is a munch for sure, like she will eat you out for hours and hours on end (not an exaggeration btw)

but she LOVES when you give back

it makes her go fucking feral when she sees you eating her out, like yessssssssssssss

she has to close her eyes bc if she keeps looking at your face, she WILL cum

she has a bad hair pulling problem, like she will grip your hair so hard your head will hurt after

it's apart of the appeal tho 🎀

her fav spot to get absolutely ate is her gaming chair cus like, she needs you in between her legs giving her support to get that victory royale 💯💯💯

she hates when she gets ass or tits bc she genuinely cannot pick

it depends on the day bc they're both great, she will never pick one

i feel like she's definitely thought ab fucking you in public but she can't risk it

SHES A D1 ATHLETE !!

the only time yall did was in a bathroom at an event and it was SOOO bad afterwards cus everyone could tell

you had to pretend like you didn't get your brains fucked out and paige had to pretend she didn't DO the fucking

but lowkey she enjoyed it a lot, but would she do it again?

maybe, a solid maybe (with the right motivation)

okay but like ....

she def has fingered u while the girls are over cus like, she was in a silly mood?

you just looked too fucking good, she had to

but thank god no one noticed (at least to yalls knowledge...)

she's a horny fuck ARGUE WITH THE WALL

she will get turned on by anything you do, like homegirl is just sooooo down bad for you

you could be applying chapstick and paige will be like "we need to fuck, now."

paige's aftercare is just giving you water and cuddling with you for 10 mis while scrolling on tiktok and then gets up to play fortnite with kk

she literally is the tiktok where it's like "after he rearranges my organs he goes and plays fortnite" i hope yall know what i'm talking about

but you don't mind ofc cus she makes you sit on her lap while playing

but then turns into another round cus shes a horny fuck

paige is all for hickies on YOU but she gets pissed when you give her a hickey cus she's like people are gonna see

like she's the only one who has to deal with the public 🙄🙄🙄

but she loves marking you EVERYWHERE, esp on your collarbone like it's so sexy

oh and god bless you in the summer, the ones on your thighs are getting AIRED OUT bc paige does not care

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#wcbb x reader #wcbb #ncaaw #uconn huskies #ncaa wbb #women's college basketball #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #uconn wbb

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saintgoths · 1 day

Text

ᴀɴɢᴇʟꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ

POSSESSIVE!JOEL X SIREN!READER - VEHEMENT.

[PART EIGHT TO THE SIREN SERIES]. ITS ACTUALLY CALLED NOVEMBER.

WORD COUNT - 2,463.

RATING - 18+. [sexual innuendos].

SUMMARY - as joel no longer wants to have a secret affair with you, he gives you a dilemma.

feedback would be appreciated!

previous chapter - chapter seven.

It had been late September when both you and Shiloh started going fishing together, it had been a quick trip, but Shiloh hadn’t been passionate about going back to Jackson after the event, he had something else in mind and it was to take you to a private place that had been quite a distance from where you usually fished.

The building had been evidently abandoned, or used to be abandoned as usually left places would have the infected hiding in the dark ready to pounce whoever was lost and ignorant about how well they were at camouflaging. The architecture was towering enough to block the Sun from their eyes, and it had a few cracks along with moss and grown roots that covered the symbol of the building, it had slightly leaned to the side but seemed stable, it still looked pretty, you had thought, and hand in hand with Shiloh, you had allowed your partner to guide you inside the building.

“What is this place?” You had smiled and with your senses you had noted the scent of salt and chlorine.

With a smile, Shiloh gently curved his head to look at you. He had been pretty under the shade, the lights had been on but they were dim, but still enough to have the man glow as if he was an Angel. “This is a place where you can swim without having the potential of any other person seeing your true form.”

As your eyes glinted, you had easily come up with a joke. “Am I supposed to hide my identity?” You had asked and as he comedically rolled his eyes, Shiloh guided you to a door and pushed it open with his one hand, as the door had been old, there was a deep but sharp moan that had responded to the movement “You know what I mean,” he mumbled and once you had saw the sight of the pool which had been clean, you had considered Shiloh had come here before, slain the infected and cleaned up the pool so it could be safe for you to dip in.

“Pool water won’t automatically change me into a Siren,” you clarified, besides you knew how to control your transformation, if you had wanted to change you could, but you couldn’t do it when it came to salt water. It would take a Siren years to learn how to manipulate themselves to still be in their Human form if the Ocean water touched their skin.

You had stood at the top step that led into the water, ready to go in as you had loved the water. “And it took me many trips to the Ocean to gather salt water for you,” Shiloh said with a smile, and as you scrunched your nose, you easily allowed yourself to change once your body dipped inside the liquid. “Well, its mixed with salt water, it would’ve taken me a team to gather salt water to fill up that size of the pool.”

You had laughed as you floated on your back, your tail had gently whipped around as it flicked droplets of the pool’s water against your bare skin. You had sighed as you had spread your arms wide open, allowing the salty water to seep through your nose, your mouth, your eyes, everything, every time you had been away from water, you had missed it, the water was your home, your birthplace, where you had belonged.

“Your beauty---I mean your Siren form is beautiful,” Shiloh breathed out, he had been in his swim wear, shirtless, a view you had usually liked but you would’ve liked it even more if he was wet.

As you had turned to your stomach, you had gently moved your tail so you could push yourself further towards your lover. “When Joel first saw it, he was terrified.”

“He cannot see the beauty in it, it’s the infamous Human Fear,” Shiloh said as he sat on the edge of the floor, his legs inside the water as he lovingly watched you swim towards him, your webbed hands had placed against his knees, the texture of your smooth siren skin had caused him to shudder, but he loved it, it had made him want to feel your hands and body all other his skin, had speculated how it would feel, to make love to you in this form. “It’s good you’re not with him anymore,” he whispered as he drawled his head backwards. “Good that you’re not into him anymore.”

You had shyly smiled, regretful that you had slept with Joel behind Shiloh’s back. “What about the Siren Pack you used to belong to?” Shiloh asked as he slipped himself into the water, sucked in air between his teeth as he had taken in the cold water.

“A Chorus of Sirens,” you had corrected. “We’re called a Chorus of Sirens not a pack,” you had smiled as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “We had the best singers,” you explained. “Before everything had happened, we belonged to the Mediterranean Sea Chorus, but we often met with other Choruses, for traditional holidays, birthdays, parties,” you had sorrowfully smiled, “other traditions.”

“When the outbreak happened, each Choruses from different seas began to protect each other, especially against the Red Circle, they had wiped so much of us out, I was forced to go, to save myself and not look back, but before I did, I promised them that I’d come back, to look for them. I went everywhere, ever beach, seaside, I just couldn’t find them,” you said as you slowly let go of Shiloh who had looked at you with a specific expression, a look of interest and sorrow.

“So, when I came up with the conclusion that they must’ve all been killed off while fighting, I was angry, started coming to the beaches to find any man and eat them, but that all changed when I met---” you then stopped yourself and sighed, but with a short smile, you had felt Shiloh’s wet hand be placed against your cheek.

He had stared at you, had gently pushed your face for you to look at him, to see that he didn’t have a look of judgement, and then he spoke. “It all changed when you met Joel?” Shiloh had asked and with a sad smile you had felt his fingers move to your chin, your chin moving against his fingers as you nodded.

“Because I met Joel,” you agreed.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Once you had returned to Jackson you had been overrun by a crowd of curious people who had been willing to buy what you had been selling, fish to eat and fish to have as pets, you had a crowd trading with you, Bella who had been a part of the crowd had stood on the tip of her toes, her hand punched through the air as she crazily waved as a sign that she was coming towards you.

People were quick to leave with their new assets so there weren’t going to be much people that were going to hear the conversation you and your closest friend were going to share. “You came back later than usual,” Bella said, she had her signature red lipstick, a type of shade you would’ve disliked seeing on other people, but it had fit well on her, it was like the shade of blood from a freshly cut wound.

“Shiloh took me a place,” you shared and with a wink, Bella grinned at you. “You got down to business?”

With an arched eyebrow you placed one hand against your hip. “Of course.”

As much as you had wanted to share what Shiloh had done to you to your friend, the sight of Ellie had made you press your lips together, she had been excited to see you, and it appeared like she had left Joel’s home, she usually was in a chirpy attitude whenever she left his home, it must’ve meant they finished watching a movie.

“This time, I have to get a fish,” Ellie said and as you had happily showed Ellie which ones she could choose, Shiloh had been behind you, he had finished conversing with someone who was a part of the crowd that was buying from you.

He had his arm wrapped around your waist fore he briskly pressed his lips against your cheek, his motion had earned a disgusted look from Ellie. “I’ll be at the hospital,” Shiloh shared and as you had happily scrunched your nose you had bid your boyfriend a goodbye fore you had watched him leave.

-With a plastic bag that had held the fish she had wanted, a Betta Fish she had been unsure what to name it, she had told you to give it a day and she’d find the perfect name for it. “Did you use to be a diver?” Ellie inquired and with a smile, you had straightened your back.

“A free diver,” you corrected and with a look of admiration, Ellie had gasped, more reason to put you up on a pedestal. “Used to get into competitions as well,” you had winked and with excitement, the young girl had hopped on both her feet.

“Did you win any trophies?” Ellie asked and with a look sent her way, you had looked at her with a perceptive look on your face, telling her, “of course, I did.”

With a gasp, Ellie’s green eyes sparkled. “Do you have any of them?”

-“Ellie,” you drawled. “Of course not.”

Feeling stupid, Ellie had then frowned. “Of course not,” she repeated. “You probably lost all of them.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A couple of days had passed and you had found yourself in a bar, it had been Maria’s birthday and almost all the adults in the community had packed themselves into the building, fortunately, there had been space, space for people to dance around and dance with each other, hot food and drinks were being served, and you been right by Shiloh who had been drinking countlessly in the name of Maria.

Joel who had been on the other side of the room had watched you, you had felt it, every time his sight would glance over your body, as if he telepathically yearned for you to come speak to him. Though it had stopped, but every now and then Joel would steal a glance from you and Shiloh would be the one to catch it.

“Of course, he’s the jealous ex,” Shiloh slurred, eyes narrowed as he threw Joel threatening darts, Joel who had been unmoved by the slimmer man’s attempt of intimidation folded his arms.

With a sigh, you put down your glass cup and spoke. “Leave it alone Shiloh.”

“The audacity,” he continued. “To make you feel bad for what you are, and act like the ex that did nothing wrong.”

As you had hushed him, you had awkwardly scanned the area to make sure no one heard what he was speaking about, fortunately no one did. “Please don’t speak about it,” you pleaded, aware that if Shiloh did speak more, people would nosily eavesdrop.

With a twisted face, Shiloh hunched over the bar table the both of you had been on. “Why are you defending him?” He asked and flabbergasted you had sat up.

“I just want the situation to be left alone,” you truthfully said, aware with how people started to lean closer towards the both of you. With a sigh, you had turned to Maria with an apologetic look on your face. “I’m so sorry Maria,” you apologised grateful that she had waved it off. “He had too much to drink,” you said as you pulled yourself off the seat you previously sat on. “Come on, let’s go, I’ll take you home.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You had left Shiloh at his home and proceeded to go back to yours, you had made sure your partner was comfortable in his sleep before you left his home, as much as you had wanted to stay with him, a pull in your mind wanted to have a moment of peace, so it was your home as the final outcome.

You had just taken off your shoes when you heard someone knock on your door, you furrowed your eyebrows in thought Shiloh might’ve followed after you, but you were wrong, it was Joel.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” you said and without permission, he had stepped into your home.

“I’ll leave after you make your decision,” he said, and anxious that anyone had saw him come in, you quickly closed your door. He wasn’t drunk or tipsy, but you were aware that the few sips of alcohol and gotten him confident in what he wanted to say.

It had looked like he was more muscled than before, or it was the outfit he was wearing, his beard was growing, you were usually the one who trimmed it down, but he looked manlier with his growing beard, you saw the way he scratched his neck, his hazel eyes still on you as he carefully watched how you moved, it wasn’t necessarily forbidden for Joel to come him, but it was somewhat of a silent agreement both you and Shiloh had shared, for you to not see him again, but you did break the rule, countless of times whenever you had visited Joel when everyone else was asleep.

“I no longer want to have a secret affair with you,” Joel muttered. “It’s either me,” he said. “Or Shiloh.”

Arms crossed; you had anxiously tapped on your feet. “You’re putting me in a difficult situation,” you replied, avoidant of his gaze. “This has all happened because of how you reacted when you found out what I was.”

Shocked, Joel frowned. “How was I supposed to react when I found out the woman I loved was half fish?”

“When Shiloh found out what I was, he didn’t react the way you did,” you argued, aware that you had been wrong, everyone reacts differently, but you had so wanted to be right.

“He knows what you are?” Joel said, his eyes wide in realisation.

You sighed. “He always knew what I was,” you answered before Joel could say anything else, aware that if you didn’t tell Joel that Shiloh knew what you were before the two of you dated each other, he would’ve pressed further. “He accepted me, so I’m going to pick Shiloh.”

Disturbed, Joel leaned backwards, for a moment you couldn’t quite understand what expression he had worn on his face, but you had feeling he was unprepared for you to pick him, angry even, but without another word, he had turned around and left.

feedback would be appreciated!

masterlist

#joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us 2 #the last of us two #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #tlou #the last of us #siren #joel x reader #joel miller x siren reader #joel miller x siren #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joelmiller

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 2 days

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After you put in the quote about the reader and Duff being switches during the NNN fic with him, I need to see a subby Duff get rode into next week 🙏

A/n: I hope I brought justice to this prompt because I love subby men and I love Duff

Warnings: Smut, sub Duff, dom reader, dacryphilia, bondage, mommy kink, praise kink, if you think I missed something please let me know otherwise enjoy!

Duff was tied to the bed, all splayed out for you as you pumped his dick up at a painfully slow pace. His cheeks were already wet with tears that seeped into the pillow under his head. He was a whining, crying mess in your hands.

“What a sweet thing you are.” You praised, giving the head of his cock and light kiss. “All needy for me, all because of a little teasing.” You gave his tip a few kitten licks before taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it.

“Please, please, just fuck me, please!” He cried, kicking slightly even though his ankles were tied. You pulled off his cock, letting go with a pop.

“Yeah? Wanna cum that bad?” Duff nodded, another whimper leaving him. “Alright, since you’ve been good I’ll give you what you want.” You moved to straddle his lap, lining your hole up with his member and slowly sinking down onto him. “Now, since you wanted this, you have to give the orders, understand?” He nodded again but didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Can-can you move? Please? Please move.” He pleaded, looking up at you with wet puppy eyes. You smiled at him and did as he asked, starting to rock your hips on him. This seemed to satisfy him but only partially. “Go faster, please, please! Go faster.” More tears started to leave his eyes which only fueled your ego.

You did as he asked and went faster. Much faster. Bouncing up and down on his cock, which made a prominent bump in your abdomen as per usual. Duff cried out for you, squirming around as much as he could with his restraints. You only laughed at him and kept going, focusing more on your pleasure than his. “No, no! Can’t-can’t take it, please! Please, mommy, be nice, please!” He begged.

“Thought you wanted this?” You asked with a small pout, a fake one of course. You stopped completely to look down at him. “Should we just get dressed and go to bed then?” Duff shook his head.

“No! No, please, need this, need this so bad!” You smiled down at him and got going again, this time a much better speed for him. It wasn’t excruciatingly slow but it wasn’t so fast it hurt. There was a sweet spot somewhere in there that had him moaning so beautifully. “Fuck~ thank you, thank you so much.” He said with a goofy grin. “Ngh- ‘m gonna- cum.” He mumbled.

You kept at that pace, letting him reach his high after all the teasing he went through to get to it. You felt his hot seed hitting your walls and you kept going to let him ride out his high... then you kept going even after.

He was whining again, words slurring together as he pleaded for you to stop and wait for him to catch his breath. “Huh? What was that?” You asked with an innocent expression. “Can’t hear you baby, you gotta speak up.” You started going faster and it didn’t take much for him to start squirming again.

You were bouncing on him and laughing at his reaction to overstimulation. “Fuck, gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.” You said, tracing a hand down his torso. You noticed his movements were getting more aggressive but didn’t think too much of it until his hand hit your ass and you realised the ropes were coming undone.

You scrambled to fix it but it was already too late and Duff was soon free to do as he pleased. Of course he was still all sensitive but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still bigger and stronger than you.

The blonde flipped you onto your back, gripping your shoulders tightly as he bit into your neck to silence the whines that wouldn’t stop leaving him. He desperately bucked into you, a thumb rubbing your clit and soon your eyes were rolling back into your head and you were cumming on him. Your back arched and your nails dug into his back as you moaned out his name.

With your cunt squeezing him as you came it wasn’t long before he was cumming again. He cried against you, the sound was so loud and whiny you wondered if he truly was ok.

When he was done he rolled off you and curled up into your side, resting his head on your chest. He took your hand and gave it a soft kiss with his bruised lips. You started playing with his hair and he soon calmed down to quiet sniffles every now and then.

“I love you, mommy.” Duff mumbled, still holding your hand to his lips. You chuckled softly and kissed the top of his head.

“I love you more, Duffy.” You whispered back. “Such a good boy, you know that?” He nodded softly. You saw his eyes were closed and he was almost asleep. “Did so good for me tonight.” You wanted to make sure he fell asleep knowing he was loved so you kept praising him and playing with his hair until you heard his soft snoring.

#guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses smut #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fluff #gnr #gnr fanfiction #duff gnr #gnr smut #gnr x reader #gnr fic #duff mckagan #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan smut #duff mckagan x reader

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thetypingpup · 15 hours

Text

badboy!yuta would definitely have a thing for you wearing innocent looking panties. He'd buy you all kinds, some with lace and frills that enticingly trace out the shape of your thighs and the curve of your hips, some with bright colors and patterns that stand out on your skin. He loves seeing you in the cutesy panties he buys, taking plenty of pictures to keep for his own collection. He loves how you look in them, how coquettish innocence merges with such seductive charm to make you look so incredibly appealing, edible even. His dick throbs at the sight alone, and when you play into the innocent game you both like to play, he's all but cumming right on the spot from the eroticism of it all.

But his favorite thing about them, by far, is rubbing your pussy with his cock while you have them on. It becomes something of a past time for him, holding your thighs while he thrusts between your legs against the cloth of your panties, taking in the sight of you squirming beneath him.

When the pleasure begins to build, when the arousal becomes too much to bear, he slides his cock under your panties and right against you, making you gasp out the cutest little moans as you feel him rub against your folds and over your clit. Coupled with his hand around his shaft, he essentially starts jerking off to the sight of you, all while using your pussy to get off. Filthy words and degrading praises spill from his lips as he enjoys the sight of you, enjoys the feel of you, enjoys playing with you like his own little toy.

"Look at you, sitting there whining, letting me rub my cock all over you like this. Fuck I can't get enough of you."

"What a little slut, letting me do such dirty things to you. Surely this isn't the innocent girl I first met."

"So good, so fucking good for me, princess. Keep your legs spread just like that, baby. Let me cum, all over you."

He loves the softness of the panties and the silken heat of your pussy. He loves that he can see the imprint of his dick pressing against the cutesy designs, knowing he's defiling you underneath, seeing your arousal and his precum staining the fabric. He loves when he can see the full outline of your pussy through the sheer fabric, seeing how it clings to your core, and then dips his cock under to rub against you some more.

More often than not, he deviously teases you with the tip of his cock, as it "accidentally" slips past your folds. The feeling of his blunt tip pressing inside you instantly makes you want more, and you whine, wordlessly begging him for more. The teasing ramps up, as he taunts you for wanting his dick inside of you, for being such a slut you want him to use you completely. Your face burns, both from embarrassment and arousal, and your head spins as thoughts start to leave your mind. All you know is that you want him to keep going, want to feel more of his cock inside of you, want him to keep touching you and playing with you and giving you that delicious pleasure you've come to crave.

The words he says his harder, seeping through the tangled mess of your mind, "Oh, is that why you wore this, princess? To get me hard? So I'd wanna put my cock in your pretty pussy? What a slutty little doll, getting so excited to be used."

He'd only slide in and fuck you more if you beg, and if you do, then he moves your panties to the side and makes you watch as his cock slips in and out of your pussy. His hand is still on his length, still jerking off, only he's jerking off with your pussy which makes it all the more naughty. He'd only let you cum if you keep your eyes on his cock the entire time, watching exactly how he's making you feel good, watching the way he defiles you.

Sometimes he cums on your panties. Sometimes he cums under them. Sometimes he cums in your pussy and lets it drip out. But however he cums, he makes sure to make a mess of you. He makes sure you can feel the wet heat of his release against your skin, letting it slide over you just so you can feel how dirty he's made you. Even as he kisses you afterwards and tells you how good you did, he wants you to feel how thoroughly you've been used, and intensify your experience of feeling like a pliant little doll.

#bad boy!yuta #nct smut #nct yuta smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 yuta smut #had this in the drafts hehe 🤭

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chosokamosbf · 7 hours

Text

ᑎIGᕼT ᒪIT ᗪEᔕIᖇE.

☆ 18+ only/no minors. | jason todd x gn! reader.

SUMMARY: a nsft fic waking up jason from a nightmare by bringing him to the edge

WARNINGs: 18+, (consensual) somnophilia, gn! reader, (jason receiving) oral, nightmares, minor mentions of blood and scarring.

WORD COUNT: 1600+

NOTEs: second person & no plot. ["babe/baby," and no pronouns used to refer to the insert/reader.]

Sprayed over silk sheets of a bed with more than enough space, in your all-consuming unconsciousness, your body managed to wedge itself in close to your boyfriend, where your head is settled right in the empty space of his shoulder. The weather hasn't been kind of as late, and so all fabrics other than the blankets pushed to the very edge of the mattress hours ago are short to combat the heat.

It hasn't helped much. The fan Jason had set up on your side to turn in place is losing the war as you're both covered in sweat. It isn't made any better by the fact he's been using that shoulder to cradle your head from underneath, the rest of the arm resting over your chest.

The deepening of this velvet night is broken to a steady close as he stirs hard enough to knock you out of that position.

You slowly blink the fog from your mind and rub the crust from your eyes with the one arm that isn't being partially buried under his weight.

The city pours in through even the smallest cracks between the curtains, enveloping their own designated areas in multicolored amalgamations of beams formed from sirens and electrified billboards nearby. It seeps over the sheets until it's reached the ceiling, leaving Jason's arms painted in its light, giving a full show of just how much they're twitching.

The other couple in the complex, whom you have gotten to know real well from their screaming matches (as muffled as they may be), seated only a few apartments away, have nothing on how loud his heaving is getting.

His face is turned away now, and you get up on your elbows to find pale lids pinched tightly together, brows in a deep, settled frown. It's not a far cry from what usually makes him intimidating under the helm, but there's a pout pulling at his lips all the while.

Recently, there's been no notable injuries, but his hands have found either one of his arms just to hold them steady and prod his fingers into anyway.

Sometimes your voice is enough alone to call him out of his head with how much he loves it. "Jason?"

He stays in place, and you sit up to speak his name into the night again while your fingertips trail down an arm.

This time around, a groan answers your inquiry.

His forehead is slick with a growing layer of sweat. The white tank top he was just teasing you about after catching wandering eyes earlier in the night is stuck to his broad chest, and barely is it settling with every pant.

"Jason, you okay?"

It's always an uphill race with the few hours of rest he's allowed in between 'work.' Some days are better than others, and this clearly isn't one of them.

If plain intuition is serving you well, it's another nightmare.

Your teeth catch on your lower lip. "Baby?"

Rationality by damned, your voice stays weak as the thought of waking him up properly stays just that, a thought.

At worst, Jason's going to get moody if you interrupt his sleep, and he'll carry that over into the morning. Sure, he's trying to get better at communicating, but leaving behind the go-to of never doing just that has given way to taking hours to open up. Still, he doesn't seem like he's enjoying the dream.

There are a thousand or so possibilities as to what this one is exactly about, and you don't need to be a genius to know that he might head straight to the bathroom to get rid of the nasty pit in his stomach by the end of it. As much as you'll usually do your best to help out yesterday's dinner and hold his hair up if need be, there has to another option.

And there is.

Unconventional as it may be, you've talked about it before. When exactly is a fuzzy memory. At best, it stirred from another night of endless rambling, something to fill the silence when you both were left awake.

Most others he's all by himself when he gets back. It isn't the worst, as long as he isn't bleeding to death. Put away everything and make sure nothing gets on the carpet—a steady tradition. Sometimes, he's left with excess energy, though.

He mostly took the offer with little chance in his mind that he'd use it. The rules were set, and Jason made it clear that it was allowed on either side. Wasn't like he was going to make much use of it anyway.

And technically, he hasn't. Three times over a year or so ago, and each one was a gentle transition back into consciousness before he'd shown just how much he appreciated it: appreciated you.

Carefully, you get his nails to pull away from his skin and settle him on his back again. His shirt has etched up over the night, leaving his stomach and the happy trail growing across to the melt-worthy temps.

Trying hard not to wake him up, you press your head onto his chest, slowly rubbing down on his belly.

Instantly, his breathing stutters.

Even in sleep, he's so gorgeous it hurts to even look at him, not in spite of the stubborn scowl still hanging on his mouth. Those thick eyelashes frame closed eyes. Instead of them blinking awake, his head rolls back over to the side, and the long-since healed gash sprayed over his neck gets stretched into the light peering into your two's home before he's yawning.

And you exhale softly. It feels as if you're breathing in nothing. You swallow hard—once, then twice—and inch your hand past the waistband of his boxers.

He's warm in your palm, and then his breath hitches while you freeze in place.

But Jason doesn't make a move to break your hold on him.

In slow strokes, your hand wrapped around the thick of it glides across, using the pre-cum to make it easier on the both of you. It's not taking much for his cock to start holding up on its own at the attention, but it's taking up the space you need. Your wrist is going to sting in the morning either way, but still.

Gaining more courage, you dare lift your head and softly kiss his cheek.

You form a better grip around it, continuing to kiss every scar and the edge of his lips while your thumb circles the cockhead. A leg swings over another, and the purrs he's basically humming out by now—his lips sealed in his sleep—nearly muffle how the bed creaks when you move to take place between his.

After grabbing the elastic band of his underwear, you slowly pull it down enough for the length to slip free, already drooling and half-hard.

You lean down to slide your tongue down the side to see if that wakes him up, and it doesn't.

The taste of him coats your tongue, and you hollow your cheeks, gradually taking it down till it's almost hitting your throat. The second a groan slips, undiscouraged even through the girth, your hands come around his hips to settle them back down more gently after they subconsciously jerked forward.

Musk overwhelms your senses. Your head tilts up to find through lashes that an arm's moved to rest over his forehead.

Bobbing your head in tune with the same shaky movements moments ago, you suck on the flushed tip, the nib throbbing hot and insistent, pinning your tongue down.

It starts off quiet, but then the breathy moan filling your ears begins to overshadow the whirling fan. What you can't fit down your throat, you use your hands to give equal attention to. Your face slots closer to his taint to kiss at his balls with spread lips.

Thighs flex over and press against either side of your head, clenching and undoing their tense stances every few seconds while the sheets shift with the writhing further up the bed. You grant yourself time to breathe before kissing the head and then trying to take his thick cock back inside.

So deep into the intimacy, your eyes close just to feel a hand in your hair. A sharp tug pulls you off to see the dark curled back over you.

Seeing him from your angle below, there's a thousand things he could do—instead, his nose scrunches up, and rather than rub his own fluttering eyes open, he holds up a hand to block out the stream of light poking through into his space. The other is laid aside as he props himself back onto an elbow.

His voice isn't anything but a slur. "What're you doing?"

"You were having a nightmare, so I woke you up."

Jason's exhaustion rings through the growl that slips. He doesn't need to look at you for long to tug you towards him and press his lips to yours. In a messy drawl, both of your jaws end with salvia glistening over the skin.

They crash insistently onto yours in heated breath.

Although you're definitely going to remember to clean out your mouth in the afterglow of tonight due to the morning breath.

"Don't remember asking for a wake-up call." His breathing stays the same as it has been: heavy while he's pulling you closer to rest his head over one of your shoulders. "But thanks, baby."

White strands of curls stick to his forehead and roll against you. Meanwhile, he's making use of the little space to trace the muscles of your back with the rough pads he has for palms.

He talks against your lips, refusing to pull back even while the edges of his tug at his own.

"You wanna use that mouth again and finish what you started, babe?"

#jason todd x gn reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd #dc comics #gn reader #mine #grabbing and strangling him like bart simps0n. but affectionately

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acalfinthemuseum · 1 day

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nightingale

Fandom: Succession Pairing: Roman Roy x F!Reader Length: 15.5k words AO3 Link: acalfinthemuseum This is my first time writing a fanfic ever so please be gentle, I just couldn't resist writing something about my favorite little chew toy, Roman Roy. There's a little bit of Spanish sprinkled in because I love anything that keeps a miscommunication trope running. Click the AO3 link or see the footnotes at the bottom for a translation. English might be my first language but I’m bad at both lmao Genre: Angst, Fluff, and Smut. Porn with Big feelings

Tags: weird power dynamics, spit kink, slight degradation (mutual), fingerfucking, mutual masturbation, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of familial abuse Summary: Your job as an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, comes with a lot of challenges. You find it hard to leave him though when you see the way his family treats him, and that's the only reason why you stay. It has nothing to do with the way he makes your face heat up at times. You both have a gift for digging under each other's skin and it's only more amplified when he visits your home late one night.

You find yourself hunched over your kitchen table and feel your eyes glaze over the unfinished puzzle taking over two-thirds of the table’s surface. Your brow furrows in frustration as you stare at the jigsaw pieces over the rim of your mug; sipping the “sleepy time” tea that has failed you miserably. You avoid looking at your phone, knowing that it’d only frustrate you more if you saw the time tick away closer to 3 in the morning. Sleep has evaded you once again, nothing new. You had decided long ago that rather than try to beg your body to let you sleep, thrashing about pathetically on your bed, you’d ride it out. You’ve rebranded your chronic insomnia as just a little bit of “me time” where you try to do the hobbies that you say you enjoy to people during small talk. You can practically hear your brain cells fizzle out and you decide to step away from the puzzle and sprawl over the nearby couch. You close your eyes in hopes that you might finally drift off but that dreadful antsy feeling— that anxiety for a train that will never pull in— seeps back in. Your eyes snap back open and you let out a small groan as you peel yourself off of the couch, opting to pace around for a bit instead. This was actually the first time in a few weeks that you’ve had to confront this problem. Your job, an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, could almost be considered a relief to this issue of yours. Almost.

Your boss had a nasty habit of making you work late and not just an hour or two of overtime. He’d like to call you up at night when you had finally settled in at home and he’d ask —tell— you to come running right back to the office. Any sign of rebuttal from you is met with a quirky threat of firing you, raking you over proverbial coals. And, like the sweet dumb lamb you are, you do go running back to help him with whatever menial tasks he’s given that evening; there you are, hunched over the boardroom table (much larger than your own kitchen table) looking through the papers that clearly didn’t interest Roman enough for him to actually move from his perch. At times you’d look up from your work to look at him as he leans far back on a rollie chair sipping at god knows what kind of alcohol from the overpriced crystal in his hand. Each time you see him you quietly hope that he’ll lean too far and eat shit. No one has heard your silent prayer yet. The work he gave you during those nights was never too difficult, which you were grateful for, but sometimes it was the ease of it that drove you insane. It left you feeling a little hollow, an insignificant gray decoration for his desk that hasn’t had any time to do things outside of his orbit, even if you wanted to. Your own friends have started begging you to leave but for some reason you won’t. It was painfully cliché to say, but you didn’t find Roman nearly that bad during those evenings. Every so often he said something you genuinely found funny and in exchange there were other not so rare moments where you managed to make him crack. He would always order too much of some type of ludicrously expensive food for himself and then guilt you into finishing what he couldn’t. Eventually you realized it was his way to keep the both of you from starving overnight, his leftovers were always conveniently your favorites, even things he hated. He also always made it a point to message you each time you headed back home. Caring enough to check that you were still alive was as low as a bar could be but you did emphasize flexibility in your resume and you were, shamefully, a little too eager to bend. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully hate him but it was even worse that you found yourself liking him a little.

You remember one night you were in his office and he had given you the task of forging his signature on months’ worth of papers— a mind numbing task that you were certain he had given to you as a form of entrapment. You finished up rather quickly that night. The clock hadn’t even reached 1am and as you stood up, hoping to leave, he added on another task: to proofread his latest speech for a shareholder meeting. If he had asked you at a reasonable hour you might’ve been intrigued at the idea of being trusted enough to edit your boss’s work. But that night you felt snappy and asked why he couldn’t just use some sort of AI software instead to polish whatever garbage he had frankensteined together. He shot back that the moment a new Alexa or Cortana came with a better pair of tits he’d happily fire you on the spot. You must have felt sentimental that night because the only response you could muster was a bitter “thanks ”. A smarter person would’ve heard something like that and quit, but a little part of you felt fuzzy when you saw him grin at his own joke. An even sadder part was almost curious to know what that meant about how he looked at you, the phrase “better” implying he looked at your chest often enough to develop an opinion of it. Did you want that? You shake your head free of the memory, You drag your hands across your face and groan, suddenly feeling a little pathetic thinking about your boss late at night. You take in a deep breath and step towards your kitchen table once more. The loud, grating buzzer at your apartment’s door causes you to flinch midstep, fuck! For a split second you flip through all of the possibilities of who it might be and how quickly you could hide in safety if your home intrusion nightmares prove true. You slowly step back into your kitchen and you jump at the sudden ring of your phone. Speak of the devil and he will appear.

“Roman?” You answer curtly, any fear you may have felt is now blanketed by a layer of annoyance.

“Finally! I knew you were awake, now be a dear and open the door!”

“That’s you?? Why are you here? Go home.”

“Hmmm nah, nope. I’m good here. Now open up.”

“No???”

“ ‘kay, let me make it easier, open the door ooorrrr you’re fired.”

You feel your eyes threatening to roll back into your sockets as you head towards the door. You’re not particularly thrilled by the idea of him being in your home but you know he’d never leave without at least harassing your neighbors. Too tired to reason with him further, as is often the case, you do as he says and head to open the door for him. You crack the door open a smidge, blocking the opening with your body, he asked you to open the door —not to let him in. Your eyebrows raise in surprise as your gaze lands on a disheveled Roman, he raises one hand to wiggle his fingers in a hollow hello. You ignore the greeting and blurt out the first thing you notice.

“You look like shit.” Not the nicest thing you could say but you could live with that guilt.

“Aw, thanks.”

“What do you want?”

“Do you think the only reason I’m here is because I want something? That’s a little mean, I thought we were friends.”

Your mind slides the word friends back and forth, like floss between your ears.

“Are we?”

You let that question hang in the air, the idea of being considered Roman’s friend felt equal parts exciting and disappointing. Maybe he could tell you were hesitant. You didn’t like holding eye contact with Roman, it made you feel . . odd. But your annoyance, coupled with the restless hum that’s kept you awake, seems to help take the edge off and you don’t look away. The lighting is crude and sterile in the halls of your apartment building, your cheap landlord is seemingly attached to the fluorescent’s hostile charms, but you can still trace out what’s different about him tonight. You were accustomed to seeing him lose a bit of his polish at these hours when at work. His stupid slicked down hair turns unruly, suit jackets and ties go missing and his sleeves roll up unevenly, wrinkling his pristinely starched shirts. You’ve caught yourself staring at this version of him once or twice. It’s painful to admit that you thought he looked good— you’d sooner bite off your tongue than use the actual word you had initially thought of when you saw him, attractive . But tonight he looks tired, the stark lights shadow his face harshly and, when he shifts slightly, you notice he’s hurt. A busted lip and a matching cut on his right cheek are undeniable. You feel your jaw clench tight and an icy feeling slides down your neck.

“Rome…..” You hesitate using that nickname, it feels foreign in your mouth. Something indecipherable flickers past his eyes. You had heard the name said numerous times between his family but you weren’t quite sure if familiarity was a requirement for it. You push through it and keep speaking. “…. what happened?”

The smug smile he wore when you first opened the door has been pulled into a frown. He thought he’d be able to fall back into a comfy rhythm when he got you to open the door but the look in your eyes makes him feel small and stupid for even considering being here. His eyes drop to his feet and voice gets a little quieter.

“Can I come in? Please?”

The tension in your jaw releases when you hear him say please. You suddenly feel guilty making him wait outside like a stranded animal.

“Y-yeah, come on….”

You step aside to make room in the doorway for him. His shoulder brushes against yours as he steps inside and you bite your inner cheek at the rare touch, now’s no time for that. It was hard to push it down though, as big of a penchant as Roman had for draping himself over things, he rarely touched you. You had touchy bosses in the past so he was a welcome change, but sometimes it left you wondering if it meant something, like if he had a weird repulsion around you. Maybe that was for the best because you couldn't be certain that you'd pull away if he did lean in. You get a better look at him once you’ve closed the door and headed into the warm light of your kitchen and you feel a load of stones drop in your stomach.

“Shit. You look bad.” You grimace looking at the cuts on his face. He lets out a small puff of air through his nose.

“Are you always this nice to your guests?” His brow furrows as if in confusion but the hint of amusement in his voice relaxes you a bit.

“Only the ones that I’m friends with.” He can hear a teasing lilt in your voice.

“Fuck off.” You see a small smile on his face and that warm fuzziness in your chest returns.

Hot coals sit heavy in your stomach though as you think of how it must hurt to smile like that with his face the way it is now. You roam around the kitchen to fix him a cup of water and some pain meds. You remember whiffing some type of malt liquor off of him when he brushed past you and then decide to pick out the dosage for him. You feel uninterested in helping damage his liver any further. You place the cup and pills on the countertop in front of him.

“Take this.”

He picks up the cup and pills in either hand. His eyes narrow as he looks at the medicine in his palm and back up to you.

“You better not be trying to roofie me.”

“Only in your dreams, Roman….” Your reply sounds tired. Ah, there’s the annoying man you know and love , you think to yourself.

“Clearly. Can’t even get you to admit that we’re friends, fuck .” His voice grows bristly and he looks back down at the pills in his hand.

“Why are you so bent over this?” Your face is furrowed with frustrated confusion.

He glares at the bargain brand ibuprofen in his open palm. A sour look grows on his face and he mutters under his breath.

“Yousaiditfirst.”

“What?”

Despite your one worded question, he leaves no space after what he said to elaborate. He swings the meds into his mouth and chugs all the water in his cup. You stare as he drinks, watching his throat gulp it all down. He takes in a sharp breath and sets his cup down on the countertop once he’s done.

“You said it first.” He repeats it clearly.

You give him a blank stare, cocking your head inquisitively, and if it were a different time and place he’d think you looked like a pretty bird. Roman grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at you, he knows that all things considered he shouldn’t be cold around you right now. It’s a dick move, but something about the genuine curiosity on your face as you blink at him makes him feel irritable. He knew when he hired you that people often deemed you to be a patient person. At least more so than the average person. And he had a wonderful knack for testing the nerves of anyone in a 15 ft radius. A perfect fit. He felt an initial sick glee at dragging you around everywhere, a shiny new stretch armstrong toy to entertain himself with. It made things easier that he actually enjoyed being around you; he thought you were funny, smart too, in a way that mattered. He had spent plenty of time around enough mouthbreathers to know the difference. You felt like a real person to him, a nice one , and right now he feels like it’s coming back to bite him in the ass. You felt comfortable to him and that was an un comfortable thought to have. He’s noticed that he’s always looking forward to being around you, to the point that whenever you’ve tried to leave him on late nights he feels offended. Wasn’t being around him enough for you like it was for him? He liked to bury that thought by reminding you, both of you, that he could ruin your life in minutes. You can’t go away, the only way this can end is if he makes you. He knows you’re smart and part of him tries to convince himself that that is enough for you to already know how he feels. It’s a half-boiled alibi that helps him feel better about being a shitty friend. Why did you come back to the office, why did you open the door, why did you answer your phone? It’s not his fault if you kept coming back after he gave you numerous outs, right? It’s incredibly manipulative of you to look so fucking sweet and make him feel guilty for being a constant shithead. Yep, your fault. Not his.

“You were the first one to say it. Remember? Amigo ?? Your cousin???” His voice sounds like he tastes something bitter around the word amigo. You give him an empty blink and then it clicks.

“Oh.”

He was right.

——

That night was such a shitshow, it’s no wonder that you had forgotten what you said. There were parts of it you wish that you could forget. It was while you were all still in Argestes, Roman and his siblings were set to speak on a panel together and address the controversy surrounding gross misconduct rampant in their company’s cruise line. In a twist no one could ever have predicted, Shiv and Kendall use it as a chance to stomp each other out, and then there’s Roman, with barely enough room to squeeze in a paltry line. You remember the dejected slump of his shoulders when they all walked back into the green room, you stood close by but didn’t speak, listening on as siblings and father bicker. You remember hearing Roman grilling into Shiv, the way she threw their dad overboard. He sounded vaguely content, like he was eager to have a chance to kick the dog rather than be kicked. The smugness was knocked out clean in one sudden strike. You blink, there’s the loud smack, a blur of Logan’s hand, and Roman keeling over, hand over his face. You feel cold, stuck in place watching it unfold. His siblings help him up, others focus on talking Logan down, pleading with him, and when you see blood you think you can feel your heart stop. You snap into movement, scrounging around the room for ice and a towel– a rag, anything that might help. Your head nervously sways around the room, looking at Roman and then back at your surroundings, each time you look at him it feels more urgent, you have to stop the bleeding. You look back and he’s making a beeline to leave. You need to stop the bleeding. You chase after him.

“Roman! Roman, wait! Rom—”

He groans loudly and turns on his heels, about to tell you to “fuck off” when you crash into him slightly from momentum. You mutter a few “sorry”s but don’t leave him any room to reply, your hands press a makeshift ice pack to his face. He tenses when you take his hand in yours, guiding it to hold the bundle in place.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He doesn’t respond, he feels like he can’t. Maybe the slap was enough to bite his tongue off. But even if he could retaliate, he doesn’t want to, not now when your hands rest on his forearm; your grip is gentle as you guide him to the parking lot. He gets in when you open the car door and it’s not till you’ve driven off the property that he looks back at you and manages to mumble something.

“Where the fuck are you even going?”

“Not sure.” A dentist hopefully. Home, eventually.

You don’t look at him when you answer, eyes locked on the road ahead. He notices your knuckles growing white as you grip the wheel but he doesn’t say more, icing his wounds feels like a perfect excuse. You call up a distant cousin, one who, luckily enough, had opened up their own dental practice less than an hour away. It’s only till the third call that they answer, they had been getting ready for bed. You speak to them Spanish, it serves as both a familial appeal and a chance for some privacy. Roman focuses on you as you talk, suddenly regretting not paying more attention in his language classes back in college. Your face is enough to keep him vaguely in the know. Your cousin sounded tired, unconvinced and you looked scared.

“Anda primuis…. Por fa?? Es mi amigo.” ¹

Now that’s a part that he understands, he feels a funny flutter in his chest when he hears it. That sentence feeds a warm hopeful part of him but it’s accompanied by a strong sense of guilt when he hears your voice crack oh so slightly. You were scared. He fucked up and now you’re stuck here trying to help piece him back together. Great. He turns his head away and looks out the passenger window. There’s dozens of things that could float around his mind at this moment but he tries to hold on to that weak little sound byte. It’s all he could repeat in his mind to keep from crying, he keeps his face stiff and watery eyes trained to the window. He doesn’t speak the rest of the car ride, you barely make out a slight nod of his when you hang up the phone and tell him you’re headed to your cousin's office. You give silent thanks when you see your cousin's car already in the parking lot.

Roman greets them politely, a bit more quiet than you’re used to seeing him, but he looks collected and that gives you some relief. You act as your cousin's assistant, handing them tools you vaguely recognize and holding a mirror and light in place. Apparently Logan had managed to knock off one of Roman’s veneers; the porcelain had left some nasty cuts on his gums. It was a quick enough fix between the two of you. You neared the final step and you watched your cousin prep a needle, ready to numb an area where Roman needed a suture. Absent-mindedly, one of your hands grips his arm. He tenses slightly under the comforting squeeze and you worry that you overstepped something, not used to seeing him so still. Once the final stitch is tied off, you step back and admire the work. Your cousin instructs Roman to smile and you both feel relieved that your work paid off, his smile looked as unfairly handsome as you thought it always did. Before you can think clearly you blurt out something that Roman can only conceive of as a stupid joke.

“You look nice.”

He clicks his tongue in response. You think you can see warmth in his eyes when he smiles at you; a small dimpled thing. He opens his mouth to give you another quip in return but your cousin ushers you away to the corner of the office and Roman feels a chill on his neck. He hears them speak to you in Spanish again and he tries not to look strained as he leans forward a bit, trying to hear you.

“Sabes que me puedes decir lo qué sea, verdad?” ² Your cousin's voice sounds soft, a little like yours.

“Qué?” Roman knew that word, you’ve even made that same scrunched up face at him a couple times.

“Es tu novio?”³ He knew that word too, your cousin's head tilted slightly in his direction. his ears perk up and that weird flutter comes back. His eyes stay on your face, he tries to decipher the look on your face: embarrassment? disgust?

“No.” You punctuate that word with a small bark of laughter. Roman suddenly feels sick.

“Creo que el no sabe eso. Te queda viendo.”⁴ He’s lost again. Your head turns to look right at him. Shit . You lock eyes with him and smile. If he didn’t already feel a little dizzy, he would have now. Something about that smile felt like a slap. He supposes that rejection doesn’t always need a physical hand to follow in order for it to hit. You look away and he feels something sharp. It’s as if you had just sliced him, belly up.

“Soy la única cosa en este méndigo cuarto que él reconoce. Obvio que me queda viendo. No soy pendeja.”⁵ He’s got no clue what you said, but you sound a little defensive, annoyed even. There’s still a smile on your face when you turn back to talk to your cousin. Roman can’t see it fully but it loses its warmth. He assumes that, as usual, he’s the distasteful thing in the room. In reality you turn away to avoid your face growing flushed once more. Leave it to the family to strike a nerve so easily.

“Hm.” A skeptical sound from your cousin.

“Hm.” You mimic, not enjoying the doubtful look they give you. Not enjoying the skip you felt in your pulse when you noticed Roman looking. This was something you’d have to think about later and you weren’t looking forward to it.

“Me vale madre pues. Dile que le va a costar 60 bolas, descuento familiar.”⁶ Your cousin gives a smug smile, believing your annoyance proves their point. They’re definitely telling your aunt and uncle.

—-

“Oh.” You can’t say much more. You feel your face grow hot as the memory comes back. He heard that , you wonder what other parts he listened in on.

“Oh.” He echoes bitterly. The accusing glint in his eyes is gone but part of you wants it to come back. Anything might be better than the disappointment that’s left there. That pang of guilt you had swings back in at full force.

“I’m sorry.” You sound defeated, your head tilting down. You feel a pinch of regret following him that night, you never questioned if he even wanted you there.

“You’re sorry ?” You’re gutting him.

“I— I shouldn’t have said that.” Maybe you had misread things, maybe he didn’t want you close. He certainly reminded you often enough of your fragile position to make that a possibility. That couldn’t be further from the truth though and your meek little “apology” for calling Roman your friend entrenches him further in his belief that there’s no way you actually ever liked him.

You won’t look him in the eyes, his empty glass on the counter now more interesting than him. Oh, you are twisting that fucking knife into him.

“Oh so now you’re just taking it back??” A new emotion for tonight. You had the displeasure of an angry Roman in your kitchen now and you weren’t even exactly sure why.

“Wha– do you want to be friends?” Your eyes snap back up to his and he almost flinches. You look upset, sound upset, but the question is worded the same way a kindergartener would ask it. He’s surprised your teeth aren’t rotting out from the sickly sweetness. He didn't want to answer you. It would have been easier if you had never picked up the phone tonight. Of course, he wanted to be friends, he’d take anything you’d give him and it feels humiliating.

“Fuck no.” Roman lets out a mirthless giggle.

You’re not happy with his answer. You don’t want to believe it and you’re not gonna. You wonder if Roman would’ve ever done the same for you; given you the option of being friends. He’s got on a cruel tight-lipped smile and you realize he never would’ve given you the option. Why offer that courtesy to him? You take in a short breath and smile.

“Sounds like you really want to be friends with me.” You ignore the prickle of heat at your tear ducts and manage to conjure up a self-assured smile.

“I don’t. You probably have cooties.” He quips with a jeer.

“I do, actually. Aaaaaaand you drank my spit water.” He ews. You keep going.

“So we’re pretty much cootie-bonded to each other forever. I’m, like, legally your friend now. ” You see his face struggle to shape itself into what he wants. His nose is wrinkled in disgust but his mouth threatens to pull into an earnest smile. You grin, feeling a speck of warmth grow in your chest. Every so often you understand why Roman enjoys being a pest, his annoyance is funny to you.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not yours.” He was, though.

“That’s fine. I can work with that.” You manage to sound casual.

“I don’t like you.” There isn’t any acid in his voice as the smile that was pulling at the corners of his mouth fully takes hold. He likes you. But the words still sting a bit. You feel your throat getting a little tight, you have to tread lightly. Back and forths were fun for you till they suddenly weren’t.

“Bummer. My cooties like you, I can hear them. They're swirling around in there.” You step a little closer, eyeing his stomach in stubborn commitment to the bit. There’s a glimmer of pride when you hear him laugh. A full bellied, honest laugh.

“You’re gross.” And just like that you manage to coast past something stormy, Roman’s no longer souring the air. He really fucking likes you. A small part of him wants to kiss you, condemn you with real cooties. But he smiles back at you instead. Your heart rate shoots up and you blame it on the lack of sleep, not the twinkle in his eyes.

“At least I’m not the one who looks gross.” You move to grab a damp paper towel. “Seriously, did you even bother cleaning yourself before you got here?”

“Shut up. It’s not that bad.” His brows rise up in emphasis.

“It kinda is.” You move in closer, feeling bold. Your hands reach out to wipe his face but he grabs hold of your wrists. You let out a small huff and try to pull out of their grip.

“Stop that.” His voice gets a little higher, like he’s nervous.

“No.” You both wriggle around like that for a bit. It looks a little silly, like he was trying to keep you from tickling him.

“Fuck off.”

“Just lemme see it.” You lift your arm in a way that gives you a chance to bite his hand. He lets go of your hands, swearing loudly but not in pain, just surprise. You manage to wipe at the cut on his cheek. He can feel his mouth go dry when you stand so close.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it …” You trail off, distracted. That cold feeling creeps back in. He watches your brow furrow in concern. “You’re still bleeding.”

“It’ll be fine.” He looks unconcerned and that breaks your heart. Maybe he’s ok with bleeding out but you weren’t.

“It will be. Wait here. Don’t . . . don’t fucking touch anything.” You take a step away from him and he feels like the room gets a little cold without you in it.

As you make your way to your room, looking for the first aid kit you kept somewhere, Roman stands in your kitchen. For a moment he’s stuck in place, all he can do is think of what just happened. Clenching and unclenching his hands into fists repeatedly, he tries to linger on how soft your wrists felt, it unsettles him how nicely his fingers wrapped around them. He feels a little dizzy knowing he’s actually in your home and you haven’t even tried to kick him out yet. But the sting and dull painful ache across his face sober him up a bit. You were a nice person, and you were doing the things a nice person was expected to do for their friend. He shouldn’t think anything of this. Part of him wasn’t even sure if he would have gotten such a warm welcome if he didn’t show up bloodied on your doorstep. He didn’t dis like you patching him but he didn’t want this to be the only thing you saw in him, a sniveling puppy of a man. He lets out a deep breath and walks around your home, trying not to dwell on his feelings of inadequacy. The puzzle you left on your dining table catches his eye. His eyes scan over the pieces, he remembers your instruction to not touch anything and decides to ignore it. A single jigsaw bit stands out to him, he holds and places it gently, like he doesn’t want to make any noise. The piece fits right in and Roman smiles to himself, a small blink of accomplishment. He hears your footsteps but he’s still caught off guard when he looks up and sees you right by his side.

“Didn’t I say not to touch anything? You better not be fucking up my puzzle.” You sound so warm. The small smile you give him is annoyingly cute.

“I’m not. I’m just giving you the help you clearly need.” Roman’s stomach feels lighter.

“Charitable of you.” You say flatly. There’s a smug smile on his face.

“Very.”

“I hear you’re getting the key to the city tomorrow?”

“Yep, everyone loves me. Wouldn't kill you to be grateful either. You should be saying " Oh, thank you sooo much, Mr. Roy!” He bats his eyes at you. “Please, how can I repay you? I’d do anything . . .” His voice goes high and airy trying to mimic you. You fail to hold back a laugh and he feels ill from the dopamine rush that sound gives him.

“I don't sound like that.” You try to sound annoyed, it's unconvincing.

“You do.” He gives you his signature shit eating grin and flicks a jigsaw piece at you, it bounces off your shoulder.

“I do not.” You fling a puzzle bit at him in return but it sails right past him miserably. He chuckles, sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry. Actually annoyed now, you reach out and flick his nose. He groans and his face scrunches up; the sound makes your cheeks feel a little warm.

“Fuck you.” His voice is a little lower as he rubs his nose. You giggle a bit.

“Anything for you, Mr. Roy.” You say dryly. You continue and give Roman a smug smile of your own. “Now go sit on the damn couch.”

With a dramatic “ ugh!” he does as you say and moves to the couch, you follow close behind. You set out the first aid items on the side table. You perch on the sofa’s arm as you flip through the kit for some alcohol wipes. You open the packet and stand up, thinking it might be easier to just lean over him. He suddenly feels squeamish when your hand guides his chin to look up at you.

“You washed your hands right?” He asks. He already knows the answer but he’s looking for something to fill up the silence.

“Of course I did.” One of your legs knocks against his knees and it rattles through him.

“You’re sure?” He does his best to not look a little panicky but he can smell the laundry detergent you use and he hates how much he likes it.

“Positive.” You look down at him a little worried. You think he’s still making a fuss in stubborn faith that the cuts will turn out fine. Your frustration leaves a bit of a kick in your words. “Roman, I need you to trust me and shut the fuck up for once in your life .”

“Okay, okay. . . I’ll shut up now.”

You both end up feeling oddly guilty. You regret telling him to shut up. Your hands reach back for his face gently, you hope he can't tell there’s a slight tremble in your hands. He can’t, he’s too focused on how warm they are. But the words you said are snagging into his sides. There's a part of him that wonders how much he annoys you and if you knew how much he actually did trust you. You were the first one he thought of when he got hurt.

“Sorry. That was a little mean.” Your voice is quiet again and it sounds so soft. Weight is piling onto Roman’s chest.

“It’s fine.” He sounds so small, there’s a part of you that wants nothing more than to just hold him. Another small but loud and prideful part is disgusted by the idea of coddling him and it shames the rest of you into stoic submission. The guilt eats away at you but you give him a small doleful smile before you tilt his face to the side.

“Deep breath. This is gonna sting a little.” He does and you begin to lightly wipe the fresh cut on his face. You hear him grunt a bit, his face scrunches slightly in discomfort. You let out a small commiserating hiss as you stare in concentration at the angry welt along his cheekbone. You bite your lip as you apply ointment to the area.

“This really looks like it hurts.” The concern in your voice is clear and he can feel the skin on his cheek tingle from both the rubbing alcohol and your touch. He looks up at you from the corner of his eyes, his head still turned and he feels like it's almost worth the pain when you glide your finger across his cheek to keep the bandage in place. Your tightly knit brow drops when you hear him chuckle.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” He slides back into that sarcastic tone so easily. You don’t fight it, you know it helps him feel a bit safer.

“Oh yeah, what did he look like?” Roman sees a flash of teeth when you grin as you speak. Your voice sounds amused and he tries to ignore the blood rushing to his face when you guide him to look you head on again. It feels like you’re taunting him when you gingerly push his hair back a bit, his scalp tingles where your nails drag along and he wants to sink into your couch.

“Geriatric. Wrinkly old fuck kicked my ass.” His voice is quiet and tense. The latter for more reasons than you were aware of.

“Hm” You let out a quick, sharp puff of air, not enough to even be classified as a snort or a chuckle. You mull over his words for a moment. You know he meant his dad and you feel something in you freeze. You hate seeing him get hurt, but you know well how much someone could put up with, how strongly you can want someone to love you back. You rattle your brain trying to find something a little helpful to say. You can’t. “You were doing your best.”

“I fucked it.” He frowns. Your palms are warm when they cradle his chin and he wants to enjoy that but he can’t. It’s a little sad that this is the only way he can get you to touch him.

“Maybe. You tried though.” Your thumb presses lightly against his bottom lip, trying to get a better look at the wound. Roman hisses a bit, he can feel his cock get hard and he feels . . . icky, for lack of a better word. You’re trying to care about him and he was being gross, creepy; he needs to leave.

“I think that makes it worse.” You sigh through your nose, you want him to let you in but you focus back on patching the cracks for now.

“Deep breath.”

A pitiful, pained noise is caught in his throat, his body jerks away from you and it’s just enough to make you lose your footing. You steady yourself by gripping his shoulder roughly, one your legs that fell forward against the couch is now slotted between his knees. You’re the closest you’ve ever been and Roman’s scared shitless.

“ You fucking bitch. ” His words are slurred as he sucks in air to soothe the chemical sting. You feel like a disembodied hand is tightening its grasp on your throat.

“I told you to breathe, and don’t call me that.” You manage to spit out a response that doesn’t sound as weak as you feel.

“What? A bitch? Sowwy, does that hurt uwr feewings??” His voice slips easily into a mocking babyish voice. The tone sounds meaner than you’ve ever really heard it being directed at you and you aren’t sure how to respond, you feel your face grow pink with shame.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you! And close your fucking legs, you’re letting in a draft!” He shoves your leg away from his knees and he shuts his legs tight, he tries not to look at his lap when he feels his cock twitch a bit in his pants. You’re completely oblivious.

“Stop saying that shit. I’m trying to fucking help you.” You bite your inner cheeks for a moment, a habit you developed as a kid to keep yourself from tearing up in front of others.

“Can’t help me much if I fall into your cavernous vagina, can you?” Hostility stretched into a smile makes it feel more like he’s baring his teeth. Roman’s mind is racing with things to say to get him out of this. A coyote typically settles for biting off his own limb to escape but yours will do fine.

“It’s not my fault that everything looks huge compared to your sad little cock.” Finally . You’re finally biting back, he’s trying to build a reason to push you out and you just took the bait.

“Oh that’s nice. I think Human Resources will love that one.”

“HR? Really? Don’t you think they’re tired of seeing your name come up in the complaint log weekly.”

“You’re right, it might just be better to let you go.”

“Ooo, you’re gonna threaten to fire me again? Cool. Awesome. Go ahead, if that’s what gets your wormy little dick stiff.”

“It does actually, yeah.”

“Well, I hope you actually get to fuck something once you’ve fucked me over.”

“Sure will, gonna hire a bouncy new little fuck bunny assistant. One that doesn’t use her dick lips to talk back.”

“I fucking hate you.” You pull on his hair, hard. Part of you doesn’t want to be this harsh with him after what his father did tonight but part of you knows that this doesn’t really hurt. Not as much as it should. Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, enjoying the sweet, wimpy cry that falls out of him; it makes you want to sit on his face. He’s finding it hard to breathe, the tip of his prick is dripping no doubt. His eyes are half lidded but they glimmer under the dim light of your living room as he blatantly stares at your lips. Roman’s transfixed by how soft they look, your grip on him feels good and he doesn’t care enough to pull away. You rest your thumb on his lower lip again and his lips part but not wide enough.

“Open up.”

He nods a little and opens wide. His brain short circuits when you spit into his mouth. He thinks your spit tastes sweet like you— he ignores the idea that there might be something wrong with him. You feel that familiar wanting flutter down below when you watch him swallow your own spit. He whines again when your hand loosens its grip, he needs more. His hands, that were gripping the couch beneath him this entire time, find their way to the small of your back. He pulls you into his lap and buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing any skin he can find. A nagging voice in your head knows that this is probably a horrible idea but then he nips the skin on your shoulder and you feel yourself turning into putty. Your grip on his hair tightens again as you look for something to cling onto, he groans and his breath is hot and wet against your skin. You say his name in a soft, pleased sigh and it makes something in him crack. Fuck . He needs to hear that again, the glowing pride he gets from making you sound like that feels addictive. He needs you, he doesn't really know how he’s held out this long around you. His kisses are feverish and his grip tightens around your hips. He can’t help but grind up into you looking for some relief. You tense when you feel how hard he is under you.

“Rome... wait.” His entire body stiffens under you, stopping immediately. He makes a cute little groan when he lifts his head away. His cheeks are flushed and you almost regret pulling away when you see how pretty he looks. You feel yourself clench around nothing.

“What is it?” He tries to sound casual, but he’s terrified that he might have fucked things up.

“I still need to fix your lip.” He groans again, this time in disappointment.

“We can do that later.” He sounds impatient but his thumbs rub light circles over your hips and it feels so gentle.

“No, we can do it now.” He looks upset but it doesn’t sting you this time. You know you’re in the right. This serves as further proof to him that you’re an annoyingly nice person.

“Can’t you just. . . I dunno, kiss it better ?”

“Rome. . . “ You’re smiling at him and it doesn’t feel like pity, it feels like love. He wants that to be the case but he doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if it weren’t true.

“Please?” He sounds so good like that, a little desperate and pleading. You wonder if he said it like that on purpose, his big eyes and that small little pout feel unfair. You take in a sharp breath and bite your lip in contemplation; your cunt feels painfully empty. Ever the self-denier, you shake your head.

“I think it’s more important to make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine!” His tone is defensive, face annoyed.

“Stop saying that, no you’re not. You don’t see me when you’re doing fine!” Your voice is firm, a little angry even, and he knows you’re right.

“Shut up, I see you all the time.”

“You wouldn’t have come tonight if you were ok.” That part seems to stick with him. He doesn’t have anything to throw back at you. “You can ghost me or fire me or do whatever you want after tonight but I at least want to try to help.”

You make it sound like it’d be a little too easy for him to just leave, and it is. He’s made a big point of it since he first met you, but that’s not what he wants. He’d like a cage big enough for the two of you, he’d never worry about who would help him lick the wounds.

“Why bother, just gonna get hit again.” He avoids your gaze, this is starting to make him feel small again. You grit your teeth and fight back the twisting in your gut at the thought of seeing him get hurt. Again.

“Then you can visit me again.” You make it sound like a small thing, like you’re not eager for the company. Truth be told, you’re going crazy wondering what he’s up to when you aren’t around.

“You’d get sick of it. Sick of me.”

“I won’t.” Those two words slip out of you so fast, it surprises the both of you. His eyes meet yours again and it helps you keep going.

“I care about you, Roman.” He didn’t expect to hear those words from you, not after you said you hated him just a minute ago. You don’t sound like you’re lying to him, but he still feels an urge to look around for a trap. “I wouldn’t be doing this for anyone else.” His pulse goes haywire.

“If you cared about me so much you wouldn’t just ignore me when I say my dick’s about to explode.”

“I’ll kiss it better later.”

“You really are a bitch.”

“Sure am.”

You lift yourself off of him to grab a few things from your aid kit and he instantly misses your weight on him. His heart gets into a funky little panic till you come back and lean into him again, easing the ache. You feel a bit more confident touching his face this time round. Your hands don’t shake but they hold his chin gently. Roman loves any touch you give him but he can’t help but be a little amused that your hands feel so shy. You feel a little embarrassed that he distracted you so easily, that he could have had you so quickly. You were whipped, plain and simple. You try to drown those thoughts by focusing on cleaning him again. You don’t think you could live it down if his cut got infected from his vacuum-seal sucking on your neck, and you’d rather die in a hole than learn if it was your spit that did him in. You refuse to let either be an option and so you dress his wound diligently, you try to ignore the heat building in your stomach as Roman distracts himself by tracing circles along the sides of your thighs. Your knee is back to being stuck between his thighs and he prays that you shift your weight, bring your knee a bit higher so he can get some friction. His grip on you tightens when you apply liquid bandage over the cut, it burns a bit. You know it's an uncomfortable feeling so you scoot in closer, you run your fingers through his hair and he moans a little. The strands are stringy with gel but his roots are soft, he closes his eyes when you scratch his scalp. You blow air gently over his bottom lip, like you were drying a new set of nails, trying to soothe the sting. He leans up, trying to catch you in a kiss but your hand rests against his chest and he stills again. His eyes look so hopeful when he peers up at you, he’s oddly obedient. You lean in and press a kiss to his cheek instead, your voice is quiet as you speak close to his ear.

“It takes a few minutes to fully dry. . .”

The full on pout on his face would have made you laugh if the whine he made didn’t sound so needy . He’s been so cute, you’d feel guilty if you made him wait any longer. it’s not like you could wait for it either. You’re grateful that he can't see how drenched he’s made you, it feels a little shameful and a little good. You test the waters and move your knee in closer, he presses his erection to it and grinds softly against you. Your fingers run through and grip his hair again, you pull his head back and trail kisses down his neck. You nip at a spot beneath his jaw and his moan rattles around in your brain, your skin feels hot and you can feel yourself aching. You kiss his collarbone and blindly fumble while undoing the buttons of his shirt. He lets out a small giggle, something grating and high pitched that his father would beat him for; it’s one of your favorite sounds.

“Someone’s a lil desperate, aren’t they?” His voice is quiet, a little raspy, but smug.

“You feel hot, I don't want you to die from a fever.” You sound a little breathless when you respond, your lips latched on to him so quickly you hadn’t really taken a proper breath.

“Mmm, lucky I’m around someone so thoughtful.”

“Yep, no ulterior motives.” He can hear you smile as you talk back against his throat. You undo the last button of his shirt and your hands find their way to his sides. Your mouth moves lower to his sternum, he notices that you like leaving a little trail of bites wherever you kiss. He makes a note in his head to return the favor.

“None whatsoever, just wanna motorboat my flat tits.” He talks a lot. You don’t mind.

“Yeah. Consider it your breast cancer screening.” You realize your cheeks hurt a little bit from smiling as your mouth and hands move to his chest. You hear a soft groan get trapped in his throat when your teeth graze against his nipple. You feel his hand shift and cup your ass firmly while his hips rut against your leg again.

“You’d make a terrible excuse for a nurse. Absolute shit bedside manners.” That earns a laugh from you, something bubbly and cute. You look up at him with what he thinks looks like a loving smile and he feels a sharp pain in his chest. He’s not sure why he feels this, it should be easy for him to touch you, he wants to touch you but he still feels wrong. Is this gross? Is it good? He gulps and it feels like swallowing needles; his face manages to keep a soft smile. You give him a small playful pout and you cup his face, your other hand slides down to take hold of his.

“You think so? I thought I was being nice.” You guide his hand under your shirt, sliding up your stomach to your breasts. You dig your leg closer into his groin and he whines again, his hand grips mindlessly onto one of your breasts. You smile and kiss his forehead. “Do I feel nice?”

“.. yeah….” He nods slightly, not wanting to move away from your kiss. Your lips feel so soft, you feel softer to him than anything. There’s an anxious bubbling in his stomach at feeling so warm. Nothing he’s wanted has ever been his to keep, he shouldn’t think this is any different.

He rests his head against your shoulder and sighs as your hands slide down his chest. He can feel his stomach lurch, here comes the drop, the point where you leave. You’ll see him and find something you hate and then he’ll learn to hate it too. Your fingers thread through his happy trail downwards till you feel his soft stomach tense. You lift your hand off slowly, not wanting to scare him with sudden movements, and bring it up to hold his face once more.

“Rome? You ok?” Your voice is hushed and quiet.

“Y-yeah I’m fine. Peachy keen.” It sounds forced, the words rush out too fast. You worry you might have pushed him into something upsetting. Your thumb rubs his cheek gently.

You were one of few people in his life whose touch didn’t make his skin crawl. It feels like a good thing but it also leaves him paralyzed. For Roman, sex was followed by a bitter aftertaste, a heaviness in the chest. He worries that it’s a balancing act. If he’s not the one feeling repulsive and shameful then that must mean you are, he doesn’t want that for you. He’d die if he ever made you feel that way.

“You don’t have to go through with this, you know. You’re allowed to back out.”

“I know that. I’m not dumb.” He rolls his eyes as if in annoyance but his voice sounds cagey. He doesn’t want to back out, he’s wanted you for so long. He’d rather lose another tooth than admit he’s nervous and he doesn’t know what to do.

“I never said you were. I just— I want you to know that I’ll still like you after this, even if nothing happens.” There you were, saying just the right thing to cut into him.

“You said you fucking hate me. Won’t even kiss me.” His voice cracks a little and you feel your stomach flip.

“I did, yeah. I was mad at you and I said that and I’m sorry. But I don’t really hate you, Rome, I like you too much to ever hate you.” You cut him again and a happy warm feeling bleeds out.

It’s getting easier to swallow but he hates how much this matters to him, he wants you to like him. Your hand cupping his face slides down a bit and your thumb ghosts over his bottom lip, checking the wound. You smile when you feel the liquid bandage has fully dried, you lean in close.

“I can kiss you now. . .if you still want me to. . .”

Roman blinks for a moment, trying to breathe and take everything in. He stares at your lips for a moment, full, pink and soft, and there’s a flicker of something on his face that makes you scared he’s gonna leave. But he nods and you feel his arms wrap around your waist, his hand holds the back of your neck gently and he pulls you in for a kiss. It’s slow and delicate, different from the frenzy he had when he attacked your neck earlier. As if he’s no longer worried that you’ll vanish into a speck of light the moment he admits he wants you. He buries his hand in your hair, enjoying how soft it is. He can feel you smile into the kiss and a sappy sweet feeling fills him up, overflowing. He bites your bottom lip and swallows the moan that leaves your mouth, he tastes your saliva again and the tenderness he has for you mixes with something volatile. He lets himself be needy, his hands grip at your hips and hair and his teeth clash against yours as he tries to taste more of you. You reach a point where you need to catch your breath and you pull away. He gives you that same dimpled smile he gave you that one night and when he tucks your hair behind your ear you feel like you might say you love him.

“I’m glad you came here tonight, Rome.” That's the closest to saying it that you can manage for now.

“Ew.” He says it softly, teasing.

“I need you to be serious with me.” You chuckle as you speak. Ah yes, very serious.

“I am being serious.

“Are you?

“Yeah, I am and my dick is seriously about to fall off.”

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” There's genuine curiosity in your voice. A part of you is actually surprised that he wants to escalate things.

“I don’t fucking know, suck me off or something?” Once again, Roman holds the same levels of charm and power of seduction as a cum-filled sock.

“Incredibly tempting offer. Buuut, I didn’t really hear a “please” in there so I think I’ll pass.”

“Oh god, it’s falling off and it’s all your fault because you won’t be a good little assistant and fuck your boss.” He tilts his head back, reveling in melodramatics to avoid telling you exactly what he wants. If this were a different night and he acted like a different man then the scenario he painted might have appealed more to you. You enjoyed whenever past partners wielded power over you but something about Roman's choice of words tells you that you shouldn't let it be so easy. Isn't it typically the boss who fucks the assistant?

"Would I get a raise?" Roman thinks he sees something wicked flash in your eyes as you keep an innocent smile on your lips.

"You would get to keep your job." The haughty grin on his face leaves your knees feeling a little weak. Where's the fun without a threat to your livelihood?

“Yeah, nope. Not gonna touch you until you tell me what you want so you might as well start figuring out how to fuck yourself on your own.”

Whatever frustration there was on his face disappears, a satisfied smile takes it place like he just had an idea.

“Fine.” He sounds a little too content. He lowers his hands to his lap and unbuttons his pants. He keeps his eyes on you while he shoves his hand down his pants reaching towards the thick bulge straining against his slacks. Your gaze hovers between his crotch and the wry glint in his eyes.

“What are you. . ? Is this supposed to make me jealous?” An incredulous tone is heavy in your voice.

“Yep.” He sounds a little breathless, he lets out a little moan before he speaks again. His hand slowly strokes himself in his pants. “I know it will, you’re probably gonna soak my thigh through your shorts.”

“Take them off then.” You say it in such a calm tone it catches Roman a little off guard. With a puzzled look he glances down between your crotch and then his own. You smile and nod at his pants. “Blocks my view.”

He smiles, a little giddy that you’re playing along. You lift yourself off of his lap for a moment so he can shimmy out of his pants. You settle back onto him, straddling one of his thighs, and try to ignore the ache between your legs. His eyes fall back on yours and you raise your brows expectantly, Go on. He’s not sure where to look, not sure if you’d appreciate him staring. He tilts his head back a bit, opting for the tried and true, and looks up at your shitty popcorn ceiling. His forehead creases with a nervous look as he adjusts himself a little and pulls out his cock, the length curves upward towards his soft stomach. It’s cute. Roman would probably die of embarrassment if he heard you say that aloud, but it’s the first word that comes to mind when you see it. A light pink, twitchy little thing that you know would hit that gushy spot deep in you just right. You want him to fill you till you hurt. It’s impossible for you to push that thought down when you hear him curse under his breath and feel his legs shake slightly. His thigh grinds slightly against your clit, it’s puffy and sensitive, desperate for touch like the rest of you. You whine softly at the friction but the moment it passes through your lips his eyes are back on you and you know what you're in for.

“Having fun?” You feel your face get hot. Roman grins widely, way too happy to hear that little sound you made.

“I guess…” You don’t bother denying it but there’s an urge to talk back. “Out of curiosity how long does it usually take you to cum?— Not that I’m bored or anything but it’s getting pretty late. . .” You hear him snort, he’s stopped stroking himself.

“It’s usually faster when I’m watching something. But if you’re feeling antsy to rub one out in your room you don’t have to wait, you could do that here.” He bounces his leg under you a bit, he’s found another way to annoy you. You keep your hips still, your pussy screams at you to grind down on him and chase your release.

“Are you asking for something to look at?”

“Yeah, gimme a show.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and you feel your mind go into a fritz when he pulls at them a bit. “It’s the least you could do.”

He lets go and the elastic snaps back into your hip. Your thighs squeeze around him at the sudden feeling and you can feel blood rush behind your ears when he gives you a knowing smile. It doesn’t surprise you that one of the richest men you’ve ever met was a shitty little brat, but you’ve never wanted to fuck someone’s brains out more.

“The least I could do, huh?” He looks comfortable. That mean urge creeps into you. “Fuck it, why not?” Your voice is light and playful.

Roman looks a little surprised, a small eager gleam grows in his eyes when your hands move to the hem of your shirt. His full attention is on you. You take a breath, ignoring the small tinge of shyness and take off your shirt, tossing it aside. The cold air of the living room doesn’t affect you when you hear Roman let out a low whistle of appreciation. That fluttery feeling comes back for a moment and you let out a small laugh. You lift yourself off of him once again and slip off your shorts, leaving them where they fall. You stand in front of him clad in nothing but your panties and you struggle to push down the urge to wrap your arms around yourself, make yourself smaller. When you lock eyes again he smiles at you, just a sweet happy smile on a battered face, and you feel something in you thaw out. Your knees sink into the couch, interlocking with Roman’s legs but you don’t sit fully onto his lap. His hands hover over your hips, unsure where to touch you and his awkwardness melts you enough to bring him in for another kiss. He feels his heart skip a beat the moment your mouth lands on his. His lips feel sore and there’s an ache when he presses his mouth against you but it doesn’t stop him from trying to deepen the kiss. His soft, uncalloused hands grip at your sides and he can’t help himself from kneading at the extra flesh; fully enjoying how soft and warm your skin feels. There’s a pleasant buzz in his head when he feels you bury your hands in his hair and he moans your name against your lips. You forget to breathe for second when you hear it. The urge to dote on him will always be second nature to you but you won’t let it distract you from putting him in his place tonight. A twinge of excitement shoots up your spine at the idea of denying him. You feel his arms try to pull you closer to him and you don’t comply, you yank his head back roughly by his hair. He groans, disappointment overshadows any pain, but there’s nothing but lust in his eyes when he looks up at you.

“The least I could do is let a twitchy freak like you get off next me.” There’s a venomous tint to your voice. Roman takes in a sharp breath when you peer down at his lap and see his pretty cock twitch up at you. He’s never felt this strained, reeling with a need to feel your walls clench around him. You grin. “Those hands of yours have never done anything useful before. I don't think you deserve to use them tonight. You were doing just fine on my knee earlier.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“ I’m not fucking you at all, actually.” Y ou smile as you let go of his hair and take his hand into yours. You lift it to your face and kiss his inner wrist. Your eyes gleam warmly at him before placing his hand on your thigh for him to hold on to. Your walls clench around nothing when his fingers graze your inner thigh and part of you hopes that all of this goads him into fingerfucking you till you squirm. His expression is muddled with confusion and annoyance but there’s no trace left of that nervous tension he had. He follows your lead and brings his other hand to rest on your thigh. He scoots a little closer to you and there's a glint of something, maybe gratefulness, in his eyes when he looks up at you. Some starved part of you found it sweet, oddly romantic. His hips stay still but his cock twitches against your thigh and the sight makes your mouth water, you want him badly and it’s all his fault.

“Here, I’ll make it easier for you.” You use the saliva that’s pooled in your mouth to spit onto your thigh, you grin when some of it dribbles onto his shiny, pink tip. It’s warm when it touches him and Roman’s hands dig into your thigh as he groans, picturing your pretty mouth wrapped around him, drool peeking out the corners of your lips and over his shaft. It was something he had pictured a few times, but tonight was the first time that the visual wasn’t accompanied by a guilty churning in his stomach. He can’t stop himself from taking up your generous offer, he’ll happily take your scraps, and his hips begin rocking back and forth. You chuckle softly and tilt his face up at you, he can feel his heartbeat quicken. The skin of the back of his neck bursts with goosebumps when he sees the smug look on your face.

“This is really what you want??” He does the best he can to sound irritated. To be fair, he was a little upset at not being able to touch you more, but your coldness has gotten him harder than he could’ve imagined.

“It is, I wanna see you get what you deserve.”

"I always knew you were dirty.” A toothy bastard grin grows when he speaks. He’s enjoying this, a runt acting out.

“I’m easy, too. I’d let practically anyone fuck me. Just not you.” You smile lovingly despite the vulgar joke, playing with his hair. You laugh when you see his face shrivel in disgust. It was a bold faced lie, one you knew he wouldn’t fully believe. Either way you knew it was prickly enough to stroke that mean streak in him, the one that leaves you feeling a little cheap and a little wet.

“Gross fucking slut.” He mutters it under his breath like a toothless quip but it bites you just the same. You yank his head back harshly and a bitchy whine slips out of him.

“You don’t get to say that to me. Not when you’re humping my leg like a fucking dog .” Roman teases a talent for cruelness out of you that you’ve never really considered before, never really explored.

There’s a dissonance in you that winds up tight in your stomach as you consider your next steps. You could get up and lock yourself in your room till he leaves to avoid saying any more hurtful things. Or you could cry a little in front of him and ask him to forgive you for being so mean; let the guilt take hold and be ashamed of enjoying ripping into each other in this way. Either one ends with Roman potentially never speaking to you again, and that’s what scares you more than anything else.

Unknown to you, the ire in your eyes would’ve been enough to make his dick rock hard had he not been already. There’s no doubt that he’s always liked the kind and bright person you normally are but seeing you mad made him go beet red, he could feel his blood run hot .

“It’s not my fault that you want it like a bitch in heat. ” There he goes again, the little shit loves talking back. Your doubts fall away. There’s a glint in his eyes and his little fangs peek out when he gives you a lovesick grin. It makes you drip. He wants you to sink your teeth into him. You grin back, your hands still grip tightly at his hair, you move your knee to press to his groin. He whimpers and it feels like someone’s set you ablaze; the sound shoots around your skull and lights up every nerve in you.

“I’m sorry. Does it hurt?” An overly saccharine tone coats your voice as you speak down to him. A long heady whine comes out of him so freely, he’s always been willing to fill up a room with noise so it shouldn’t really surprise you but it does. Roman’s expressions were enthusiastic, even the pained ones. He nods his head fervently, his brows strung together in discomfort but eyes cloudy with arousal. His lips pout and part as if to speak but a pitiful croak is all that leaves his throat when you nudge your knee, gliding it gently along the underside of his cock.

“Do you want to cum?” You speak quietly next to his ear and a rush of heat rolls over him. The sweet tone you had is gone, all that’s left is the cold firmness that was underneath. He squirms under you, scared he’s gonna burst and a little curious about what you’d treat him like if he did. How badly would you grill him if you knew how starved you made him.

“Y-yes….” He sounds breathless. You move away from his ear to look at him again. one of your hands still grips at his hair tightly while the other slides forward to gently grip his chin.

“Then I need you to play nice .” You dig your knee in harder, crushing his balls in the most careful way you could. Rather than move away from the source of the pain, he leans forward closer to you. His hands still grip at your thigh, practically pulling you in as if determined to feel whatever touch you give him. A long pitchy cry comes from his chest. He makes such pretty sounds and you’re filled with a deep need to hear each one he can make. “Can you do that for me, Romey?”

“Yeah…. Yes. . . I’m sorry, I’ll be nice.” He sounds so gentle, so weak for you, this can’t possibly be the same man who’s made your life a living hell 14 hours a day for the last year. Your memory might be stunted while in your aroused haze, but you think this might be the first time you’ve ever heard him say sorry. His wide eyes blink slowly at you, his long lashes fanning whatever flame he lit in you. Another small twitch of his cock against your leg reminds you of your own needs and you decide to give in a little.

“Good. I’ll be nice too. . .” You pull your leg away slightly to grant him some relief, but his hips press back into you reflexively. There’s a glimpse of hunger in Roman’s eyes and he feels a deep need to do anything for you, anything to keep you looking at him. Your voice softens again, slightly smug around the edges. “Did you still want that show?”

He nods shyly, his eyes widen further in curiosity when your hand slides off his face and moves to touch your own body. He holds his breath when he sees you lightly touch yourself over your panties. Your pointer and middle fingers slowly drag across your outer lips and then dip slightly between your folds. You sigh when you brush against the hood of your clit, you’ve staved off touching yourself for this long and each touch feels like sweet relief. Roman’s eyes are fixed onto you when you tilt your head back, you bite your lower lip in concentration as you rub circles over your sensitive bud. Your pooled arousal comes much more apparent as you keep touching yourself, your wetness leaves a stain in the middle of your blue panties and Roman thinks to himself that that dark blue might now be his favorite color. He groans when he watches your hand slip under your panties, wondering how warm you must feel. You shiver when you tentatively dip your fingers in your wet center. A soft moan slips out when you feel yourself slide in so easily, grateful that he can’t feel how slick he’s made you already. You groan Roman’s name softly as you work at yourself and a whirl of lust and jealousy slices through him. He didn’t think he’d ever get to hear you say his name like that before and it kills him that it’s nothing of his that’s buried in you now, helping your mouth form the letters so smoothly. He keeps his hands on your thigh, minding your instruction, but he can’t really help himself from touching you in some way, not now when you sound so good that it makes him wish he had shut up. He leans into you, testing the waters by peppering kisses across your shoulder. His stomach lurches when he feels you tense under him and he thinks he’s ruined something for a moment till your free hand drags its nails gently across his scalp and he feels his brain liquefy just a bit.

It’s all the encouragement he needs to latch back onto you; his hips press down, humping your leg shamelessly. You breathe in deep when you feel his teeth nip at the end of your throat. He smells so good to you, a mix of cigarettes and sweat and a cologne that’s just as obnoxious and overwhelming as him. You can’t help but moan his name again, spreading your cunt with your fingers, desperately mimicking the way he might stretch you. He mumbles a barely recognizable “ Yeah ?” against your skin in response, his thumb stroking softly along your inner thigh all the while. You roll over for him so easily. You don't say anything as you slip your hand out of your panties to hold his and guide it to where you want it most. He holds his breath when his hand digs under the soft cotton hiding your wet center. His soft, manicured hand trembles slightly against you, unsure where to go till your hand leads him. A thrill runs up his spine when he glides his fingers between your slick folds and feels just how soaked you are. He teases you, not necessarily intending to do so but so invested in knowing how all of you feels that he ignores the crucial bundle of nerves aching for him. It makes you want to scream. His fingers stroke up and down along your opening, and you try to choke down a whine when he finally presses into you. Heat rushes to your face as you both hear the wet squelch of your tight walls, he groans at the way your hungry cunt swallows his fingers whole. He finds himself wishing he’ll have another chance to have you, not ready to accept a possibility of him never feeling you around him. Both the physical and emotional grip you have on him feels insane as you clench over him, your free hand digs its nails into the skin of his back. Your leg moves in tandem with his hips, helping his heavy cock garner friction and it leaves him feeling worse. Needy for more and muttering soft nonsensical nothings under his breath, he feels a flicker of shame and wishes he could do more for you. You nip at a spot below his ear and he doesn’t bother biting down the moan of your name that surfaces. He’s begging any thing that will listen to let him keep you, he needs to know he’ll feel the creaminess of your thighs and tight cunt again. You pull him off of your collarbone to look at him again, he thinks he feels himself throb when he sees the flush on your cheeks and nose, the swell of your pouty reddened lips. You cup his face softly and he slows his mindless rutting against your leg. Your thumb brushes his cheek lightly as you smile at him, no hint of cruelty to be found.

“Look at you being so quiet.” There’s a teasing slant to your voice but it’s overshadowed by a warm love-drunk drawl. A giggle slips out of you as you continue and it rings on inside Roman’s head. “Are you feeling good?”

“Yeah…” He leans his face into your hand and nods softly, fully melted into your touch. The light brown of his eyes shimmer while he looks at you, a shy smile on his face makes him look a little angelic. Maybe it was a mix of that and his soft voice that had you fooled into thinking he was so sweet. He looks ready to burst, he practically confirms that thought of yours as he mumbles. “ ’m getting close…”

You bring him in for a gentle kiss, thinking he’s had enough cruelty for tonight. His lips land against yours softly, the hunger for you is still there but he tries to reel it in. He wants everything from you but he doesn’t want to risk being greedy. He needs to give you a reason to let him be with you again, the concept of someone liking and caring for him feels so foreign that he’s still thinking of it transactionally. He needs to feel you cum or he might not ever be able to face you ever again. His fingers curl up towards that sweet spot of yours and slowly pump in and out of you, pulling a moan out of you that he uses as a chance to snake his tongue into your mouth, desire burning hot to taste more of you. A strand of saliva connects you both as you pull away to catch your breath, his face follows yours slightly as if unwilling to part. His thumb presses down and swirls circles around your swollen little clit, it’s sloppy but it manages to rile you up just the same. Your soft sighs help boost his ego which took quite a bruising tonight and he smiles against your lips when he feels you snake your hands into his hair. The glowing sense of pride returns when he hears your breathing grow staggered. Your walls clamp down around his fingers in an almost sinful way and he feels his cock twitch against your skin, hoping for the chance to have you milk him dry. He groans your name against your neck, strumming at you with a vigor that leaves the corners of your vision a little blurry. Being touched by Roman is different than you had thought it’d be, you always thought he’d be lazy– selfish maybe, but he feels like the opposite. He grips you like he wants you, really wants you, his fingers pushing and spreading in you eagerly. He’s a little clumsy, so eager to touch you that the broad strokes of his thumb over your clit feel like an effective little tease. He’s not clueless though, it's clear that he’s listening intently to your breathing and the way your folds squelch around him. The once dead air of your living room now filled with steady moans and sloppy wet touches. You feel that the coil of heat near your center winds up tightly, set to release at any moment. Roman’s own moans sound distant to you and you barely register his hips rocking against your bare thigh. You can feel yourself getting fucked stupid, unable to form any meaningful words. Any brain cells you had left at this time of night are now just honey-thick liquid arousal smeared between your thighs and down Roman’s palm. You feel him sink his teeth into your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark and at the same time he twists his fingers into you so sweetly, pressing deep into that spot that leaves you drooling and the last thread in you snaps. Your legs start to shake and that white hot feeling rolls over you, leaving you struggling not to crush his hand. Roman pumps his fingers in and out slowly, helping you ride out the wave of pleasure as your walls clench and spasm around him. You tilt your head back and catch your breath, you can’t do much but watch as he licks your creamy slick off his hand. You curse quietly under your breath as you see him moan and suck noisily at his fingers, his softened eyes lock back onto yours and you feel like your cunt might have you start begging for more. There’s no space for that as his mouth crashes back on yours again.

“ You taste good .” He mutters the compliment against your neck, back to his frenzy of kisses which earn a fit of giggles from you.

“. . . yeah?” You sound amused. A blush is clear on your face.

“Yeah. Shoulda told me sooner.” He mumbles more along the edge of your jaw, he pulls away a bit to look at your face as he continues. “Might’ve given you your own office if I knew you tasted like a pink starburst.”

You snort. You know it’s a joke with the way Roman says it so confidently but part of you wonders whether he’s ever actually had a starburst before. Or even eaten pussy before.

“You’re gross .” You say it as a joke. You hope it lands, serving as another way to tell him just how much you like him. He smiles wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crinkle.

Holding his face in both hands you bring him in for another kiss, each one feels like he’s trying to make up for lost time. You lean into him, your body weak in the post orgasmic rush. His shoulders press back into the soft cushion of your couch and he pulls you down, fully into his lap, your arm brushes past his hard length and he lets out a soft pained moan. You freeze and look at his groin. Poor, sweet Roman had kept to his word and not touched himself this entire time, and now here you were facing the sensitive flushed thing that a small part of you actually believed might fall off. He looked almost sheepish when he met your gaze, it was like he froze once the spotlight was back on him.

“Oh, Rome. . .” You lean in and pepper kisses across his face, it makes him laugh. The air in his lungs doesn’t feel so heavy. You kiss the tip of his nose and his face scrunches in mock distaste.

“I can help you if you want.” You murmur it close to his face, forehead resting against his. Your thigh feels the air grow chill against the large sticky wet spot on your skin, a mix of your spit and Roman’s precum.

“ Please .” The way Roman wraps around that word, it was meant for him.

You press a kiss to his forehead and slip off his lap to adjust yourself on the couch. You give him a soft smile and pat the space between your legs to have him saddle up into you like a little spoon. He raises an eyebrow quizzically for a moment but doesn’t hesitate to settle in, eager to be in your arms. You lean against the arm of the couch for support as his back presses against your bare chest, your legs on either side of him. You rest your hands on his thighs and brush your lips against his shoulder, that fondness you have for him comes back when you feel his back arch slightly in reaction to you.

“This ok?” You keep your voice soft, nonjudgmental. You take hold of one of his hands and he’s suddenly grateful his back is to you, his eyes feeling watery.

“Yeah.” He gives your hand a squeeze, a silent request to keep it there. “Thanks.”

You smile and lift your free hand up your mouth to spit into it then hold it below his mouth, he spits as well. A cute little whimper comes out of him when you wrap your hand around his shaft and you hum approvingly in response. Roman does his best to keep his hips still, trying not to buck roughly into your palm. He’s still a little embarrassed by the idea of you seeing him undone even if he also finds it exciting. But regardless of how he feels about it, he fails to hold back a long string of moans the moment your teeth graze the back of his neck. Whatever cold, macho ideals were drilled into his mind at early development, it all falls apart when he’s around you and he’s so happy that you don’t seem to mind in the slightest, you don’t see what he believes to be shortcomings. He lifts the hand of yours that he’s still holding on to and kisses the back of it. He staggers out a groan of your name into it too when he watches your thumb circle around the shiny wet tip of his cock. He knows this isn’t going to last, he’s too sensitive, but he tries to focus whatever parts of his brain that can into fully enjoying this. You make it an easy task. Your hand on him feels good: it’s soft and warm and you squeeze him nicely while you tug him off. He feels that familiar pressure build up faster than he expected, his blood runs hot behind his ears and he can’t quite fully hear the lewd wet slaps that come as his hips jerk up to meet your hand. He feels your thighs squeeze around his torso and your hand grips tight on him and when he feels your hot breath on his back it’s enough to fully pull him into something that feels safe and warm. The sight before you makes you want to devour him whole. You try to commit all of this to memory. The way his weight presses into you as his body melts under you. The soft whisper of your name as you lightly drag a nail across his balls. You admire the veins along his length and take in a sharp breath when you feel him throb against your palm. His sticky head twitches desperately as you pull back his foreskin and his hips writhe beneath you. One last, long, crying moan ripples out as his hips rut into your hand and he feels that hot flash of pleasure take him. You run your hand along his length slowly, coaxing him down from the high, his release spills over your hand and his lower stomach, which rises and falls with heavy breaths. You wish you could see what he looked like right now: pupils blown and tear dotted lashes, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. But more than anything you want him to feel comfortable around you, if you only get to hold him while he makes such pretty sounds then that’s enough for you. He mewls a little at your touch, now overly sensitive and reaches for your hand to lick up his release. You groan his name softly at the feeling of his wet tongue wrapping between your fingers, sucking them clean. He pulls them out with an unceremonious pop! of his lips and he smiles softly when he feels your teeth pull into a grin against the back of his neck. You lower your hand to his stomach and wipe up the last few drops of his cum. He holds your wrist gently as you raise it, thinking you’ll bring it to his mouth.

“Wait.” You speak softly, your breath tickling him just behind the ear. He twists a little to face you better, slightly confused. Did you want a better view of him eating his own spunk? You chuckle a little at the way his face morphs in bewilderment and press a small kiss to his temple, a little salty with sweat, and mumble against it. “I wanna taste you.”

His grip on your wrist goes slack, a slightly anxious drumming starts in his chest. He stares at you as he watches you lick up the rest of his mess off of your fingers, waiting for the warm bubble he’s found himself in to burst. He tasted mild and inoffensive but it was Roman’s and that fact alone made it slide down your throat like honey. You swallow and lick your lips in silent appreciation, his brows raise at you in a weird form of anticipation.

“Like a cream soda.” You can’t bring yourself to say that with a straight face, cracking into a grin as you look at him. His skill for being disgusting has not yet fully rubbed off on you. He giggles.

“You’re sick .” He replies, twisting his body fully to better face you and bring you into a deep kiss. One that leaves you with that old fuzzy feeling from your chest to your tummy. You find yourself wrapping around him like a plant, he folds into your embrace easily. His eyes shimmer when he pulls away and looks at you.

“I like you.” You blink, thinking you misheard him for a moment till his eyes narrow impatiently, like he expects you to say it back. It feels silly, the first time you said it you never expected him to say it back and here he was now, prompting it from you like a conductor’s cue.

“I like you too.” You share a smile, and he rests his head over your chest, exhausted from the swirl of emotions you’ve put him through tonight. Your hand finds its way back to his hair, and he quietly hopes you never get tired of playing with it.

He feels you wriggling around a bit beneath him, reaching for something but he doesn’t bother lifting his head off your chest. His ears are met with the sound of sloshing and plastic and his brows dips with confusion but he stays still. He’s made you his bed to lie in and his arms wrap around your waist snugly. Suddenly, he feels something smooth and cold press to his cheek over his bandaged wound. He opens his eyes and tilts his head to see that you had brought him an ice pack. He thinks that one day you’ll be the reason his blood sugar will spike and kill him.

“Thanks.” He mumbles it quietly but you’re pressed close enough to hear it clearly.

“Anytime.” You ruffle his hair as you speak. “Hopefully, your face isn’t so fucked the next time you come and see me.”

He hears you say the words “next time” and he immediately feels a hopeful buzzing in his ears.

“Yeah. . . you should try waterboarding me with that wet cunt of yours. . . next time, I mean.” He tacks on the last bit in hopes that you’re on the same page. That this isn’t his last chance to be intimate with you. He wants to try being with you in general.

“I’d like that….” You start giggling, you hate to admit that you think he’s funny. He hears the smile in your voice as you rest your head back against the cushions. Exhaustion creeps in on you both.

A sun ray somehow manages to find you both in the dark of the night, you both feel warm and tired in its light.

---

Translations (These are not all direct word for word translations. Just what I think sounds better): 1. Come on, cuz….. please?? He’s my friend. 2. You know you can tell me anything, right? 3. Is he your boyfriend? 4. I don’t think he knows that. He keeps looking at you. 5. I’m the only thing in this damn room that he recognizes. No shit, he’s staring. I’m not an idiot. 6. I don’t give a shit, then. Tell him it’s gonna be $60. Family discount.

#roman roy #succession #roman roy x reader #roman roy succession #roman roy smut #succession hbo #succession x reader #succession fanfic #succession smut #dogmotif! roman my beloved

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