#(but just this they are insane THEY FEEL EACH OTHER WHEN THEY ARE AROUND)
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𝓯𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼
∘ desc: studying is always best when you're getting your pussy played with <3
∘ ft: nanami
∘ a/n: for all of my loves approaching finals week, hope this helps <3
∘ includes: fingering, pussy slaps, choking, overstimulation
“Focus for me, sweetheart.”
Nanami’s calloused fingertips hovering just slightly over your soaked cunt was the only thing your clouded brain could focus on. Sitting with your back against his chest, legs spread and notebook in hand, he wasn’t referring to you to focus on him. No, he wants you to try your hardest to absorb as much information from that notebook as you could. With your finals coming up, it’s incredibly important to make sure you’re effectively studying in order to get the best grade possible. Nanami thinks that your education is important, and he will do everything he can to make sure that you pass all of your classes.
“You’re always so wet for me.” Nanami mutters to himself, always in awe by how beautiful you look all spread out for him. “Go ahead, read the next paragraph honey.” Your eyes search on the white page for what you read last, finding your place before reading out loud.
“This n-next section illustrates -fuck- the essentials for…” You trail off, brain fogged over at the feeling of him finally making contact with your throbbing clit. He circles around it slowly before applying just the right amount of pleasure, causing you to throw your head back onto his chest. His fingers leave your body just as fast as they got there, making you groan in frustration.
“Kento, I can’t do this anymore. Please just touch me already.” You’re growing increasingly frustrated at this point. Fuck your exam, you just want him inside of you. Nanami has other plans, however, shaking his head no at your request.
“You know I can’t do that, love. This test is more important than whatever this pretty little pussy of yours wants.” Nanami gives your cunt two quick slaps, making you jump in surprise at the sudden contact. “Finish reading this page and I’ll reward you, come on.” You could feel Nanami’s warm breath tickling your ear as his fingers made their way back, teasing you so much that it’s driving you insane. You’re growing more and more desperate by the second, hands shaking in anticipation as you continue reading. The further you get down the page, the more Nanami is willing to give you.
“...and with that, c-concludes the end of this chapter.” As soon as you get that last sentence out, Nanami plunges two thick fingers into you, curving them ever so slightly to hit that gummy spot that causes you to cry out in delight. You’re gripping his biceps with so much force, trying anything to keep you grounded as he shows you no mercy. He’s putting his forearm to work, tiring his wrist out to push in and out of you as his other hand grips your neck to push your head back against his chest. The eye contact is so intense, hand wrapping around your throat making you clench around his fingers.
“So greedy.” Nanami chuckles, watching the way your eyes flutter closed in your pathetic attempts to keep them open. “Gonna cum all over my fingers? C’mon baby, let it all out for me.” Nanami’s words made your heart pound even harder, legs shaking as that feeling deep in your tummy starts to overwhelm you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, thighs closing around his hand as you gush all over him. He groans at the sight, fingers slowing down inside of you as he works you through your high. He kisses all over the side of your face and neck, each touch of his lips feeling like sparks of electricity over your skin. Sensing that you’re finally coming back down, his fingers make slow movements inside once more. You whimper at the feeling, pleasure coursing through your veins once more.
“Too much, Kento!” You cry out, hands gripping his wrist in a weak attempt to pry his large hand away from your warmth. He doesn’t move an inch, instead adjusting the hand on his neck to slowly move down over your collarbones, fingers twisting over one of your nipples.
“I’m sure you could take it. You’ve been such a good girl for me, let me give you a treat for all of your hard work.”
© kingkaizen | do not copy, steal, or duplicate!
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader smut#nanami x reader#nanami smut#nanami x reader smut#nanami kento
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REGRET - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: when a video of tom getting a little too close to another girl circulates around the internet, your confrontation sparks a heated argument between the two of you. but after tom says something in the heat of the moment, he is determined to make it up to you.
content: angst
a/n: i have risen from the dead🎀 i’m really rusty so if it‘s not up to scratch i’m sorry, ill post about why i’ve not been writing later but for now enjoy whatever this is🗣️
my eyes are glued to the small computer screen in front of me, face twisting in disgust just a little more every time the low quality video replays. it is almost nauseating, yet i can’t turn away, fixated until my features are scrunched up in an agitating mix of anger and confusion. i am hoping that the events will change the next time the video restarts, that maybe my eyes are deceiving me, but as the same scene plays out in front of me, i quickly realise that it is real, and that my worst nightmare is coming true. not much can be distinguished - whoever had taken the video clearly hadn't payed much attention to keeping their camera still, or investing in the most high-tech gear, but i can tell that it is him. his dirty blonde dreads fall just below his shoulders, hand clutching a drink, surrounded by a crowd of girls whilst flashing lights illuminate his figure every few seconds, lighting up the bustling club before returning it to darkness. he knows that he is the centre of attention, but that doesn't seem to matter to him, his focus on the small blonde to his right.
much to my frustration, the video is only a few seconds long, showing tom leaning into the girl's ear, whispering something before pulling back, a smirk etched upon both their faces. it quickly cuts off just as his hand brushes along her arm, leaving much to be imagined - far too much. though this is probably for the best, watching another second of my boyfriend touching another girl would probably drive me close to insane - if i haven't already reached that point. i can't tell when the video was taken, but it is clearly recent, most likely from one of his tour after parties. he had arrived home last week, and i had been naive enough to miss him - until now.
i hurriedly rush to turn the computer off, sure that i will throw up if i have to watch that video one more time, its existence torture for me as i question how to go about this. tom is totally oblivious, having left for the studio this morning. however as each second passes, i realise that he will be home any minute, long before the anger that courses through my veins has any chance of burning out. my jaw is clenched, breathing heavy and eyes bloodshot as they fight tears, focusing on the blank wall ahead in an attempt to hold them back. the silence is peaceful, an almost laughable contrast to the chaos that echoes within my mind, thousands of unanswered questions racing through it as i am just about ready to pack my bags and never come back, sure that i have seen enough - and the only explanation is that tom has cheated on me.
but when the front door opens, i am trapped, any plans of escaping now far out of reach as tom's soft voice sounds from downstairs.
"baby? i'm home, where are you?" he almost sounds excited to see me, and on any other day, my heart would melt. but today, it twists with dread, feeling as if it has been ripped out of my chest and stepped on. i stay put, maybe because i know the capabilities of my mind, and its tendency to place me in uncomfortable situations, or perhaps it is the nagging in my chest convincing me to delay any conversation with him for as long as is physically possible.
the realisation that i can't avoid him forever comes much faster than i had anticipated. the dull thud of his footsteps trudging up the stairs are enough to capture my attention and pull me out of whatever trance i am subject to. my back falls back against the bed, shoulders slacking with the intent of looking as relaxed as possible, even if the current situation is the exact opposite. i wince when his presence makes itself known, attempting to conceal the uneasy look settling across my face.
"schatz, there you are." there’s no ill intent in his voice. infact it is sickly sweet, laced with an all-too innocent sense of security that on any other day would gravitate me towards him. this part of his day, when he would trudge into bed tiredly, was reserved just for me, for us, and it was something that we both looked forward to. but now it has fizzled out on my end, an excruciating discomfort habituating in its place, becoming harder to ignore with each passing second. the seemingly rigid walls into tom’s heart visibly crumble as he lets his guard down, his tired frame sinking into the soft mattress.
he leans his head against my arm, the limb tensing slightly in response to his touch. it feels wrong. how many other women felt him this close? the thought alone brings a sharp stab to my chest, its non-existent blade twisting within at the almost sickening idea of the same hands touching anybody else. with difficulty, i lift my arm up, heaving it to rest loosely across my torso. from the rigidness of my movement, tom senses that something isn’t right. whether it be impulse or a craving to feel me against him, he readjusts himself, grasping at any opportunity to weave himself even closer, my stiff demeanour offering him the upper hand.
the concept of control seems completely out of grasp now. although unaware, tom tears every remnant of serenity from my still frame, forcing me to follow his gaze and finally look into those eyes. his lips tug into a soft smile at the eye contact, pointer finger aimlessly grazing my lips. though emotionless, he appears to miss the look on my face, far too occupied with his own desires, no matter how light-hearted they seem.
“you have no idea how much i’ve missed you.” he mumbles against me, but when i dodge the kiss that he tries to place on my cheek, he finally pulls himself out of his selfish trance and realises that things aren’t as perfect as he had thought.
"hey, give me a kiss." his voice boarders the waters of hurt and confused, eyebrow furrowed with his eyes scanning my own desperately. when i don’t respond, he misjudges my silence for compliance, leaning downward to plant a soft kiss onto my lips. i don't reciprocate, remaining motionless, eyes wide open as he wraps his arms around me. he presses his lips harsher onto mine, desperation the clear motivator of his hurried movements. it quickly fades into concern when he realises the still lips that his own try to move against. breaking apart and surrendering his desire, he finally captures the hurt etched upon my expression, eyes trailing off into the blank wall behind him. he remains on top of me, his hand reaching to cup my cheek gently, the touch providing the exact opposite of consolation - instead allowing the bitter taste of resentment to settle along my tastebuds in place of his tender kiss. another woman felt those hands against her.
"look at me. what's wrong? did i do something?" his eyes scan mine desperately, feverishly attempting to fathom reasoning for my sudden standoffishness, all whilst his thumb rubs slow and soft circles along my cheek, an action which doesn't go unnoticed.
"did you think i wouldn't find out?" my jaw clenches, eyes narrowing as i finally push his body away. his confusion only intensifies as he collects himself as quickly as he can, scrambling to stand up and reduce our distance once again. his figure towers over mine, clearly failing to grasp the hint that i practically throw at him. if my actions aren’t able to spell it out for him, my words make what i want crystal clear.
“don’t touch me.”
though subtle, i notice the way he winces at my words, choosing to let them go for the time being. "what? baby what are you talking about? find out about what?" his chest rises up and down, expression totally readable, so much that i can sense his every thought, and it is terrifying. each second of silence thickens the already heavy air, so much that a heaviness begins to set in my chest.
i say nothing, instead walking toward the computer and switching it on. the screen lights up, the all too familiar video resuming from the point that i had left it. i grit my teeth, tempted to punch the screen and tom, both ideas becoming increasingly appealing. i turn to face him, remaining calm in spite of all brutal urges screaming out from within me, deciding to put them to bed.
"see for yourself. i'm sure you'd love a reminder of your little fling. she's very pretty, i'll give you that." his mouth opens to say something, quickly shutting with the realisation that he doesn’t have any words - none that would make the situation any better, anyway.
"shit, the paparazzi." he mumbles under his breath, massaging his temples a couple times before shutting the computer off, his eyes darkened as an unrecognisable look takes over. “schatz that isn't what it looks like, i promise you-"
"really? so i haven't just witnessed by boyfriend cheat on me with some blonde whore? you tell me you missed me? you seem to have got on swell without me.” my instinctive sarcasm soon burns out, replaced with an unexpected sadness, one that makes it next to impossible to remain composed.
"jesus christ. i wouldn't ever cheat on you. i don't even know who she is, georg said that he knew her so we let her hang out with us for the night. nothing happened, nothing at all. i love you and only you." he begins to get more defensive, voice raising slightly as he tries once again to move closer to me, an effort that even he knows is futile.
"what so you whisper in everyone's ear like that? you touch everyone's arm like that? you smile at everyone like that? i’m not as stupid as the whores you take to bed.” his excuses are almost laughable, and if my heart didn't feel so heavy with the realisation that he hasn't stayed faithful, i would probably laugh. my composure is deceptive, this soon coming to light with the coming of tears along my waterline.
"no, baby, please don't cry." he starts, protective instincts taking over in spit of the situation, his own eyes becoming glassy. when i shoot him a glare he knows to step back, though it is clear he wants nothing more than consoling me, as he usually would. now it is different, when he is the fuse that ignites this entirely fucked up situations "look, that's the only time i spoke to her the whole night. we were making a joke about georg, that's all."
"you must be kidding." my brows raise, searching his eyes for any hint of amusement, quickly understanding that he is being completely serious, this realisation only angering me more. “you know what? i’m leaving.” i attempt to move past him, struggling to progress even a few steps forward when he grabs my wrist, pulling me back in front of him. he is far too strong for me to put up a proper fight, but that doesn't stop me from trying my body tenses as i pull back, his grip only tightening, proving my efforts as worthless.
"can you just listen to me? i get that it looks bad but you're really overreacting here. Ive told you that nothing happened, why can't you just trust me?" he is no longer sympathetic. instead, his voice holds an anger within it that takes me aback slightly, his change in persona almost frightening. though his sudden defensiveness only alerts my suspicions more, silently reaffirming the fact that he has cheated, even if his words tell otherwise.
"trust you? fucking trust you? i have trusted you! and look where its gotten me. do you know how hard it is to have your boyfriend leave for months? no contact besides from a ten minute call every day, not a kiss, a hug, nothing! and this is what i see from your tour. what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?" i raise my voice, its harshness mirroring tom's as i finally manage to writhe myself out of his grip, now standing a few feet away from him. he clenches his jaw, looking to the side as silence takes over, its presence only brief however, soon destroyed by the sound of his voice, far louder than it had been through the course of the argument.
"i'm sorry that i don't have a normal career, okay? i've told you so many times that i don't have eyes for anyone else. every single night on tour i go back to the hotel early, because i miss you! and you can't even trust me!" he stops suddenly, almost as if he is contemplating his next words, enduring a silent battle between his mouth and his heart, knowing that both are leading him in different directions. i wait for his response, noticing the way that his expression darkens, eyes refusing to meet my own.
"well? that's all you have to fucking say? you seemed pretty comfortable with her. do you know how much that hurts? why am i not good enough for you?"
"stop it. you know you're good enough for me. don't say shit like that." he is quick to cut me off, his voice laced with disbelief, clearly failing to understand how i could come to such a conclusion.
"do i? seeing shit like that pretty much reminds me why i'm not-"
"look, maybe if you weren't such an insecure bitch then this wouldn't be a problem!" my face drops, lips parting slightly as i pray that my ears deceive me, creating their own truth, one distorted and far from reality. i stay silent, far too astounded to produce any witty comeback, or even look into his eyes. the silence between us is louder than any words spoken, and even more painful than those left unsaid. when i quickly take a glance at him, he realises his mistake just as fast as he had spoken. regret flashes across his face, his expression softening as he walks toward me. i nod slowly, far too defeated to argue back, wrapping my arms around my small frame and walking past him, my entire body shaking slightly as i sob.
"fuck- i didn't mean that. i'm so sorry, god i'm sorry baby." he spews out incoherent apologies, though i am far too hurt to comprehend them, instead tuning them out as i walk out of the room, closing the door harshly behind me.
it doesn’t take long for him to follow, his hurried pleas sounding from behind me. i am far too angry to listen, rushing down the stairs and into the hallway, scrambling for the nearest pair of shoes that i can find. his rambling quickly turns from frantic to desperate when he picks up on the reality of the situation, soon understanding that we are far beyond a kiss and an apology to resolve this.
“wait, hold on schatz. can we please talk about this? don’t leave me, please. i love you so much.” he tries to conceal the small sob that escapes his lips, but i notice it, the almost inaudible sound enough to make me reconsider my choices. but when his arm wraps around my wrist, though not with enough pressure to hurt, i know that forgiving him would be stupid.
“let go of me. i’m leaving for a while. do whatever you want, i don’t care.” my voice is surprisingly calm, the coarseness within it somehow washing away with each shallow breath i take. but the softness of my tone doesn’t match the strength of my movements as i yank myself from his grasp, reaching for my keys and clutching the door handle before he can stop me. i hesitate for a moment, taking a second to look back at him as he continues to spew out his apologies, mixed with incoherent promises that he loves me, along with his own tears that begin to fall from his eyes.
“bye tom.”
please come home, i’m so sorry - 8:35pm
baby? - 8:35pm
i love you so much - 8:36pm
i promise i didn’t cheat - 8:36pm
can we talk about this? - 8:37pm
please tell me you’re safe - 8:39pm
sure, tom and i had arguments just as every couple did. but when i showed up at my best friend’s house, makeup smudged and eyes bloodshot, she knew that this one was more than just a disagreement on who’s turn it was to make dinner. it was obvious that she had questions, but my delirious state was enough of a motive to save those for another time, instead choosing to rush me inside and wrap me up in blankets on her small couch, insisting that we order takeout and watch movies until i calmed down.
“he’s still texting you?” she questions, referring to my phone vibrating yet again, as it had been for the past hour. i nod my head weakly, body sprawled across her couch, shuffling over to make room for the small brunette beside me. she offers a sympathetic smile, handing me a pint of ice cream and sinking into the cushions.
“i’m sorry.” she says, reaching over and pulling me into a hug, noticing the glassy sheet that forms over my eyes, squeezing me even tighter. “boys are assholes.”
i nod in agreement, hearing my phone vibrate once again, this time not even taking the time to look at the message. they had gotten pretty predictable as they became more frequent - either telling me that he loves me, or that he wants me to come home.
“you’re welcome here as long as you need, okay?” she fills in the silence, recognising that all i need is consolation right now, creating a conversation not on the top of my list of priorities. i mutter a small thank you, feeling my eyes becoming heavy.
the beginning of a new day somehow intensifies the feeling within the pit of my stomach, the exact opposite of what i expected from a fresh start. now that i have settled down, the reality of it all feels like a fresh wound, one that i can’t envision myself ever healing from. though any time to endeavour into the complex puzzle of my emotions is drowned out by the all too familiar sound of my phone vibrating, and this time i have lost every ounce of self-control, reaching over to the small device embarrassingly fast. the bright light emitting from the screen causes my eyes to squint as i adjust, vision slowly clearing to reveal at least a hundred unread text messages, each one from tom. my sympathetic nature gets the better of me, a wave of guilt taking over as his messages spring from concerned, to apologetic, to borderline insane at my disappearance. i groan internally, quickly realising that i can’t hide forever, no matter how much i convince myself that it is the safer option.
luckily the task of getting myself ready to go back home isn’t a particularly long one. my jeans begin to dig into my sides, a rather unpleasant yet convenient reminder that i am still wearing the same clothes as the day before. quiet snores from the bedroom alert me to sleeping body of my friend, a small chuckle leaving my lips at the sound. i decide against disturbing her, instead scribbling a messy note and sticking it on the fridge, hoping that she’ll understand.
- going back home, thank you for all ur help. i’ll keep you updated, love you
the house is silent as i enter it, the lack of noise almost eerie though short lived when i place my keys on the table, the metal clattering with a small thud. there is no sign of tom, not even the sound of a tv from the living room, or the quiet sizzle of fresh food, indicating that he is making breakfast as he would every morning. though it seems that i hadn’t entered as quietly as i had hoped, the sound of tom’s steps, quick and erratic, echoing from the kitchen, getting louder and louder until he is standing in front of me.
our distance is temporary, quickly diminished as he takes me into his arms, pressing his lips against mine with as much strength as he can muster. i only realise just how anxious he has been when his palms cup my cheeks. they are shaking, the skin cold against my own as his entire body begins to tremble, my stomach sinking. he is crying. in spite of his vulnerability, he is the first to pull away, firmly wrapping his arms around my frame and hugging me tightly.
“god i love you, i love you so much. i thought you weren’t coming back.” he struggles to get his words out, a mixture of incoherent sobs and quiet sniffles accompanying his speech. his grip only tightens, hands running up and down my back as he repeatedly kisses my hair, tears continuing to fall down his cheeks. my arms remain firmly by my side, sympathetic enough to allow him this small touch, yet no where near as forgiving to consider returning the act.
“are you okay?” he becomes worried, putting his emotions aside and finally separating his body from mine. his calloused fingers run over the smooth skin of my arms, looking for any sign of harm. even though he knows me well enough to guess that i had gone somewhere safe, his protective instincts kick in, convincing him that the worst has happened.
“i’m fine.” i mumble, releasing myself from his grip and walking into the kitchen, taking a glass and pouring myself some water, my throat dry from the strain on my voice from the night before. he quickly follows behind, taking my hand in his. he notices my hesitation, running a thumb over the back of my hand in an attempt to soothe me, and somehow, it works. seeing him in front of me brings back memories of last night, their sting still painful and effects strong with the irritating onset of tears. tom sees this just as fast as i do, reaching upward to wipe them before they are able to fall.
“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry beautiful.” he whispers, his touch so gentle i almost don’t feel it. he replaces his thumb with his lips, kissing just below my eyes, damp with evidence of my upset.
“how could you?” i mumble, voice barely above a whisper as i struggle to make eye contact, tom’s own gaze pained. his eyes are bloodshot, cheeks red and blotchy and entire body still trembling slightly. his face softens at my question, and silence takes over for a few moments.
“i know. i know how it looks. i shouldn’t have gotten so close to her, not when i have you. but i promise you that i didn’t cheat. you’re everything i want and i’d be an idiot to throw that away. you have to believe me baby.” his voice begins to break, thumb running across my cheek and eyes staring into mine, scanning desperately for any sign that i am convinced. it isn’t the most detailed nor thought out explanation, but i know him enough to see that he is telling the truth.
“okay.” i nod my head and look to the floor, swallowing harshly in an attempt to calm my shallow breathing. his fingers come underneath my chin, gently pulling it upward so that i am facing him again. the pain is still there, regret etched upon his expression as seeing the woman he loves in such a state hurts him just as much as me leaving. he takes me in his arms, lifting me up and gently kissing me again. this time i reciprocate, a small sob leaving his lips as he recognises this, his hold on me only getting tighter. the previous lack of contact had affected more than i had realised, the small reassurance of my kiss enough to crumble his usually calm temperament.
“i love you.” he whispers against me, his lips bitter with the taste of tears. that doesn’t matter to me. pressing my mouth to his as harshly as i can, my arms wrap around his neck, bringing him in even closer. he holds me so tightly, like i may slip away, the fear of losing me all too real. my small hands cup his cheeks, attempting to deepen the kiss, though doing so unsuccessfully as his voice vibrates against me. he sounds broken, his request coming out as a desperate plea, cut off by a short sob. “please say it back. you haven’t this whole time and i-”
“i love you too.” i mumble against his lips. he holds me even tighter, something which i didn’t think was possible. but considering the realms of possibility is an activity for another day. i have no time to consider anything as he kisses me once again, his touch addictive, and more than enough to make me forget everything.
#tokiohotel#tomkaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz#kaulitz#bill kaulitz#tom kaulitz fluff#tom kaulitz smut#tom kaulitz angst
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okay hear me out - so i just learned on tiktok that apparently women get super easily attached to men (or women lol) who make them orgasm and i immediately thought of poly!paulxreaderxembry where paul is OBSESSED with making reader cum all the time and makes a random (unrelated) joke about her being super attached to him and embry is just rolling his eyes and telling him duh ofc she is - you're fucking with her hormones all the time by making her cum so often and paul is just DUMBFOUNDED at the fact that the main reason reader is so attached to him is because he literally just makes her cum multiple times a day.
embry is definitely one of the smarter ones of the group😭
...
"princess," paul started with a soft laugh, "you can come over here y'know," he teased when he saw your figure in the door frame of your shared apartment's living room.
your cheeks were immediately heating up to a bright red at his comment but you were nonetheless over the moon that he'd proactively offered to let you sit with him so you were quickly stepping over to sit down in his lap.
your other imprinter also let out a breathy laugh at the two of your's interaction. paul helped you sit situated so you were curled up in his lap but your legs could be outstretched enough for your feet to land in embry's lap, "so needy sometimes," paul teased, both boys laughing when you immediately buried your face in the crook of his neck in a weak attempt to hide your embarrassment over the whole ordeal.
"obviously she's needy," embry rolled his eyes despite the fact that you couldn't see it, a small smile on his face gave away he was just teasing you and paul, "have you seen how often you make her cum? you're fucking with her hormones doing that all the time," he added with a laugh.
you lifted your head from paul's shoulder at that, both you and paul wearing equally confused expressions as you looked at each other and then over to embry for some kind of additional explanation.
"every time you make her cum you release an insane amount of oxytocin and dopamine in her brain," embry explained, looking a little disturbed that neither you nor paul had any clue what the hell he was talking about. when embry saw that you two were still silently trying to process what he was explaining, he added, "those two make her feel attached to you which is why she wants to be around you all the time."
paul blinked twice, opening his mouth to respond to embry but nothing seemed to come out so he turned his attention over to you, "so what i'm hearing is embry needs to make you cum more often," he started, all three of you letting out loud laughs at paul's comment.
although paul definitely was a bit more obsessed with making you cum multiple times a day than his counterpart, embry was definitely not lacking in the releasing-your-feel-good-hormones department.
"i can't believe you didn't know that," embry said with a laugh, rolling his eyes as he gently rubbed your foot with one hand while reaching for the remote with his other so the three of you could get something on to watch before bed.
paul seemed content with his newfound realization, just settled for pressing his lips to the crown of your head, squeezing your hip playfully which had you giggling again as you got cuddled up with the two boys for a movie night.
#poly!paulxreaderxembry#poly!embryxreaderxpaul#embry call#paul lahote#embry call x reader#paul lahote x reader#embry call imagine#paul lahote imagine#embry call fluff#embry call smut#paul lahote fluff#paul lahote smut#paul lahote blurb#embry call blurb#twilight#the twilight saga#twilight imagine#imagine#blurb#fluff#smut
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Hi Sissy! If it’s not too late, could you do a Fic of Elvis based on the song “Help Me Make It Through the Night?” Like Elvis and you know you’re not good for each other, but you can’t stay away. Can develop into smut but if you’d prefer not, that’s okay too! If it’s too late, I completely understand! Thank you! 😊
@peaceloveelvis Hi! Definitely not too late! First of all, this is one of my most favorite songs. I actually have a series planned to go with this song later, so stay tuned. But also, I haven't written anything without smut in a LONG TIME. This one came out this way and I might revisit it to expand on the smut later if there's interest, but I kind of like it without it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this ficlet!
Help Me Make It Through the Night
Warnings: none really, cussing, mentions of sex
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Elvis has been a part of your life since you met him during his Timex special with Frank Sinatra. The only thing you did more than make love relentlessly was fight endlessly. The nights were hot, but the mornings never failed to conclude with both of you yelling and at least one of you crying. There was no end to the way you loved each other or the way you managed to drive each other insane. There was always something to fight about and you left each other every time swearing you'd never be together again. But somehow, you'd end up in the same place and before you knew it you were naked in an elevator or in his backseat or in a bathroom or a hotel bed in some sketchy by-the-hour kind of place. Even after he got married, you didn't stop. Your pattern of fucking and fighting stayed the same.
In 1969, though, you had a particularly spirited tryst that ended with both of you saying things you regretted almost instantly. But you were both too stubborn to admit it, so instead you threw a shoe at him and screamed at him to get out and he called you a name and swore he'd never end up in your bed again. This time, the pain you caused cut so deep that you both insisted you'd never give in again. It was over, for real this time. The hurt was too much to make the good times worth it.
So, you did what any self-respecting woman would do. You married someone else.
When he heard about it, he broke an end table and all the things sitting on it in a fit of rage and jealousy and something else he was afraid to admit.
On your wedding night, you cried yourself to sleep with your new husband snoring quietly next to you in the bed.
Then, in 1971, you find yourself walking down the street and come upon a loud and frantic crowd. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you look to see what all the commotion is about. The crowd parts like ill-meaning clouds and he looks up at just the wrong moment.
His blue eyes pierce you straight through to your soul, even from across the street. Something inside you jumps and your hand goes to your throat. Memories of every time you've ever been together slam into you like a freight train and you're somewhere between ecstasy and wanting to die. By the look on his face, you can tell he's experiencing something similar. Everything inside you is screaming at you to go to him, but you feel the cold little ring on your finger and know that you can't. You turn and walk away as quickly as you can. He fights to get away from the crowd around him, but by the time he does, you're gone.
******
You're pacing the floor of your living room when the phone rings. Even several hours later, you haven't recovered from your encounter. You pick the phone up aggressively, annoyed to be distracted by the call.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Presley would like you to meet him tonight at the Presidential Motel at 11pm." Your blood runs cold.
"Why?" The line clicks with no answer. He's left the ball in your court and you hate it. You won't meet him. You just won't. He's impossible.
But at 10:45pm you're in your car. You've spent the last several hours trying to remind yourself of all the reasons you hate him. You finally decide you're going to see him just to tell him that you don't care what he says; you were serious last time. This is not a thing anymore and it never will be again.
At 11:06pm, you sit in the parking lot of the motel, a battle raging inside you.
"This is stupid." You mutter, finally getting out of the car. At the desk, you ask which room Mr. John Burrows is staying in. The clerk tells you and you stomp towards his room getting more and more angry as you walk. The nerve of him to think he can just summon you like this.
You pound on the door with every ounce of rage your body can contain flowing through you. The door opens slowly and your heart skips. Why does he have to look so good?
"You came."
"What the fuck could you possibly want to say to me?! The last time you saw me you called me a whore and said you'd rather swallow a knife than see me again. So, whatever you have to-"
"I miss you."
"You... what?" He speaks again slowly and deliberately.
"I miss you." It feels like your stomach has fallen to your kneecaps. "I'm lonely, honey."
"Call your wife."
"Will ya just... no. I want you."
"Have you forgotten-"
"No, I haven't. And I'm sorry." He's never apologized to you before. You stand in stunned silence just outside the door.
"You're-"
"Sorry. Yes. Now, will you come in please?" You stand there completely lost. Finally, he grabs your arm and drags you into the room, shutting the door behind you.
"What the hell, Elvis?!" He pulls you close to him and presses his lips to yours. For a second, you melt into him. Then, you remember why you were mad and pull away angrily.
"No, I'm not-" He pulls you in again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you more deeply this time. You fight to get away, but he holds you tightly. Eventually you're able to escape his grasp and you push him backwards. He goes to grab you again and you slap him across the face. Your hands go to your mouth in shock and he looks at you stunned.
"Oh god, I'm-"
"I guess I deserved that." He walks to the bed and sits down. "You actually hate me, don't you?"
You stand there for a few seconds before sitting down beside him on the bed.
"No. I don't. But we said this was done."
"I know. I'm just... I'm alone, honey. And I miss you so much it hurts worse than being with you." You look at him, but he won't meet your eyes. It comes to you that he must be pretty desperate to put himself in this position.
"You're alone?"
"You know how it gets for me. There's people everywhere, but I just... I miss you."
"Why me?" He rolls his eyes and looks at you finally.
"You gonna make me say it?"
"Yes. If you want me to stay here, then-"
"I love you. I've been in love with you since I met you. You're the only one I want when I feel like this and it's been so long-" You reach out and put your hand on his knee and he looks down at it, setting his on top of yours, gently wrapping his fingers around yours.
You're used to these vulnerable moments from him. They're what has brought you together over and over throughout the years. So when he breaks down and sobs, you pull him into your arms and hold him without thinking. Somehow you end up lying in the bed with him cuddled tightly against you, head on your chest. You stroke his hair and hum quietly. This is a familiar position for the two of you and you've missed it more than you care to admit.
Eventually, his breathing evens out and you realize he's fallen asleep. You kick your shoes off and snuggle in to spend the night. As angry as you were, you can't deny him what he needs because the truth is you love him too and you always have. You kiss his forehead and hold him tightly. You've missed this too.
******
In the morning, you make love and it's sweet and sensual and exactly what you've both been needing. And this time you don't fight. Somewhere in the year you were apart, you grew. The love that you have is more important than anything that might separate you.
And as you lay naked together, the world opens up for you. He talks about leaving his wife and you decide your husband will be better off without you.
Will it happen? Will you finally find a way to be together in a way that works for you both? You don't know.
But you made it through this night together. Something tells you that you can make it through anything now.
******
The end?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis#elvis presley fic#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley x y/n#elvis fluff#elvis fic#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis presley fanfic#elvis presley fluff#elvis presley x you
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Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.
AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(
also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.
johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader
warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)
-
-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.
-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.
-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.
-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).
-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.
-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.
-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.
-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"
-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.
-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.
-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.
-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"
-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"
-"come live with me."
-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.
-"what?"
-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?
-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).
-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.
-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.
-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)
-"you hurt me!"
-"oh, please."
-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.
-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.
-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.
-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.
-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.
-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.
-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).
-"you're injured. you came home late."
-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.
-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.
-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"
-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.
-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.
-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.
-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.
-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.
-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.
-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.
-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"
-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"
-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.
-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.
-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"
-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?
-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.
-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.
-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.
-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).
-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."
-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.
-"it isn't?"
-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"
-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.
-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.
-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.
-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.
-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.
-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.
-"no, just of you."
-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.
-"oh."
-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.
-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.
-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.
-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.
-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.
-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"
-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#cod imagine#call of duty x you#soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#johnny mactavish imagine#johnny soap mactavish imagine#soap imagine#cod mw x reader#soap x y/n#johnny mactavish x y/n#rarawrites
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The trusted one is told to be only you, Yandere!Ellie
A/N: She somehow ended up being a soft yandere here (how does that even happen) so not as dark i'd say. Anyways enjoy !!
Find Yan!Ellie alphabet here.
Yandere Ellie who still has a resemblance of her humanity left loses it along with her mind when she falls in love with you.
Yandere Ellie who at the start of your relationship gets overwhelmed around you because she doesn't know how to behave with the weight of her heart.
Yandere Ellie who acts like your shadow following you around just to make sure you're safe, keeping a close enough proximity to gaze on your addictive features but not too near that you'd notice. Like a thief in the night who's only prize is you alone.
Yandere Ellie who doesn't play around when it comes to you straight from the start. Making sure nobody gets too close to you, sometimes taking it too far. You are yet oblivious to her intimidation tactics that she uses on others.
Yandere Ellie who's violent tendencies burn to ashes when she gets a taste of your pussy, you are like a tranquilizer to her.
Yandere Ellie who writes songs for you, at first as a small gesture that you wouldn't question the lyrical importance. But each sentence was obsessively detailed and would be foreshadowing who she'd become around you.
Yandere Ellie who developed too a strong feelings early on in your relationship, and decided to distance herself from you. Needless to say she failed every attempt.
Yandere Ellie who's incredibly greedy for every second with you that it's sometimes suffocating.
Yandere Ellie who's always by your side, one arm over your waist or holding your hand because the second she'd laid eyes on you Ellie knew she couldn't get enough. And the more she got to know you the more she realized the hunch inside her urging for visceral intimacy from you was something much more than she could handle.
Yandere Ellie who feels like she's melting whenever your eyes meet hers, knowing they carry everything you've seen and become, that she relates way too much. Who also always keeps eye contact during sex. The sparkle in her eyes shine so beautifully bright that even fireflies of the darkest night would be jealous.
Yandere Ellie who's mean to anybody else but acts like a lost puppy when you're in her arms.
Yandere Ellie who's touch is so gentle that she's afraid she might break you, who looks at you like you are the last true mouthpiece of god almighty. So gentle in fact you'd never believe the way she'd soon turn out.
(this was still lowkey sane yandere Ellie, i'll write when she goes batshit insane soon 🤍)
#why is this cute#i was supposed to write something psychological and intimidating#yet it ended up being intimate rather than intimidating lmao#yandere ellie williams#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams#ellie the last of us#yandere#cece writes
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How much do I need to pay for some more aang and suki shenanigans?
same girl!!! their friendship (that is almost entirely hypothetical and mostly exists in my head) is soo important to me i just know they’re best friends. like obviously the fact that suki is close with appa and momo already signifies a lot about the nature of their relationship, but they barely interact throughout the show, which makes sense considering that suki is mostly there to supplement sokka’s character and all her other interactions with the gaang are fairly limited (katara and suki friendship though….. also deeply important. to me). but as the most emotionally healthy, stable, self-possessed, and just straight up cool members of the gaang, i just know they’d get along like a house on fire.
i think suki would pretty quickly come to see aang as a little brother figure the same way sokka does, and suki would be the big sister he never had in return. and they definitely get into all kinds of little adventures together after the war, like aang telling suki about the cactus juice incident and suki immediately being like “omg we NEED to try that (don’t tell sokka and katara)”, or going around helping rebuild villages and relocate displaced peoples together, or pranking each other in increasingly crazier ways.
oh yes the aang and suki prank war is very real (toph and katara have a concurrent prank war going on of course; zuko who is far too sensitive & gullible, and sokka who is far too anxious, refuse to be caught in the crosshairs of either of these conflicts). it starts at the western air temple and ends when both of them are dead. everyone on kyoshi island genuinely worships aang like a god and so they think suki is absolutely fucking insane for putting cactus juice in his smoothie right before he’s supposed to deliver a big speech, but she’s just like “no it’s gonna be so fucking funny, just trust me.” (and it is.)
the “putting a “snake” in your sleeping bag and humiliating you in front of your almost boyfriend and his hot dad -> reading katara a really bad poem and then claiming that aang wrote it for her -> loosening the bedframe in your bedroom on ember island so that it crashes during sex (the point at which aang learned NEVER to make sokka collateral damage in these escapades) -> making the whole gaang sit through a colonialist propaganda play just because you know it’ll piss aang off -> putting hot sauce in your red face paint so that it stings and burns your eyelids so bad throughout the entirety of zuko’s coronation day -> nearly causing an international incident because you straight up endangered the life of the avatar” pipeline is so fucking real you guys.
and for what it’s worth, a lot of people assume that aang and suki actually hate each other, and that’s why they’re so invested in this prank war. but they love each other deeply, and that’s evident whenever they’re not in the middle of concocting a nefarious revenge plot, like when they go for long walks together, or just sit and chill outside, or cook together, or any other one of the many other activities they enjoy in each other’s company. they don’t hold grudges either. the pranking is fun for them because they’re both secure enough in themselves to understand that it’s being done out a shared sense of joy and whimsy, and not out of any desire to genuinely antagonize the other. to be fair, sometimes their pranks do actually go too far in various ways, but again, no hard feelings. it’s just a testament to the skill of the pranker, and an invitation for the other to step up their game.
#professordino#asks#aang#suki#aang&suki#go thru that tag for more aang&suki shenaningans. btw#they are so important to me#as are all big sister little brother relationships…… for no reason in particular . of course
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nightingale
Fandom: Succession
Pairing: Roman Roy x F!Reader
Length: 15.5k words
AO3 Link: acalfinthemuseum
This is my first time writing a fanfic ever so please be gentle, I just couldn't resist writing something about my favorite little chew toy, Roman Roy. There's a little bit of Spanish sprinkled in because I love anything that keeps a miscommunication trope running. Click the AO3 link or see the footnotes at the bottom for a translation. English might be my first language but I’m bad at both lmao
Genre: Angst, Fluff, and Smut. Porn with Big feelings
Tags: weird power dynamics, spit kink, slight degradation (mutual), fingerfucking, mutual masturbation, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of familial abuse
Summary: Your job as an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, comes with a lot of challenges. You find it hard to leave him though when you see the way his family treats him, and that's the only reason why you stay. It has nothing to do with the way he makes your face heat up at times. You both have a gift for digging under each other's skin and it's only more amplified when he visits your home late one night.
You find yourself hunched over your kitchen table and feel your eyes glaze over the unfinished puzzle taking over two-thirds of the table’s surface. Your brow furrows in frustration as you stare at the jigsaw pieces over the rim of your mug; sipping the “sleepy time” tea that has failed you miserably. You avoid looking at your phone, knowing that it’d only frustrate you more if you saw the time tick away closer to 3 in the morning. Sleep has evaded you once again, nothing new. You had decided long ago that rather than try to beg your body to let you sleep, thrashing about pathetically on your bed, you’d ride it out. You’ve rebranded your chronic insomnia as just a little bit of “me time” where you try to do the hobbies that you say you enjoy to people during small talk. You can practically hear your brain cells fizzle out and you decide to step away from the puzzle and sprawl over the nearby couch. You close your eyes in hopes that you might finally drift off but that dreadful antsy feeling— that anxiety for a train that will never pull in— seeps back in. Your eyes snap back open and you let out a small groan as you peel yourself off of the couch, opting to pace around for a bit instead. This was actually the first time in a few weeks that you’ve had to confront this problem. Your job, an assistant to New York’s most eligible fascist bachelor, Roman Roy, could almost be considered a relief to this issue of yours. Almost.
Your boss had a nasty habit of making you work late and not just an hour or two of overtime. He’d like to call you up at night when you had finally settled in at home and he’d ask —tell— you to come running right back to the office. Any sign of rebuttal from you is met with a quirky threat of firing you, raking you over proverbial coals. And, like the sweet dumb lamb you are, you do go running back to help him with whatever menial tasks he’s given that evening; there you are, hunched over the boardroom table (much larger than your own kitchen table) looking through the papers that clearly didn’t interest Roman enough for him to actually move from his perch. At times you’d look up from your work to look at him as he leans far back on a rollie chair sipping at god knows what kind of alcohol from the overpriced crystal in his hand. Each time you see him you quietly hope that he’ll lean too far and eat shit. No one has heard your silent prayer yet. The work he gave you during those nights was never too difficult, which you were grateful for, but sometimes it was the ease of it that drove you insane. It left you feeling a little hollow, an insignificant gray decoration for his desk that hasn’t had any time to do things outside of his orbit, even if you wanted to. Your own friends have started begging you to leave, 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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ok yall... i might sound fucking insane but there's this ship me and my friend has been crazy over that is very much a crack ship but we love and want to share more of our insanity about them.
i'll give a brief concept but theres so much story we have of them plus timmy and jimmy. that my friend is working on a fic for which is epic. (ill try remembering linking it when its done)
So... Cool jimmy clone and Imaginary Gary.
we came up with names for all of the clones (cause we also hc that all of the clones are still alive, friend explains more here ). Cool jimmys name is Gator! they are both very much like stupid villain duo to timmy and jimmy when they are older, cause gary is still upset with timmy for abandoning him and a lot of other stuff. So they fuck around and just cause chaos on purpose cause they are so COOL. but then things get gay and gary struggles with his feelings a lot. they are lowkey like greaser dude bros thats gay for each other.
Not a good summary but i'll post them more DONT YOU WORRY, i WILL make nicktoon fans understand me /J/J/J
their ship name is gatorgary for the time being lmao
SHOUT OUT TO MY ALSO INSANE FRIEND THAT I GO ON FOR HOURS WITH ABOUT THEM @chocowhomps FOLLOW HIMM (he also helped with the designs)
#nicktoons#gatorgary#jimmy neutron#the fairly oddparents#cool jimmy#Imaginary gary#theres a small jimmy and timmy here but imma not tag lol#also yes the animation has johnny bravo poses
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Fic Teaser: Parasomnia
(The morning after Special Exhibition, so spoilers there if you haven't read it. This little bit is rated T.)
Dear Dream,
Many would start such a note with “I just couldn't bear to wake you…” but, to be quite honest, I fear it would be too disingenuous given that I did everything short of cracking the smelling salts to wake you before I left. I was worried enough that I checked all your vitals. Upon finding you not dead, nor bradycardic, nor hypotensive, nor hypoxic, nor hypoglycemic, I decided you needed the rest.
Make yourself at home. And I mean that truly. Hell, you know where the toys are kept if you somehow feel the urge. (I, for one, am giving my bollocks and backside a break for at least a few days. No regrets, though.) There is barely any food in the pantry because of my holiday schedule, but there is plenty of coffee and tea. Enjoy anything and everything I have in stock. Or just order takeaway.
I left my car here and took the tube in. Keys are by the front door. You are welcome to drive my car to the hospital or get on a block south and ride in to pick up your car. I told the hospital parking attendant to log it under my name, so no rush getting here, your car is safe.
Rest. Go back to sleep if you want. (Actually, drink a glass of water first. We exerted ourselves rather, ah, thoroughly last night.) Take all the time you need.
I’ll be back about 6 tomorrow morning. If you're around, we can have breakfast. If not, I hope I’ll see you soon.
Text me when you are up and moving?
Yours,
Hob
P.S. Last night was fantastic. You are absolutely stunning. xoxo
Dream reads the letter fully three times before putting it down.
“Yours.”
Something in his chest soars.
Mine.
He wants Hob to be his very, very badly.
Probably in ways Hob very much does not intend.
Probably.
Dream drops the note to run his hands over his face and flops back onto the bed. The sheets smell of Hob and he turns to press his cheek into them before he can think better of it.
Oh, yeah, he’s proper fucked.
One hand wanders down to his abdomen, to above his groin, and for a moment he feels Hob within him again and groans. His other hand lands on the bruising on his shoulder, presses softly, just enough to remind him of Hob's mouth.
Dream closes his eyes and remembers the taste of Hob, his skin and mouth and sweat and cum. He suddenly misses him, desperately.
Which is insane.
They’ve known each other–actually known each other, not the weird parasocial relationship he had with Hob via his TikTok ASMR videos–less than a week. How can Dream possibly miss him?!?
This is just the rush of a new relationship. It will pass. It will pass.
But Dream doesn't want it to pass.
God, it has been ages since he felt this good. Since he had someone respond to him, to his intensity, in kind, to meet him punch for punch. It is what he thought Corin would be, or Calliope, or, fuck, Nada way back when. He thought they could become this. He and Killala had it for one bright, shining moment, before they burned themselves out.
And yet here Hob is, matching his steps, following his lead in this dance, seemingly without much effort, on the first try. Dream is going to have a whole lot of trouble letting that go, now that he knows it possible.
Fuck.
Dream grabs his phone from where it was placed on the nightstand next to the letter and looks at the time.
Which makes him sit up in bed like a shot.
It is almost five in the evening.
He has slept for over twelve hours.
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I’ll probably edit this one*
Just some Everlark fluff
enjoy💝
It’s been almost a month since Peeta came back to 12. We spent that time with each other, it was healing but hard at the same time.
I try to understand my feelings for Peeta. I know I love him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be in a relationship. How could I think about that when so many people died? I’m ashamed for the way I feel when I see Peeta in his garden, his blonde curls covering his forehead and a little part of his temples. I’m ashamed of how much I love the way his blue eyes flicker whenever I compliment his cheese buns… And now, he’s lying next to me, mouth open, his face squashed against the pillow.
Without even realizing, I put my hand in his hair and play with it. Peeta murmurs something without opening his eyes, so I let myself study the boy with the bread a little longer.
“Katniss, I can feel you staring”, he says, smiling.
“No, I’m not”, I reply, suddenly greeted by the blue eyes I know so well. Peeta raises an eyebrow and I groan:
“So what if I was staring?”
“Nothing, it’s nice. I like when you stare at me.”
His hand wraps around my waist, bringing me closer to the warmth of his body. I could stay like this all day, Peeta’s chin on the top of my head, my fingers tracing circles on his clavicle…
“Hey, who’s Naomi”, I ask.
A few days ago, a blonde girl came to Peeta’s house. She was tall, slim and had the aspect of a healthy person- her cheeks rosy red, her skin a little pale. I can’t say I was jealous when I saw her talking to Peeta, or when Peeta opened the door, smiling at the sight of her, or when she went into his house and spent almost 2 hours there… fine, maybe I was a little jealous, but I’d never admit it to him.
“How do you know…”
“I heard you talking to her last week. I had my window open and yeah… Not like I was spying on you!” I wasn’t completely lying. Naomi’s high pitched voice was what drew my attention.
“Oh, she’s Rye’s wife… was”, Peeta replies, a sad smile on his face, “I try to be nice to her since, you know, she has no one but her baby and her brother in law.”
I feel stupid for asking. How could I believe Peeta would be seeing anyone else? After all we’ve been through, he wouldn’t leave me…would he? We’re not officially together, so he could be seeing someone else and I’d have no right to judge him. The thought of not sleeping next to him and another person feeling the warmth of his strong arms drives me insane.
“Why? Are you jealous?”
I look up to see the blonde boy smirk. It’s better than seeing him sad, but I still roll my eyes:
“Yeah, right”, I blush and try to bury my face in his neck so he won’t notice, but his fingers bring my chin up so that I’m looking into his eyes again.
“Oh, my God, you are! You’re blushing”, he laughs.
I sit up straight and hit him playfully:
“No, I’m not!”
Peeta raises an eyebrow and I can’t help a little smile:
“Shut up.”
“Come here”, he says amused, now sitting up and pulling me into his lap, “It’s adorable when you’re jealous.”
Our faces are so close… too close. I can’t give in, I can’t do this to Peeta, I don’t deserve his love. He saved me so many times and all I did was hurt him.
“No one else ever called me adorable, Peeta”, I barely whisper, closing my eyes, so that I can’t be tempted by him. God knows I can’t keep myself together when he looks at me with those puppy eyes.
“No one else really matters”, he says, his warm breath lingering over my lips, making me lick them without realizing.
“Peeta…”
And it happens. I can’t control myself, my hands around his neck, I bring him even closer to me. It’s the hunger I’ve felt before, the hunger that makes me behave like a selfish animal. And I am selfish for bringing him into this, for not letting him get the life he deserves with a normal girl, not a fucked up 19 year old that’s been through the Games twice and started a revolution… but God, did I miss him on my lips.
“Katniss”, he pulls away, gasping for air. I take the opportunity to look at him again, like I did this morning: his curls are even messier than usual. This satisfies me because it was my hand who did that. His cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen, his chest going up and down, trying to get more air. I can’t help but imagine Peeta with nothing on, lying in my bed in the morning. My cheeks must be burning like crazy and I mentally scold myself for thinking about it.
“Did you hear me”, Peeta asks amused, bringing me back to the present moment.
“What?”
“Kiss me again?”
#the hunger games peeta#i love peeta#katniss and peeta#peeta mellark#thg#thg fanfiction#the hunger games katniss#katniss everdeen#thg peeta#thg katniss#everlark fanfiction#everlark
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Chapter 11: +I am not a glass doll+
Part of "Am I Fu**ing Insane !?!" A multi chapter adventure in Astarion’s mind
Rating: EXPLICIT ROUGH SEX (intercourse PIV)
CW: Blood, Sex
Word count count: 1.9k
Pairings: Astarion X OFC Tav
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54356776/chapters/140917522
I have a quite serious praise kink. Which also means compliments in the forms of tags and/or comments might very well spur me to write and post more
** Thoughts "" Dialogue - - Remarks ++ Quotes / Memories
SUMMARY: In this chapter we simply finish the sex marathon we started 3 chapters ago -to jog your memory, she's on top, for the first time ever- Cause I imagine Pacing is of the essence for someone who's been around over two centuries like Astarion. If we had caring cuddly Astarion in the previous two chapters let's just say things get a fair bit rougher here... consider this your content warning for serious Rough stuff.
He has to close his eyes because, if along with the sensations her swaying hips are eliciting from his cock -strangled within her velvety warmth-, he also lets the vision of her soft, perfect body reach him, as it makes languid, serpentine circuits with her back arched and breast exposed as she impales herself repeatedly over him, that alone might make him come undone.
Her movements are excruciatingly slow, as if every inch of him has to be felt and pressed upon, as if her centre is gauging every sensitive spot on his cock and after a moment of attentive reactions she keeps learning and repeating exactly those that are driving him the most insane with pleasure.
His hands still gripping on her hips, though without any pressure or conviction, only to have his fingers full with the grasp of her softness.
*there’s absolutely nothing I can teach her…*
His head rolls back and he doesn’t even realise he must have arched his back enough so that now he hits a new, deeper spot inside of her and a louder gasp breaks through her throat as her movements halt with his cock completely buried inside of her. His eyes shoot open to find her biting her lip.
“Are you alright? Just… let me stay still for a moment… get used to me… we don’t need to ru–”
The words die in his throat with a groan ending his sentence as her hips have resumed their undulation, slow yet hitting harder and deeper every time she presses herself flush against his crotch.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She breathes every word as her rhythm remains unaffected. She suddenly lets him pull out almost completely and his instincts have his fingers dig deeper in her hips to keep her close
“No… please.. I was… just worried… about you”
“Stop worrying about me Astarion, I’m not a glass doll”
There is something incredibly enticing about the way she chose her words, though before he can spend any longer on them, her entire body is overhanging above him. Her hands reach to the headboard of the bed as she’s got him completely trapped between herself and the mattress beneath him. Her soft, perfumed locks caressing his shoulders are the last thing he registers as suddenly this new angle makes a scream of pleasure escape his lips. Though her own lips capture his immediately and now both their moans are just filling each other’s mouths.
This is a new kind of kiss, ravenous, she’s not just kissing him she is…
*biting!*
Her teeth are pulling at his bottom lip and yet in a flash her tongue is pressing harder against his own. Teeth clashing against his and for a moment he still tries to focus on covering his own fangs with his lips for fear of hurting her. But that’s when her words resonate and unlock something in his body
+I am not a glass doll+
A hand quickly moves across her back to press at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer still, the other one reaching for the small of her back as his own hips arch against hers, his cock buried deep inside of her, reaching surely an impossible depth for a human. He might think about how sore this will make her feel later but those thoughts have all but left his mind, finally beautifully empty for once, and all he knows is what his body feels.
Her incredibly tight cunt throttling every inch, every spot, of his insanely hard cock, every beat of her pulse reverberating around it and rippling across his crotch and dispersing around his body.
Her thighs locking his hips in place, pressing harder and harder against his bones and a fleeting thought carrying the desire to hear himself crunch, crushed by her grip, almost tips him over the edge.
Her teeth biting down on his lips without restrain as her kiss gets rougher against his mouth and her hips movements are beginning to match that raw need until she angles herself just right and another moan makes him almost roll his head back. When he does, her teeth don't relent and that's when her bite on his lip finally draws blood.
As the metallic flavour hits his senses everything turns to a blur. The pressure around his cock drives him mad and in a split second he’s grabbed her arms and reversed their positions, flipping her on her back as his hips now pound into her impossibly wet and engorged sex. Her measured slow movements are forgotten, replaced by sudden, hard thrusts that make him want to go deeper, and deeper until there’s nothing left of her to discover, to feel, to taste.
One hand grabs at her wrists and pins them above her head, holding them in place in a rock hard grip, as the other reaches to her thigh, pulling her leg up to curl around his own waist
*Deeper… deeper… deeper*
Her sighs and moans have left room to screams and heaving, and he can tell her own hips are trying to meet his thrusts best as she can in this position. He arches his back so that his mouth can devour hers again and this time there’s nothing resembling concern about his fangs, as they go directly to graze at her lip, nipping just enough to draw her own blood now wetting his lips
*We’re even now, you minx!*
His mouth latches onto her lower lip, sucking on it to draw more of her ambrosia as his hips keep pounding into her relentlessly. Even as little of her blood as this scratch allows him to take in is sending his entire body into a frenzy. His movements scattered and impossibly fast, thrusting in and out of her swollen cunt and he only realises how far he’s taken things when suddenly he feels her clenching around him, the feeling almost as if his own cock is to be strangled and torn apart from his body. The leg draped around his hips pressing into his backside as to pulling him closer *deeper* inside of her whilst her entire body convulses in spasm. Their lips separate only because, in a jolt of pleasure, her head rolls back letting out his name in a scream.
With his mouth now on her neck, he can’t even remember that’s exactly the spot he fed from just hours before, but the freshness of the wound must be what pokes at his instinct when in a moment his fangs tear at it as his mouth captures her pierced skin and finally he can swallow mouthfuls of the heavenly liquid she carries in her veins.
The flavour of her coating his tongue, just as the spasms of her climax still choke his cock, are the last thing he can grasp onto with any lucidity as his eyes roll in the back of his skull. He’s senselessly thrusting harder and harder into her that if any semblance of reason had been left in his brain he’d know he’s bruising her, but no notion other than chasing that absolutely idyllic promise of untainted pleasure is driving his rough motions now.
He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge as the random clenching from her last climactic twitches are tantalising his cock. His fangs instinctively pressing harder onto her flesh as to getting still *deeper* into her is the only vagrancy he can still follow, in every direction, be it flesh or sex.
His focus is such that it’s not until the tip of her tongue barely caresses the outer shell of his pointy ear that he realises she’s back in control of her movements after her climax. The feeling of her soft bite on his earlobe a moment later, on such a sensitive part of his body, is the gate to perdition and with a final thrust he pushes everything he has into her. A white light explodes in his mind as his own orgasm takes control of every jolt and involuntary reaction of his pale, tensed body.
Sparks are inundating his vision and his physical brain, some ecstatic and some as if pure radiant damage is dispersing across his every thought. Any flash and image that ever existed in his mind is simply flooded with the bright, gleaming pleasure that began in his cock and is now dispersing across his skin through the entirety of his body. His hips pressing flush against hers buried as deep as her fragile form allows, an animal marking his territory with his own seed filling her insides.
His skin still tingles from the aftermath of his pleasure when his brain slowly sinks back into his body and feels hers pressed against his as his mouth is still full of her blood springing from her neck
His lips keep latched onto her still, though his blood drawing has stopped, his tongue freely caressing her skin and gently soothing the wound in an attempt to close it again.
Every shallow exhale that leaves her lips still carries a soft moan. As he leaves a kiss on the closed punctures and moves to his elbows to leave her space to breathe he realises his hand is still holding her wrists down in a rock hard grip so tense he almost can't feel his own fingers.
He drops his grasp and his fingertips go to caress her forehead, her cheeks, swiping her hair aside.
“You were definitely worth the wait, my sweet… you are perfect… are you alright? Was that… too much?”
With her hands free he feels her fingers run through his own hair now, a soft hum resonating through her chest as her swollen lips, still crimson tinted, pull into a smile, her head shakes slightly before she gently speaks
“Definitely not… I don't think I could ever have enough of you… but now I know my dreams never did you any justice…”
At that he can feel the corner of his own lips pulling, the delicious stinging of his lower lip a delightful reminder of how savage her desire for him was, and that settles his mind upon the only sensation her lovely expression brings to him: bliss.
After placing a soft kiss on her lips he slowly pulls his softening cock out and a unique kind of satisfaction fills him as her body still twitches, a soft sigh exhaled with what sounds like quiet laughter, and as he rolls on his back he pulls her to his chest and he can feel immediately her arm circling to reach his shoulder, her naked leg draping possessively over his.
“You’ll have to tell me more about those dreams my darling… after all… there's nothing you desire that I'm not willing to give…”
His voice leaves the question hanging suggestively and he feels her face pressing, hiding against his chest so that the arm circling her pulls her closer as a soft laugh resonates from his lips. Her soft murmurs let him know he's not going to get that answer now as the tip of her cold nose is now pressed against his own unusually warmer skin. Her breathing is regular and slowing enough that the rhythm lulls his own senses into actual, restful, sleep.
For the first time in his entire existence.
#astarion#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion fanfic#astarion x oc#astarion x reader#ao3 fanfic#astarion x tav#bg 3#astarion ancunin#astarion angst#bg 3 fanfic#astarion bg3#baldur's gate astarion#astarion smut#bg3#baldur's gate smut#tav x astarion#astarion fic#astarion fanfiction#astarion fluff#bg3 smut#astarion romance#astarion pov#soft dom#soft dom astarion#dom astarion
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Hot take here but...
Like I know this is Tumblr. This is the autism site.
So of course I knew everyone would side with Laios on this and empathize more with him but its driving me insane how everybodys saying Toshiro was completely on the wrong here and he should have communicated better and talked about his grievances with Laios WHEN THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS IS THEY WERE BOTH ON WRONG HERE.
LIKE THERES A REASON CHILCHUCK BRINGS UP HOW LAIOS SHOULD WORK ON HIS SOCIAL SKILLS A COUPLE OF EPISODES AGO/JUST BEFORE THIS HAPPENS?
like I know most of you don't like it but social cues ARE a part of society culture. Social cues ARE a form of communication.
In fact they were made to facilitate communication.
They were made so everytime Alice and Bob annoy each other they don't have to go and have a heart to heart when a simple gesture can have the same effect.
In fact sometimes better because sometimes addressing something with words makes it come out stronger/ruder than it is.
And sometimes just like you have problems understanding social cues some people have problems speaking, finding the way to words their thoughts/feelings correctly.
Specially among strangers where you don't know the others personality or how they could react to your words.
That's where social cues, that are general rules the majority of people have agreed on, work. To facilitate convivence.
And yeah there's an argument to be said about how you are supposed to know them if they are unspoken rules and the thing is YOU LEARN THEM THROUGH SOCIAL INTERACTION, through living in a society.
Just like gender norms and the like you don't learn them in school during a boring lecture where a professor lists them on the board. You learn them through interaction and repetition, throught observing your peers. Just like learning to talk and walk and other stuff. Heck, your parents and other adults around are supposed to ease you into it.
And yes, it's not a perfect system. But nothing is.
The saying 'communication is the key' doesn't refer to just talking.
Social cues and other non spoken gestures are also another form of communicating. Equally as valid as all the others
There's beauty in talking and openly expressing your love to someone. Or your grievances.
But there's also beauty in grabbing someones arm or the you picking up your friend is uncomfortable due to the turnup of their mouth or the way they stand.
One isn't superior to other. They are supposed to complement each other
Laios and Toshiros mistakes were relying completely in one or the other instead a compromising and finding a middle point.
Toshiro should have expressed his annoyance at Laios.
And Laios should have picked better Toshiros signs of discomfort.
(All of this isn't even taking into account how they come from different cultures and shock it comes with it because others have talked better about it and I wanted to focus on this. On how even if they have from the same background Laios should have also been a fault.
Hell not only social cues even talking is affected by ones cultural background. What for me is normal could come out as rude for someone in Japan)
#dungeon meshi#i was going to say more about how non spoken cues are another important form of comunication#and how theres beauty in it and why sometimes its preferred over easier ways like talking (THE JEST THE PLAY THE AMBIGUITY#THE IF YOU KNOW ME... ITS LIKE POETRY IN ACTION JUST LIKE WORDSPLAY)#but i lost the steam#also this hit too close to home and it made me realize why im angry at my friends so thank you laios and shuro for serving#as an external mechanism i could use to analyze the situation clearer#dont even dare try to assume whats going when whta im talking about takes years of context#also dont even dare to say im discriminating against autistic folk#me saying autistic folk should work on their social skills even though is difficult is the same as saying adhd should work on their#organizing skills even if its difficult because the consequences will still be there anyway and one must#hold themselves accountable og their actions even if they were cause by stuff we cant help
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Stay as Friends
Jeong Yunho x F!Reader
Moving on from Yunho is slow but it's sure.
"Aren't you coming with us?" Your colleague asked. You've been working non stop since you got back from your trip in Italy. It was fun and it finally brought you the peace that you've always wanted to experience.
It wasn't like you were going through a break up or what. You and Yunho weren't even official. There was no label, really. It's just complicated. You're just really grateful on what relationship you both had and cherished it. Yunho may have enjoyed that simple-no label relationship, well you did too, until you fell. Hard. You took it upon yourself to distance yourself from him. And though it hurts, you made through it.
Still, there was a bitter taste in your mouth when you saw how Yunho adjusted to that so well. There were many times that you passed by each other in the hallway where you would avoid his gaze but he would smile at you.
Or sometimes be in the same elevator, unexpectedly, in which he would greet you hello and ask you how your morning went. You would always answer with a simple 'good' then that's it. You would stand there like a pole, not moving or talking until one of you has to leave.
Who are we kidding, you've told him many times that it's not his fault, and will never be.
That was about 8 months ago. Your last day at KQ was the beginning of your getaway to Italy. Honestly, you don't know what Yunho has been up to these days. Last time you heard, Ateez has been busy for their overseas schedule and preparation for their next album.
Other than that, you don't really know what's going on in his life. There were few posts from Ateez's instagram that you'd scroll by but that's it. Nothing deeper than pictures they show on their social media account.
"I don't get what you two have." Mingi said referring to you and Yunho, while looking out the ocean. Yunho and Wooyoung were too busy trying to throw each other in the water, laughing and wrestling.
KQ's CEO decided to treat Ateez and the staff to a trip in Jeju. Every one has been working hard and because of the many success of their hard work, Jeju trip it is.
Ateez were rarely recognized here, which in times like this, is really important. They get to walk around the neighborhood and even go to food markets. Sometimes, people got curious if they are celebrities because of their stylish outfits, but none of the members really dare to mention of them being idols.
You can only guess that they also want to make the most out of this break. You're sure Ateez knows that by the time they go back to Seoul, it means back to work.
"We don't have anything." You replied after a long silence. Yunho was able to throw Wooyoung into the water but Wooyoung grabbed his shirt, dragging him along. You can hear their laughter all the way from where you and Mingi are; just a small cottage to keep you off the blazing heat and serve as a shed.
The other members are still in the house, resting from the insane long ferry ride.
"So... The holding hands, having lunch and dinner together, sleeping in your house, ordering take-outs for each other is 'nothing'?" Mingi snickered.
You shrugged your shoulders. You don't even know what you and Yunho have. None of you has ever confessed, and none of you tried to initiate the conversation on what your relationship really is.
"I really hope this all works out for you." Mingi suddenly said. He stood up and picked up his phone.
Right... The only reason why he's not sleeping now is because he wanted to catch the sunset and take pictures. The sky is slowly fading from dark blue to an orange hue with tints of pinks and purples.
"I know you like him Y/N. I can't tell if Yunho feels the same way, but I'm sure he'll understand better if you say something." You watched Mingi took his strides, his figure getting smaller and smaller from your sight.
And just like that, your eyes flickered back to where Wooyoung and Yunho was supposed to be. You were slightly taken back seeing Yunho already looking at you. You smiled and gave him a small wave.
He waved back at you, but before he could say something, Wooyoung appeared behind him and dragged him back into the ocean. The corners of your mouth turned up at the two goof balls in the water.
Wooyoung's loud yapping and Yunho's protests was all you can hear, completely shutting out the voices of people passing by and the harsh gusts of the wind.
"What's your instagram again?" Yunho furrowed his brows, trying to remember the username you mentioned a few hours ago.
"star_light.0823" You rolled your eyes.
"Star... light... dot. Zero-eight-twenty three." You watched him, sprawled in your couch like he owns it, typing away your username.
"Shocking. You're not private."
"No one would follow me anyway, except for my friends so..."
In just a few minutes, Yunho has reached your posts from way back in high school. You both laugh at some of your ridiculous heavy filtered selfies and landscape photos. Even the pictures that you've long forgotten were suddenly brought back to your memories.
"And this?" It was a photo of you holding a pepero and a bouquet of fresh flowers.
"Well, what can I say, I'm pretty and I'm popular in high school." You whipped your hair boastfully.
"Uh huh." Yunho teased. "How many peperos are these? Let me count."
"Yah!" It was clearly seen on the picture that there are only 2 boxes. The living room was filled with laughters and high school stories that whole afternoon. Both of you sharing different yet fun experiences from years ago.
"Yunho, thanks for being here with me."
"Hmm?"
"Whatever this is," You started, "I mean, I hope we could be as friends for as long as we can."
"I'll always be here for you when you need me, Y/N." He assured, and in that moment, you were satisfied. There was no label needed. Your loyalty for each other is enough to keep it.
"God, I hate it here." You mumbled under your breath. Big or small, it was dumb for you think that all agencies work the same. YG Entertainment being the bigger one, doubles the workload that you used to have in KQ. Not to mention the management were astronomically different.
If back then in KQ you can interact with artists just fine, here in YG, they are stricter. You're not allowed to talk too much with the artists unless they chat with you. Not that you're planning on getting close with the artists anyway. You already know how that turn out the last time you got close to one.
Your phone vibrated with a text message, prompting you to look. A groan escaped your lips as you were reminded of the piling folders of today's work.
I did put this phone over here so I can remember every thing I need to finish, You thought.
Expecting an urgent message from your boss, your eyes almost rolled at the back of your head when you saw that it was from your colleague and long-time friend, Jia.
Jia
Jaebeom wants to say hi to you.
You
This is the third time.
Not interested.
Jia
Boo. Single.
You poked your head from your cublicle and look for your friend. You were not surprised seeing her holding her phone, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You raised your brow back and all she did was stick her tongue out at you.
Jia
Boo! Still stuck on that Ateez guy :P
You chuckled. Sometimes it really does cross your mind whether telling your friend about Yunho was a great idea.
You
Nope, Italy changed me.
Who's that Ateez guy again?
Jia
Sure sure. Jeong Yunho
You look up from your seat, watching how your friend giggle at her reply.
You
What a real friend you are, bitc--
Jia
Jeong Yunho :P
Shaking your head, you couldn't help but smile at your friend's childish behavior. Well, at least the mention of his name doesn't make you want to curl up in ball and cry like they used to. You're getting there, slowly but surely. Maybe one of these days, you'll have the guts to reach out to them again.
Even after every thing that happened, you miss their unpredictable funny moments and that familiar melody of Yunho's laugh. And maybe, just maybe, get to know each other again.
"So, you did confess?" Jia's eyes went round. "Holy shit!"
"Uhuhm." You hummed in agreement.
"And then what happened?" Jia scooted closer, nudging your shoulder at the same time.
Your heart was pounding and your mind is clouded. You're not really sure if this is the right thing to do. Honestly, you blame the book that you read last night. Something along the lines of regretting the chances you didn't take and you wouldn't see it unless you try.
The concert ended about an hour ago and you asked Yunho to meet with you at the private parking lot before you part ways. You were blowing on your freezing hands when Yunho appeared.
You both said your hi's and hello's, and for some reason, Yunho's face is flushed and his eyes are beaming. "I also want to tell you something."
You gulped, you want him to go first. Before you could tell him, Yunho started excitedly on his speech.
"Remember that girl from weeks ago?" The idol trainee, yes. You uncrossed you arms and let him continue. "Well, she attended the concert tonight and..." Yunho is practically bouncing on his toes at this point. "...And she said, hear this, I was her favorite." He was glowing like the morning sun.
"Oh..." You bit your lip. "That's really good to hear."
"Right? I think I like her, too."
Late. That's all you could think of: You're late. You relaxed your breathing and forced a smile on your lips. "I, uh..."
Yunho's eyes narrowed at you. "Something wrong?"
You shook your head, "Nope."
"Well actually," You bit the insides of your cheek. "I like you."
Every thing then was a blur. Yunho spurting words of sorry's and apologizing. He was holding your hand when he did, but you assured him that it was okay. And that this is not his fault.
You were even able to throw a line of someone being better. There would be someone out there better. It was more of a comforting word to yourself, than a joke you told Yunho.
He laughed and agreed, "I'm sure you'll find him."
"Of course, I will. Duh. Remember those peperos in high school? Psh."
"Wow, I can't believe you're a martyr, Saint Y/N." Jia teased with humor.
"What can I say, this is me." You responded.
You were staring at the series of pictures you've recently posted on Instagram. Starting from the mess of your kitchen after you and Jia baked cookies, to the mini clips in between of Jia mixing and fooling around, and finally the baked cookies. You made sure to include the first batch which was half burnt.
jiaaaaaa_
dare i say, i'm the best baker
Jia's comment was at the top, with a couple of your friends that sarcastically said it's the best looking cookies they've seen in a while.
You were about to exit the app when another notification popped up.
yu_yu.0323 liked your post
yu_yu.0323 commented on your post
You can hear your heart beating from your chest. Of course, he doesn't have any profile picture on nor any info on his profile at all. But that username is and will always be familiar to you.
Absentmindedly, you clicked on it.
yu_yu.0323
the most peaceful cookies i've ever seen tbh :))
Yunho was defintely referring to the failed cookies which was either burned to crisp or the cracked ones. You don't know whether to ignore or reply even with just a simple emoji. It doesn't seem wrong to acknowledge his comment anyway.
star_light.0823
@yu_yu.0323 they really were. just not sure about it having a 'peaceful' taste.
You closed the app after that. Maybe it's better this way. No need for complicated things, just two friends interacting on social media.
You really do wish you would've just met now, though. This version of you is your best version. That version of you was a scared little girl. You would've told that girl to not run away and face it; it's okay to face rejections.
Someday, maybe you and Yunho will cross paths again. And maybe by that time, things would turn out better than it did.
[Unedited. Not yet proofread]
#ateez#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez fic#ateez imagines#jeong yunho#jeong yunho ateez#yunho#ateez yunho#yunho x reader#yunho imagines
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Well. This is the weirdest one of these I’ve ever made.
I’m not going to rehash the wank from the Watcher TV announcement. You all know what happened. I am standing by my assertion that this streaming platform is the only way they’re going to stay afloat because YouTube is just not the place for them or anyone else making videos that aren’t just of one person in their house. (nothing against those folks, it’s just a completely different business model)
Anyway.
First up, here’s how Mystery Files season 2 did. It did well, with each ep hitting a million fairly quickly, but it didn’t do as well as season 1. Not significantly worse, just not as high. (two weeks after season 1 ended, the average per episode was 1.854 and for s2 it’s at 1.194million) Of course, the two weeks since season 2 ended have been fucking insane so it’s impossible to say how much of that is a factor.
I will say that views between last week and this week are down overall, but that’s expected. If someone has paid for the streamer and you want to rewatch Ghost Files or whatever, you’re going to watch it ad-free on the app you pay for and not YouTube for the most part. Also it’s very possible people are just not rewatching stuff right now for their own personal reasons, which is fine. I also just don’t think it’s something to worry about.
For better or worse, the Goodbye YouTube video is the best opening weekend Watcher has ever had (and will have?) on YouTube.
Watcher lost around 100k subscribers over The Announcement but, again, if people are paying them directly now then this is kind of a non-factor. For posterity, they’re at 2.84 million subscribers today.
I’m not sure what else to say this time, tbh! It felt like a good time to make one of these with MF season 2 being over but YouTube viewcounts are just…not going to be important anymore for Watcher so there’s not much to say about them. Finding out that a million views only nets between $10-30k has been very eye-opening to me about how piddly the revenue from YouTube is for a production studio like Watcher. The shows they want to make just cost more than they can make off of there. It’s that simple. No one has to like that fact, but that is the heart of all this.
Also, with all of that being said, I think my time as a spreadsheet gremlin is coming to a close. I’m going to keep up with it for a few more weeks and probably do one last round-up for every single video’s views, but with Watcher moving away from YouTube as a business model, there’s little reason to keep up with these. I’ve been making these updates less this year anyway because of a job change and I was losing my steam for it a bit too, so the timing feels right. Like I said, this won’t be my last viewcount post, but maybe second-to-last? And who knows, maybe I’ll check in when Ghost Files premieres but the counts will mean so much less now that the videos will premiere with a month delay from the streamer. We’ll just have to wait and see how the wind blows on this.
Thank you all, as always, for reading, reblogging, replying, liking these posts. Y’all are the reason I’ve kept up with it for four years (and my own nosiness but having encouragement helps!). And don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have some other spreadsheets to share in the future of Watcher fandom. (I have…so many) So, until next time, thanks again. ❤️
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Hey hey! For the character meme Gideon!
hello thanks for the ask :)
favorite thing about them
i love how she speaks. someone said once that everything she says is like the wrong option in a video game dialogue choice list. all of tamsyn's characters have incredible dialogue but gideon is so goddamn funny especially. like it wraps around from being cringe to being funny again. her narration is excellent.
least favorite thing about them
i'm gonna say what i said for harrow, everything about her makes sense for her character and her role in the story.
favorite line
given the first answer here you can imagine this is extremely difficult for me. however. i'm going to go with a decidedly unfunny one from chapter 25 of ntn because it makes me feel insane.
Nona had never seen anyone so sad in her whole short life. It made her nearly afraid to die.
“Nobody locks me up anywhere,” said Kiriona.
she says!!! while locked in her corpse by her dad!! after being locked in harrow's brain for a year by harrow!! after being locked in drearburh for 18 years by the ninth!! ohhhhhhh my god
brOTP
sorry i'm going with gideon and ianthe because they hate each other and i just find that endlessly amusing
OTP
griddlehark sweep
nOTP
don't really have one, just don't like when she's shipped with men
random headcanon
after she goes to canaan house she starts getting freckles because it's her first time in sunlight
unpopular opinion
idk i don't really see people talking about this much but like she's an asshole. she has a mean-spirited streak. and like yeah i guess if your opponent in the cartoonishly evil contest is harrow it's gonna make gideon look like a much better person but like. idk everyone was shocked by her being a dick in ntn but it's not really that different from how she was before?
also i really really hate the fandom himboification of her turning her into a one-dimensional horny fuckboi vehicle for harrow to have 36 orgasms or whatever. or the opposite where they make her a loyal idiot golden retriever. butches often have personalities that are not either of these things, actually!
song i associate with them
it is 100% absolutely from hell with love and sweet true lies, both by beast in black. not only do they sound like songs i think gideon would listen to, like, the lyrics are so.
Killed my light
To serve your delight
Now see me ripped apart
Ripped apart
Another voiceless cry
Another hopeless try
I wish you'd open your wings and take me inside
From hell with love I write
Confess my passion crime
Cause to my heart, soul and mind, you are kryptonite
Oh babe
like cmon.
Baby, baby tell me more of your lies
Say you want me for a lifetime
I believe you even when I know it's a lie
Love's so blind
Sweet true lies
AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!! thank you @oceanwrath for introducing me to these songs with your tlt art.
favorite picture of them
again i can't choose just one there's so much good art in this fandom but my favorites are this FUCKING STUNNING kiriona piece by @nil-elk and this amazing one by @battletailors and this incredible piece by @notedchampagne and this one by @may12324 and this one by oceanwrath and listen ok i just really really like gideon nav 😭
thanks for the ask!
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