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#I feel like they can look kind of sleepy or a bit too small sometimes in photos where I’m not wearing as much makeup

hanjsquokka · 8 months

Text

Hoodie - [ Han Jisung ]

🐿 SYNOPSIS : Jisung comes over to your apartment, but the hoodie he's wearing looks all too familiar

GENRE : established relationship, pure fluff

PAIRING : han jisung × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : none

WORD COUNT : 1K

You were greeted with silence in your apartment as you entered after a long day at work. Your boss always managed to make things ten times more frustrating than they needed to be. You spotted a sleeping figure on your couch as you walked by. Your boyfriend, Han Jisung — was a frequent visitor to your home (at least, on his free days he was). He shifted in his slumber, the anime running on the TV long forgotten.

As you drifted closer to him, you could make out the angle of his jaw line more clearly and his adorable cheeks weren't quite visible anymore. That made your heart ache. Going on tour was no easy feat, but seeing the love of your life so drained felt like a kick in the gut. Your hand moves to his hair on instinct, combing through the soft hair. You always wondered how his hair was so soft, despite dyeing it every few months.

"Hmm?" He groaned, his eyes cracking open a little to see you. "Oh, hey baby, I didn't hear you —"

"You can nap for a little longer. I'm going to shower and make some food."

"Is that food instant ramen?" He asked with a sleepy laugh.

"Don't hate on my love for noodles." You laughed, ruffling his hair a little more.

He pulled the blanket that was on top of him closer to his face. "Well, if you're going to take a while, I'll take a quick power nap I guess."

"You do that, baby." You got up from the couch and headed to the bathroom to take a nice, warm shower.

The shower really did wonders for your pent up stress. It felt like all of it washed off of you and went down the drain. Feeling refreshed, you wrapped a towel around yourself and went to your room to put on some comfy clothes. But the particular hoodie you wanted to wear was no where to be found. After spending about ten minutes emptying out the contents of your closet, you gave up and put on a t-shirt and shorts before heading to the kitchen to heat some water for your ramen.

As you were watching the noodles cook in the pot, you felt a pair of arms wrap around you, sending a wave of butterflies throughout your body. Jisung rested his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around your waist.

"The wonderful smell of instant ramen mix." He mused, his voice sending fluttering vibrations throughout your skin.

"Yeah. I should probably go and buy real food tomorrow." You said, turning around to face him. "I haven't had time to grocery shop —" You paused, your gaze falling on the piece of clothing he was wearing. The oversized grey hoodie you were looking for earlier! But how did Jisung did get. Or rather, how long did he have it? "Ji baby..." You started with a small chuckle. "Is this mine?"

Jisung looked like a deer caught in headlights- his perfect crime was no longer perfect. "N-No...?" He looked away, no longer making eye contact with you. You gave him a look. He sighed. "Yeah." He admitted. "But I only took it because I was going to miss you! You know I haven't been feeling well lately and going on tour was just going to make it worse — not that I don't like performing, I love performing! But I really missed you." He added that last bit quietly, pouting — making his cheeks full.

"It's okay. I'm very honored to have had my hoodie stolen." You said, pulling him away from the stove (and switching it off, you couldn't have another chuseok disaster, now could you?) "It looks cute on you." You wrapped your arms around his waist.

"You think so? I think I was wearing a bit too often though. The boys thought I lost my luggage and this was the only thing I had left." he told you, laughing at his own words. "I didn't even wash it for a long while until someone — I swear Felix is just too kind for his own good sometimes — threw it in for laundry. Your beautiful scent was washed away." He said dramatically. "All I had left was the thought of you wearing this before, hugging me like I'd disappear if you'd let go as I tried to sleep."

You laughed. "You're more dramatic than Hyunjin sometimes, you know? How about... I give you my perfume?" You suggested. "That way even if Felix is just trying to be nice and wash your clothes because you're too lazy to do so (Jisung squeezed your sides at that) you can just spray some perfume and voila."

He thought on that for a moment. "That's a pretty good idea. Time to raid your perfume collection as well."

"As well? Just how many of my things did you steal Han Jisung?" You asked seriously, but a giddy smile was on your face.

"Not much. Your hoodie." He gestured to the one he was wearing. "Your sunflower necklace you broke? Your fluffy owl socks you thought the washing machine ate. And..." He paused for dramatic effect. "Your heart." He added with a smug smirk, making you blush.

"You're quite the thief." You said through your giggles. "I can't believe you took my socks though!"

"Hey, those socks are so cute and so comfy."

"I know! I liked them so much. You saw how upset I was when they didn't come out of the washing machine."

"Yeah. But I needed them more." He shrugged nonchalantly, hugging you tighter, planting a kiss on your forehead. "Also, I think we can't eat those noodles anymore." Turns out you didn't switch off the stove. There was now a boiling mass of something in the pot.

You let out a sheepish laugh. "Yeah."

"It's okay bubs, let's order some takeout. Can't have my baby slaving in the kitchen when she needs to be cuddling me." He picked you up, causing yet another fit of giggles to escape your lips as he carried you back into the living room.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : this was so fun to write T-T i desperately need a han jisung in my life >_< the only that gets stolen from me are my answers on my test 😔

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#han jisung #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz scenarios #han jisung fluff #han imagines #han jisung imagines #han fic #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #( 🎤 ⸻ my works / han jisung )

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prettyoatmeal · 1 year

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MORE John Price Headcanons While You're Dating

Part 2 to this!

Since SO many people (like 4) were asking for me to do a part 2, here it is! Enjoy! A/N at the end!

Genre: Fluff! Smut after the buffer.

Summary: Just some more headcanons I've thought of. GN reader, no mentions of Y/N.

Content Warnings: NSFW After buffer.

Masterlist here!

***************

Big big big big boy.

He's quite muscular, got that meat on him (I mean, hell. Look at those shoulders). This means he needs to buy pretty large sized clothing for himself when he's out shopping.

This also means that they're a perfect size for you, able to very easily slide into a shirt of his and just wear that with how long it is on you.

They're just so comfy and baggy and cover you up so well, they're nice for when you don't feel like wearing something form fitting or if yours are in the wash.

John would definitely approve.

They'd smell like him, like home, how could you not wear them every now and again?

If you asked really nicely, John would get you a personal travel bottle of his cologne to keep on you at all times.

If you two are deployed, then he'd definitely pack a few extra shirts and sweaters of his because he knows you'll want some with you in the barracks. Maybe sleep in them or use them as a pillow case.

Seeing you in his clothes would definitely rile him up, seeing how the shirt gathers around your hips especially would leave a lasting effect on him. Expect his hands to be all over you.

You'd get the same reaction from him from wearing something more form fitting.

Wearing something that hugs your curves and shows off how great you look?

Oh boy.

It would drive him mad.

Would purposefully buy you shirts or those bike shorts in a half size too small and blame it on forgetting your size or being an 'accident' just to watch you try them on and gaze how the fabric squeezes around your chest and thighs.

Would definitely get heart eyes from that.

"John, are you sure this is my size?" as you finally pull the shirt over your chest, feeling how constricting the fabric is.

"Is or isn't, you look divine!"

If you wear a proper compression shirt, he'd probably die on the spot.

please please please please wear one.

No matter how thick or thin you are, he'd love every bit of how you look, and he'd definitely make that well known to you.

Definitely the kind to love playing with your hair, especially if it's long. He'd love braiding it, brushing it, running his fingers through it, literally anything,

Loves feeling how soft it is right after you wash it.

Will probably offer to help you dry it.

"Allow me," typa guy for sure.

He'd also be very big on communication.

He's had a lot of experience and has realised that bottling feelings up and keeping them locked away can only make the situations worse.

If you notice he's particularly upset, would always vent to you (If you're comfy w that of course) just to get how he's feeling out of the way, hoping it won't interfere with anything else.

Not one to pull the silent treatment, in fact, he hates it. If you're the kind to pull the silent treatment, he would egg it out of you one way or another.

"I'm too old for this, spit it out," in the kindest way possible.

He knows how draining it is physically and mentally to keep your emotions to yourself, so he'd always convince you to finally let it all loose.

Please tell him how you're feeling, especially if he's the person you're upset with. It breaks his heart seeing you upset and will 100% do everything in his power to make the situation right again.

The type to get grumpy or emotional when he's sleepy. Sometimes he just needs a soft chest or soft tummy to lay his head on and he'll be out like a light.

If you would let him sleep on top of you, that is. All that muscle would be pretty heavy so unless he knew you could take it, little spoon would do just fine for him.

Yeah, he'd love being little spoon. Loves feeling your arms pulling him deeper into your chest.

John is pretty dominant in a traditional sense, very masculine, a fierce leader, knows exactly what he wants and how he's going to get it, but he's also a massive softie and will do anything and everything to have your full attention when he's in the mood.

Yes, he wants to be little spoon, yes, he will also lead an army of men through a battlefield. They exist.

__________________

NSFW

He's an ass man, 100%.

Y'know how I said he'll 'accidentally' buy smaller sizes just to see how the material so perfectly forms itself to your curves?

Yeah, this is why.

Will grab and slap your ass at every chance he gets (with your consent, ofc) even in the most innocent of situations.

Whether you're bending down to pick up something you've dropped, over the kitchen counter while pulling something down from the top shelves, or just leaning over the dinner table to wipe it down, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Jolting you forward.

Loves to hear that high pitched, surprised shriek coming from your mouth at the sudden impact of his hand on your behind.

Backshots with him would be crazy, fingers intertwined with your hair, pushing your face into the mattress as he pounds into you from behind.

Doggy or reverse cowgirl would be his favourite positions because he just gets that full view of your ass jiggling with each bounce or each thrust from his hips.

Definitely wouldn't be gentle, but wouldn't be too rough either, that perfect balance.

Maybe a bit rougher when he's desperate or releasing some pent up stress, but all in all, he wouldn't dare to hurt you unless its the very occasionally slap on the ass or thighs.

I feel like it would be out of his comfort zone as well. Seeing how prominent his hand prints can be after spanking, seeing them on your face or anywhere else would probably make him upset during the process.

Spanking would be the furthest he'd go, making sure the skin is red and raw.

Would stop if he notices you're crying. Breaks his heart.

On the contrary, will gladly make you cry with his head between your legs. Feeling how you twitch against his mouth every time he makes you cum brings a smile to his lips.

VERY focused on making you cum first. Very focused on making sure you're comfortable ad satisfied all the way.

Definitely prefers to be dominant in bed, likes having that control.

Daddy kink probably.

He probably wouldn't make too much noise in bed, maybe a few groans and whines. But would for sure be a dirty talker.

"Yeah, that feels good, doesn't it?"

"Sucking daddy's cock- fuck, -so well, Gorgeous.."

"So fucking tight, aint ya. Mmh, fuck, keep squeezing around me like that, Dove."

Will only let out a classic moan for when he cums.

"That's it, gonna fill you up so good- ahh~!"

Surprising at first since he'd never made all that much sound before but the more you know.

Its totally hot though.

King of aftercare, tbh.

Would gladly carry you everywhere after you've become too sore to walk anywhere yourself.

Even if you can walk after a pounding, will still carry you. Gotta be treated like royalty after letting him slam into your holes like that.

Boy, did it feel good.

***************

I somehow accidentally deleted the first draft of this I made so this turned out a lot shorter than I first wanted it to :(

Also why it took so long lol. I swear, idk why my Tumblr is bugging so much but losing like 2k words after I've worked on it all day literally broke my heart.

Probably don't expect a part 3, but after having a few days to myself, my motivation has defo returned haha.

Goodnight!! <33

Tags: @mind-nine @tapioca-marzipan @underthestarwars @avalkyrieofparis

#call of duty #cod mw2 #John Price x reader #Captain Price x Reader #John Price Imagines #Captain Price Imagines #John Price Fluff #Captain John Price Fluff #MW2 x reader

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planetxiao · 1 year

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# MORNING LIGHT

𖤐 bachira meguru ; mikage reo ; nagi seishiro x reader

⟢ fluff, headcanons // things they do in the morning that make the sunlight feel just a bit warmer <3

𖤐 BACHIRA MEGURU

TRACES YOUR LIPS TO WAKE YOU UP.

On the very very rare occasions that Bachira wakes up before you, it takes him a second to realize you’re still asleep. He’ll mumble a sleepy “G’morning…” before instinctually leaning his head toward you, awaiting a kiss. Upon noticing the lack of response, he’ll crack his eyes open to see you slumbering peacefully next to him. After admiring your pretty features within the sunlight that slips into your bedroom, Bachira will trace the shape of your lips lightly with his fingertip, utterly entranced by how soft they are.

The look in his eyes could be described as one of a lovestruck fool, completely taken by your soft breaths and glowing skin; though, he finds your lips to be the most irresistible both in the way they look and the way they feel. His gaze is always drawn to them no matter the time — whether you’re talking, smiling, focusing on something, etc.

His amber irises follow the path of his fingertip on your lips, memorizing the dip of your cupid’s bow and curve of your bottom lip. It only takes a couple rounds of tracing to make you stir, your eyes scrunching briefly before fluttering open. When your eyes meet his, Bachira is quick to plant a kiss to your lips with a small “G’morning, hun’ bun.” You respond with a peck to his temple — the one he had yearned for all morning —and with that, your morning routines had been completed.

𖤐 MIKAGE REO

LEAVES YOU LOVE NOTES ON THE NIGHTSTAND.

As a professional soccer player, Reo often has to leave for training just as dawn breaks. His stacked schedule makes it so that you’re able to fall asleep within his arms, but wake up in an empty bed. Though you haven’t complained about this, Reo still feels guilt when he leaves you without so much as a greeting. So, Reo does what he feels is the next best thing: he writes you little love notes to wake up to.

The notes are full of words he wishes he could exchange with you before leaving; love confessions, reminders to take care of yourself, letting you know he’s thinking of you, etc. Messages that look like “Morning, my love. Remember to eat breakfast! I’ll be thinking about you all day. Be home soon. I love you. xx, Reo.” Each day it’s a different one, but they all hold the same kind of sentiment.

It’s the least he could do, he thinks, since he is rarely able to share the morning with you. He’ll place them on the nightstand and press a kiss to your forehead before leaving, hoping his written words can somewhat make up for the missing morning greetings and cuddles. And to you, they do. They never fail to bring a smile to your face when you read them. In fact, you have an entire box full of every note he has left you.

𖤐 NAGI SEISHIRO

PRESSES A KISS TO THE BACK OF YOUR NECK.

Nagi is quite hard to wake up in the morning, ever the sleepyhead and lazy boy; this is something you have known since you started dating. You pull out every method to coax him from his slumber, but sometimes all you get are groans in return. Instead of finally giving up and opening his eyes, he’ll pull you back down into bed with his chest pressed to your back, a gentle kiss being placed on the back of your neck that makes you melt into his arms again.

It had taken a bit of time, but you started to understand Nagi’s nonverbal language that he uses from time to time. In this instance, the kiss on the back of your neck meant, “Stay in bed with me a little longer,” and the way his hold on you would tighten only confirmed it. After such a soft gesture, you find it hard to fight him. He has this weapon to overpower your initial motives, and it works every time.

In some ways, Nagi Seishiro annoyed you with the effect he had on you. Even if you wanted to get back up, his warmth was just too inviting, his small snores too cute, his hold too comforting to will yourself away. Stay in bed with me a little longer, a silent request that you can’t seem to refuse. So, you relent, letting your hand find one of his and interlocking them as you let your eyes flutter back closed, Nagi’s breath lulling you to sleep once again.

note: still trying to get their characterizations down, but omg mothe actually wrote something!! wow!!

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader

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4kimji · 3 months

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svt mtl who's the best at aftercare ? ( we know joshua is top 3 )

here's my take on it 🫡 (also my first ot13 mtl post wtf.)

joshua

he's literally so kind to the members so why wouldn't he be kind to his s/o? he'll break your back for half of the night and then WILL be helping you do all of your nightly routine.

mingyu

he's such a gentle giant so ofc he's top 3. he'll massage your waist as you brush your teeth, help you wash your face, and more. best believe he will get a tiny bit of soap in your eyes but how can you be mad at him?

seokmin

the first thing he does is wraps his huge arms around your frame and pull you back onto the bed. he won’t even pull out until he hears your soft sniffles, alerting him that you fell asleep.

seungkwan

AHHHH seungkwan is rushing to get a wet towel as soon as you start rubbing your eyes, wanting to clean you off before you fall asleep. he might brush your teeth too if you ask but expect some sass back.

chan

chan is wayyy gone before you but he’ll try to stay awake while watching you get ready for bed. sometimes you think he’s in a different dimension the way he’s dozing off and waking up frantically. is finally happy when you come to bed so he can sleep with you.

minghao

he’s SUPER SUPER caring so expect nothing but love from him. literally all he wants is to just be with you everywhere you go. and trust he will be holding your hand!

cheol

he’ll ask you if you’re alright and pulls you into a big hug. you’ll give each other pecks constantly until you both feel sleepy. cheol will just lay back and watch you snuggle into his chest and fall asleep.

jun

idk but for this one, you guys might end up on the couch so for aftercare, he’s tripping up the stairs to get blankets for you since doesn’t want you to get cold. also you might need to pee so just imagine jun in the dark sleeping with his eyes open.........

soonyoung

when you guys finish fucking, he'll start whining and holding his hands out like a baby wanting to be picked up. will maybe even start fake crying. but, i know he’s such a good cuddler so it will make up for his childlike actions…

jeonghan

jeonghan will most definitely laughs at your attempt of walking but is quick to help you when he sees you about to fall/trip. if he can’t catch you in time, you bet he’s giggling his ass off.

wonwoo

wonwoo accompanies you while you freshen up and walk you back to the bed. serenades you to sleep with his deep voice then might get up and play his games for a bit. (he’s not coming back for a few hours)

jihoon

he’s a busy man so his aftercare looks a little different. most likely you guys did it in his studio, but doesn’t mean he’s not going to be a loving gentleman. ji will move you out of his chair and put you on his small studio couch, wrapping a soft blanket over your body. he’ll also keep looking back at you to make sure you’re okay

vernon

vernon is the type to get up out of the bed and just stare down at you in only his slanted boxers. the only thing he tells you to do is pee. BUTTTT he will snuggle into your shoulder when you come back from the bathroom with your nightly care done.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen reactions #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt

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sivyera · 10 months

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10 things Edward Cullen loves about you

edward c. x fem!reader wanings: none! just edward being a simp and a lots of fluff, like a lot of

To be clear, Edward loves every. single. part. of. you. In his eyes you are just perfect. There is nothing on you, that he wouldn't find perfect or beautiful. But he somehow sorted it out and wrote down what he loves most about you. Even though he loves everything about you.

Your height - it may sounds weird bur please let me explain. He loves your height because you are much shorter then him, no matter how tall you are you are still smaller then him. So whenever he hugs you, he can rest his chin on your head and he feels like he's protecting you.

Your laugh - especially if he's the one who made you laugh. It's like music to his ears and he can listen to it forever. So sometimes he starts tickle you out of nowhere just to hear you laugh. And he always laugh with you.

Your smile - he just love when you smile at him. Like when you wake up and look at him with messy hair, sleepy eyes and beautiful smile full of love. Or when he says something flirty and you scoff and then smile. Or when he picks you up in his volvo and you say 'hi' with the biggest and brightest smile, he can't help but smile too.

Your voice - it's music to his ears same as your laugh. You can talk about anything and he will still listen with hearts in his eyes. You can talk about how your day went or how much you love this and that, he really doesn't care he just wanna hear your voice. But his favourite thing to listen is when you talk about how much you love him.

Your body - he loves how your body looks and it reacts when he touches you. He is cold but not uncomfortably cold yk, like refreshing cold. So when he softly traces his fingers on your body and you shiver a bit, oh god he just loves it! He likes every part of your body.

Your face -he just finds your face incredibly beautiful. Every single time when he looks at you he just wanna kiss you all over your face. The beauty you hold is something magical to him, something he didn't believe existed, yet here you are with the most beautiful face in the whole world.

Your eyes - he can get lost in them for hours. He cannot get enough of the way how your eyes sparkle when you look at something you like. And he never miss the way they sparkle and get bigger when you look at him, how much love they hold when you look at him. And he looks at you the same way like you, maybe with more love;)

Your scent - it's like a drug to him. I mean it, whenever he smells your scent, he cannot think about anything else then you. You are his blood singer which means he loves the scent of your blood as well and it's like a drug to him same as your human scent. So he loves when he can just wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your neck so he can smell you.

Your touch - it doesn't matter where are you touching him, just touch him. Your touch is as addictive as your scent. Even small touches like holding pinkies. But he is over the moon when you play with his hair. It's so relaxing to him and if he could he would fall asleep. He may start 'purring' but don't mention it, because he will deny it.

Your soul - your beautiful kind soul. He's happy that you accepted him because he was really insecure, because imagining you leaving him or worst being scared of him when he told you he was a vampire was devastating. But you didn't, you stayed with him and you love him unconditionally as he loves you. He considers himself very VERY lucky to have you as his soulmate.

#sivyera #sivyera masterlist #twilight #twilight x reader #twilight edward x reader #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x yn #edward cullen x y n #edward cullen fluff #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader fluff #edward cullen x reader imagine #twilight x reader fluff #twilight imagine #the twilight saga x reader

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impactedfates · 5 months

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Hello there!! Can I request some headcanons / mini-scenarios for: Dan Heng, March, Welt, Himeko, Yanqing and Jing Yuan; with a normally soft-spoken Reader who has a wide vocal range (from contralto to hitting those high notes) and occasionally does song covers? Doesn't matter the genre, so long as Reader likes it.

So they might hear Reader singing something like a lullaby or a traditional Xianzhou song one day, to something that's still soft and sweet like a mainstream pop song on another day; to belting out something like "Kakusei" or "NEXUS" from the Promare OST. :D

★ A/N: I understood the request, I just hope I wrote it in a way you wanted! People with such a large vocal range are so talented istg, they gotta teach me. (I say as if I have ANY confidence to sing anyways)

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic

★ Format: Bullet Pointed Head Cannons (And small scenario at the end :>)

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Reader is a Nameless // Readers age is undisclosed so imagine them at whatever age you wish // Reader can play instruments! // Characters might be OOC I feel // Proof Read but I did it when it was 4am lmao

When you sing more soft songs, Dan Heng tends to enjoy listening. It helps him feel more relax and sometimes rids his mind of nightmares.

He's more used to hearing that kind of voice from you. So when one day, he walks in on you singing a song that's the exact opposite of how you usually sing, he's a bit surprised.

He never doubted you could have a big vocal range, however hearing you sing a song that's different to how he normally hears you sing is what surprised him.

He still enjoys listening, but more so when you sing in a softer voice, don't get him wrong. He still enjoys your singing voice and will support you. But he isn't one for a more loud song.

"[Name]...if you're going to sing more...on the loud side, could I request you do it else where?" Dan Heng sighs softly, being awoken up once again due to you. Despite his words hinting at annoyance, his facial expression was soft and kind. A soft sorry came from your voice as you quickly turned off the music you were using, switching to a more softer song. An old Xianzhou lullaby. "Here, I'll make it up to you. Sit on the couch and I'll sing a softer song" You smiled, Dan Heng chuckled as he obliged. He can't deny that your more softer voice doesn't help him fall asleep. He silently hums along to your voice, and in a sleepy voice he speaks to you before drifting to bed. "If you enjoy music like that so much, we can pay a visit to Serval okay?"

March 7th LOVES your singing voice. She would sing along to whatever song you were singing. She praises you every time she hears you and likely took photos of you singing.

She so supports you if you ever make a YouTube (StarTube?) account and posted covers, literally your number 1 fan.

When you post a cover of a song, she's always the first one to like, comment and listen!

When you post a cover of a song that's VERY different. (Let's say, Usseewa) and you hit ALL those high notes and, everything omg. She was surprised but immediately hyped you up.

She doesn't mind if you sing songs like that at all, your singing is amazing. Like I said, number 1 fan...she doesn't hid it either.

"I love you [Name]!" "Uh, the one with the blue camera and pink hair?" "OH. MY GOD. [NAME] YOU NOTICED ME, YOU NOTICED ME. I.LOVE.YOU" Serval laughed out loud seeing Marchs outburst, as if you two don't live with each other. You could only look away with a small smile, seeing March jump up and down and shaking whoever was beside her. Much to Welts "delight"

Welts very impressed with your vocal range. But he's also worried, he knows that if you were able too have a large vocal range, you likely know how to manage it.

Still, anytime he hears you singing songs like NEXUS or Kakusei he can't help but slide over a bottle of water for your throat.

If you ever join a concert with Serval then he IS buying tickets, though not everyone may go (Dan Heng) he and the rest of the Express will.

He also tends to buy any merch you may come out with if there is any. (Mainly for March but he does keep one or two for himself to support you)

He doesn't really have a preference when it comes too what songs you sing, just as long as your happy and it isn't really disturbing anyone.

If you ever start a StarTube channel, he might animate a few of your covers! Under a pen name though, he's not embarrassed, but I think he'd like it if you thought it was a different fan and not just him who's already liked your singing from the start. (If that makes sense)

"WELT! Weltweltwelt" You ran up to him, quickly showing him an animation someone did of one of your new songs. "ArahatosNumber1Fan animated one of my covers again" You said excitedly, bringing the phone screen back to your view as you scrolled through the comments. Many complimenting the animation but many also asking who sang the cover to which they were directed to your account. "This the guy that you said was helping boost your channel subs?" You nod happily, tapping your chin you thought for a bit. "Do you think they'd still animate my covers even if I sing a different genre? I want to go with something softer this time instead of a louder peice" "I'm sure they'll animate any song you wish to sing" He chuckles. And sure enough, a week after you posted a cover of Lost Umbrella, ArahatosNumber1Fan posted an animation to go along with it.

Himeko compliments you a lot for your vocal range. In fact, she got you a karaoke machine for your birthday! Of course, though. She doesn't let you use it during night time. She doesn't want to wake up because you decided to start singing Churira Churira Dadada at 3 in the morning.

I do think she prefers you to sing outside the train. While she does enjoying your singing and she has no problem if you were to sing in the train. However she also understands it may disturb many people so she does ask for you to sing in an area where you aren't disturbing anyone.

I feel like she also asks you to teach her how to sing or have a wider vocal range. She enjoys singing herself and would love to join in when you're out singing to keep you company!

Perhaps you two can make money by singing on the streets :> (Only if you're okay with it though!)

You strummed you guitar as the two of you reached the last note, Himeko took a small bow and looked up at the audience that had gathered around. All of them clapping and complimenting your voice. She laughed softly and gently packed up your things so the two of you could get going, checking to see if you were uncomfortable with the attention before she directs you back to the train. As you two entered, Himeko was quick to sit and count the amount of credits that were left in your guitar case, looking up to you she said with a smile. "A success, well done. They loved you" "It wasn't just me singing..." "Perhaps but...I'd say they have their favourites"

When Yanqing overhears you singing Xianzhou lullabys, he's quick to shower you with compliments. Your voice is so soothing! He could listen it for so long and it's effective too. You had to usher him out as he could wake the kids you just put to bed.

When he hears you singing a song like (man I'm running out of songs I know/hj) Noels Lament. He's impressed, how can you sing a song so softly and quietly and then sing something like this which needs a stronger voice??

He might skip a few of his training to find you and see what song you're singing, he makes it a guessing game! Will you be singing something so sweet and kind? Or something that might will make head turn??

"...Yanqing?" "Ha! I guessed right this time" "...Guessed...right?" Ah, you weren't meant to know the guessing game he had in his own head, quickly, he shuffled away. Scratching the back of his head. "Of where you were!" "I always walk in this area" "...I meant...what outfit you'd be wearing?" "I usually wear similar clothes?" ...Yeah, he's running off quickly, hopefully Jing Yuan won't scold him for skipping his training again right? Surely the general can understand he just has to see if his guess was right or not.

Surprisingly (or not surprisingly) Jing Yuan enjoys when you sing your heart out with songs like Candy Store or Mount Rageous. That's the type of sing he first heard you sing when he tried to find Yanqing when he skipped yet another training sessions.

Usually he would just sleep till Yanqing returned or just go on with his day if he never did. In either case, now he joins Yanqing to see what song you're singing before returning back to train.

When he hears you singing a less upbeat song like Sweet Dreams. He's slightly surprised but listens intently, it's different to what he often hears you sing but he enjoys it none the less, he sees your happy so he's fine.

He might even request to hear certain songs just to see how well you voice range can handle it. From the loudest song that could break glass, to a soothing song that can put even the mara struck to bed. And if you successfully sing them all, he congratulates you.

Overall, he's impressed as well as many others, likely talks to you and how well you sing to his friends.

You panted a bit as you finished a particularly long high note, Jing Yuan chuckles and slides over a cup of water which you accept quickly. Taking a drink to sooth your throat. "You voice really can do wonders, I'm more then impressed" He speaks, you nodded in response as he then offers a small treat for agreeing to sing a song for him. A song that made you go from high to low, soft to loud and all in all, tested how wide your voice range can be in a singular song. "I must apologies, I just wished to see how far your voice can go. I should've considered how tired your throat must be from singing that particular song" "No worries, it was fun to read and practice that song. I'm a bit surprised you know it though" "Oh? Are you now?" "Yeah...I mean...the song was released like a month ago and you're kinda a grandp-" "Alright I get it" He chuckled lightly, gently flicking your forehead.

I'm so smart writing Yanqings and JY sleep deprived right?/j Yeah uh they might be OOC, hopefully not thoughejfpgt.

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acalfinthemuseum · 1 month

Text

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, find a job where your boss didn't expect you to drop everything and run, 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, you found him even ordering things he normally 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 for him. 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 face scrunches up as if offended 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, not some smarmy creep that plays all field but rather, someone who had a large capacity for kindness. 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 uncomfortable 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 should be enough for you to already know how he feels and why he acts the way he does around you. 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 head 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.

“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 dislike 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 uneasy- 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. Roman finds 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. He'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. . . you know when people just say things they don't mean?"

Roman knows you're referring to him and he thinks of every rude thing he's ever said to you. He meant none of it, he thinks you're wonderful. He swallows thickly and takes in an uncomfortable breath but he doesn't open his mouth to respond so you keep talking.

"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.

“I am being serious.

“Are you?

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

“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.” You 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 ghosts 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 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 chirp sweetly. 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 to a symphony.

“I like you too.” You share a smile, and he rests his head on you, nuzzling into 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 crinkling and his brow dips in confusion but he stays still. He’s made you his bed to lie in and his arms are already wrapped around your waist snugly, stubborn with his drowsy affection. 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 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. . ." He smiles softly. ". . . 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 #roman roy x f!reader

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Childhood trauma with 141 + König.

!CW! Abuse, trauma, neglect, lasting issues from a bad childhood, (sorry if I miss any.)

König:

König didn’t realize your behavior was out of the ordinary until the military forced him to go to behavioral classes. They went over all kinds of topics. The childhood trauma topic is what really made him perk up. König noticed this small thing with you pretty much immediately after you’d begun dating. While you were awake, you were normal. Casual, hugs and small kisses when nobody was looking, but when you were sleepy, or asleep. You cling to him. Like your life depends on it. You’re a bit of a crazy sleeper, so sometimes you’ll have a hold of some random part of his body. Like his foot, or his leg. But it’s usually his arm. Sometimes you’ll even hold his hand while you’re asleep. He always thought it was really sweet until he seen that video.

The first thing he did upon returning was cornering you to ask you. “Liebling, can I talk to you?” He mumbles. You nod your head with a smile. He walks toward you, thankful this was able to happen while the both of you were home from the military. “They spoke about childhood trauma today.” He mumbles. You nod your head, blood running cold. You knew what he was going to ask. “And.. the way you cling to me in your sleep. Is there something you’re not telling me?” He asks. You release a defeated sigh. “It’s nothing that important.. it’s just.” You pause. “When I was a kid, my dad wasn’t all that nice and my mom slept in my room because he wouldn’t hit her when I was around. I always fell asleep holding onto her for safety and comfort, and… I fell asleep holding onto her one night and when I woke up, she was gone. That was when I was 5. I never seen her again.” You look down. König feels his heart break. Grasping your wrist and pulling you into him to hug you tightly. “Ich werde dich nie alleine lassen” he whispers it into your ear and he can feel you relaxing into him. “I love that you hold onto me. I will keep you safe.” He breathes. Feeling you tighten your grasp around him.

Ghost:

Ghost could pick up on trauma pretty easily because he had a lot of his own trauma responses. You always talked a lot about how you seemed to have a pretty good childhood for the most part, but you did something that made him wonder what actually happened during your childhood. The first fight the both of you had shared was pretty brutal. A lot of hurtful words were spoken and when Ghost came to you to apologize the following day, you wouldn’t say it back. No matter what, you wouldn’t apologize for anything. Ghost took everything you said with a grain of salt, but he secretly hated that you wouldn’t apologize when you said hurtful things. After a particular fight, he seen a certain look in your eyes. He seen the pain in them. You didn’t like saying hurtful things. But he could tell this is what you were used to. For some reason, you believe it was fight, never flight. During one particular night in with him, the both of you laying comfortably in your shared bed, he decided to bring it up.

“Why don’t you ever say sorry?” He asks. You turn to look at him. Sending him a weird look. “What?” You ask. You’re completely confused. “You know.. sometimes when we fight and I apologize, you never do.” You look confused. “Oh.. I didn’t realize I did that.” You laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry Ghost. I just.. it’s a bad habit that my family had when I was growing up.” Your cheeks are red, and he can see that you feel bad. “It’s okay.” He slides his hand along your hip and pulls you into him. “We’re going to work on everything together so that you’re comfortable. You help me get over my identity crisis, I help you learn empathy.” He laughs. You look up at him. “I think as long as we have each other, the rest will be easy.” You laugh. “I think so too. I’m sorry that your parents never apologized to you.” He breathes. “It’s okay. I can fix that, but I can’t fix what I say to hurt you.” You breathe. He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be just fine sweetheart. We have each other now.”

Captain Price:

Before the two of you started a relationship, he caught on to something pretty quickly. You dropped a piece of paper during a meeting, and Captain Price picked it up, handing it to you. You flinched when he held it out for you. Trying to play it off and thanking him. Anytime he’d reach his hand out for something, you’d flinch away from him. He picked up on a few more signs here and there, when everyone else would go home, you’d always stay back. Saying you’ll keep an eye on the base for everyone. It was during a family gathering the task force had, a dinner to invite families to, where Captain Price seen it. He met your father, shook his hand. Through the entire night, he noticed the way you’d flinch under any slight movement he made. At the end of the night, Captain Price told him to leave, and that he wasn’t welcome anymore. You were surprised and so was your father. Captain Price had no idea about your past.

That was the night you opened up to him about everything. The abuse, how you joined the military to escape from it. Tried everything to make your father proud but it never worked. You spent the entire night laid up in bed with Captain Price, and that’s when you confessed your feelings for one another. Under the sheets, no clothing. He stared at you, perfect toned body, lower half hidden underneath silk sheets. He caressed your cheek, reassuring you. He had himself propped up as he looked at you. Hair sprawled across his pillows. “You didn’t deserve that. And I would never raise my hand at you, not ever. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you. Never again.” He mumbles, leaning down to press his lips to your forehead. Tears welled in your eyes and you smiled up at him. Having to explain this is the first time a man has ever been kind to you. It broke him inside. It really did. But he’d always be there for you. For every step of the healing process. No matter what. After that night, he was different around you. Way more protective. Anytime you flinched for any reason, he pulled you into his side, or pulled you behind him during drills when you were uncomfortable. He always did his very best to make sure you were comfortable, and you couldn’t be more thankful for that.

Soap:

Soap noticed that you were able to memorize a lot of things about the others on base. It started with their tone of voice, you’d joke about your Captains tone of voice. Laughing and saying he seemed pissed about something. You could tell just by the tone of voice what kind of mood they were in, and Soap found it odd because he couldn’t tell. When the two of you started sneaking around together, during the night when you heard footsteps passing your room, he would tense up and you would reassure him. Saying “it’s just Ghost, don’t worry.” Of course he’d ask how you knew, and you’d say by the sound of the footsteps. Eventually he caught on too. He ended up coming across a video online about common trauma responses in adults from their childhood and that was a big one. He wondered what had gone on in your childhood for you to develop a response like that. Sometimes when you heard specific footsteps, you’d tense up, or scramble to get rid of whatever you’re doing.

During one night when you were with Soap, he decided to ask about it. You were sitting at your desk and he was laying in your bed. “Sorry to interrupt your work lass, but I have a question.” He mumbles, sitting up on your bed. “Yeah what’s up?” You turn to him. Spinning in the chair. “Well.. you know how you memorize certain things?” He asks. You look at him confused. “Like footsteps? Or a tone of voice?” He asks. “Yeah?” He nods his head. You’re following him. “I read online that that’s a common trauma response. Were your parents mean to you when you were a kid?” He asks. You smile. “I wouldn’t say mean. Just strict. I memorized their footsteps so that if I was up to no good or needed to hide something, I knew who it was. And I could usually tell by their footsteps if they were coming to yell at me, and I could tell by their tone of voice if they were mad or not so that I could avoid them.” You explain. He nods his head. It’s almost as if it’s clicking in your own head as the realization washes over your face. He reaches out, grasping the chair and sliding you toward him. “Nothing to worry about now, I’ve got you. If anyone treats you like that, they’ll have to face me.” He pulls you into him, kissing you.

Gaz:

You and Gaz started out as really good friends. Somehow you were always paired with him on missions and you got along with him really nicely. During one mission, you and Gaz had gotten stuck somewhere for a couple days, and took turns taking watch. While you were asleep, Gaz accidentally slammed a door shut, and you jolted awake. Looking around in a panic. He reassured you that it was just him, and that it was an accident. He assumed it was just the mode you were in from being in the military. But you had this habit anywhere you were, and it was only certain noises. Doors slamming, glass breaking, heavy footsteps. Gunfire and bombs never seemed to bother you, and that’s where Gaz was confused. You slept like a rock through gunfire. You might wake up here and there from a bomb, but never like you had that night when he accidentally slammed the door. When the two of you ended up together, he noticed small signs more and more and one night as he went to fall asleep, he put two and two together.

He corners you one night on watch, and asks you. With a sigh, you confess that your parents fought a lot when you were a kid, and you could tell your dad was home because of the door slamming and heavy footsteps and when they’d fight, your mom would break dishes and throw stuff. Sometimes when they took their anger out on you, your door would open and you’d wake up immediately. Gaz comforted you and reassured you, obviously. But he knew it would take time for you to feel better. That same night, he was laying next to you. He’d snuck into your room and you had fallen asleep a few minutes earlier. The sound of a door slamming shut outside had you awake in a panic. Gaz reached a hand out, caressing your arm. “Hey, it’s just one of the others. Relax.” He mumbles. You nod your head, laying back down. He pulls you into him, running a soothing hand through your hair in an attempt to calm your racing heart. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore. I’ve got you now.” He mumbles. You relax almost immediately, falling back asleep. He needed to sneak back to his room soon, but he just can’t yet. He hates leaving you alone to worry. He hates seeing you like that. Something so small throwing you into such a panic. But he’ll always be there to calm you.

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #mw2 headcanons #mw2ghost #gaz mw2 #könig mw2

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biolumien · 4 days

Text

keep you safe

reno ichikawa x gn!reader existing, established relationship. a bit of described gore, but its all kaiju guts word count: 1841

you and reno ichikawa were like night and day. reno had always been a bit reserved, and you’d been his bright counterpart, the extrovert that had adopted him as the two of you became fast friends. he’d opened up to you slowly, bit by bit, and the two of you were usually inseparable.

on your end, at least, friendship turned to admiration, something like adoration. you liked touching his face sometimes, brushing your knuckles across his hand and watching him flush a bit, turn away from you with a mumbled excuse on his lips. eventually, he’d dared to be a bit bolder, intertwine his fingers with yours, lean into touches with a soft, shy smile across his face.

“i want to become a defense force officer,” he’d said shyly, to you. he spun the straw of his drink around, not looking at you.

“oh?” you’d asked, leaning on the railing of the small apartment you lived in. “isn’t that dangerous work?”

“well, yeah,” reno murmured. “but i want to do it. i’ve wanted it for forever. to be out there protecting the people i love.”

he’d smiled at you, then, and you laughed.

“are you confessing to me, reno?”

reno’s violet eyes met yours, and you realized there was largely sincerity behind those eyes—you say largely, because he also seemed nervous—hesitant. almost worried.

“… yeah,” reno said. he fell silent for a moment. “i—i just wanted to, because—well, you know. i could-i could die, out there… and i think i would’ve beaten myself up if i got into a situation and realized that my one regret was not telling you how i feel. because that can so easily be changed if i—just… yeah, since i just told—”

you leaned up close to kiss the words out of his mouth, and he startled a little bit, his hand shifting, not sure where to put it, but you clasped his hand soon after, and you smiled into the kiss, realizing how sweaty his palms were—he must have gotten in his head about the confession, but you were so happy he’d gotten over the hurdle and just—said it, put it out in the open.

“i love you too, silly,” you responded against his lips. “i’m not gonna stop you from becoming a defense force officer if that’s what you want… but…” you raised your arms up, wrapping them around his neck, resting your forehead against his. his breath was shuddering, warm against your lips. “don’t forget me when you make it big, okay?”

reno laughed.

“of course not. how could i forget you?”

you spent days sitting alongside him as he studied for the entrance exams, watched as he applied for the cleanup crew job in preparation for the second phase of the exam.

his face was alight with determination that you couldn’t help but admire—reno had always been quiet, kind of forlorn. you’d tried your best to bring him out of his shell—and he always seemed to, around you, but now there was something different. a burning desire to become stronger? to chase after a tangible, difference-making dream? whatever it was, you wanted it to pull through.

“you’re okay, right? i heard that kaiju no. 8 attacked the hospital you were staying in,” you murmured. you stared out the window, at the faintest eruption of smoke in the distance. “and there was a honju attack, too—one after the other… are you really okay?”

“yea,” reno sounded a little sleepy from his side of the phone. he’d texted you that he’d ended up in the hospital on his first day of work—a yoju had attacked his coworker, and in an adrenaline-infused rush, he’d ran up to protect him, and both of them had barely gotten away with their lives, or so it seemed. “i’m okay. don’t worry about me.”

“but i do,” you replied. “all the time, you know that.”

“i know.” you heard the rustling of sheets. “if you don’t want me to—”

“no. no, you should. i want you to,” you replied. “don’t let my worry stop you from doing this. you helped your coworker, right? i’m sure you were super cool. i’d love to see you in your uniform.”

reno sounded flustered for a moment on his side of the phone, before he shifted again.

“today’s just been crazy,” he said. “but i really want to protect people. it just feels like—like it’s what i’m supposed to do. i guess it sounds kind of—embarrassing, now that i’ve said it, like i believe in fate or something, but—”

“i don’t think it’s embarrassing at all,” you said fiercely, squeezing a pillow on your bed close to your chest. “you’re super cool, reno. i’m happy my boyfriend’s the coolest guy around.” the last sentences are teasing, and you hear reno make another strangled sound.

“come on, you’re flattering me,” reno sounded muffled, as if he’d shoved his head into his sheets. “i’m not that cool. you could’ve done so much better than—someone like me, who got super reckless and thought he-he could take a yoju down with a street sign.”

“that sounds like literally the coolest thing ever, reno,” you replied.

you fell silent for a moment, adjusting your phone.

“i wish you were here,” you admitted after a moment. “i want a hug.”

“you know i’d be there if i could,” reno replied, sounding hesitantly shy. “once i get discharged?”

“sure,” you replied, the smile clear in your voice. “i’m looking forward to it.”

you wonder who’s going to save you now.

a large honju, its bulging eyes fixating on the fact that you’re horribly alone and isolated, the rubble collapsing around you making it impossible to run away and hide—but even if you could hide, there’s too much open space. you’d sprained your leg trying to run away the first time, before you’d underestimated just how fast this damn thing could fucking run.

it had pushed you into this corner, practically—toying with you as you realized far too late that you’d been completely backed into an area you couldn’t escape, about to become this honju’s next meal—though maybe that was inaccurate. you doubted you could even be a meal at all—just a tiny, insignificant snack on this monster’s rampage.

you wished fervently that you were stronger. maybe if you were a defense officer, too—but could you really kid yourself, thinking something like that? you rose up on shaking legs, trying desperately to control your breathing. you weren’t going to die. you couldn’t die. that would break reno’s heart, wouldn’t it? you didn’t want to break reno’s heart, you didn’t. you didn’t want to imagine a future where reno’s face would screw up with pain—a future where he might shed tears over you. he didn’t deserve that.

you remembered, desperately, for a moment, that they’d sent out the third division to deal with the current kaiju threat. surely that meant—no.

it’s not like civilian casualties weren’t common. you shudder to think of the possibility that you’d end up as another statistic—but you shuddered, terrified of the possibility that reno would find your lifeless body. you wanted to be alive to hug him, to press your head into the crook of his neck as he held the back of your head, just desperately glad that you were alive. you wanted some kind of happy ending—not death from some fucking honju.

the honju’s gigantic hand reached out for you, and you braced yourself for the worst, squeezing your eyes shut—

the resounding bang that rang through the air made your ears ring, and you felt something wet hit your face—as you opened your eyes, you touched your face, pulling it away to find your hand stained with blood—but not your own.

the honju shrieks, doubling back—and you realize with belated horror that its hand had been completely blown off, viscera scattering across rubble. the sight of the gore makes you collapse, practically, as your knees gave out.

“i’m sorry i’m late,” a familiar voice says, and you blink hard as—

“reno,” you say, almost dazedly.

he looked—good, in any case, dressed in the defense force suits you’d seen on television once in awhile when you’d watch a bit of the televised kaiju war effort. he pulled down his respirator mask for a second, giving you a small smile.

“you’re okay,” reno says, before turning back to the honju with deadly focus. “cover your ears as best you can, alright?”

you did as he asked, upon which several more loud bangs rang out, each rattling your very core, your ears ringing with the impact. the honju shrieked as each bullet punctured it, until it eventually gave out and collapsed against the ground, its shriek a death knell that almost made you want to curl up into a ball on instinct to hide from it—you were shaking, horrified at the sounds, the sight of the gore—the fact that it even stained your face.

reno lowers his gun.

“command, come in,” he says, his hand tapping his in-ear receiver. “i’ve killed the honju in this sector. recovered a civilian as well. i’ll oversee transport to the nearest medical facility. thank you.” he lowers his hand, kneeling down to wipe the blood from your face.

“reno,” you say weakly. “you saved me.” your shaking breaths turn to sobs as you press your face against his chest, your shoulders shaking. the surface of his suit is hot, almost burning, but you don’t care as your fingers barely dig into its surface. “i’m—i’m so—i was so scared—”

“i know,” reno says, hoisting you up with ease. you remember that he used to struggle to do that—not that he couldn’t lift you up, just that there was always more effort involved. he coaxes your legs to wrap around his waist, his hand coming up to stroke the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. “i know. i—i’m sorry. i should’ve—i could’ve come sooner, i knew we were being dispatched to-to the site, and—”

“it’s okay,” you cling to reno as your lifeline, pressing your cheek to his. “i’m just—i’m just—i’m so happy you came.”

reno looks at you, his violet eyes brimming with tears as he presses his forehead to yours, a shaking breath leaving his lips.

“i’ll always protect you, okay?” he says, his voice choking up. “i’ve got the strength to do it now—to protect the people i love. to protect you.”

you toy with the hair at the nape of his neck, kissing the tip of his nose.

“i know,” you say, quiet fondness creeping into your voice, despite everything. “i love you, reno.”

“i love you too,” reno says, and you’re flustered for a moment by how sure he sounds—he always used to hide away behind his hand when he said it, shy and unsure of himself. but the way he looks at you, with pure dedication and determination—your heart flutters again, and you laugh.

“kiss me, please,” you say, and reno kisses you so softly, and you melt into it, safe in his embrace.

#kaiju no 8 #leno ichikawa #reno ichikawa #leno ichikawa x reader #reno ichikawa x reader #ichikawa reno x reader #ichikawa leno x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader #reno’s such a nice guy #just a really good kid (he’s not that much younger than me lol i just fawn over him like that)

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riddles-fiddles · 10 months

Note

Hey, its me again! I just had another idea for a fic!! Leona and/or Silver with a s/o Yuu who likes to take naps with them and cuddle. They also don't mind where those naps take place, Leona wants to sleep in the botanical garden? He needs to make space for his herbivore. Silver accidentally falls asleep while they're studying? Looks like a sleepover to Yuu!

My gods, I love those kind of fluffy scenarios so much T_T also thank you for requesting for my baby Silver! I was aching to be able to write for him some time!!! <3

Synopsis: just cuddling and falling asleep in each other's arms Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Silver Tags: SFW, fluff, cozy lovey scenario Notes: implied narcolepsy by Silver's part, sorry if this feels too short </3

"Don't you have some classes to attend, herbivore?" Leona scoffs with contained annoyance as you motion to sit down beside him, leaning against the tree he was unsuspiciously sleeping against just some seconds ago - you should know by now that he is far from happy every time someone comes to wake him up. He doesn't even need to open his eyes to know it's you; he knows your scent and the way your shoes clap on the floor with a certain rythm, so he's not as tense and irritated as expected when being disturbed by someone else.

His ears twitch with curiosity when your response to his harsh remark is to simply chuckle with an amused tone, your low tone welcoming his attention in a way only you could capture. "Actually, I just thought it would be nice to nap a bit. My class is taking flight, so it's not like I'll miss much on the lessons."

Leona merely hums with lazy understanding at your reasons, crossing his arms above his chest as he shifted slightly, trying to make himself comfortable again, and when you lay your head on his shoulder, he goes stiff for a moment, careful to stay as still as possible as you snuggle closer to his body, skin shivering by the welcoming feeling of your warm hands wrapping around his waist in a loose hug.

A low sigh of contentment falls from his lips as he finally adjusts, tilting his head to carefully rest over the top of yours in a silent, humble act of affection and protectiveness. Leona takes in the sweet, relaxing scent of your hair, the enveloping heat that your body radiates a beacon of reassurance and bliss for him. Leona reveled on the way you effortlessly worked his heart to beat faster for your innocent antics, and at the same time relax at your comforting embrace, your rythmic breath lulling him to sleep.

Next time he's out searching for good spots to nap, Leona hopes that you'll be ditching classes again, and this time he'll be sure to bring a blanket too, just in case.

It doesn't matter where Silver is sleeping, as long as he can feel you within his reach, anywhere is good enough. Most of times he fell asleep without even noticing it, he would feel embarrassed, knowing it was mostly in public places and it meant exposing his vulnerability to others.

But then you came along on his life, and somehow you're always by his side on those moments of what feels like black-outs for him, always looking and caring for his unconscious self. Though Silver recognizes how much his condition can be difficult to deal with, he's glad that it's still something you two can bond upon; he's the most happy when you seek him to cuddle lazily until you two slip off to a comfortable slumber.

When you invite Silver over Ramshackle Dorm to study together for your exams, you're already aware of his sudden sleepiness, so you set everything you think might be useful; food, plenty of water, a stimulating playlist to listen to while you scribble down important notes. You even wrote down a quiz regarding the most important tests to help memorize.

Silver sits in front of the small table on the lounge, brows furrowed and auroral eyes intensely scrapping every sentence on the alchemy book with resolute determination. You can't help but sometimes glance over your notebook to appreciate his focused expression, or check on him to make sure he was still awaken, pulling small talk to break the silence and keep Silver from dozing off.

But you're half an hour through the first test, and when you lift your eyes off the book to ask him something, you notice Silver's face slumped over his notes, a peaceful glow over the fair features. With a knowing sigh, you wrap a blanket over his shoulders before setting by his side, carefully snuggling under his arms - and even asleep, Silver seems to notice the press of your body, welcoming you to indulge on his embrace by wrapping an arm around you, instinctively coming closer to you. A delighted smile tugs at the corner of his lips, your touch and the warmth of your body a soothing reassurance for his sleepy consciousness.

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vampyrgoff · 9 months

Note

Hii I just wanted to see if you do requests? I kind of want to ask a Vince and Bo both dating you. But you kind of have a bad week and don’t talk and act like your normal self and then one day they finally ask you and (you know when someone asks if you are okay and the waterfall comes) and have a lot of comfort🥺

I’m kinda struggling right now and today just is the one over the edge and need some love and comfort from these guys😭😭😭

If not that’s alright! Thank you for reading this one anyways!

Dating Both Vincent and Bo Sinclair: You had a bad week </3 Bo and Vincent comfort <3

Bo Sinclair x reader, Vincent Sinclair x reader

contains— fluffff, Bo, and Vinnie being cutie patooties, the boys kind of give off caregiver vibes?, agere vibes but like not really specifying or going into too much detail with that, vinnie does speak a VERY little. YALL CANT TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME, HE SOMETIMES SPEAKS TO YOU WHEN ALONE IDC I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL, a bit of babying honestly, I feel like it sucks but this is the best my sleepy brain can come up with...

requests— always open! send whateva guys <3

vampyr's note— Thanks for requesting, I hope you're doing okay 🥺 I wanted to get this out as soon as possible just cause I know how it feels when you have those days where you're struggling and nothing goes right. I hope this makes your day a little better and if it does, I'm glad I was able to help! <3 My DMs are ALWAYS open if anyone needs to talk to someone! <3 I want to say that this is my first time having to WRITE a cohesive story instead of small blurbs, so I'm sorry for any bad writing!

word count— 2.0k words, 10.9k characters

as always... gifs aren't mine!

reblogs, comments and feedback are always appreciated <3

(literal husbands ughh) (Vincent speaks through sign language! its easier on me to write it that way) (NOT PROOFREAD)

It was just a day. It was just a week, even. That's all it was. "All you have to do is get through it" is what you kept telling yourself. As you lay in bed in the workshop, watching Vincent work, your chest felt heavy. As if there was some sort of weight that was pulling you down. Your throat almost felt shut closed, as if you were to speak, nothing would come out. Your eyelids felt heavy and your vision grew hazy. You've been in bed all day. You didn't even know what time it was.

One thing about Vincent: if you don't tell him to stop working, he never will. He gets so lost in sketching and materializing those sketches that he forgets to eat and drink water, sometimes even take bathroom breaks. Bo can be heard upstairs, busy with something or someone. The loud thuds of his boots can be heard from downstairs. You sat up from the bed, your hair a tousled mess. Vincent's head snaps towards you almost instantly and his eyes soften at how beautiful you looked. Your hair was a mess but it looked so good, your skin was flushed a bit from all the crying and rubbing at your face, and you sat there wearing Bo's Nine Inch Nails band tee.

Vincent tilts his head at you, something he does a lot. "How did you sleep, beautiful?" He signs. A faint smile graced your lips.

"It... it was okay." You said a bit flatly. You got up and walked to him. Vincent noticed your thigh-high socks that rested up to about mid-thigh. The warmth of the basement really hitting your skin now. Vincent stood on his stool, waiting for you to really cuddle up in his arms like you normally do. But his heart sank a little when all you did was a small side hug and looked at one of the sketches he was drawing.

You were trying to avoid his gaze. You've been like this, this whole entire week. You lay in bed and shut yourself out from your lovers. It's easy to hide your true discontent feelings from Bo, as he tends to get busy with running everything in Ambrose with Lester. But with Vincent, it's a different story. Vincent knows you like the back of his hand. He observes you like a lost puppy. You're fascinating to him. So when you have these weeks, he tries to give you space and offer comfort but, it's truly hard when all you do is push away from him. Vincent watched you walk up the stairs, listening to the soft pitter patters of your feet. He wasn't gonna follow you yet but he knew Bo was gonna get to the bottom of what has been making you feel so bad.

Vincent had always struggled with confrontation and confronting you. Bo was always upfront with you and sometimes had to air out Vincent's feelings so that Vincent's problems would get solved. You never minded it though. You kind of admired the Yin and Yang in them. You loved the warmth of Vincent and the iciness of Bo.

As you walked out into the kitchen, Bo was already there, looking through the fridge. Bo's phone dinged and he looked at the message, tensing his jaw a bit as he looked at you. The message was from Vincent and it very much was a message about you and your recent behavior. "Doll," he says lowly, dragging out the name itself. You turned your head to him, already preparing yourself to mask your emotions completely. You hummed in response as you looked up at the taller man, he looked at you with expectant eyes. You heard approaching footsteps from behind you, once you heard Vincent walk into the room, you knew the jig was up.

Bo carried you and placed you on the kitchen island's countertop. Bo and Vincent now standing in front of you, Vincent's hand holding your left and Bo's hand holding your right. In serious moments like this, Vincent takes off his mask, and Bo's icy-cold gaze softens, and in this moment, it isn't an exception. You knew where this was going and you knew you needed comfort, it was just hard opening up to them. Not because you didn't want to, and not because they wouldn't listen but because you didn't want to waste energy trying to make them understand. You didn't want advice on how to make it better... you just wanted some extra love. Bo cleared his throat, interrupting you and your thoughts. "Doll, are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but very intimate.

Within seconds, your eyes begin to water and your tears begin to blur your vision. Vincent is quick to react as he pulls your face into his chest, shooting a look at Bo. He smells like wax and lavender-scented candles, a smell that smelt like home to you. Bo's thumb ran over your thumb in a soothing manner. The gesture really makes your heart swell as you turn your head to look at him.

"I-I'm sorry guys," You say, tears falling from your eyes, wetting Vincent's shirt a bit. "I know I've been extremely distant but I-" Bo shushes you immediately, stopping you from explaining. He reaches a hand out to you, the hand cupping your chin, his thumb rubbing at your bottom lip. "Now, you don't have to tell us anything, darling. Open up when you're ready okay?" He asks and you nod your head still sniffling. "Pretty princesses like you shouldn't be crying, okay?" You hug Bo next and he smiles a bit. He can't help but think that in moments like these, you're the cutest, so vulnerable and so small. He loves reveling in the fact that he can provide for you like a true man. It's his biggest ego boost. He loves feeling like he and his brother are the only ones on the planet earth that can make you feel good. Once you pull away, Bo stamps a kiss on your forehead. "What would you like us to do for you?" Vincent signs, his face contorted with worry.

Bo carries you off the counter and you cling onto him, your legs wrapped around his waist. He looks down at you and smiles a bit, he walks you over to the living room, as Vincent goes downstairs, grabbing all of your favorite movies and DVDs and grabbing your weighted blanket along with one of your favorite stuffed animals. Bo sits you on the couch and brings you a glass of water. "Drink up, okay baby. I know you probably haven't had anything to drink in a while," he says softly while rubbing your back. It was a true statement, you hadn't really taken care of yourself this week, it was apparent. Your skin was paler than usual, your cheeks were puffy and your lips plump from constantly chewing at them. It felt so good to be taken care of by Bo and Vincent. They were the best at giving princess treatment.

Vincent finally comes up and brings all the things you need. You feel your heart swell as Vincent sets the DVDs down on the table in front of you. He sits next to you, sprawling out the weighted blanket over the three of you as you reach for your favorite stuffed animals. "Now, which movie would you like to watch, sunshine." Bo drawls as he holds up all the DVDs in hand, sprawled out so that you can pick out of your favorites. Once the movie is picked he gets up and puts the movie in as you lean into Vincent's chest. Vincent's arms come over you and he pulls you onto him so that your back is in contact with his chest as Bo sits back down next to you. Bo lifts your legs up and sets them on his lap, his warm and calloused hands, rubbing at your skin and massaging your legs sensually as the movie starts. Every now and then Bo kisses the skin on your legs, truly making you feel pampered with love.

Once the movie comes to a close, you look to your left and see Bo, sleeping already. Vincent's still up though, his delicate hands playing with your hair and making small two-strand and three-strand braids, something that you taught him how to do in the past. "Vince," you call out to him quietly. He hums softly, not stopping the braiding. "What should we do now? Bo's asleep." You say. Vincent looks to Bo and shakes his head playfully disapproving. You finally turn your body to him and Vincent smiles once he sees your face. He leans in for a small kiss, which you gladly return. He tucks some hair behind your ear and smiles more, beginning to hold your face with his warm and intoxicating touch. "Are you feeling better?" He signs to you. You think for a second and you shrug. "I don't know anymore, Vinnie. I still feel really sad." You explain truthfully. Vincent stands up and grabs your hand. "Where are we going," you ask him as he begins to pull you up the stairs.

Vincent leads you to one of the bedrooms. He sits you on the bed and signals you to wait there. You nod in slight confusion, listening to his request. You watch Vincent walk in and out of the bedroom and in the bathroom. Vincent begins to run a bath for you, adding your favorite scents, and bath bombs to the water that consisted of your favorite colors. He adds rose petals to the water and smiles to himself. Vincent always outdid himself when it came to you and your needs, this being a great example. Vincent walks back to the bedroom and tugs on the oversized band tee you were wearing, his own way of telling you to take it off. Once you do, he turns your body so that your back is facing him and very gently undoes the hooks in your bra, as he does so, his lips trail your neck and back very slowly. Once your bra falls flat to the floor he very slowly takes off your underwear and sits you on the bed.

Vincent's eyes trail over your body a couple times but his eyes don't feel predatory. It feels like he's taking in your beauty in its purest form. You were a muse for him, he's seen your body in many vulnerable poses and such and he feels lucky to even say that. "Pretty..." He whispers to himself. He looks up to you with flushed cheeks, "Pretty princesses shouldn't have to undress themselves either." He kneels down to the floor and begins to pull off your thigh highs. Nice and slow leaving kisses down your thighs and legs and doing the same to the other. You feel your heart race and you begin to cover yourself up with your arms to which he shakes his head disapprovingly as he reaches over and retracts your arms to your side. Vincent stands up, pulls his cardigan off, and begins to undress himself. He picks you up and carries you to the bath setting you in gently as he gets behind you. Your back was on Vincent's chest. Vincent hums a small tune as he undoes all the braids and twists that he did in your hair, wetting the hair in the process, massaging your scalp, and leaving kisses all over your back. "There's my pretty girl." You hear from the doorway. Bo walks in and sits on the edge of the tub. "You know you look so pretty right now, enjoying yourself with Vince, right?" He asks teasingly, and you look away from him, feeling so shy under his keen eye. To distract yourself from his gaze you grab the shampoo, getting ready to lather your hair in it. But Bo takes it away from you. "Let me," He starts, "Our pretty doll is not gonna think for herself today, okay? You just sit there and look pretty... we'll take care of you okay?" He says in a loving yet firm voice.

This night was gonna be all about you.

#slashers #vincent sinclair #house of wax #slashers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher imagines #fluff #bo sinclair x reader imagine #bo sinclair #bo sinclair imagine

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touyaspeach · 1 year

Note

Saw the Beel thoughts just now, but I uhhh... I need some Belphie thots if u r so inclined ? 👀

Ask and you shall receive darling!~

Belphegor lowkey yandere vibes okay. Like it's mentioned a few times that he's like that but let me be specific.

He tricks you into spending time with him and only him, lures you to the attic under the guise of helping him with something or what have you, and then asks if you'd nap with him. So you figure, what's the hurt? You lay down with him and he's on top of you, holding you there and keeping you all to himself for as long as he can get away with it.

King of slow, lazy sex. The kind where he rests almost his entire weight against you as he strokes deep within you. He doesn't mind if it takes longer to get you to completion, he wants to spend forever buried in your wet heat.

Belphie's touches are usually very fleeting and gentle; a hand on the small of your waist to lead you through doors or a brush of your hair away from your neck. But sometimes... sometimes he can be a bit bruising. Not on purpose, he just really doesn't want you to leave. Just a few more minutes, okay?

He also has a penchant for fucking you in places you might get caught in. The thrill is a big part of it, but also knowing that one of his brothers could walk in and see you going at it ignites this possessive side of him. He never makes you cover your mouth or be quiet because he wants to be found out. Wants everyone to know that you belong to him.

Overall though he's got a pretty low sex drive. Usually won't initiate unless he's feeling possessive or needy, but always willing to help you out if you're wanting him. Props himself up on one elbow while he fingers you with a sleepy satisfied smile on his face and chuckles lowly whenever you mewl and whine for him. If you beg for his cock he tsks, "So greedy aren't you?"

It's really rare that he lets you pleasure him. He'd much rather make you come and listen to your sweet sounds of ecstasy. That being said, he's a mess if you blow him. Head thrown back, hair pushed haphazardly out of his face so he can look at you with both eyes. One hand on the back of your head, guiding your pace. He LOVES when you force yourself to choke on his cock, too. Something sadistic about seeing you push yourself over your limits just to give him pleasure.

When he comes he doesn't come a lot, but it's really thick and viscous. The first spurt shoots out but the rest slowly dribbles and oozes out in thick milky strands. His eyebrows furrow and his lips part even if he doesn't make a lot of noise, too. A soft grunt maybe but he's overall very quiet.

#obey me smut #obey me #obey me belphie #belphegor #belphie smut #obey me hcs #belphie hcs #belphegor smut #belphegor hcs

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comfortless · 2 months

Note

okay so. König in love or any thoughts rlly i need to crawl into your brain and live there. ;v; you have made me love him 10x more

i can’t decide on whether or not he would be very passive or very aggressive when in the pursuit of someone (let’s be honest with ourselves: there is no inbetween)!

in situations where you’re perhaps working together, it must kick in some sort of urgency. you’re toying with your gun, missing cues, a bit too flighty… as if it isn’t life or death here. his approach is certainly more aggressive, then: you have to be kept safe and away from all of the horrible filth in the world. a battlefield is no place for a princess, and the thought of you getting hurt or worse before you’re able to have a bunch of cute kids or live out on that vast expanse of land with the cozy cabin he’s promised you is horrifying for him.

you don’t get much of an option here. he isn’t retiring his weapons any time soon, but you must. he’s losing sleep, lashing out at any other operator who comes a hair too close. he’s heard rumors of women who sleep around the barracks and those men ogling you must have those things in mind for you. he wouldn’t allow that. he’s seen men come back from torture and he won’t allow that, either. a proposal is rushed, but it’s sincere. he’ll take you on all the nice dates you didn’t get to share prior when he’s on leave. just stay home, send him letters, call him often, and you’ll get the world and then some.

König is only passive when he’s out of his element. meeting an angel on earth in some rundown shop where he’s unprepared and feeling utterly naked without a knife or a big gun on his person is harrowing. he thinks back on those times from high school: the faked confessions, his first kiss only stolen away out of pity rather than love. he has no fucking idea how to approach a woman that he will likely never see again. so, he just doesn’t.

the beast at the corner of the shop flicking through packages of subpar snacks only offers a few subtle glances your way, silently praying you don’t detect the way he openly stares when your back is turned. he follows at a distance, innocuously pretending he’s also interested in the flour down the baking aisle you’re on. he can bake, sure, would happily spend hours in his lonely kitchen preparing you strudel or something more to your liking if you asked, but what’s the point of doing any of that for himself?

if, for some reason he can’t quite comprehend, you decide to approach him… batting your eyelashes and pointing up at something on the top shelf, requesting his assistance, he might try to shove back the thought that you’re only being kind because you need something. he’ll make small talk while passing you the package of semisweet chocolate chips, huff something akin to a laugh when you make a quip about how quiet this store is when it’s your favorite. the flirtations come naturally for you, saying that you wished he could give you an inch or two (as to not heckle anyone taller for help in the future), and damn his loose tongue because he’s quick to respond then. telling you he could give you nine, actually.

silly relationship thoughts…?

he definitely falls into the realm of men that send you the most cringy “couple goals” videos. you know the ones that are like “five reasons your man is not cheating!” followed by a slideshow of a home cooked meal, a soft looking bed, a photo of a couple holding hands and all giddy smiles, a nice clean home, then… a picture of a woman in some cute lacy lingerie. has the worst grin on his face when your expression sours, but he promises to scour the internet until he finds something lovely and strappy for you to wear for him.

sleepy König is a menace!! he snores. loudly. sometimes talks absolute nonsense. it’s impossible to push him away because he’s so big and it’s all dead weight when he’s knocked out. if you’re trying to wriggle out of bed because the birds are chirping outside and the sunlight is peeking at you through the curtains, his grip around you only tightens. he likes to hold your hand while you’re sleeping, too. even when his get a bit clammy. it’s cute until you desperately long for a shower and he still won’t wake up.

his significant other is the perfect comfort to him. even when things are bad: an argument or an entire ocean between you two. your voice whether infuriated or in love, the smell of your perfume or even your sweat, the feeling of your soft skin or the bite of your teeth, your taste whether from your mouth or skin, the view of you’re messy bedhead or dressed to utter perfection. all of you is a comfort. he isn’t just a lover, he’s a horribly obsessed devotee in every way. logs in some mental list what perfume you wear on what day, how you choose to dress depending on what you’re doing, mundane things like how you wring your hands after washing them or just how you position yourself when standing or sitting. every detail has its importance, and he wants to memorize everything about you for those long nights when he’s deployed and you can’t be there with him.

he knows what a meme is, yes, he isn’t that old, but his sense of humor more aligns with whatever is dark or perverse and historical jokes (those “me if i were in medieval Europe” videos might make him grin). if you’re sent one and it goes over your head, he’s happy to explain to you the time period, what role you and he might play in such a scenario, all in so much detail you wonder if he’s actually some sort of genius. only… he would casually tell you he wouldn’t mind going down on you even if you were some maiden from a time long past that hadn’t bathed in weeks.

probably likes to mark you up a bit when he knows he’ll be away for a while. bite marks on your inner thighs, a necklace of hickies on your neck and along your clavicle. it’s embarrassing, trying to explain why you’re wearing a scarf or a thick choker in the middle of the warmer months. he doesn’t do it out of fear that you’ll run off to another (though, maybe that is part of it), but ultimately so you won’t forget. not about the way he made you feel, about the little whines that left your mouth or the way you gripped at his hair, who you belong to just as much as he belongs to you.

#sorry this is all that i can conjure up at the moment!

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dreamdaddydutch · 1 year

Text

After-care with the gang

I’ve been thinking about after-care with a few of the gang members and what this would look like. So far I’ve written for Arthur, Dutch, Charles, Javier, Lenny, Karen and Sadie - I may write a part 2 (I know I still need to do part 2 of thigh-riding). There’s also a few implied kinks in here, which I may, or may not do something further on.

!!Minors DNI. 18+ Only!!

Warnings: Smut (obviously), depictions of cleaning up/mixing bodily fluids, a slight allusion to foot fetish/interest in water sports.

Arthur

Good girl/boah” you did so well for me didn’t you hmm?

Arthur communicates a lot after sex with ‘hmms’ and cooing noises.

His aftercare is kind of brief, he’s sleepy after sex and sometimes suffers with bouts of depression when he’s come down from his high which means he can be rather quiet afterwards.

But it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about his partner and he’s sure to let you know that. He struggles to be vulnerable around people, but if he’s close to you then he will let you in perhaps even talking a little about feelings afterwards and opening up to you.

If you’re in a hotel he’d like to take a bath with you afterwards so you can both get clean and get into bed feeling refreshed and warm. If you’re at camp it’s a different vibe, unless there’s a river nearby and it’s a summer’s night – in which case Arthur is absolutely up for running naked from the camp and skinny dipping. Then it’s a case of a small bucket of warm water and cloths for the both of you, it’s a mutual cleaning thing. You both sit there and slowly wash one another.

It also depends on the type of sex the two of you have just had. If it was rough and/or there’s an element of BDSM or Arthur just being very dominant, he will be very caring and full of praise. He’ll enjoy your needs are tended to and that you have the space along with everything you need to come back down. He’ll kiss any bruises, love bites, anywhere his fingernails dug in too deep etc. And ensure you’re feeling okay. If there’s any concerns, no matter how tired Arthur is, your needs come first in this instance and he’s down to talk things out.

Dutch

“My dear you performed so well.” He is full of compliments.

He’ll help clean you up, mostly because he doesn’t want to sleep in a messy bed, but also because he does actually care, even if he isn’t the best at showing it.

Soft kisses across your chest, inner thighs…in all those sensitive areas which may be a little tender and sore after sex. Yeah, he wants to make them feel good.

He really likes to watch himself leak from you, sitting back as he smokes a cigar and makes you spread your legs so he can watch for a few minutes. It’s uncomfortable and he knows that it’s especially nasty as it gets colder but Dutch will reward you for your efforts and the show you put on for him.

After a few minutes he’ll tell you that’s enough and then lean forward to assist in cleaning you up. He’ll gently wipe the cum from your skin and assist you to the bathroom if you’re staying in a hotel. Yup, Dutch knows that peeing after sex is a good idea and he encourages it…. There’s a bit more to unpack there but we’ll leave it at that.

One of Dutch’s favourite things is to have his partner by his side in bed, with their head on his broad chest. If you gently tug the curly hair there, it’ll have him purring.

Charles

Charles is very spaced after sex and needs a moment to come down from his own high. So expect to just cuddle softly in his broad arms. He likes having his partner’s head on his chest so they can hear his heartbeat. It’ll only be once he’s calmed down and feels back to earth that he’ll get up.

But he’ll check in with you first, making sure you’re okay and if you need anything. Whether It’s a massage, food, drink…whatever it is Charles will get it for you, he’ll just do it quietly while he works through his own come down and emotions.

He’s really good at giving massages too, especially deep tissue massages and working those knots out. Or slow and sensual massages with oil that either leave you drifting off to dreamland incredibly soothed, or if the mood takes you both it’ll lead to the next round as he massages your inner thighs.

Kinda likes to taste himself, so before getting a cloth to clean you up he’ll lick as much of you as he can to taste your juices together. There’s something primal and animalistic about it which makes him feel much closer to you even if he can’t quite explain why.

It takes him a while to go to sleep after sex, he’s tired – yes. But mentally he’s awake, thinking about your body and how it makes him feel.

After sex Charles gets philosophical and thinks about life. He’s happy to talk to you about it, he loves those late night conversations with the person he loves and how they’re feeling. This is the time of day when secrets are likely to come out or his deepest fears, biggest dreams etc.

Javier

Javier is a king of after-care. He needs his partner to feel loved, comfortable, safe, happy and clean after sex.

Occasionally he’s into cock warming so won’t pull out straight away. He enjoys the feeling of going soft inside you and then just staying there. He’ll check in with you while he lays on your chest, snuggling a little and muttering praise. But when he does finally pull out he’ll already have a handkerchief or cloth ready to help tidy up the mess.

He can’t help but kiss you anywhere intimate, anywhere he’s cleaning you – loves the taste of you and of himself as it leaks from you, so will use his tongue delicately so not to overstimulate you as he cleans, then kisses you to share your mixed taste. If you have a cock, he’ll intentionally spit a little of his own cum onto yours if it’s on your stomach/thighs etc. and then lick it up. He doesn’t care if others think it’s nasty, he thinks it’s hot. Of course he’ll only do this point if you’re comfortable with it too.

Lots of cuddles and praises – will pull you back into his arms so that your back is flush to his chest. He’s warm and his heart is still beating fast.

His kisses after sex are slow and sensual, he loves the sound of his your name on his lips and will mutter it in between kisses.

Plays with your hair, brushing it, stroking it and massaging your temple. Or if his partner is bald then he’ll put all his love into massaging their scalp and peppering kisses on it. Everything with Javier feels so good it’ll make you never want it to end.

Massages sore shoulders or feet, he’s kind of into feet so it may turn him on again – but he’s a good boy who is very able to keep things under control.

If he’s planning on having a particularly rough or intense session, he’ll make sure there’s something to drink, eat and plenty to clean up with as well as some massage oil. After-care is as important to him as the sex itself, it’s a time to show you how much he loves you and cares, it’s also a time to continue being sensual, just in a different way.

Javier can be pretty sleepy after sex, especially if it’s at night, so his aftercare is also slow, sleepy and soft. His yawns are the sweetest – though if you tell him that he pulls a particular face, a little grumpy but hard not to adore.

Loves nothing more than to fall asleep in a bed with you – it makes him feel safe and secure knowing you’re so close. But more than that, the fact you’re so close means he can protect you if needed.

Lenny

Lenny is one of the softest boys or partners when it comes to after care. Partly because he needs it too, an intense session in the bedroom can really take it out of him and leave him feeling quite emotional and vulnerable – even if he was the one in control.

As such he’ll take things slow and wait for you both to come down from your highs. It might be a few minutes but in the meantime, he’ll hold you in his arms and softly stroke your hair and tell you how much he loves you, how well you did, how proud he is to be yours.

When Lenny does get up, he’ll check you’re okay. His movements are slow and thoughtful, he has a bowl of water by the side of the bed and some towels already lined up. He knows the water will be cold but he’s so gentle and slow with cleaning you up that it doesn’t matter.

In between cleaning your thighs, intimate areas he’ll pepper kisses over your skin.

Will also give you one of his shirts to wear to keep you warm as you come back to reality.

Lenny loves going to sleep by your side and knowing you’re with him. Sometimes the big spoon and sometimes the little spoon. It doesn’t really matter to him as long as he’s in bed with the person he loves.

Karen

Karen is very fond of cuddles after sex, she’s happy to lie in bed for ages after her come down and hold you in her arms. There’s praise there too and lots of blankets.

Queen of after sex snacks, she’s stashed food away or bought some candies that she has for after sex which is really cute. She just likes the taste of something sweet and innocent after sex, and there’s nothing better than sharing that moment with you.

If you’ve had an intense session where she’s been domineering and it’s perhaps been a little much, Karen is one of the best partners to be with. She’ll brush your hair and stroke your arms softly, scratch your back and just make you feel all fuzzy, warm and loved.

Karen will never go to sleep until she knows you’re settled and happy. No matter how tired she is she’d want to make sure you were okay and that you’d had a good time. She’ll sing soft praise.

The big spoon – Karen loves to feel protective of the one she loves and needs them to know they’re safe with her and she’d never do anything to hurt them.

Sadie

After-care with Sadie is swift, there isn’t time in her life for stalling or being too romantic about things. Life on the road and even at camp moves fast and after everything she’s been through Sadie would rather make sure she isn’t out of it for too long.

But she’ll provide you with a cloth to clean yourself up and will always kiss you afterwards. The kisses will be brief but mean something, light traces on the neck, a kiss on the cheek and then a brief kiss on the lips where for just a few seconds it will be like the start of the evening. Passionate and leaving you wanting more. And then it’s done.

But Sadie never leaves without a smile, slightly cocky and beautiful smile. She will also need to know that you are okay, whether she asks or the communication is done all through her actions, it is important to her that you know she cares.

Sadie isn’t big on sleeping in the same bed as anyone, regardless of how much she loves them or how close they are. Sadie is just a lady who needs her space, Jake was the only person who she could trust to get that close. So if you do want to share a bed, you’ll have to be very patient and understanding.

#arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #javier escuella #charles smith x reader #lenny summers #karen jones #sadie adler #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 headcanons #minors dni #smut #arthur morgan x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith #lenny summers x reader #karen jones x reader #sadie adler x reader

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jjkamochoso · 24 days

Note

Hii!! I love how you write noritoshi sm i wish more people liked him!! Maybe a coffee date with noritoshi x reader and it starts raining :3

Omg THANK YOU!!! I’m the biggest Noritoshi fan and I’m glad I’m not the only one lol he’s such a cutie!! He deserves so much attention😤 Anyway I LOVE this prompt, it’s literally so freaking adorable, thanks for sending it in!!! I hope you enjoy this lil story🥺🫶

The Most Delightful Rainy Da(y)te

Fluff

Noritoshi Kamo x gn!reader

Warnings: none

"Hey, y/n... Would you maybe want to get some coffee? With me? Just us, together... sometime?"

Noritoshi Kamo was standing in front of you, nervous as can be, sporting a smile (a grimace, really) that could only be described as awkward and completely unsure. It was totally opposite of his usual collected, almost aloof, demeanor. He thought he was making a fool of himself; you found it the most endearing he'd ever looked.

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Is... is that okay if I am?"

You raised a brow. "If? You aren't sure?"

That had Noritoshi sweating. As he floundered out a response, this clearly not going as smoothly as he planned, you quieted him with a laugh.

"Noritoshi, I'm just teasing you. I'd love to go on a date with you."

That conversation was what led you to meet the blood manipulator outside of a quaint cafe in a sleepy Kyoto neighborhood. You were happy to dress up a bit for the occasion, opting for a comfy yet stylish outfit. When Noritoshi entered your view, you were in awe of how attractive he was. He was in an all black ensemble and looked sleek as ever, even with his hair left untied and loosely framing his face.

"If you don't mind me saying, you look really good," he complimented upon greeting you.

"As do you, Kamo. I'd say you clean up well but you always look handsome," you replied, trying to hide your grin from seeing his face dusted with a light pink blush. He opened the door for you as you stepped inside the cafe, grateful for the rush of warmth upon entering. It was springtime but the chilly days had not yet come to pass. The cafe wasn't busy, you two being its only patrons at the moment. The atmosphere was calm but not enough to calm your nerves at the prospect of being on a date with Noritoshi. You'd had a huge crush on him for a long time so when he finally asked you out, you were beyond ecstatic. Even though you knew he was a kind person, you still found yourself anxious as you got ready for your date, running through all the possible bad scenarios that could happen. Noritoshi did the same thing, too. His overactive imagination had him picturing the worst outcomes if he went on this date with you and he almost canceled due to sheer nerves. Now that he was here with you, though, having already conquered (and succeeding in) the hard part of asking you out, he felt himself relax a bit in your presence. You two sat across from each other at a table in the back corner to enjoy some privacy as you got to know one another. When he pulled your chair out for you then scooted you in, you felt your heart flutter. He was such a gentleman! His actions might have been more old fashioned than what you were used to but you appreciated his high level of attentiveness. There were two menus on the table and you both reached for one at the same time, resulting in your fingers brushing. Pulling away like you received a strong electric shock, both of you apologized profusely at your blunder, though secretly wishing it could happen again so you could chase that heart pounding feeling. He let you pick up your menu first and you started browsing all the different coffee and tea selections they offered. For such a small place, there were lots of options to choose from. Your eyes began to wander from the printed paper in your hands and landed on Noritoshi as you admired him. His sharp features were highlighted under the glow of the cafe lights and he looked positively ethereal as he studied his menu. His broad shoulders and sculpted biceps were accentuated by the tight fitting black long sleeve he sported under the black blazer that he had shed when you sat down, resting it on the back of his chair. Some longer pieces of his hair fell into his face and when he pushed them behind his ear, he caught your eye. You averted your gaze as fast as possible, not wanting to admit you were staring.

"So, do you come here a lot?" you asked, busying yourself behind the menu and getting back to deciding your order.

"Yes, I'm here often. I like how quiet it is. Most of the other cafes here are too bustling and noisy for me but this one is never like that. Their coffee is the best I've ever had--and I've had a lot of coffee."

"Well," you said, closing the menu, "you've made my decision easy, then. I'll have whatever you get."

Noritoshi's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you sure? I don't know what you like yet and I don't want to order something you might hate."

"I trust you."

Although you two were dealing with something trivial, certainly not a life or death situation, Noritoshi's stomach still did flips when he heard you say that. Trust was very important to him, something he didn't give or take lightly, but in that moment, it was like something clicked into place. Here you were, looking at him so earnestly about a topic so laughably unserious, yet he could tell that you absolutely meant what you said in every sense of its meaning. You were wearing your heart on your sleeve so nonchalantly, waiting for him to grab ahold of it and never let go, and boy, did he want to. He gulped as his feelings for you amplified moreso than he ever thought possible for a first date and it only started less than 10 minutes ago. He was definitely in over his head.

When the waiter came over, Noritoshi ordered you both the same drink and you were excited to try his suggestion. You also ordered some delicious sounding pastries to share. As you waited for your food and drinks, you began to engage in meaningful conversation. Noritoshi was a very intellectual, mature man, but he was fun, too, and you liked being able to talk with him about all sorts of subjects, from world politics to gossip to the beautiful tree that stood strong outside the window next to you. You found it easy to get enthralled in his words, his soft voice lulling you into a state of relaxation. Watching him speak quickly became your favorite source of entertainment. HIs contemplative nature made him a fantastic listener as well. He nodded along with everything you said and he mulled over what you had discussed before he included his own insights. As you both spoke, you easily got lost in each other's eyes. His gray ones sparkled when he talked about something he was particularly interested in, like archery, and yours glistened whenever you got passionate about the topic at hand. You even felt yourselves lean in toward each other more and more as the date went on, trying to attain closeness in a subtle way. When the waiter finally brought over your order, you were ready to taste what Noritoshi had chosen for you. Carefully blowing on the steaming hot cup, you took a sip of the coffee and immediately knew it was your new favorite. The coffee had a rich, full flavor, but wasn't too overpowering. There was a hint of sweetness and the pleasant aftertaste made for a perfect finish.

"This is beyond amazing. I see why you're here often," you said, taking a bite of pastry and then another drink. You set your cup down and went to continue what you were last talking about but Noritoshi cut in.

"You have a little..." He pointed to his face. Embarrassed, you tried to wipe off whatever it was, but the slight chuckle from the man in front of you led you to assume you didn't get it in the slightest.

"Do you mind if I help?" he asked, and you obliged. Noritoshi had a napkin in hand and leaned over the table. He gently held your chin with his thumb and forefinger as he dabbed your upper lip and side of mouth and you felt like you could've fainted then and there. His hands, like everything else about him, were strong and steady, yet held a tenderness unlike anything you'd experienced in the past. The light hearted smile he wore had not an ounce of malice or disgust as he wiped your face like it was something he'd done a million times before. You felt the pad of his thumb reach up and ghost over your bottom lip.

"There," Noritoshi said, barely above a whisper, "all clean."

"Thank you," you muttered, your heart pounding from his actions. He sat back down, taking a long drink of his coffee as he stared out the window. It was silent between you but not uncomfortably so. All of a sudden, you heard the pitter patter of raindrops hit the cafe ceiling. You hadn't noticed the dark clouds roll in during your date; you were much too interested in Noritoshi.

"I love the rain," he mused, a dreamy tone present in his voice.

"We can move to the booth by the window if you want a better view," you proposed and Noritoshi readily accepted. He took the spot next to the window while you slid in the bench next to him. He got goosebumps from how close your face was to his, your warm breath hitting his cool skin. You were struck by a sudden onset of bravery so you put your hand in his and rested your head on his shoulder, keeping your eyes focused on the nature scene outside the window. He stiffened from the unexpected contact at first but quickly melted into your embrace, his heart overflowing with joy and love. He laid his own head on yours, finding the position quite comfortable and natural. Normally he would never dream of engaging in public displays of affection like this, too afraid of what his clan or peers might think, but he couldn't care less at that point. He was extremely happy for once, in that moment, just you, the rain, and his favorite coffee keeping him company and he would stay like that forever if he could. You sat there and watched the rain quietly until it started letting up into a sprinkle, and by that time you needed to head home. You reluctantly lifted your head from his shoulder and let go of his hand in order to exit the booth. Noritoshi paid for your meal and you thanked him profusely, trying to at least give him some money, but he wasn't having it.

"There's no need for that, really. It's the least I can do. Your company is worth much more than a few coffees and pastries."

"Fine," you conceded, "but the next date is on me."

Noritoshi was taken aback. Next time? You're already planning another date? You really did like him?! He was beyond relieved but his poor heart couldn't catch a break from all the excitement-- he'd barely recovered before you gave him a kiss on the cheek, dangerously close to his lips.

"That's also the least I can do. Now, may I walk a fine gentleman like yourself back home?"

"Under one condition."

"And what will that be?"

"I walk you home first."

You playfully scoffed. "That's the lamest thing you've said all day." You then tilted your head, pretending to think, before taking his hand in yours once again as you started the walk to your place. "But I still really like you so you get a pass."

The rain had stayed light on the walk home, but the temperature seemed to drop a considerable amount. Noritoshi noticed you shivering and easily slipped his jacket off, putting it around your shoulders. The rest of the walk went by much too quick for your liking. You'd prefer to spend more time with Noritoshi, but alas you arrived at your front door. You went to give him his jacket back, but he stopped you.

"I'll get it from you on the next date. It looks much better on you than it does on me anyway," he said, his flirting making your face warm. You bid him farewell and he was on his way, but you knew you wouldn't miss him too bad if you had his jacket that smelled of his delicious cologne and the promise of seeing him again soon. You felt your phone buzz not too long after you settled in at home and pulled it out of your pocket to see you had a text from Noritoshi:

Thank you for today, I had such a lovely time getting to know you and I look forward to seeing what the next date brings us. Also, I don't like being in debt to anyone so next time I see you, I owe you a kiss :)

#noritoshi kamo x reader #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader fluff #noritoshi x reader fluff #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi kamo #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader

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