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kenyummy · 4 months ago

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MISTER TUTOR — YUKIMIYA KENYU

[NSFW] SYNOPSIS : yukimiya kenyu is your tutor. by extension, he is also your favourite victim to tease. also by extension, you two always end up in the exact same way each and every tutoring session.

note : hi this is smut !!!! mostly pwp so heh. heh. theres a severe lack of kenyu fics on tumblr and everywhere honestly so i decided to be a good samaritan and do my part in adding to his slowly growing fic collection. i love love love kenyu hes my boyfriend forever and ever <333 also reposted from my wattpad which u should so check out btdubs

wc ;; 3.9k

Yukimiya isn't sure when, but eventually, tutoring you took up a huge portion of his life. First assigned for a homework task that you had not completed—his teacher made him tutor you on how to do it and exactly how to hand it in.

Then, his math teacher made him study with you, since you were falling so far behind. You and him spent hours studying together, but nothing ever worked. Either you got him too riled up to continue this session (which really, led into a session of something else), or you yourself were way too unfocused to even consider actually trying to learn from the boy in front of you.

Either way, you and he did not mesh well together, especially in a study-like area. In a library—you were far too loud. At home (either one of your houses)—he was practically asking you to feel him up, God forbid you two were left alone in the house, as well. Even at school, you kept finding yourself getting distracted by the multitude of people that pass by, and every little thing around you intrigued you more than your work ever did.

You never read your assigned novels, something which he couldn't understand. It was just reading, and yet, you acted like it was the hardest thing in the world to do? Whatever the reason was (perhaps you could simply not read), Yukimiya needed to find a strategy that worked for you.

As your (self-proclaimed) tutor, was it not his job to make it so you don't flunk every single test? He thought so.

So, he went through various strategies with you. Studying in timeslots—it didn't work, because when you took a break, you decided that you didn't feel like going back to doing boring old work. Cramming everything in at the last minute—this worked a little better, but was still a giant failure. Sure, it had you actually studying, but you forgot everything as soon as you walked into the test room since your mind had no time to actually process it all.

Whatever it was—it was like your entire being refused to study like it would kill you (from how badly your grades are dropping, he isn't sure that's the only thing that will). A vivid procrastinator, that's what you are. Still, Yukimiya Kenyu is nothing but determined. When he's set on something —you best believe he'll go out there and get it like a champ.

That's why he was sure that this study method—tailor made to fit you—would absolutely, undoubtedly work.

You were surprised when Yukimiya asked you if you wished to spend this week's weekend study session at his house. (He isn't dumb, in fact, he's the complete opposite—and he knows exactly where you two "studying" at a private place like home leads).

So why did Yukimiya ask this? Has he perhaps turned over to the dark side? The thought of that—and perhaps, at what's to come—makes your stomach twist in excitement.

The day came without so much of a hitch. You spent the last few days of the week lazing as usual—your mind couldn't leave the thought of this weekend's "study" sesh with your favourite boy alone.

You wondered this, even as you took a train and made your way to his house—you've been there so often that his address was practically branded into your brain—and you thought about all the things he'd make you do.

Your face flushes.

As soon as you ring the doorbell—you stand outside waiting for less than a minute—you catch sight of Yukimiya Kenyu himself. Clad in a flowy, white dress shirt, and baggy grey sweatpants—he looked deliciously domestic, and it made your heart race in your chest. Especially when he spares you that smile—that godawful, lady-killer smile that could knock somebody dead—you think you may faint on the spot.

"You're just on time. My parents are going out to see my grandma, so it'll just be me and you alone for a few hours. Should be more than enough time for substantial studying, no?"

Alone? Few hours? Come on, Yukki, you know me better than that.

Now, you were starting to grow suspicious at his deliberate choice of wording and his all-too-well grin. Yukimiya Kenyu... what are you planning? Are you actually planning on getting any work done? No, not really. But that doesn't mean you can't be suspicious of this pretty boy in front of you. A studious, straight-A nerd would surely not fall into his tempting desires without at least a little bit of prodding—which is exactly why you're so wary of this whole setup.

You're led to the familiar sight of his room, somewhere you've been countless times before, same as always. You make yourself comfortable on his bed and watch as he pulls in a second chair to sit at his desk. He sits down at the one he just brought in, and motions for you to take a seat beside him on the chair he had originally had on his room.

His smile is so guileless, you can hardly get a good read on what he's feeling. It almost makes you nervous. Still, you obey, and take a seat, watching silently as he pulls out a few binders and unclipped a piece of paper. A mock test.

Wow, already? He was making you go through a practice test based on the subjects you're learning in math at the moment. Well, this wasn't too surprising. Yukimiya usually went through these with you anyway, so he could get a feel for how much you know about the subject already.

He snuffles his chair closer, eyes gleaming behind lens, "We should spend today going over these questions. If that doesn't take much time, we can just spend the rest of the day chilling out."

Yeah, we all know what you mean by "chilling out".

You nod, back slumped into the chair behind you and you groan, "Ugh... that sounds boring at hell... Can't we do something more fun, Yukki?"

With a cheeky grin and a knowing glance at the bed behind you—you think you make your intentions abundantly clear. You're certain he knows what you mean—this is always how you get what you want, after all.

By now, he'd be pink-cheeked, or perhaps even sloppily making out with you already, but not this time. He keeps the same blank, air-headed expression that he's plastered on his face since this whole tutoring thing started. "No, not this time. I've thought of a way to help you remember the fornulas, actually. I'm sure this strategy will work."

You raise a brow, clearly suspicious of his judgement. He said that same thing the past three times, and you ended up failing said three tests. "Really?"

He nods, smiling, "Really. Let's just start, and I'll try to incorporate it as naturally as possible."

Strange choice of words—but you like to trust your Yukki, so you don't question it. You and him quickly flip to the first page, and it starts with a question on area for a shape you do not recognise—with all sorts of numerals and numbers that it already makes your head spin.

"Do you understand how to solve for x?" He asks, and you think it's easier to straight up say no, rather than lie and look stupid, so you shake your head. "Alright. I'll try to explain it the best I can."

He starts talking, but it's hard to focus when his big hand is taut on your bare thigh, rubbing up and down mindlessly on the skin. You didn't realise he'd come so close to you—he's practically pressed up against your side.

Whatever. You try not to think too much of it. You focus on the sound of his words and sort of figure out how to solve what they're asking, "So, to find x, first you have to use the measurements already given, and then times that?"

He nods, "Yes, but that's not the end. You then still have to find y and z."

You groan, running a hand through your hair and sighing loudly—showing off your exhaustion five minutes into the session, "Ugh... this is taking forever... is this shit seriously on the test?"

Yukki leans up and presses a peck to your forehead. It feels oddly romantic, it makes you blush, "I know it's long, but you'll get it. Just focus, alright? I promise you'll understand if you do."

You really hope his mystery study method actually works.

Yukki continues trying to explain the concepts and formulas on how to solve the shape on the paper—and you're trying, you really are, but his fingers inch up, further and further and it makes it really damn hard to concentrate.

(Curse him, and the stupid effect he has on you.)

His hand stops moving for a moment, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. His words finally stop sounding like a jumbled mess and more like actual teaching, "I get it! You just..."

You proceed to re-explain the concepts he brought up, and worked out the question on the paper with ease. Yukimiya grins, perfect pearly whites behind his teeth and he's clearly proud, "Good girl. You're actually listening to me this time. Let's move on to the next question."

An algebraic expression—so many letters, numbers and symbols and you don't know what half of them mean. Yukki takes one good look at your face and understands exactly what's going through your head—absolutely nothing.

He begins to explain the equation to you once more—his hand inches up even further. It has practically disappeared under your skirt.

Is he doing this on purpose? You can't help but wonder, heat crawling up your neck and your stomach feels tense with anticipation. Usually, you'd think he would be—but he's not even looking at you, completely and utterly focused on the question.

Maybe he doesn't even realise.

The thought makes your skin crawl, but you push down these feelings (and try to ignore the soft touch of his fingers on your inner thighs), attempting at solving the question.

He shakes his head, brown curls falling over his pretty eyes. "No, that's not how you do it. I'll show you."

He leans forward and takes the pen from your hand—fingers brushing over yours—and wastes on time in solving the question while explaining its properties and what steps you need to take. Yukki is a good teacher. He's smart, he's thorough, and he makes sure you understand everything before you two move on.

But you really, really, can't focus because his fingers are now right atop your clothed cunt, stroking softly—it's driving you mad—and languidly, like it didn't do anything to you.

You hiss through your teeth when his index finger brushes over your clit, "Yukki..."

He looks so genuinely confused you almost believe he does not realise what he's doing, "Hm? What? Do you not understand?"

You furrow your brows in an angry motion, "No, are you kidding? You... You're—" The words die in your mouth as soon as you catch sight of the glowing, very much teasing, smirk on his lips.

Fuck. He does know what he's doing. Fucking prick.

You swallow thickly when his fingertips press a little harder, "Is this seriously the strategy you were talking about?"

He still acts oblivious, despite the way he's unabashedly glowing with joy, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Let's just get back to the question. Do you understand it?"

You suck up your pride and take the pen from his grasp—solving the question easily. Yukimiya places his free hand on your head and pats it as a reward—his fingers stop moving so you have time to recuperate your thoughts—but this process soon repeats itself through the next three questions.

You can hardly think straight—but, a thought passes over your mind that maybe if you finish this up as soon as possible—he will finally stop teasing.

You find yourself working as quickly as possible—the sight is enough to please him. Perhaps this strategy really was working. Yukimiya thinks he's struck gold.

You look just like a regular diligent student—well, as diligent as a student can get with a hand shiver with their skirt. You're solving these questions with minimal difficulty and you're actually showing your working out. He hasn't felt this proud since he brought his pet turtle to show and tell in seventh grade (you teased him relentlessly for weeks after that, but he took like like a champ out of love for his pet).

... But still.

Perhaps a part of Yukimiya is rather selfish. A little voice that would never speak unless he found himself caught in a situation like this with you speaks up inside his brain—which makes his eyes glaze over with a sultry gleam and a small, almost harmless thought appear in his head.

What if...

With his sudden movement, you jolt in your chair and hands fly to his wrists, clutching it over the fabric of your skirt. "Y... Yukki—!!! W—What—"

His two middle fingers plunge deep into your cunt and immediately take up a relentless pace—your chest begins to heave as he consistently keeps pressing against that soft, squishy spot inside of you that makes your mind fog up.

There's no freaking way you can act like— The thought dies in your throat when the heel of his palm rubs against your clit and you bite back a small whine.

The small little clicking sound that is made each time he thrusts his fingers in and out is almost inaudible in your ears when he begins to speak, lips brushing against your ear, "Keep going, gorgeous. Don't let me stop you now. You're doing so good."

Your leg jitters against him when he smiles against your ear and he feels your cunt pulse.

Still, you pick up your shaky fingers and try to keep a steady grip of the pen—it's hard when all you want is to throw your head back on his shoulder and sit there all pretty for him—but you know better than to ignore Yukimiya Kenyu.

Despite his gleeful demeanor, he seems to take joy in asserting himself over you. You wondered if maybe he just had a sick kink.

Every time you came close to solving the question—he would press harder and harder, and every time you tried to lean back onto his shoulder, he would stop abruptly and ask you what you think you are doing.

You just could not win with Yukimiya Kenyu.

He's driving you crazy. Maybe this is how you make him feel on a daily basis—but you actually think you're going to go mental from this torture. Your handwriting had gotten noticeably messier and more shaky every time you tried to solve that question—even when you did, his pace was absolutely relentless. He did not let up.

"Yukki!" You whine out, cheeks all puffed like a cute little fish and you glare at him with so much anger he actually almost feels bad for a second. Almost.

He takes far too much enjoyment in something like this to feel any menial sense of guilt toward you. Besides, it's not like you didn't have this coming. Despite all this, he knows you will take whatever gives you graciously because you are absolutely enamored with him.

(He thinks that, with a small smile. It's okay for him to say that, right? It's not like it's not reciprocated.)

"Yes?" He responds, slowly, teasingly. He can feel your thigh start to shake as a sign of your impending orgasm, so he starts to slow his thrusts—the tantalizingly sluggish drag of his fingertips across your walls give you a little more than nothing.

You could scream in frustration. He grabs ahold of your thigh and tugs it over his left leg, so that you don't get a chance to close your thighs are his hand—it makes it all the more torturous.

Your words are breathy and heavy on your tongue, "Yukki... lemme... please let me—"

His thrusts speed up, and his thumb begins to rub hard circles on your clit. Your chest heaves with each breath and you start to moan sweetly into his ear. You throw your head back, onto his shoulder and grip onto your skirt—but this time he does not stop. In fact, he seems to go even faster.

You can practically envision the smug expression he must have on his face at this moment—his ego fed and arrogance through the roof. "What? You wanna cum?"

Mindlessly, and desperately, you nod. White-hot fire starts to churn in your lower belly and it spreads to the tips of your toes when he keeps rubbing harder. You're getting close, with your stomach twisting and heart beginning to beat in your ears.

"Y—Yeah... please..." Somehow, you manage right choke that out and whimper right into his ear.

Your thighs begin to shake. He does not stop. "You wanna feel good, gorgeous? Go ahead." He presses a soft, chaste kiss to your temple—an almost laughable contrast to how you're nearly brought to tears by your orgasm, lower half shaking and rutting up into his unrelenting touch with a sense of desperation.

He likes it when you're desperate. It makes you all the more cute.

He helps you ride out your pleasure, all with a pretty grin. Your babbling thanks and praises for his fingers soon die down when your post-orgasmic haze hits you, and you lean back into his touch with low breaths.

After a few minutes of him just holding you like this, hand placed lightly on your thigh—you look up at him, then down, then back up again. "You want me to help you out with that?"

He seems to be slightly taken aback by your bold offer—despite moments before, he sported a cocky smirk and sultry gaze—but manages to gather his composure quickly enough to answer.

He shakes his head and gazes at you kindly, "Oh, you don't have to. I still need to teach you some more formulas—"

Your brows furrow and your remove your leg from over his. "Yukki—don't be like that. Lemme take care of you, okay? Yeah..."

A smile falls upon your lips as his cheeks grow pink. Even when your duck down below his desk—it feels all so surreal. Even when you tug down his grey sweats that did not hide anything, it almost feels like a figment of his imagination.

It no longer does when he feels the fiery enclosure that is your lips wrap around the redden leaky tip of his cock. Yukimiya slaps a hand over his mouth and squeezes his eyes taut shut. His heart is beating a million miles an hour in his chest. He feels like he cannot breathe, but the air gets knocked out his lungs all the same when your move your mouth down.

You use your hand to spread his pre around the base of him—jerking off what your mouth did not fit, until you go a little lower. He thinks his face may be on fire. The hand that does not cover the lower half of his face grips the edge of his table with full force.

He dares not to look down at you and dares not to catch the nasty, foxish gleam in your eyes.

You go down more, then back up. You press a chaste, loving kiss to the bulging tip, then, you go back down again. This time, a little further. You keep doing this until your jaw relaxes enough for your nose to press against the smooth skin of his abdomen—you allow your hands to wander his hard stomach.

"[name]..." His voice trails off shakily, a small moan escaping his lips as his hips jerk forward. You choke a little, but keep going. His glasses are growing foggy from his hot, heavy breaths and he doesn't think he's ever felt any hotter.

The room temperature must have shot up by at least twenty degrees. He feels searing.

Yukimiya's heart nearly beats out of his chest when you pull back once more, staring directly into his half-lidded, cloudy amber irises, and gave a sloppy kiss to the cute little freckle that was on the pulsing head of his dick.

His breathing picks up and his chest heaves. Fuck.

He groans aloud as your mouth sinks back down and your throat presses around his cock. His hips jerk forward again, and he takes this reaction as his opportunity to start thrusting. You suddenly sit still with your jaw as open as it would allow you to be—as Yukimiya lazily thrusts into your mouth.

His hand entangled itself into your hair and he grabs a tight hold of your head as he moves you to his heart's content. The wet choking noises that you make when your lips are snugly wrapped around the base of his cock give him butterflies.

He looks down at you, sweat beading on the side of his face and low grunts escaping his lips, "Ffffuck.... So... mmmm..."

He can hardly firm actual words—his head lolls back and his eyes shut in pure bliss.

Searing hot electricity zaps through his veins—his abdomen contracts, and it's a telltale sign he's getting closer. You use your tongue as much as possible while his thrusts are getting wild and erratic —his groans soon turn into desperate puffs of air.

"[name]...! Gonna..." His hot and heavy pants ring in your ears and his low groans are such a noise you'd never expect to come out of such a perfect pretty boy's mouth. He pants hard. "[name]...!! [name]...!!"

It seems your name is the only word he can formulate at the moment, when his cock twitches in your mouth and spurts of white shoot out the tip right into your throat.

He grabs your hair hard and presses you as close to his abdomen as you can get—hips shaky as you squeal and your throat instinctively tightens—the whine he lets out is something that will forever be imprinted into your memory.

You nearly cough it all up when he finally pulls out of your lips—breathing growing steady and shoulders relaxed into a calm posture—but you force yourself to swallow, and you give him the cutest smile you can possibly muster when you do.

Yukimiya stares down at you with hazy honeyed eyes filled with unbridled lust—hidden only behind the fogged up lens of his rounded glasses. "[name]... You..."

He looks embarrassed when you stick out your tongue at him and it is perfectly clean. He places a big hand on your head—a stark difference compared to his previous way of gripping your hair—he strokes it softly under his touch. "Good girl..."

He chuckles.

Yukimiya Kenyu looks absolutely debauched—you don't think you've ever seena prettier sight. His shirt is disheveled and his cheeks are a searing hot red. He is absolutely gorgeous.

That why, when you crawl up from your kneeling position, and he cradles your aching red knees when you place yourself flat on his lap, you kiss him with all the love you can muster. You do not feel much love—but all of the adoration you do feel is directed solely at Yukimiya.

"So, how did I do, Mister Tutor?" A teasing, coy smile places itself on your lips when you pull away, hand sneakily running itself all over his hard torso.

The smile he beams at you is nothing less than radiant. "A+."

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acalfinthemuseum · 7 months ago

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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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mcytblrsexymen · 2 years ago

Text

Highlights from the Mod Chat pt 3.

[ID: discord message from a capricious and willful god, reading: shoutout to the fact that the quackity and etho girlies still seem to be deciding to ship them now love whatever was happening over there with that alliance. godbless]

[ID: discord message from LITTLE FRAUD JOCKEY, reading: I might do a little joe fraud but at most i'll do like. 20 votes. me: wow I wish I had the dedication to sit down and force myself to do a task also me, from 330am to 8am this morning: I love voter fraud I love voter fraud I love voter fraud I love voter fraud I love voter fraud I love voter fraud I love foter fraud I love voter fraud it has been reacted to nine times with the pushpin emoji]

[ID: discord message from [binarual + bisexual] I love everyone in the notes like "oh no I voted for them both how could they be in the same poll now!" Well, you see.]

[ID: discord conversation, reading: SAD GAYISMS for SEXYLAMPNAP: yeah but tumblr/4chan was more popular as a hateship Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs: there's a sentence]

[ID: discord message from [binarual + bisexual], reading: Twitter is so good at reading]

[ID: discord message from classically trained drabbler, reading: hahahhahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahhahahhahha no you may quote me on that if you wish]

[ID: discord message from gay for infographics, reading: No and the reason is big number make me happy to put on the infographic]

[ID: Discord message from VOTE FOR TECHNOBLADE, reading: Scar would approve of the fraud]

[ID: discord message, reading: anon: like, do we have... any other plans for when the poll ends? Erotic Mushroom Indoctrination: ...nap? a capricious and willful god: yeah nap classically trained drabbler: an adult beverage (this message has been reacted to ten times with the Clap emoji) undercover weeb: pizza VOTE FOR TECHNOBLADE: Buying discount love candy after work (this message has been reacted to nine times with the elmo fire emoji)]

[ID: discord message from gay for infographics, reading: New nickname thanks to ma sœur! Now if there's ever another mod chat post and I have said a funny thing, my name doesnt have to be censored ahahaha this message has been reacted to four times with the Laugh emoji]

[ID: discord conversation, reading: Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs: I think it either has to be defaults or "recognized sexist skin" and my brain is just too slow to pick out what that means alone, right now fake GeorgeNotFound fan: beautiful typo Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs: oh no]

[ID: discord message from Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: god bless ren and martyn's open homoeroticism it has been reacted to 3 times with the pushpin emoji]

[ID: discord message from charlie slimecicile enoyer, reading: i think it'd be funny to let the blog collect dust for a few years to recover and then out of nowhere on a completely different, unrelated date, drop a series of polls where the only option for all of them is ethoslab and also one for pix. It has been reacted to 3 times with the 100 emojij]

[ID: discord message from classically trained drabbler, reading: "get your head in the game" is a very normal sportsball phrase that did not originate in high school musical y'all are just loser ners how am i a sports expert here]

[ID: discord message from classically trained drabbler, reading: also voter fraud makes autism brain go brr too good]

[ID: discord message reading: literally who the fuck is joe hills but I AM seriously considering doing it for the bit this has been reacted to with the Handshake emoji three times]

[ID: discord message from Fiendish Bots/Glorious Sideblogs, reading: Just had to explain both tumblr and Minecraft to my doctor]

#data crunch group chat

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ryker-writes · 2 years ago

Note

omg i love ur broken relationship sibling hcs i eat them up everytime 🫶 can i have a leona or jamil version 🥺

Yes! Someone else has requested Leona down the line so this one will be dedicated to Jamil. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying them! Not sure if this one was as angsty as I was hoping for but my brain was really struggling with Jamil for no reason. Sorry if this one isn't as good as my other ones

Request rules and Masterlists

Jamil as a sibling (Broken Relationship)

the Viper family has always served the Al-Asim family

since you were a part of the Viper family, you were expected to serve the Al-Asims like everyone else

this meant you had to spend your life doing whatever they said without being better than them at anything or speaking casually with them

your family was raised around them, so you were taught from a very young age how to act around them

your brother Jamil seemed very good at his job taking care of Kalim

he served Kalim well and never outshined him, but his talents still shined through

it was really impressive how he handled it all

especially with all of Kalim's whims and his carefree attitude

Jamil was a shining example of what your parents wanted

the perfect servant who did everything that was asked of him flawlessly, and didn't complain or protest in any way

you on the other hand, weren't perfect like him

at times it was difficult to keep up with your master and you would get tired quickly and even slip up as the day progressed

each and every time, you were scolded heavily by your parents

all it took was a quiet sigh for you to be scolded

eventually they had Jamil try to teach you how to be better

he...wasn't too happy about this

he's normally very busy anyway and this only took more time from him

Jamil acted very different from how he did normally

when it was just you, he didn't mind letting his frustration show

and he got frustrated quickly

he knew your parents standards so anything less than perfect service wasn't tolerated

so he didn't expect you to be perfect considering you needed his help, but he seemed to think you were worse than expected

in his eyes, teaching you might take a while

Jamil was certainly a strict teacher

he would have you practicing for hours and any mistake would mean you had to restart the process

there were some days where he was extra tired and he had no problems expressing that to you

when you failed then, he would mumble to himself like

"Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless and a waste of time."

you're not sure if he intended for you to hear his mumblings, but you certainly did each time

it's a bit spirit crushing to hear him say it more than once

it would make you dread the days when Kalim had more energy and was more lively

it wasn't really Kalim's fault but Jamil would be extra tired those days and end up taking it out on you

it was hard not to let his words get to you

so even when your parents decided that you didn't have to be taught by him anymore, his words stuck

anytime you failed at anything, his word would echo that you were hopeless

this followed you into Night Raven College too

especially since the only people you knew there were Jamil and Kalim

since Kalim was there, you were still expected to serve him

thankfully Kalim wasn't as strict about things and he treated you well

while you could be more at ease around Kalim, you couldn't around Jamil

he did give you some of his tasks to handle throughout the day and there were times you were left to watch Kalim

it wasn't too bad watching over Kalim

he was always very happy about it but that meant he wanted to go on adventures and do super exciting things with you

this is usually when it was more work

still, his energy and joy towards everything was nice

Jamil would check in periodically throughout the day to make sure you were doing everything right

if he saw something that was wrong, he'd immediately take over and tell you to just go anywhere else

all while mumbling to himself about it

for a bit, Kalim's joy was what kept you hopeful

but that changed too

during winter break, all of Scarabia was supposed to stay in order to train and study so we could do better in future events

Kalim himself ordered this

it didn't seem so bad at first

but then he made everyone march to the oasis multiple times throughout the day

it was far too much for everyone to handle

some students even passed out, and you started to feel it too

and to top it all off, Kalim wasn't actually marching with everyone

he got to ride on one of his elephants while everyone else marched

at some point, you decided to try and talk to Kalim about it

maybe you could get him to ease up on everyone just a little bit

you told him that the oasis was too far to walk to in the heat and some students, including you, were starting to feel like you're going to pass out

but Kalim snapped at you

"If you can't keep up, we'll leave you behind. We can't waste any time on people like you."

it was like you were back to your childhood being taught by Jamil

but it was a little different coming from Kalim

almost spirit crushing all over again

you just went along with the march after that, not wanting to be left behind

for some reason, Kalim was much meaner to you after that

he's been more snappy and couldn't tolerate anything less than the best

and you didn't seen to cut it

still, you had to serve Kalim and Jamil made sure you did

Jamil told you that this was all for the better and that you should be helping encourage your peers

but it just didn't seem right to you

he only got more upset when you expressed that and started mumbling again

you can't remember much of what happened after that but you do remember that some of the other students seemed pretty upset with you

that wasn't the only time it happened either

there were a few more times when people would be upset with you, but you had no idea why

that was until some Octavinelle students came

they were guests and treated pretty well

but then Octavinelle's housewarden, Azul, exposed Jamil using a recording

Jamil was using his unique magic to control the minds of Scarabia...

that explains what's been happening to you and why Kalim has been acting meaner

Jamil was using the both of you to help enforce his plans

Kalim is the housewarden, but Jamil has been in charge this whole time

Kalim was pretty upset and tried confronting Jamil...

but that only led to Jamil overblotting and Kalim and the Octavinelle students were sent off into the desert

you were left with overblot Jamil

he had already started putting all of Scarabia under his control, but you just had to ask him

"Why? Why would you do this? To Kalim or me?"

he laughed

"I can't be expected to waste my life as someone else's servant. I'm meant to be the one in charge. You and Kalim are just easy pawns made to help me."

a pawn

that's all you were to Jamil

you can't remember much after that, which meant he must've used his magic on you again

when you were brought back to your senses, he had been defeated by Kalim and the others

and of course, Kalim was quick to forgive him, even wanting to throw a celebration

but you just couldn't take it

you couldn't be there and pretend like everything was okay, so you left Scarabia that night

and yet, Jamil had found you outside classes the next day and tried talking to you

"I just wanted to talk to you about everything that's happened. For the most part I just wanted to say...I'm sorry. It's not enough, I know that. But I hope that someday you could forgive me and I can work to be closer with you."

But can you forgive him after everything?

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper #twst jamil #twst jamil x reader #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader

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starzzmissthesun · 2 months ago

Note

i think you should totally drop whatever hc/ideas you have lying around honestly...i would love to see more into ur brain...pls <33

:DD

Hi!!!! Sorry this is a little late, I got so distracted with an animatic im working on(😈) and then a stupid essay😭😭 being honest rn... Almost all of what I've been thinking about is my fic.. 😔

But!! I can still go a little into that without spoilers. I've finally figured out The Perfect ending for this story that I feel fits with the overarching themes I wanted to tell. I've been making sure that every little detail fits with the themes I wanted to show, I wanted it to overlap Regulus and barty's characters and their overarching themes with PD. I also didn't want to just replicate PD cause I feel like that doesnt have the depth or commentary I want to out into it. Idk ive always thought it's super fun to put everything as some sort of symbol or metaphor or foreshadowing. I'm like literally so close to being done drafting and then I can actually talk about it a little more😭

Anyways! I've also been thinking about barty post regs death 😔(when am I not) But more specifically how every memory he had would almost be tainted, everything now would have an air of questioning and unsureness. Even memories where Regulus isn't there, just wondering where was he? What was he thinking? Am I remembering this right? What could've I changed? What was the domino that caused all of this to happen? Eventually finding it hard to accept the way it really was, having the "I guess it was" and feeling it, but overintellectualizing it. His logic and reasoning is his downfall in this situation, that's what makes him go crazy. (Side note I NEED to make a little post about his intersection between intelligence and madness) Hes doing a complicated version of when there's a task that seems so simple that you think it's a trick, but it's not, it's just that. What happened with Regulus was just that.

Also, I've recently self reflected and realized that a lot of my barty characterization is similar to how I think of Leonard Cohen's art(who I LOVE LOVE LOVE) Idk if you've listened to him or read any of his work, but I HIGHLY suggest it, it's perfect for fall. Anyways, a lot of his songs and poems carry themes of having a twisted self image, not completely self deprication though it may seem, but something else. It's closer to understanding and knowing that you are. Different. And unconventional. It's an uncomfortablility he has with himself. Being soemthig twisted from what you should've been. A lot of his stuff is also to do with tragically losing someone, out of their own choice, and still feeling very loyal yet bitter. Also of loving something so much that it turns dark, or it goes too quick, it spirals. Also his love songs are very barty's perspective on bartylus to me. And like, obvious war mentions. I could give some specific recs similar to barty or them if you'd like.

Another thing is of Regulus and his relationship with his dad. Though I see it completely reasonable if his dad was just kind of, not there and neglectful, it could give very interesting implications to his character, I like it the other way around. Orion seeing what a more carefree attempt at raising a child does and keeping Regulus even closer than he did before. I think Orion always liked Regulus more, despite him being the second, because he was a model son. I don't think he wanted this life or even to have kids, so Regulus being so complacent and in line with what he was supposed to be as a pure blood made him the decided favourite(as much as he could have one). He was always keeping a close eye on Regulus and he could feel it, but he didn't do anything out of place anyways. Orion could tell when he was even thinking something he wasn't supposed to. I believe that, no matter how much she tried, walpurga was too caught in her own head about her duty as a mother to see S+R as anything other than Her Kids, as property that she was supposed to care for and tend to, she obviously loved them, but couldn't see through them. But Orion was there around every corner looking through regulus' eyes into his soul to search for any thing out of his perfect kid.

Anyways.... That's all I can think of rn😭 but if you have questions about ANY of them lmk!!! I love yapping about my little thoughts 😁😁

#barty crouch jr #bartylus #regulus black #starkiller #barty crouch junior #marauders #walpurga black #orion black #the noble and most ancient house of black #my fic #florsial

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poetryandfluffycats · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a one shot with an afab!reader riding sub!himeru while praising and being all sweet and comforting because he was stressed? Thank you in advance 💕

A/N: HELLO OKAY never in my life did i think id write this much for himeru of all people but uh, it is what it is i guess?? i went off the rails with plot

Pairing: HiMERU x fem!reader

Content: As Crazy:Bs producer, you have lots of duties that tire you out so when your day off does cone you look forward to taking a much needed nap. The world has unfortunately got other plans for you, however.

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot, dry humping, oral over clothes(m receiving), riding, kind of sub himeru, minimal amount of biting, messy making out, shared orgasms, mentions of depressive tenancies, rinne + niki have screentime, lots of praise and comfort, ooc himeru(?) he breaks character like once

Words: 5.6k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Ring, ring, ring. The phone stored safely in your pocket was vibrating, alerting you to the incoming call you were receiving. With a sigh, you stopped in your tracks and pulled out the device to check the caller ID.

A part of you hoped it was a scam caller rather than a member of the unit you produced. Not that you didn't like speaking to the members of Crazy:B, you enjoyed their company more than anything! The reason was that today was your off day and you had hoped to spend it catching up on your missed class work and then sleeping for the rest of the afternoon, not dealing to whatever new problem the boys had encountered.

Luck wasn't on your side today, unfortunately. The caller ID read 'Rinne Amagi', the smirk of the infamous redheaded idol staring you down through his contact photo, as if taunting you to get ready for whatever nonsense was about to spill from his mouth.

Another, much longer, sigh left your throat as you tapped the answer button. Duty calls, you supposed. Surely whatever he wanted couldn't have been too hard for you to handle. "Hello?"

"(name)! My dearest lil' producer, hows ya day off? Doin' alright without me? Missin' my handsome face?" Rinnes voice was as smug and as loud as ever through the speaker, so much so that you found yourself pulling your phone away from your ear so you didn't go completely deaf.

His cheeky tone didn't go unnoticed by you, and you let out a scoff at his sheer childishness. "Fine, yes, and no. Don't butter me up, what do you want?"

"Straight to the point, I like that in a woman!" There was a laugh cut off by a loud cough and 'ahem', Niki most likely, before the man on the other end continued speaking. "Ah, well, ya see. HiMERU didn't show up to practice today, and he ain't answering when we call"

Your eyes rolled so far back into your skull you nearly saw your brain. Of course on the only day you had off in forever would be the day Rinne decided to come and give you an unskipable side quest. And for such a mundane task as well, something he could have easily done himself if he bothered to get off his ass. Seriously, how typical.

"We were hopin' ya could go and get 'im for us? Since ya know, yer the most wonderful producer in the whole world and ya love me so much"

"Sure I do... and why can't you go get him?"

"I got shit to do! Leader stuff, important stuff! Ya wouldn't understand. I'm real hard at work here-ow! Niki! Stop hittin' me dammit! That fuckin' hurt! Whatdaya mean 'don't cuss'? She ain't a baby!"

The line went silent for a few seconds, the only sounds going between the two of you being the muffled groans and slaps of Rinne and Niki fighting like toddlers. You swore you could also hear Kohakus sighs of disappointment from across the practice room.

It was a mintute or two before Rinne came back on the line, breathing heavier than usual and voice more strained. Niki 1, Rinne 0. "Got no time left ta talk! Go find that bastard and bring 'im back here, alright? I'm countin' on ya!"

"Wait, I never said I would-"

"Fuck! Shit! Niki, let go of my phone! No! Don't bite me!"

"(name)? Its Niki! I'll make you dinner if you go and get HiMERU-"

"NIKI!"

Click, line dead.

Your phone screen was now black, Rinnes smirking face replaced by your dumbfounded reflection staring back at you. Typical of you to become involved in Crazy:Bs shenanigans even when you weren't in the same room as them. That nap you had longed so gracelessly for was seemingly drifting further and further from your grasp, all thanks to the laziness of your idols. How wonderful

No use trying to escape your faith now, unless you wanted to endure the wrath of the group when they forgot the routine for the next live due to not practising at all. You did a 180 turn on your heels and began walking back in the direction of the dorms. When people asked what you did on your day off, maybe you could say you exercised?

/----------

"HiMERU? Are you in there? The guys want you at practice"

HiMERUs apartment door stared you down like a lion stalking its pray, mocking you like this was some sort of sick game. "Gonna come in?" It seemed to ask, or maybe that was just some voices in your head, "or are you just gonna stand there like a weirdo?"

You'd really outdone yourself this time. Half an hour later and you had searched half the school for the blue haired man. Before coming to his doorstep you had come to two different conclusions to his absence. Either, he had gained the ability to teleport and was somewhere on the moon, or, he had died and you had lost one of your best idols. The former, unlikely, but knowing the strange man HiMERU was it wasn't entirely impossible. The latter? You sure hoped not.

Despite your wishes of being able to go home and take a well deserved nap, you held your hand in a fist and knocked on the door once more, louder and harder this time. "I swear to God if you don't open this door I will break it down HiMERU! This is ridiculous! I could have been relaxing right now if it wasn't for you!"

As you spoke, there was a shuffling sound from inside the room, accompanied by a few soft thump-thumps of feet against the floor. Finally, the door opened, revealing the man you had been searching for.

"You are giving HiMERU a headache"

HiMERU stood before you in all his glory, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and a long sleeved shirt that due to the nature of his pants, showed off his mid-drift. Blue hair was a flattened mess atop his head, and you noted that he looked far less formal than usual. You had to mentally slap yourself before you stared for too long. "(name), you are aware you are not a wild animal, correct? HiMERUs door does not require barking to open"

"Practice, now. I don't care if you've got a headache or if you're in a mood, Rinne wants you there now" You ignored his snide remark, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to look more authoritative. It didn't seem to work all that well, however, as HiMERUs facial expression remained unchanged.

"What if HiMERU had a lady friend over? Or perhaps a gentleman friend? Such loud noise would have disturbed imitate times with a special friend. What if HiMERU had been having some fun with his body?"

The urge to punch the man in front of you was stronger than ever before. Was he really trying to gaslight you into believing that he couldn't practice because he had been having sex? HiMERU of all people? You doubted he even had a dick, let alone someone to get it wet. Anyone else, sure, you could believe that. Not HiMERU, no matter how good looking the media made him out to be he was still a whackjob. Whackjobs didn't have sex.

"Were you?"

"No. HiMERU was reading a nice book and drinking some lovely herbal tea, he was simply making a point that you should be more considerate of others"

"I don't care-"

"You don't care about HiMERU? How crude, is this how CosPro treats its idols now? HiMERU will not be attending practice, he has other duty's to attend too"

The audacity of this man. Here you were, trying to be as nice as possible, just trying to get him to do his job, and he can't even do that! How much of an ego could one man have? Sure, you weren't perfect yourself, but at least you did what was expected of you, like right now even when you weren't meant to be working!

You could feel a vein pulsating in your forehead, your patience wearing thinner and thinner by the second. If you had to stand here for any long, you swore you would explode in several tiny pieces. You had to keep your composer if you wanted to keep your job, however, so you chose to remain silent instead of ripping him a new one. You narrowed your eyes at him, shooting lazer beams through his body with your pupils, praying to whatever God was out there that it would scare him into listening to you.

HiMERU seemed to get the memo, finally, his lips forming into a massive pout that nearly hit the floor, a bad look on the usually stoic idol you noted. "As you wish, producer. Please, come inside and wait whilst HiMERU gets ready" He moved out of the way of the door, outstretching his arm in invitation for you to come inside.

You took the invitation, kicking your shoes off and bowing your head slightly as you walked inside. You had never been inside HiMERUs apartment before, besides on the off occasion when you dropped him off. Considering who HiMERU was, a prim and proper diva who seemed to think he was far better than you, you fully expected for his apartment to match his personality. Clean, neat, not a speck of dirt on the ground. Maybe a few plants here and there, real plants that were watered everyday and cared for to the full extent.

As you soon came to realise, you had been wrong. Dead wrong.

"Holy shit..."

HiMERUs apartment was the polar opposite of what you thought it would be. The lights were off, curtains pulled shut, and a musky smell of tea bags long gone cold lingered in the air. A messily made futon laid out in the middle of the floor, blankets and pillows thrown atop it like it was a fort for children rather than a grown mans bed. Finishing touches to the pigsty of a room were the dirty clothes scattered across the floor-some of which resembling his idol uniform, but you couldn't quite tell through the mess-and a book opened in the middle of the floor.

"HiMERU would prefer if you kept your opinions to yourself" His monotone voice hissed from behind you, a sigh evident in his words. "Take a seat anywhere you'd like, be careful not to trip on anything"

How could he be so relaxed? You'd been in many idols rooms before, seen many of them doing things you hadn't expected before, some of which made you want to bleach your eyes out thinking back at them. But none of them had ever been this messy, you didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just stand there in shock.

"I... huh? Is it always like this?" You squeaked out, eyes trained on HiMERU as he walked past you and into the kitchen, picking up a mug from the counter and taking a long sip.

"No, not usually" He admitted, leaning down with his elbows against the countertop and staring at you with that unreadable expression of his. Dead cold blue eyes trailed up and down your figure, and you almost felt as if he were dissecting your soul. "Does it bother you? Are you offended? Does mess make you upset? Are you going to cry?"

"What? No!" You shook your head. "I'm just surprised is all"

"A crying woman in HiMERUs home, that would be a sight to behold, wouldn't it? Please, sit down, HiMERU will be ready in a moment"

You were at a complete loss for words. The longer you spent with HiMERU the more he confused you, like a never ending puzzle that only got harder the more you tired to solve it, or a board game where every round new rules that contradicted the old rules were added. Was there even a word to describe such a man? A person whose identity was so clouded and muddled it was impossible to grasp them?

Trying to guess what HiMERU was thinking about at any given time made you want to jump off a cliff, live, and then jump off another cliff for good measure. You were going to get Rinne back for this, he owed you big.

Taking a seat on the floor next to his futon, you crossed your legs over one another and watched as the blue haired man pottered around his dorm. He seemed to be moving in a daze, similar to a zombie or a sleepwalker. He would take a sip of tea for a moment, then stop to put away a dish, then drink some more tea, then inspect one of the plants on the counter, then back to his tea, repeat until you found yourself even further in bewilderment.

"You're weird" You commented, resting your chin on your knees and bouncing your heels up and down. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what, (name)?" HiMERU raised an eyebrow, finishing off his tea and placing his mug in thesink, now moving to rummage through a pile of clothes.

"I don't know, like... drugged or something? Like a dead man walking? Stranger than usual I guess" Your eyes darted from him to the book laying on the ground. It was a normal looking book, white cover with some black writing on it, thick but still slim enough to be a causal read. "Do you like reading?"

A small laugh came from HiMERUs lips at the question. "That book is not very good. The information inside is not factual and rather silly, things about mediation and healing your inner child. An interesting read, but a waste of HiMERUS time. He does not believe in those things"

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows now. "Then why buy the book?"

"HiMERU has had a rough week, he wanted to indulge in some self-care. Alas, you and your begging interrupted him"

You had half a mind to snap at him for that comment, but you bit your own tongue before the insults could come pouring out, instead opting to obverse his actions. Having been in the industry for awhile, you were aware of the basic signs of burnout, and HiMERU was the poster child for it

Dark circles under his eyes, sluggish movement, a general state of being out-of-character, the sudden urge to skip training and sleep instead. It wasn't unusual for idols to suffer from fatigue and stress, it came with the job after all, but HiMERU had never been one to let his emotions get in the way of work. For him to be this out of it, it was concerning to say the least.

"Are you okay?"

HiMERU froze mid action, hands hovering over a t-shirt in the pile of clothes, staring at you like you'd just asked for a thousand dollars. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were okay, are you?" You stood up from your spot on the floor, brushing the dirt from your pants as you slowly approached him, snatching the book from the ground and reading over the blurb. "I didn't take you as the type to read these types of books, you must be really stressed to pick this up"

"Before you were yelling at HiMERU to go to practice, now you are acting concerned for him? HiMERU said, he has had a tough week, that is all"

"There has to be some way I can help you. Look, you don't have to go if you don't want to, I'll tell Rinne you were feeling ill" You opened up the book, scanning through the pages and reading over some of the content.

The language was a tad confusing, obviously made by someone with a higher knowledge in psychology than you, but it was still readable. "Some of this actually looks helpful, maybe we should try some of it? Like, I could give you a massage, or I could-"

"Turn to page 77, please"

You nodded, turning to the page in question. On top of the page were two separate drawings, one a diagram of a mans body and the other a sketch of a man and a woman in the classic missionary position. You could feel your face growing hot with embarrassment at the images, but continued on reading the page. Underneath the drawings were a few paragraphs of text, some certain words having arrows pointing to different parts of the pictures.

Taking a large gulp, you shut the book and looked back up at HiMERU, pupils wide as plates from what you just read. You noticed that he was closer now, only a few mere inches away from your body. Had be always been this tall, this handsome? You couldn't recall.

"HiMERU? I don't understand, these are pornographic, what are you talking about?-"

"Page 77, healing through sex. It says here that orgasms can be a natural stress reliever, and that regular intercourse is healthy for a persons body and mind" One hand came up to brush your cheek, thumb stroking up and down in a way that made your heart flutter, "You wish for HiMERU to go to practice, yes? Then he expects something in return"

His lips were on yours before you had time to blink. You dropped the book in your hands, it hitting the ground with a loud 'bang!' and laying open on page 77. Wet lips moved against your own, hand the once stroked your cheek now moving downwards to grip your waist, spinning the two of you around to press you against the countertop.

What little emotion HiMERU showed in his face, his kiss made up for. It was filled with desire, passion, lust, all the things that were so silent but still screamed the same three words. 'I want you'.

He pulled away before you had a chance to deepen the kiss, the both of you panting with your lips swollen and glossy with each other's saliva. A lewd sight, sure, but who else was there to see? No one, just the two of you in the dimly lit apartment.

"HiMERU-no, I need you to help me. Please, please help me" His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet you had to strain your ears to hear him. His desperation was all the same, however, and it was enough to make your brain go fuzzy. "I don't like to beg, you know, but you're making me lose it"

If you had have been standing on a tightrope, that would have been what broke the string holding you up. Those damn eyes, once filled like a endless void of indifference now spilling with want and need, the need for you to make him feel good, the need for you to relieve his tension by fucking him. How could you deny him?

"Let's move to the futon, yeah?" You pecked his lips once more, watching as his eyes lit up like a puppies. "We can take it slow, if you'd like"

The smile that overtook HiMERUs face almost made your heart burst wide open. "Yes... thank you, (name)"

You wiggled out of his hold, taking his hand and guiding him slowly to the futon on the floor. He sat down first, scooting backwards until he was sat just below the pillow, stretching his legs outwards to allow you to climb in between his legs and straddle him.

It was a position you never thought you'd find yourself in, and yet here you were, tugging at the hem of HiMERUs shirt and pulling it over his head. The skin underneath was pale and cold to the touch, causing goosebumps to creep up your arms. You ran your fingertips up and down his chest, lingering on the dip of his collarbone and the ridges of his ads. They were only little, like tiny hills on the plains of his over wise flat stomach, but they were sexy all the same.

HiMERU watched you with half-lidded eyes, glazed over and unfocused. His lips stayed parted, a whine leaving his throat each time your fingers traced over his skin. You leaned down to kiss him again, this time wasting no time in plunging your tongue straight inside the wetness of his mouth, sucking on his own tounge and feeling around on the inside of his cheeks.

HiMERUs hips buckled upwards to meet yours, earning a moan from you and a louder whine from him. His sweatpants strained with the growing budge in his crotch, poking against your thigh and leaving a small wet patch on your skin from the pre-cum leaking through. He must have been super desperate.

"(name)~" HiMERU whimpered as you pulled away, a sticky line of spit still connecting the two of you. You licked the excess saliva from your lips whilst a grin spread wide across your face. "Please, (name). HiMERU would you to-ah!-"

His pleas quickly transformed into moans as you rolled your hips against his, savouring in the pleasure of your clothed crotch rubbing on his now fully erect cock, The friction was like heaven, and the fabric of your shorts didn't do much to hide the wetness gushing out from your panties. You'd probably need to buy new ones after this, you thought, but that was a problem for future you.

HiMERUs hands flew up to hold your waist, guiding you backwards and forwards over his budge and rutting his hips in time with yours, the two of you humping like horny dogs in heat. A light pink flush had spread all the way from his cheeks to his ears, down his neck and even to the tips of his shoulder blades, the most sinful look of pleasure on his face as he threw his head back on the pillow.

"Do you like when I do this? You seem to be really enjoying yourself" You cooed, leaning down to suck a lovebite onto the underside of his jaw. "You're pretty, you know? Real pretty, real handsome for me"

The only response you got from HiMERU was another moan, louder and raspier than the others. The sounds made you clench around thin air and your thighs quiver with anticipation. Each time your core met his covered tip you could feel him twitch and throb beneath you, and every time the feeling had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Like an awaiting forest fire, the atmosphere was getting hotter by the second, the heat of both your body's pressed together creating a sensation indescribable.It was the most bliss you had ever experienced and you were yet to even be undressed. You were panting, HiMERU was panting, sweat was forming on your forehead and dripping down onto HiMERUS bare chest.

"More, HiMERU wants more" The man below you whined, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips to leave tiny marks for later. "HiMERU wants you to fuck him, don't make him-augh!-say it again!"

"Fuck.." You breathed, bracing yourself by placing your palms flat against his chest. You lifted your hips up, giving the both of you a short break to catch your breath before you reached downwards to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. With a tiny bit of a struggle they were off, revealing the dark blue boxers beneath that were nearly bursting from the strain of his erection. He was huge. Certainly bigger than you had seen in porn anyway. "I-, fuck"

Your loss for words assumed HiMERU, who took a deep, shaky exhale before speaking again, that desperate tone still clear as day in his voice. "Are you impressed? Is HiMERU that big?"

"Yeah... it is. I can't wait to have it inside me"

You purred out your words, moving down to rest on his thighs rather than his hips, your face in eye-line with his throbbing budge when you leaned down. The entire front of the fabric was wet with pre-cum, it having spread all over the area due to his impossibly long length. Your lips came into contact with the tip, your tongue swirling around and lapping up the sticky stains.

It pulsated at your touch. HiMERU let out a groan of pleasure as you continued your ministrations, kissing, licking, and sucking him through the thin cotton. One vein that you could feel was particularly sensitive, causing HiMERU to basically jump each time you grazed your teeth over it.

"Wait! No, stop! HiMERU will cum if you keep doing that!" The bluenette suddenly cired out, his legs kicking you in the sides as he tired to pull you off. Of course, you obliged, but not without giving one last farewell lick to his tip. You sat up on his thighs and tilted your head to the side, studying his expressions carefully and awaiting his next words. "HiMERU would like to cum inside. He thinks that would be the best way to get rid of his stress, not finishing in his pants like a pathetic teenage boy"

You nodded, "so you want me to...?"

"Sit on it" You'd never seen HiMERUs puppy dog eyes until now. There was such a longing in them, desires hidden in the ocean of his irises that only you could bring out in the moment. "Ride HiMERU, use him like a chair. HiMERU just wants to feel you"

Denying him would be a criminal felony. Climbing back to straddle his hips once more, you grabbed a hold of his waistband, gently pulling it downwards to finally free his cock from its confinements. Once the fabric was completely removed and his cock had sprung free you tossed the underwear away somewhere in the room to be dealt with later.

To say the least, HiMERU was large. Slender, and long, with balls that were tight and full against his shaft, pent up and waiting to be emptied inside your cunt.

The vein you had been nibbling on was a blue colour that rivalled his hair and ran down and up the underside of his cock, stopping just below his head. Speaking of the head, it was glowing red, dripping with arousal. You were pround of yourself for having caused that kind of reaction, especially when it came from an idol you knew as emotionless and cold hearted. Your own heart pounded inside your ribcage as you began to strip yourself down. You tired to make a show of it, pulling your shirt over your head in slow movements that you prayed to God looked seductive rather than silly.

As if he could read your mind, "You look beautiful" HiMERU barely whispered the words, but they were still heard all the same by you. You thought he might be staring at your breasts, or at the spot between your legs as you removed your shorts and panties, but no. Instead of your body, his blue gaze was solely fixated on your face.

"Thank you, you are too. Beautiful, I mean" A small smile graced your face as you thanked him. With your shorts now gone and your pussy exposed to the air, you lifted your hips once more, slinging your entrance with the very tip of HiMERUS cock. "Are you ready?"

"HiMERU has been called many things before when he has been stressed. Annoying. Selfish. A nuisance. Never beautiful"

You didn't have much time to respond, or even react to his comment before a hand was on your shoulder, pushing you down and impaling you on his cock. It hurt, but not in the way that made you want to scream and cry, but more so in the way that made your walls clench around him, your eyes roll into the back of your head and your toes curl in your socks.

He filled you up to the brim, tip poking against your cervix and each vein and ridge moulding your walls into the prefect fit for him. A raspy whimper left your throat as you adjusted to his size. HiMERU allowed you to take your time despite the twitch of his hips just begging for any sort of friction, instead opting to rub gentle shapes into your shoulders while the both of you huffed and heaved.

"HiMERU is sorry, he couldn't help himself" HiMERUs lust clouded eyes avoided your own, staring at the wall behind you instead. "You won't judge HiMERU if he finishes early, will you?"

You shook your head, grinding down on his pelvis to give him and yourself some of that desperately needed pleasure. "Not at all. You're amazing, so good. You fill me so well, I don't think I'll last long either. And even if we don't, we can always go again"

A faint nod from HiMERU was all you needed before you lifted your hips, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself as you released him from your velvet walls, leaving only the tiniest amount of the tip in before slamming your hips back down. A loud "plop!" was made as your body smashed against his, the heat from your shared arousals filling your brain with no thoughts other than HiMERU.

HiMERU. HiMERU. HiMERU. HiMERU!

You set a gentle, but fast pace, bouncing your hips up and down in smooth rhythm, sounds of your wet cunt squelching and sloshing mixing in with the groans leaving HiMERUs lips. Him inside you felt like heaven. Hot and sweaty heaven. Your walls dragged along his cock like the prefect fleshlight, sending waves of electrical pleasure down his spine and all the way to the very tips of his toes.

Althought a little bit more stable, you were in a similar state to HiMERU. Each time you slammed back down onto him it felt as if all the nerves in your body were being twisted, pulled, and knotted in a way that had that oh so familiar warmth beginning to pool in your belly.

Praises spilled from your mouth, coating the inside of HiMERUs brain with words of encouragement and affection rather than whatever he had been feeling before. Right now, in this moment, you would have been lying if you said you didn't care for him, and not just in the way you would care for the other idols of Crazy:B.

One particularly hard bounce had you crying out, "HiMERU! H-hey, you know your a good boy right? So good to me, gonna make me cum, huh? You wanna cum too? I wanna see your pretty face when you're filling me up"

HiMERU only grunted in response, but you could tell your words had worked when he started thrusting his hips to meet yours. You could tell he was close, too, his eyes had become so dilated that his irises were only a thin string of blue around his pupils.

You felt bad for his neighbours, no, actually, you felt bad for anyone within 10ft of the building. The walls of the apartment were basically shaking from the sheer noise of you both, and what happened next didn't help that much.

HiMERU gripped your hips, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks, then pulled you flush against him. Chest to chest, skin to skin, you were as close as two people could possibly be as your lips found his in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. Your teeth clashed together in an ugly way, tongues went anywhere but where they were supposed to and if your younger self could see you now, she'd probably throw up at how your saliva dissolved into each others.

"(name!)"

"HiMERU!"

You weren't sure who came first, or even how long the two of you spent whining and moaning into each others mouths, but you felt HiMERUs seed filling you up, dripping out of you and for sure staining the futon. Your own orgasm washed over you like a wave, a tsunami wave that destroyed cities and uprooted trees, leaving you breathless and trembling atop HiMERU.

It took you a few mintutes to come down from your high, since your vision was clouded with white spots and you could almost feel the tiny sperm cells swimming around trying to reach your uterus. Thank God you were on the pill, over wise you would have been in deep shit. One day, maybe, if whatever just happened was to happen again, but that wasn't something you liked to think about.

"Are you alright?" You whispered as you pulled yourself off of HiMERUs now softening cock, laying down on your side besides him. "How do you feel?"

The man in question seemed to be in a daze, staring at the ceiling with no thoughts in his eyes. You poked his cheek with a finger, quickly jolting him back to reality as a smile tugged at his lips.

"HiMERU feels good, thank you" The smile on his face was genuine. Sometimes you questioned whether HiMERU was real or not, whether his personality was as fake as your gut told you it was. Here, you could see how your gut was wrong. That smile was real, this feeling was real. "HiMERU feels he should get stressed out more often, no?"

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your bare chest, "Don't push it, I won't help you if your doing it intentionally!"

"Then a date? HiMERU will pay, all you will need to do is be pretty for him"

You smiled back at him, "I'd love too"

You spent awhile on that futon, just chatting and staring into each others eyes like any old couple would do. When you did leave, it wasn't without a goodbye kiss and a promise to meet up again soon.

And, you would've let Rinne off the hook for making you go over there in the first place, if it wasn't for the message you received later that night.

Rinne: what position he put u in??

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