#he's taking over my brain please help. i didn't expect to like him so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chrisisvbun · 5 months ago

Note

Hear me out. Okay what if like. Wade Wilson has a little brother (20-22). Who's trans masc (with top surgery) and is simply the sweetest and softest human being ever and like gives the best hugs ever and Logan can't help but to fall in love with him but wade hates the thought of his sweet baby brother dating the 200+ year old man. So wade makes it his mission to give the reader a bad view on Logan but the reader has too much of a soft heart to hate Logan due to knowing he has gone through a lot. (PLEASE LET IT END IN FLUFF AND CUDDLES🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏)

a/n: oh my dear god your brain. YES. please everyone send more requests. 🙏

sweet. logan howlett x ftm!wilson!reader

a/n: I'm so sorry i took so long, this got longer than expected...

synopsis: logan doesn't want to like wade's brother like everyone else does. he soon realizes that he doesn't, he likes you even more, and wade doesn't like that at all.

cw: slight mention of transphobia, implicit mention of home abuse, reader is really polite and kind, mention of top surgery, smut, oral (v receiving), teasing and fingering, t-shots. worst!wolverine. after deadpool and wolverine. kinda ooc wade and ooc Logan.

words: 4.3k

Logan sighed when Wade mentioned his little brother coming. Who could blame him? The apartment was already small, and the old blind woman, the burnt chicken nugget and the five hundred pound wolverine were already enough for it, even though you were only coming to visit.

It's an important fact that Logan genuinely thought you were a child, like an eight-year-old boy from whom Logan was going to have to run away because he hates kids, so he was very surprised when a twenty-two-year-old man stepped into the apartment with a cute smile on his face.

After that smile, Logan softened a bit, but he still hated the idea of having you around. You hugged your brother and kissed Althea's temple (the woman also seemed to adore you) and Wade began to tell you that Vanessa was yapping his ass out because he wanted to see you. Did everyone in Wade's life love you?

That fact alone made him not like you. He didn't know why, but he wasn't going to fall for your charms, he wasn't going to allow it.

But… he made a few exceptions. Sometimes you would bring a cake or any pastry at all, always with chocolate. And Logan was weak for some chocolate.

So he tolerated you for a tea time with the rest, hearing you talk with that sweet tone you had, giggle and sip from your cup adorably, being simply the cutest. He found himself listening to you, paying your attention, almost forgetting his brownie on the small plate in front of him, and just listening. To that charming tone, the way you moved your hands, how you would laugh when Wade made a joke, how you would smile at Althea and when you smiled at him. Oh, when that smile was for him and just for him. He felt his heart skip a beat.

That night, the image of you was burned in his eyeballs, wherever he looked, your face was there. Fuck, I thought. You managed to get to the soft part of his heart.

You began to stay more since no one complained about your presence. For lunch, even for dinner.

And one night, the night, you stayed over. After dinner, it started to pour rain heavily, and you had come to the apartment on your bike, so it was a dangerous way for you to go home, and Wade offered you the living room couch.

“You can't give him the couch, you fucker.” Logan finally spoke. “He can take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch.”

“But, Logan, there's no need… I can take the couch.” You said with that stupid loving tone.

“I won't fight over a bed, just take it.” Be said roughly and you just nodded, looking up at him when he stood up. “'m gonna record some stuff.” He left the table and went to his room.

You watched him leave, a bit embarrassed about the whole situation. “I just don't wanna cause any trouble.”

“My sweet pumpkin, you are nothing but light in our lives, you don't worry about anything.” Wade hugged your neck from behind and you giggled.

Logan slept on the couch indeed, it wasn't like he hadn't done it before, it just wasn't his preference. He stood up to go to the kitchen and grab a beer, when he opened the fridge he reminded himself of buying more, and when he closed it, you were there.

You had long pajamas trousers, an empty cup in your hands, messy hair and no shirt on, showing the scars under slight your pecs.

“Sorry, it didn't mean to appear like that.” You said with a sleepy voice, but still smiling and being freaking warm.

Logan sighed, but not of annoyance or tiredness, because Jesus H. Christ, the sight of you.

You rubbed your eye and put some water in the electric pot, to make yourself a tea apparently.

“Are you sure you don't want to take the bed?” You looked up at him with soft eyes.

Logan almost stuttered. “No, no, don't worry, kid, 'm good.” He said before drinking a sip of beer. “You couldn't sleep?”

“Yeah, it's hard to sleep sometimes, I have insomnia.” You explained. "What about you?:

“Can't sleep sometimes either. Nightmares.” He have explained.

“Oh, nightmares can be shitty.” You sighed, preparing your tea. “I have them too—well, I used to have them, but now they don't scare me anymore.”

Oh, his damn god, you were so cute and small, why did you have to have nightmares too? His instinct of protecting you just kept getting stronger.

“What were they about?” He asked, leaning against the counter, watching your soft hands prepare the tea.

“Just, you know, when my parents knew I was trans, when I was like… thirteen, or had some shitty years at that house before they kicked me out, then Wade got me to his place and took care of me and all, but those years I had it… pretty bad.” You sighed, taking a sip of your warm drink.

Logan remained in silence for a second before speaking. “I'm sorry.” And he was indeed, he couldn't help it, he wondered why he wasn't there to help him, and the answer was too obvious.

“Oh, don't be.” You smiled sweetly. “I know you went through a lot.”

“You do?” You nodded.

“Wade talks a lot about you.” I giggled. “He wanted me to come over sooner but I couldn't.”

“Why is that?”

You palpated your pectoral. “Top surgery.”

Instinctively, Logan ran his fingertips through the scars of your chest. “Did it hurt?”

You swallowed hard and blushed deeply, your skin getting goosebumps and your chest moving up and down, trying to calm down. And damn, that was a sight, your soft skin reacting to his touch, your chest moving against his fingers.

“I-It didn't hurt much, no…”

Logan smirked. “You're a strong boy?” He asked, and you nodded, looking down at him.

He finally lifted his eyes to you, moving his hands through your stomach to grab your sides and lift you to the counter. “Let me see ya better.”

He removed your cup from your hands and left it aside, slowly going back to caress your scars, you could feel his breath against your chest.

He pressed a slow kiss on the middle of your scar, starting to trace them with kisses.

“Logan…” You mumbled when he opened your legs to get in the middle of them.

“Can't you see I'm busy here, bub?”

I swallowed hard. “S-sorry.” You mumbled shyly.

You ran your finger through his hair in a little moan when he kissed your hardening nipples, sucking them gently as one of his hands moved to the small of your back, making you arch it a bit and keep it close to him.

"Such a sweet chest for a sweet boy like you." He sucked a hickeys next to your nipple before licking over it, making you shiver. "You like that, don't ya? Can smell how much you like it."

He kissed your belly, nibbling at the extra flesh there, making you giggle a bit. Oh, that sweet sound of yours. He lifted his body up to you again, rubbing his big nose against yours.

"M-my brother won't like this.." You said unsure.

Logan shrugged. "He doesn't have to know." He mumbled before kneeling between your legs and using those to pull you to the edge of the counter.

He undid the knot of your pajama pants and let them fall through your legs till your ankles.

He used his broad hands to separate your thighs more for him, finding your pretty, aroused cunt.

He kissed the Venus mount and began to lower his kisses to your folds, he pulled away for a second and used two broad fingers to separate the folds, drinking the sight of it clenching around nothing and getting so, so wet.

"He is desperate for me, isn't he?" He said, talking about your cunt. You shivered and couldn't help but giggle when you realized he called it a "he". "What's so funny? I assumed that a pretty boy like you had to have a pretty boy pussy like this."

You had to stop giggling when he kissed your clit, grabbing it in his mouth to suck it softly. You covered your mouth with one hand because the sound you were about to make was too obscene and loud. You pulled his hair gently to press him against your juicy cunt even more.

After sucking your clit a bit, he didn't waste a second and began lapping and licking your cunt like it was his fucking last dinner.

"Logan, oh god..." You mumbled, thinking you were about to lose your mind as your squeezed his face between your shaking thighs.

Now you had both hands and legs pressing him against you more, your hips starting to buck against his mouth, trying to reach your high. Logan used his broad hands to part your thighs again, his tongue starting to fuck your hole in and out. You pulled his hair and bit your lip hard, you couldn't allow yourself to moan, not even a little bit. He used his thumb to rub your bundle of nerves and made you squirm even more.

"Gosh, you are even sweeter inside.." Logan groaned, going back to assault your pussy, his big nose helping his finger rubbing your clit.

You tried to push him away when you orgasm was close, but he was way stronger than you, so it was useless. Suddenly, he stood up, still grabbing your thighs and with his face still on you, making you lay down so he could basically binge on your cunt.

He used one hand to cover your mouth while the other left your clit aside and began to tap at your entrance.

"Let's see how tight you are." He teased a bit, leaving soft kisses on your clit while he sank and finger inside of you, groaning low. "Dammnit, kid, so freaking warm here. I bet my cock would love you." You shivered at his filthy words. "You like that? You like thinking about my cock ripping you in half?" He smirked, fucking you with his fingers and kissing your clit.

You nodded frenetically, closing your eyes to imagine it was his cock that was fucking you now and not his fingers. When he began to rub the soft spot of your hole, you shook your head, trying to tell him you were about to make a mess.

"Go on, go on, I can feel ya clenching me, bub." He sank himself back on your pussy to suck your clit violently, making you shake and try to pull his hand away and tell him that you were the messy kind.

But it was too late, the knot that had built on your belly had been undone already, and you were squirming all over in Logan's fingers, beard and shirt.

"God, bub, so messy, how cute. Gonna have to clean you good, you are about to start dripping." He gently removed his fingers and looked at you in the eye when he licked them clean, a little sob escaping through your lips now that he wasn't covering your mouth anymore. He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Tch, tch, tch, no sounds, you don't want your brother to find out, don't you?" You shook your head. "Then be quiet."

You cried low when he began to gently lick your cunt clean, leaving soft kisses, making you whimper and babble. "Wanna taste yourself?" He asked with a smirk, you tilted your head to the side, slightly confused before he pressed his lips against your furiously. Gosh, how much stamina did that man have? You tasted the sweet flavor of your orgasm and blushed. "Yeah? Does it taste good, kiddo?" You nodded. "C'mon, get to your room before your brother suspects." He palmed your thigh as he kissed your temple. You obediently nodded and stood up with wobbly legs, making Logan chuckle, but quickly went back to your room like a little bunny.

(...)

The next morning, you can feel that Logan is slightly clinger than usual —the usual being nothing—. He used the cereal that you mentioned once that you liked for your bowl, and ruffled your hair, making you blush. He let you borrow a flannel shirt because of the sudden drop in temperature, and even made you a coffee to go. So he just needed to suck your cunt to start being nice? Good to know.

But Wade didn't allow any of these actions to slide, he frowned everytime you two shared a smile or when he made you blush. When Wade grabbed you to the hall with him to take you home like a good big brother, you saw that look in his eyes and you knew you were in trouble.

"What in the fuck helluva is going on with the wolv-mean?" He crossed his arms before even starting the car, after letting you put your bike on the back seat.

You blushed. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play silly with me, you little filthy shit, you are having fantasies with the old bear." You blushed even more.

You knew you couldn't hide anything from him. "Not just fantasies..."

Wade stopped the car from leaving the parking lot, his mouth falling open as he looked at you. "Where?"

"The counter."

"When?"

"Last night?"

"What?"

"He ate me out."

He gasped loudly, horrorized, before putting a curious expression "Was he good?"

"Amazing."

"Wait— no!" He said quickly, starting to drive again. "Just so you know, you are not coming back to the apartment again."

"What?! Wade!" You complained.

"I can't have you around if Logan is going to start taking advantage of my little tiny weeny brother!"

"He didn't take advantage of me! I'm twenty-two!"

"And he is like, two hundred years old, you are like ten percent of his age!"

"Actually is eleven—"

"I don't wanna hear it!" I raised a hand. "You are not coming back until Logan knows how to behave with a minor!"

"I'm not a minor!" You felt like he wasn't even listening to you. "C'mon, Wade! You know I never have guys around, let me have a little fun."

"I let you have fun... not with my two-hundred-year-old mutant roommate!"

"UGH, you are such a pain in my ass!" You pulled your hair slightly. "Stop the car, I'm going home by myself."

"But the street is still wet!"

"So was my cunt yesterday night." You heard Wade gasp as you grabbed your bike and left.

(...)

No calls from Logan. A lot of calls from Wade. You wanted to fucking die.

Your brother was serious when he said you weren't allowed to step into his apartment again, you forgot your toothbrush and he insisted that he would give it to you by himself, but you told him you didn't want to see him, so after another fight, he mailed it to you.

You never bad big fights with Wade, but he was getting under your skin. Of course, you could understand him being so protective over you, but you thought he trusted Logan, and you didn't think Logan could be that bad. He seemed sweet, very, very, very, very deep inside. But it was something.

You wanted to live that kind of romance, that troupe that you only saw in sitcoms, romcoms, or fan fiction. Falling in love with your brother's best friend. Well, in love is a big statement. Sleeping with your brother's friend, although you liked Logan. He was cool, a mysterious, serious, nonchalant man, with a broad chest and arms, the veins that ran through them, you wanted to fucking nibble his arm like a chewing toy—

Back to the point, you wanted Logan, your brother didn't want you to want Logan, but did Logan want you too? You sighed in your bed when you started to think about that. Gosh, you begged for this to not be one sided like your last relationships.

On the other hand, Logan felt like a teen. In fewer words, there wasn't a night he wasn't jerking off with the thought of you, that little cute face you made as you came, the taste of you, the way you squirmed against him, everything was just a lot. He couldn't help it, every time he closed his eyes, that sight of you was there, and his cock would just begin to get harder and harder until he couldn't take it anymore. He would get even harder at the memory of his fingers inside of you, as he pumped his cock, he would squeeze a bit more his hand around it, trying to imagine it was your warm, tight cunt. "Such a pretty filthy boy..."

He wanted to hold you as he fucked you slowly, soothing you while you whined and cried for his big cock. Tell you it was okay, tell you that he was going to stay with you, to hold you forever if you wanted to, if you asked him to. Please, ask him to.

He felt like a stupid kid, hugging his pillow against his chest, thinking it was your pretty, little frame, with that sweet, strong cologne you always wore, lingering in his nostrils still. That masculine, sensual smell.

Finally, you decided to answer Wade calls, which were received with a dramatic relief from your brother.

“What do you want now?” You sighed.

“Look, I'm sorry about what happened, I shouldn't have told you that you couldn't be with the mean wolvie.” He sighed back, you let him talk. “But, it's just that I need you to understand that… he does that stuff all the time.”

“Stuff?” You frowned.

“Yeah, he always brings boys and girls home, and does his stuff with them for a few days before he just… stops talking to them.”

You thought for a second, your brother wouldn't lie to you, and it was real that Logan was a very hot person, everything sounded real.

“Understand me, baby bro, I just… don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want Logan to be the one that hurts you, he is my friend, my peanut, but if he hurts you, of course, I would take your side.” He explained, and you believed him.

Your brother was everything you had, how would you not believe him? He wanted to protect you.

“I understand, I'll move around. I know you want to protect me, I'm sorry that I didn't answer your calls…”

“Oh, baby bro, don't worry your little mind about it, I understood.” His tone made you smile. “You can come over any time, just… keep your distance with peanut, alright?”

“Alright.” You chuckled.

And that happened. You began to go with Wade to have breakfast at his place, to play video games, sometimes you would just go to read or to draw. But ignoring Logan. All the time.

Logan, even though he didn't show it, was happy to see you there. But the second you were polite and quiet with him, he wanted you out again. He preferred to dream about you rather than seeing you disinterested in him, and he hated it.

He wanted you to be close to him, not in a sexual way (even though he wanted that too), he wanted everything to be like the morning after the kitchen encounter, with him having the chance to be close and clingy with you like he secretly is with his partners. Not like he had many in this dimension, not to say that he didn't have any.

It hurt him. Too much for his liking. Was he falling? he begged to not be falling for you, because you weren’t paying attention to him, it would only mean more pain for him.

Still, he tried, he tried to approach you more, which only confused you more. So you asked Wade.

“He is obviously just trying to have his way with you again. Just keep ignoring him like you've been doing, you're doing a good job.”

You sighed because you craved Logan's touch too, you longed for his big hands grabbing you again. And you thought you were being easy to manipulate, that you were about to fall on his tramp and that you had to run away, even though you wanted to cling to him like a tick to a dog.

One night, Wade had gone out, and Logan wasn't home either. According to your brother, Logan wouldn't be home till very late, so you got surprised when he came in at the apartment an hour after Wade had left. You were laying on the couch, playing video games with a bowl of salty popcorn on your side.

“Hey.” He said, knowing that was his chance.

“H-hey…” You swallowed.

“Can… can we talk, for a sec?” He said, suddenly timid.

You frowned at the manners he had, because they were nothing like Wade had told you they were.

“Ahm, yeah, sure.” You paused your game and let him sat next to you.

“So, ahm… I don't do this, and I don't want to be the invasive type, and maybe I'm too old and these are the new ways your generation has to— to flirt and stuff.” He started. “But… did anything happen? I mean, I thought after… that night, everything was fine, that we were both satisfied about how everything went— I mean, I was happy.”

You wanted to say that you have been happy too, that it was one of the best nights you had, but you remained in silence, letting him talk.

“And I didn't understand… why did you got so distant, I just got confused, and, again, I don't know if it's a new way of flirting, I haven't been with… many people.” He scoffed a bit. “So… I just want to know.”

“Wait, you haven't been with many people?”

He hesitated a bit before talking. “It's a… fancy way of saying I haven't been with anyone since I got here.”

You frowned and looked away from him, thinking. Wade lied? To you? it had to be some type of mistake.

“But… But Wade— he told me that… that you had partners here all the time.”

Now Logan was the one frowning. “Maybe he meant that he is trying to make me bring more partners here.”

“No, he literally said that you always had partners here, boys and girls, and you had a thing with them for a few days before ignoring them, so Wade told me to not approach to you, which I—”

“Wait, Wade said what?” He frowned, but not with confusion. With anger.

“Yeah, he didn't want me to get hurt by you, so he… he told me to keep my distance.” You explained.

He closed his eyes, huffing. “That fucking liar…” He sighed before looking at you again. “That's not true, kid, I… I'm not with tons of people all the time, and I don't want that either, I…” He began to get red out of embarrassment.

You giggled. “You want to be with me?” You tilted your head to the side, trying to find his eyes again. He nodded with an embarrassed frown, you smiled with excitement.

“Is that okay?” He asked unsure.

“It is, but… there's something I need to do first.”

(...)

Wade opened his room door and quickly slipped, hitting his head with the ground.

“Goddamnit, what?!” He complained, noticing an odd feeling of his body on the floor. The whole room floor was covered in a layer of oil. “What the fuck?! Logan!?”

“Not Logan. Me.” You crossed your arms, he tilted his head back to look at you. “Maybe hitting your head can make you realize how stupid and selfish you were when you lied about Logan.”

He sighed. “Baby bro..”

“Why, Wade? You know I trusted you.”

“I just… I really enjoyed you coming g here to see me, and… I was scared that if you got into something with that hairy old man, you would only come in here to see him and I would be left aside.” He said in a slight sad tone.

“Wade, that's so freaking stupid.” You frowned. “You are my brother, the only family I have left, why would I do that to you?”

“Yeah… it was stupid…” He tried to stand up but failed, you swallowed a chuckle while he sighed. “I'm sorry, baby bro.”

“Alright, I forgive you. But good luck trying to get Logan's forgiveness.” You said, helping him to stand up.

“I could think about something…”

(...)

“Hi.”

You screamed when Logan appeared behind you in the kitchen of your apartment.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! You almost gave me a heart attack!” You put your hand on your chest.

He laughed a bit. “Sorry, kiddo.” He hugged you from behind, putting his head on your shoulder.

“How did you got in my apartment?”

He raised his hand, the tingling sound of keys calling your attention. “Wade gave me a copy of the keys.”

“That's creepy… but I guess you forgave him.” You ran your hands through his strong arms.

“After this, I did.” He nuzzled his nose on your neck.

“You wanna stay?” You giggled. “I'm making pasta.” You talked low as you nuzzled your head on his temple, he nodded.

You tried to remove yourself a bit, but his embrace stopped you. “Logan—”

“Sh.” He shushed you. “A little longer please.”

The pasta got overcooked, but he finally got his cuddles, because how could you say no to him?

#logan howlett #hugh jackman wolverine #james logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #wolverine fanart #x men wolverine #logan howlett x reader #ftm reader #poolverine #logan howlett x male reader #logan howlett x ftm!reader #chris writes

429 notes · View notes

solxamber · 7 months ago

Note

can I request a twst males (maybe females)and nrc staff with a reader who kinda likes deforms when their stress , they could be like a human slime who 'slops' around , she's human enough but some parts of her are slimy (maybe like a human magma slime from minecraft) , they stresses a lot and one day they just blob into their hands (the twst males ans staff) whilst they start crying , if this is too complicated u can ignore this.(my English is not too god)

Slime! Reader with All NRC + Rollo, Neige, Najma Viper, NRC Staff

hi! i hope I've interpreted your ask correctly! and your English is totally fine don't worry about! also I added najma because i didn't know which twst females you wanted.

Riddle Rosehearts:

When Riddle first sees you start to "slop" around, he’s at a loss for words. He's usually composed and strict, but seeing you melt in his arms—quite literally—throws him off.

“Y-You're not following the rules of physical form!” Riddle stammers, attempting to keep calm, but inside, he’s panicking. His need to control the situation is overridden by concern when you cry softly, slimy tears soaking into his uniform.

He awkwardly pats your head, trying to keep himself together. “There, there. You can cry as much as you need to, but please… maintain some semblance of form.”

Trey Clover:

Trey, with his calm demeanor, isn’t too fazed by the fact that you’re half-human, half-slime. In fact, he’s probably the most accepting.

When you melt into a puddle of stress in his arms, he just holds you close, gently massaging your shoulders (well, where your shoulders should be in slime form). “You know, stress baking helps me,” he says soothingly. “Maybe once you’re feeling solid again, we can bake something together. Or… we can make slime cookies?” He smiles softly as your sobs slow.

Cater Diamond:

Cater's immediate reaction is to whip out his phone for a picture—but then he stops himself because this moment is actually serious. When you’re upset and melting all over him, he adjusts quickly.

“Whoa, hey, hey! No need to puddle-up on me!” Cater jokes lightly but holds you tightly, letting you feel safe. “You know, I’ve heard slime baths are all the rage on MagiCam! How about we figure out how to make this slime stress into a #trend?”

Despite his attempt to lighten the mood, his grip is firm, and he lets you cry it out.

Ace Trappola:

Ace, being Ace, doesn’t know what to do when you start to melt into slime. His first instinct is to make fun of the situation, but the second you start crying, he feels a little bad.

“Okay, okay! I didn’t mean to stress you out that much!” Ace protests, awkwardly wiping your slimy tears. “You know, some people use this stuff for beauty treatments, so really, you’re just giving me a free face mask.”

Even though he’s flustered, Ace sticks by your side, not moving until you feel better.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce’s first instinct is to panic when he sees you melting. His problem-solving brain kicks into overdrive, but there’s no quick fix for slime stress.

“I-Is this normal?! Should I be calling a healer?” he blurts out while cradling you, his heart racing. His protective instincts take over as he holds you close, even though you’re all slimy. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out. I’ve got your back, okay?”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona looks down at the slimey version of you with a raised eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting to literally have you melting in his arms.

“You’re a mess, herbivore,” Leona grumbles, but there's a warmth in his voice as he holds onto you, preventing you from dripping all over the floor. He doesn’t let go, even when his tail gets a little slimy too. “Don’t worry about it. Just stick close, okay?”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie is caught off guard by your sudden transformation, but he’s adaptable. He scoops you up into his arms with a quick grin.

“Hey, hey, don’t go melting all over the place! I’ve got things to do, y’know?” Ruggie jokes lightly. But his tone softens when he sees your distress. “But I guess those can wait. C’mere, I’ll help you get back on your feet—or whatever you have when you’re not slime.”

Jack Howl:

Jack is momentarily stunned when you melt in his arms. His first reaction is to try to lift you back up, but, well, you’re slime, so that doesn’t quite work out.

He huffs, blushing a little. “Just… take your time. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve got you, okay?” Jack's protective nature shines through, his arms gently wrapped around what solid parts of you remain.

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul, ever the strategist, watches you melt with wide eyes, calculating all the ways to “fix” the situation. However, when you start to sob, his business-like demeanor cracks.

“Ah… There, there,” he says, awkwardly patting your head as you slime down his pristine suit. “I assure you, we can handle this… strategically. No need to cry.” Despite his words, Azul’s genuine concern for you is obvious as he holds you.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd thinks your slime form is hilarious. The second you start to melt, he bursts out laughing.

“Whoa! Shrimpy, you're all gooey now!” Floyd teases, poking at your slimy form. But when he sees you crying, his mood shifts in an instant. “Aww, don’t be sad, Shrimpy. I like this version of you, too!”

He wraps himself around you, squeezing you tightly—slime and all.

Jade Leech:

Jade is intrigued by your stress-induced slime form. While he finds it fascinating, he’s also quick to comfort you when you start crying.

“Quite an interesting phenomenon,” Jade muses, wiping away your slimy tears with a handkerchief. “But please, don’t distress yourself. There’s no need for that. I’m right here.” His gentle voice soothes you as he helps you reform.

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is both shocked and amused when you start melting in his arms, but he quickly recovers, hugging you tightly.

“Oh no! You’re turning into slime! Is there something I can do? Wait, I know—let’s throw a ‘Feel Better’ party!” Kalim’s enthusiasm is infectious, but he holds onto you as you cry, offering endless reassurances.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil tries to remain composed when you melt into his arms, though he’s secretly panicking on the inside.

“I suppose this is a normal reaction to stress for you?” he says calmly, even though he’s not sure what to do. He strokes your hair (or, well, slime), patiently waiting for you to calm down. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll help you through this.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil’s immediate reaction to your slime form is a mixture of shock and mild horror—at first, he’s concerned about you, but also a bit put out by the mess.

“My robes…” he sighs, but his voice softens as he holds you, tears and slime alike. “You’re allowed to cry. But I refuse to let you stay in this state of disarray.”

He brushes the slime from your face and helps you regain composure, all while managing to maintain his usual grace.

Rook Hunt:

Rook is enchanted by your unique form. The second you melt into his arms, he’s already waxing poetic.

“Ah, mon cher! Even in your most vulnerable state, you are truly magnificent!” Rook exclaims, holding you tenderly. “Worry not, I will be your steadfast support, slime or not.”

Epel Felmier:

Epel is confused when you start to melt, but his protective instincts kick in fast.

“Whoa, whoa! Hang on there!” Epel says, panicking slightly as he tries to keep you together. “You don’t have to be all stressed out around me. Just breathe, alright?”

His attempts to soothe you are clumsy but genuine, and he won’t leave your side until you’re back to your usual self.

Idia Shroud:

Idia’s first instinct is to panic. You’re melting? This is definitely not something he can handle without freaking out.

“Oh no… oh no… this is bad,” he mutters, but when he sees your tears, he stops. “Uh, hey, don’t cry! I mean, sure, you’re all gooey, but… you’re still cool.”

Idia awkwardly pats your head, unsure of how to handle the situation but doing his best to comfort you.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho doesn’t panic like his brother. Instead, he’s immediately analyzing the situation with his scanners.

“Are you alright?” Ortho asks, his voice full of genuine concern. “Don’t worry, I can help you! Maybe a temperature adjustment will help stabilize your form?” He hovers near, ready to assist however he can.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus finds your slime form fascinating, though he’s more concerned about your well-being. When you melt into his arms, he cradles you gently.

“There, there, child of man,” Malleus murmurs softly, his voice like a calm lullaby. His powerful arms hold you securely as your slime tears drip onto his cloak. “You need not fret. I will ensure your safety, no matter your form.”

His dragon-like gaze watches you intently, the smallest smile forming at the corners of his lips as your sobs quiet. "Even in your most... fluid state, you are still precious to me."

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds your slime form to be amusing, but he’s quick to adapt. When you start melting in his arms, he lets out a cheerful laugh.

“Ah, how adorable! Don’t worry, my dear. I’ve seen stranger things in my time.” He pats your head reassuringly, not fazed at all by the situation. “Cry all you need to. I’ll be here when you’re ready to solidify again.”

Lilia hums an old fae lullaby while he holds you, and his mischievous side takes a backseat as he comforts you through the tears.

Silver:

Silver blinks slowly when you start to melt in front of him, but instead of panicking, he gently wraps his arms around your slumping form, not minding the slime at all.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady and calm, “it’s okay. I’m here.” His hand moves to stroke your slime-morphed head with gentle care, his touch soothing despite your current state.

“I don’t know exactly how to help,” he admits, “but I’ll stay with you until you feel better.” He pulls you closer, letting you rest in his lap while he hums softly, his presence grounding you. “You don’t have to hold it all in. I’ll keep watch.”

His quiet, reassuring demeanor slowly makes you feel more at ease. He may not say much, but the safety you feel with him speaks volumes.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is utterly baffled when you start to melt into slime in his arms. For a moment, he just freezes, wide-eyed, trying to process what’s happening. Then he bursts out, “WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE YOUNG MASTER—!!”

His voice is loud, but as he sees the tears in your slimy state, his tone shifts—just a little. “H-Human! Cease this display at once! You cannot fall apart like this!” But even as he says that, he’s awkwardly attempting to gather your melted form without dropping any of it, his hands trembling slightly.

His frustration shows, but underneath it, he’s worried. “I—! Ugh, fine! Stay like this if you must! Just know I... I shall remain by your side, no matter what form you take! So, compose yourself, human!”

His stubborn loyalty shines through, and despite the bluster, you can tell he’s genuinely concerned. It’s a chaotic kind of support, but it’s Sebek, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo is startled and somewhat appalled by your sudden transformation into slime, but he masks his discomfort with a dignified air.

"This... is highly irregular," he mutters, though his hands remain gentle as they hold you. "But I suppose even someone like you has their moments of weakness."

Despite his words, there's a hint of warmth in his actions, and he stays by your side until you're feeling better, his cold demeanor melting just a bit.

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige’s reaction is pure concern when you start to melt. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close despite the slime.

“Oh no, are you okay?” Neige asks, worry etched across his face. “Don’t cry, please! You’re still beautiful, no matter what!”

His words are sincere, and he strokes your back soothingly as you sob, not caring one bit about the slime soaking into his clothes.

Najma Viper:

Najma is quick to comfort you when you start melting in her presence. She’s a bit surprised but reacts with ease.

“Whoa, that’s a neat trick! But hey, no need to cry, okay?” Najma smiles gently, holding you close. “You’re safe with me. We’ll figure this out.”

She’s calm and reassuring, her warmth helping you regain your composure faster than you thought possible.

Dire Crowley:

Crowley dramatically flails his arms when you start melting into slime, completely unprepared for this turn of events.

“Oh dear heavens, my precious student! What calamity has befallen you?” He panics, trying to scoop up your gooey form in a very uncoordinated manner. “No need to cry! Your benevolent headmaster will, um, fix this! Somehow!”

He’s more focused on not getting slime on his fancy coat than actually helping, but he makes a grand show of being concerned, which is as close to comfort as you’re going to get from him.

Divus Crewel:

Crewel’s eyes widen, but he quickly regains his composure.

“Well, this is... unexpected,” he says, eyeing the slime dripping onto his pristine coat. “But emotions, pup, are not something to be ashamed of. Even if they do involve... melting.”

He carefully wipes the slime from his hands, his tone softening. “You’ll pull yourself together soon. We’ll make sure of it. And once you do, we’ll work on controlling that stress—there’s no excuse for letting your emotions ruin your wardrobe.”

He pats your head in a surprisingly gentle manner, his usual sternness fading in the face of your distress.

Mozus Trein:

Trein, with Lucius perched on his shoulder, looks down at you as you begin to melt into a puddle of slime.

“Hmm,” he muses thoughtfully. “This is not something you see every day, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

He crouches down, his expression surprisingly calm. “When one is overwhelmed, their emotions can manifest in unusual ways. It’s important to take a moment and breathe.” He offers a hand, which Lucius bats at. “Compose yourself. You’ll recover, just as we all do from difficult moments.”

It’s unexpectedly wise advice, and his steady presence helps you feel grounded again.

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas is completely caught off guard by your sudden transformation into slime. He stares at you in disbelief before quickly scooping you up with a burst of energy.

“Whoa! That’s some serious stress! But don’t worry, we’ll get you back into shape in no time!” he says, flexing a bicep as if that will somehow solve your problems.

He awkwardly pats your gooey form, his optimism unshaken. “This just means you’ve got some inner strength waiting to burst out! Once you pull yourself together, we’re doing a killer workout to blow off all that steam, okay?”

It’s hard to stay upset with his over-the-top enthusiasm, even in your slime state.

Sam:

Sam chuckles when you start melting, entirely unfazed.

“Well, now, ain’t that something,” he says, leaning on the counter of his shop. “You must be feelin’ all sorts of stress, huh? No worries, I’ve seen worse.”

He grabs a cloth and gently wipes your slime tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, and I’ll brew up something that’ll help you feel right as rain? Stress is just like a storm—it’ll pass, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

His easygoing nature and the comforting atmosphere of his shop start to calm you down almost immediately. It’s impossible not to feel better in his presence.

Masterlist

594 notes · View notes

unintentionalseductress · 6 months ago

Note

I don't know how your "thirsty weekends" works, but all I'm thinking about now is #16- glory hole with sylus.

That's exactly how Thirsty Weekends works! You pick a prompt and a character and inbox me!

And I had so much fun writing this! Hope you kinky kittens like reading it!

Glory hole

--------

There was a week left for your wedding with Sylus and you decided to surprise your fiance with something you knew would please him immensely; a private glory hole, featuring you.

With the help of a friend, you'd gotten naked and slipped into a narrow box with holes on opposite sides, one for your pussy, another for your mouth, and two on the sides so that your tits could be groped. A sign had been posted over the side of the box saying 'use me'. You waited on your hands and knees in anticipation, growing wetter by the second knowing he'd be home any minute.

Your core tightens when you hear the click of the door, then your grin falters as you hear other people's voices, your heart leaping into your chest when you recognize them. A mix of men, all of Sylus's acquaintances; Rafayel, Xavier, and Zayne. Why were they here?

"Why is there a box in the middle of your living room? Did you get a pet?" Rafayel's voice fills the room and you panic, unsure what to do.

"It says 'use me' on the side of the box." Zayne's footsteps can be heard approaching the box and your eyes widen as you try to think what to do.

"Sylus you didn't plan something did you? Like some sort of final wild party before getting hitched?" You hear Xavier ask in disbelief. Your eyes are glued to the limited view from the holes in the side of the box and you recognize Sylus's expensive shoes as he approaches, then dips a hand in through the side, finding your breast and squeezing.

"It appears it's a final present before I say goodbye to my bachelorhood gentleman," Sylus says smoothly as he withdraws his hand and you feel your senses float out of your body, leaving you weak. What was going to happen now?

"Enjoy yourselves."

Before you can comprehend what's happening a cock is shoved into the hole near your mouth. It was a nice organ, but you hesitate, then hear the voices outside. "Nothing's happening Sylus!"

You weigh your options. You could end this right now and have everyone see you like this. But also...something about the anonymity appealed to you. You give a tentative lick to the cock before taking it into your mouth. The action causes the person to let out a groan and the group jeers. "Is the whore in the box good Rafayel?"

You let out a squeak of surprise as hands come in from both sides and roughly grab your boobs, squeezing and pulling at your nipples. Stuck and unable to turn in the narrow space, you're helpless to do anything except take it. You moan against the meat in your mouth as another hand enters the back hole, a finger tracing your folds before it pushes into your cunt, fingering you from behind.

The sudden assault on your body brought a powerful turn on that your weren't expecting. They had no idea who was in here and the thought of being used was filling your brain with a haze of sexual need. Rafayel suddenly withdraws and another cock, longer and thicker this time, enters the glory hole. You suck it without hesitation and the men whistle.

"Damn Zayne, the way your eyes rolled I thought she sucked the soul from your body!"

You moan and whine and whimper as they squeeze and abuse every inch of your body that they could reach through the holes then gasp as you hear Sylus ask, "Who wants the honor of fucking her first?"

You hear condom wrappers being ripped open and before you could think, a cock starts to penetrate you from behind, splitting you open around it's covered girth. You let out a needy groan and the men laugh.

"Sounds like she's having a good time!" You wished you could rub your clit as you were getting fucked but the box was too narrow for you to reach so you settle for having your nipples tweaked and pulled. Another cock enters the glory hole and you obediently take it into your mouth, bobbing your head and letting your pussy be abused to their liking. You can feel whoever is using you getting close to their climax, then feel their cock twitch and shoot it's load, caught by the condom before it's withdrawn from your slick depths.

You barely had time to recover when another cock pushes in, and you feel your senses heighten because you recognize this one; it's unmistakably Sylus, and his cock adjusts inside you to graze against your g spot with each stroke. Your voice now becomes a pathetic string of moans as he gets your sweet spot each time. In your sensitized state, you cum immediately, a loud keening sound ripping from your throat and echoing through the box as you climax. There's cheering for Sylus as he withdraws.

You take two more cocks after this, and service everyone for a few more rounds before all the men decide they've had their fill. With sighs of satisfaction, they leave, thanking Sylus for the evening's entertainment and wishing his good luck with his wedding.

You lay there, covered in sweat, your pussy sloppy from being used so many times, wondering if you could somehow escape out of the box now that everyone had left, then yelp in surprise as the panel on the side is lifted up, and Sylus smirks down at you. Your face turns red as he assesses you before slowly lifting you out of your confines, settling down on the sofa with you on his lap.

"Did you have fun sweetie?" he asks, chuckling as you hide your face in his neck.

"You knew it was me?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you stop it then?"

"Did you not like it?"

"I...I did..."

"Then what's the problem?" Sylus presses a kiss to your head. "My sweet bride, do you think I was unaware of your fantasy to be used as a glory hole? I thought it would be best for you to get it out of your system before you officially become my wife. And you just made it so easy tonight."

He laughs heartily as you punch his arm, your face turning a brilliant shade of crimson before kissing you senseless.

---

I am horny and need an immediate gangbang from all of them now *hides face*

407 notes · View notes

lamentationsofalonelypotato · 10 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Implied/Eventual), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Fake Dating

Word Count: 7.4 K (OOPS)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+/Mature because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, violence. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I know, I should be working on "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," but this idea was swirling around in my head and I had to write it.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

"Alright Butcher, I'm done." You sigh closing the file in front of you and standing from the worn wooden table covered in empty Chinese food containers and stacks of papers almost as tall as you. "If I read another word about trying to stop an electrical current, I'm going to commit toaster bath and I'm taking you with me."

It was late, past two in the morning, but Butcher had a lead on a B-list supe that had been using his electrical powers to steal cars and run a chop shop business downtown. You had been close to catching him yesterday, so close in fact that your eyebrows were still a little crispy from when he shot a bolt of lightning at your face that you only dodged in the nick of time when Soldier Boy grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you out of the way. Unfortunately, your shirt hadn't survived, it had ripped and you spent the rest of the day wearing one of Butcher's oversize Hawaiian shirts all the while Soldier Boy told you that it was a waste to keep a pretty little figure like yours covered up.

I hate him so much.

When Butcher had initially asked you to join his team a month ago you were excited, but then you found out that you were going to be stuck with Soldier Boy. The supe, that despite Annie's arguments should be given back to the government and put on ice, was allowed to join Butcher's team after he took down Homelander. Who was currently frozen on ice, somewhere. As long as Homelander was far from you, you didn't care. The guy gave you the creeps.

But the team still couldn't figure out where the electricity manipulating supe was hiding or where he was dropping the cars, which meant you had spent the past twelve hours staring at files and a computer screen so hard that you felt like your brain going to melt out of your ears.

"Do whatever ya want kid. I'm not ya damn babysitter." Butcher grunts, his face hidden behind his own file. His boots were on the table and he was leaning back in his chair so far that you were tempted to tip him over, all it would take was a good solid kick.

You smile at him. Butcher was adept at pretending that he didn't want you around, of course you knew how antsy he got when you weren't there to offer your opinion. You figured that he just liked pushing people away and given his history you understood that.

Annie sits up from where she and Hughie are cuddling on the couch. "Why don't you stay?" Her brow furrows with worry. Annie was big on the whole, "women not walking at home alone at night thing," which normally you didn't, but you figured that whatever was waiting outside the apartment was probably less intimidating than Homelander. And you could handle it.

"Because I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight and not that godforsaken rickety cot in the corner that Frenchie got. Can't stand that one spring that always seems so happy to see me." You pull your leather jacket off of the back of the chair and whirl it around your shoulders, before bringing your hair out from under the collar.

Hughie snorts.

"Hey, that cot is an antique!" Frenchie crows from his highbacked chair spewing a mouthful of smoke into the air. Kimiko was sitting at the coffee table in front of him working on her writing, a thick black marker clutched in her hand. MM was taking the night off, but you thought he was probably trying to avoid Soldier Boy.

"Yeah well, that cot is about as old as grandpa over there." You gesture to where Soldier Boy is sitting in another one of the armchairs in the corner watching you while puffing on a joint.

He was always watching you and due to your inability to read his mind it made it difficult for you to gauge what he was thinking, but you assumed that it was the usual macho crap he spouted 100% of the time. But he wasn't checking you out, well this time he wasn't. You had caught him staring at your butt more than once, and he'd made several comments about exactly what he'd like to do to you, but right now an emotion glimmered behind his eyes that you couldn't place.

Soldier Boy stands from the chair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that stretched over his chest and a pair of blue jeans that fit him just right, well, if you were looking at that. You were, but it was easier to pretend that you weren't. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn it, why does someone so attractive have to be such a dick?

"A lady like you shouldn't be walking home alone this late." He frowns at you.

"Like me?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Good thing she ain't a lady." Butcher chuckles at his joke

You punch him hard on the arm, not enough to break it, but enough to make it hurt.

“Bloody hell woman.” Butcher rubs his sore bicep shooting you an angry look.

Not many people could look intimidating while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but Butcher pulled it off. Not many people looked good in a Hawaiian shirt either, but Butcher pulled that off too.

"I'm serious." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow.

"Oh now you're so chivalrous?" You cock your hip to the side, planting your hands on your hips. "Didn't you try to kill me last month?"

"To be fair, you were trying to kill me-"

"Because you were trying to kill Annie. Where was the chivalry when you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd like to do to you with my bare hands sweetheart." His grin turns wolfish. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, perhaps you'd like some company?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with that ancient spring than roll around with you." You tap your lip thoughtfully. “Then again I’m sure that cot is the same age as you and it can at least get it up.”

Annie muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Last time I checked everything was working, perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?” Soldier Boy smirks.

"Can't you keep in your pants for once?" Butcher sighs, tilting the file downward to glare at Soldier Boy.

You can't help but smile at Butcher's response. Butcher might have tried to push you away, but even you could see his protective instincts. That became wildly apparent whenever you went out on a mission alone and although you would think that it was annoying for someone to think they needed to protect you, in Butcher's case you made an exception.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes. "She shouldn't walk home alone."

You wave your hand over the wilting fern on the kitchen counter, eyes shifting to green for a moment as it perks up. It was the only plant in the house and although six people lived in this apartment, not one ever remembered to water it. "And you shouldn't butt into my business."

Soldier Boy opens his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupts his train of thought.

"Wait y/n. Coffee tomorrow?" Annie asks ignoring them. She's sitting up from the couch, her body turned towards you with both of her hands on the back cushions.

She was one of your best friends, well, really one of your only friends. You'd grown up together and when Annie moved to New York you had decided to move and take some college classes in the city while you worked at a small garden shop after class part time.

The owner still couldn't figure out why nothing you cared for seemed to die.

You usually kept your status as a supe on the down low, and only used your powers when you really had to, which wasn't often before you joined Butcher's team. You'd only lasted two semesters before Annie came to ask you for help finding Soldier Boy and after that, Butcher asked you to join his team for shit pay. You accepted but you still worked at the garden shop part-time, also for terrible pay, but you loved it there.

Your powers made it easy to make sure nothing died and sometimes it felt like home being surrounded by plants. Caring for them was the one thing you seemed to be good at, and sometimes they felt like family.

You didn't have much family left, beside your grandmother and your older brother who still lived back in Des Moines, and sometimes it was lonely in the city. Annie was the only person who you'd been able to connect with since you moved, and now that you weren't going to classes the friends you made in college didn't really understand what you were doing with your life.

And telling them "oh I hunt down supes for a living and sometimes kill them" didn't really sound like something you could say in passing. It also did wonders for your dating life… NOT.

"Sorry babe, I'm at the shop tomorrow. But I'm off at 3 if you want to get coffee after?" You hold open the front door of the apartment, looking back at her expectantly.

You hated blowing Annie off, especially since the two of you hadn't been able to hang out outside of missions mostly because she was spending all her time with Hughie.

"Sounds great!" She beams.

And with that you disappear out down the hallway and into the night.

It's raining as you walk down the desolate streets. Cars splash water over the gum covered sidewalks that soaks through your tennis shoes and makes every step against the ground squish. But you ignore it.

You usually loved when it rained, loved to feel the cooling water pool against your skin, loved to hear the soft patter of it against the windows of your apartment, loved the earthy smell that came with the drops, but not tonight. You were still thinking about Soldier Boy.

You don't know why you let him get under your skin so much. You'd met men like him in the past and it was usually easy for you to brush them off, but not him.

I mean yes he is gorgeous, and maybe kind of charming when he's not trying to get into my pants, but I don't want just a one night fling. I want what Annie and Hughie have.

You think about your best friend and her loving boyfriend. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when the last time you had a lasting relationship was your first boyfriend back in high school who, when he found out you were a supe, was only interested if you had the power to shape shift into someone 'a little more busty.' The relationship ended with you locking him in a tree and the fire department having to come cut him out. He was fine, maybe a little more green than a normal person, but...

You'd heard that he got a job from the Green Giant Vegetable Company doing cameos as the Jolly Green Giant. So if anything, you helped him have a career?

Annie and Hughie were both head over heels in love with each other, knew everything about each other, didn't have any secrets, and it wasn't just sex, it was a close relationship with someone else who understood every part of you. You wanted that; and as much as you had avoided relationships in the past due to your supe status, you still hoped to find a supe that was kind and didn't think that they were a god for what they could do.

Why do so many have a god complex?

You think again about Soldier Boy. That wasn't the first time he had tried to coax you into bed and it wouldn't be the last, that was for sure. At first you had hoped that he would give up, it had been a month since you'd met, but he was still going strong, despite having a different woman in that apartment almost every night.

Maybe he's just really horny after being trapped in a lab all these years. Then again- You remember all the articles you read about him from the 80s, the ones that recorded his numerous escapades and think about his founding of Herogasm.

Maybe he's always like that, but he never comes on to Annie or Kimiko, only me. And I've threatened castration multiple times. You'd think he would care more about that than anything else.

You consider with a frown, clutching your jacket tighter around you. Rain trickled down from your hair and under the collar of your jacket to soak into your t-shirt. Your once light blue jeans were soaked to a dark navy with the amount of water that splashed up from the road and dripped down your back. For the first time in forever, you wished that it wasn't raining.

Probably should have just gotten a cab, but it's so expensive and-

"Hey baby." Someone calls from behind you.

Can't I just walk home without being hit on? One time?

"Not interested." You shout back, continuing to squish down the cracked sidewalks.

Three shadows peel off the wall of shops to your left blocking your path forward. Each is wearing a dark colored hoodie hiding their faces from view.

Is my luck really this bad? I never hear about Annie getting mugged or Hughie. And Hughie definitely looks wimpier than me.

"Don't be like that baby." The man behind you says.

You half turn your body so you can see all your supposed attackers at once. There are actually two men behind you, both wearing similar hoodies to the three now standing on your right.

Oh look they color coordinated their outfits… cute.

The man opens his mouth again.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You hold up a finger. "I've been dealing with a horny 104 year old geriatric man all day long. Please don't push me right now." It was an attempt to warn them, but you knew they probably wouldn’t listen to you.

No one ever does.

"Sounds like you need someone to relax with." The man smirks steeping forward to grab your arm. "I'd be happy to ease some of that tension baby."

"Look. I'm going to give you a chance to walk away. To avoid making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. Because honestly you all have the worst luck in the world." You jerk your arm away from him.

"I like em feisty.” He purrs stepping forward again while the others laugh. “Come on baby-“

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You grab him around the throat, lifting him in the air like he weighs nothing, your eyes beginning to glow a brilliant green.

“I did try to warn you.”

"She's a supe!" He shouts struggling against your grip.

You throw him backwards into the other man standing to your right before facing the men on your left. Each one has pulled out a knife preparing to rush towards you.

"I get it. Y’all are out late, you bought matching outfits, but do we really have to-“

The first one rushes you, waving his knife through the air in a frantic dance. He doesn't get the chance to make contact with your arm. Vines erupt out of the pavement, breaking through the cracks in the concrete, binding themselves around the man who lets out a savage cry, quickly silenced while the vines continue to wrap around his body until there's nothing left but a mass of struggling green foliage on the pavement and some muffled screams.

He's lucky, could have had him dragged back under ground.

His friends stand there for a moment, eyeing one another as if they're not sure what just happened. You can practically see them trying to decide if you're still worth the trouble.

“Anyone else?”

The battle that follows is swift, the sound of cracking bones and the soft thud of punches landing echo over the soft patter of rain in the night as you dodge their blows and land your own against them. The vines continue to spread outward snatching up the men who fall to the ground in front of you, dragging each one up the street light above that sends yellowed light over the desolate streets. By now each bound body hangs from above like a sack of meat in a meat cooler, moving with the struggling men inside while the muffled cries shatter the still silence of the night.

Sometimes it's really too easy.

And as you begin to turn back someone grabs you by the hair, yanking you into their sweaty embrace. The leader's hot breath sticks to your cheeks, the cool metal of his switchblade pressing down so hard on your throat that you feel the pinprick of blood begin to form under the tip.

“What are you gonna do now bitch?” He snarls in your ear.

"Give you one more chance to surrender." You spit.

Like I'm going to give him the satisfaction of me begging for my life.

"I'm gonna enjoy this-" The man begins to say, pressing the knife deeper into your throat, but the rest of his sentence is cut off with a strangled cry as he's pulled away from you.

What the hell just-

You turn around, freezing in shock.

Soldier Boy is crouching there in his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans over the man who just had a knife to your throat. His fist rising and falling as he punches the man in the face.

"Don’t you ever touch her." Soldier Boy snarls. His fist is already covered in blood, the man’s face a mass of bloodied tissue and bone.

"Stop you're going to kill him-" You run forward to stop Soldier Boy, but he doesn't stop even when you try to grab on to his hand.

"I said STOP." You shout louder, this time manipulating a vine to wrap around Soldier Boy's arm and restrain it.

Fuck he might already be dead.

"Let me go." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow. The usual green was replaced by a darkened pit with his rage. You'd only ever seen him this mad a handful of times, one of which was when the supe tried to zap you like a fly in one of those insect traps two days ago.

Why is he angry?

"I'm not going to let you go, until you promise not to kill him."

"I should." He snarls back at you.

"What are you talking about?"

He stands from the body, eyeing the last attacker who runs full speed down the sidewalk and vanishes into the darkness. "I should kill him for trying to hurt you." Soldier Boy says simply.

You wave your hand allowing the vine to let go of his arm. "Where do you come off so high and mighty? You literally tried to kill me last month."

"That was before I-" He shakes his head angrily, eyes still blazing.

"Look I don't need you to protect me. Given what I've had to deal with all day I was looking forward to kicking some ass."

"You did." He smirks nodding his head in the direction of the men hanging from the streetlamp above you. “I just thought that you were outnumbered.”

"Why are you here?" You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I wanted to go for a stroll." Soldier Boy shrugs. He flexes his hand, before wiping the blood on the front of the sweatshirt of the man on the ground.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't need you to protect me." You say again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I had this handled."

"You sure doll?"

"Look I get it- you think that you're some knight in shining armor because you have this macho complex. But I'm fine on my own." You begin to step around the bodies of the men on the ground moving in the direction of your apartment, but Soldier Boy follows you.

"Where do you think you're going?" You turn to look at where he falls into step beside you.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone."

"Well you're sure as hell not going home with me."

His lip turns up in a smirk, towering over you. Soldier Boy is easily a foot taller than you, so broad that it's impossible to look past his imposing figure. It would be attractive if he wasn't so damn annoying. "Come on sweetheart, I know you want me to go home with you." He purrs with a smile. "I think you'd really enjoy it if I did. And I'll even let you tie me up with those pretty vines of yours." Ben leans in towards your face and you take a step back.

"Hard pass. So what? Is this your big move? Acting all chivalrous just to get a woman into bed with you?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No. Now go back to the apartment, before I send you there in pieces." You turn back to squish down the sidewalk at a faster pace, hoping he will get a hint and leave you alone. But you knew he wouldn’t stop. He practically thrived on teasing you, had been the bane of your existence since you met him. And nothing seemed to dissuade him.

"What is your problem with me?" He jogs to catch up. "And don't say that it's because I tried to kill you, that was last month-"

"I think that's applicable to this week and the week after that and the week after that." You count out with every finger to further emphasize your point, but you know that Soldier Boy won't give up that easy.

"Are you always this fucking angry?" He almost laughs.

"I don’t know. Are you always this fucking annoying?" You turn to face him narrowing your eyes.

Soldier Boy chuckles at your look, running a hand through his hair that has darkened in the spray of water, his green eyes watching you curiously. They were shinning now, not the blacked pits of hate they were when he was beating the guy two minutes ago. For a second, just for a second, you see how handsome he is all over again.

"Come on, give me a real answer and I'll leave you alone." He's smiling at you now, giving you one of those boyish grins that, if it were anyone else, would make your heart stop.

He just wants sex. He doesn't care about you. He won't ever care about you. Breathe.

"Fine." You sigh. "You might say you're a supe, but you're not a hero. People like you and Homelander, you don't care about anyone but yourself. You use your powers for you and on your own terms. You were going to kill that guy-" You gesture back towards where the body is still on the ground, the man's heart beat is dangerously low.

"He was threatening you. A thank you might be nice." Soldier Boy's cheeks flush as he glares down at you with darkened eyes, his anger surging back in his chest.

"Yes he was threatening me, but I'm okay and you could have just taken him to jail. You didn't have to beat his face in."

"So you're saying if he had been attacking someone else you wouldn't have done the same?"

"I would have subdued him and then waited for the police to get there. The men hanging from the streetlight aren't dead. We aren't the law-"

"Right so those guys can get off with a warning and then go on and do the same thing over and over again." He scoffs rolling his eyes at you.

"It doesn't give you the right to kill them."

"I suppose you don't believe in the death penalty either."

"I believe in the death penalty Gramps. I just don't believe it is our job to carry it out." Your temper was flaring against your skin distracting you from the chill of the rain as it soaked into your clothes.

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be saved by me?" Soldier Boy asks. He shakes his head as if he can't understand you.

You didn't blame him, most people didn't, that was why you spent most of your time alone.

"I'm not one of them. So leave me alone." You turn to go.

Honestly, why is this the kind of guy I attract? You roll your eyes to yourself. Oh you mean, tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous- The other little voice in your head whispers in your ear. NO. You tell yourself. Please I just want one guy who's not a total dick. Why is that so hard?

"I still don't think it's a good answer." He huffs.

"Of course you don't." You roll your eyes and begin to walk again. The streetlamps above send an eerie yellow glow over the parked cars along the road and over the crackled pavement. If Soldier Boy wasn't here bothering you, you might have stopped to admire the water as it splashed underneath the suspension bridge beyond the crowded buildings, but you wanted to get home. Without him if possible.

You glance over at Soldier Boy again. He looks normal right now, always does when he's not wearing his suit. And when he shut up you could see why people were so in love with him. It was when he opened his mouth that it reminded you exactly why you didn't like him.

You stop in front of your apartment building and force yourself to smile. "Thank you for walking me home." You say through tight lips, hoping that the false sincerity will make him leave.

He gazes up at your building with a frown. "This is a pretty shitty apartment building."

"Thank you. Not all of us inherited millions of dollars from our parents."

He pauses for a moment continuing to look up at the building, before he sighs loudly. "Look, I-." He sighs again. "I can't take listening to Annie and Hughie fucking. They go at it every night and she always makes the power go off."

You knew that already. It was another reason why you didn't like staying at the apartment, because listening to your best friend get railed by her boyfriend was not your idea of a good time.

You look up at Ben, and for a second you see a glimmer of the truth, just a flash of something that wasn't like the misogynistic attitude he usually had and it made you pause. He almost looked, sad and it made you feel bad for him. Of course you felt bad for him before, when you found out his entire team just gave him away to be experimented on and when probably the woman that he'd come the closest to loving really didn't care about him at all.

It must be incredibly lonely to come back to a world where almost everyone you know is dead. Guilt builds in your chest at the thought. I had lost my fair share of people, but not everyone in my life and I certainly didn’t learn about it on the same day.

"You know I think that's the first honest thing you've ever said to me." You say quietly shifting from foot to foot.

He half-smiles. "Maybe."

You chew on the inside of your cheek considering. You weren't afraid of him. You knew that with your powers you could take him. You were stronger than most and harder to kill. And despite the bad things you thought about him and knew about him, you kinda thought he was relatively harmless, well, you didn't think he was a rapist.

"Fine. But you're staying on the couch. And if I wake up and you're anywhere near my bedroom, I'll castrate you." You warn as walk up to the front doors and type in the code to unlock them, with Soldier Boy following behind you.

When you make it to the third floor, you raise one hand to stop him from going any further. It falls against his muscular chest and you fail trying not to admire how it feels beneath your hand.

Why am I so thirsty?

"If you wanted to grab my chest doll, all you had to do was ask-" Soldier Boy begins to say, but you raise the hand to cover his mouth.

"Shh." You hiss. "We have to be quiet or Mike will come out-"

"Who?" He asks, muffled against your hand.

You hear a door down the hallway creak open, spilling yellowed light onto the dark blue carpet of the hallway. "Shit. Too late."

Mike steps out of his apartment with a wide smile as soon as he sees you. "HEY y/n!" He crows, waving his free hand enthusiastically. "I didn't know you were getting in so late, but I wanted to give you this." Mike holds out a giant casserole dish filled with something that you can't identify. It's multi colored with multiple layers, one of which looks suspiciously like rice and the next layer looks like cake.

There's no way I'm eating that. Maybe if I force feed it to Soldier Boy he'll leave me alone.

Mike was your neighbor, your neighbor who had lived next door to you for the past 2 years and was shamelessly in love with you. And as sweet as he was, there were a few things that you couldn't get past, most namely that he lived with his mother and that he had a mullet.

One time you'd had a nightmare about it ripping itself from his head, breaking in to your apartment, and smothering you in your sleep.

Not fun.

"Hey Mike." You smile tightly at him, dropping your hand from Soldier Boy's mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry I was out with some friends."

"You should have asked me to come! I love your friends." Mike smiles so wide you're afraid that it's going to break his face. “Especially Butcher. He’s so funny. Always joking-"

Poor Mike.

Every time that Butcher had come over to talk shop, he would mock Mike endlessly. And Mike was just too sweet to realize it. Hughie was the only one who actively tried to be nice to Mike, but even he found it difficult. Annie was the worst though, she'd tease you constantly about what your children would look like and had taken to photoshopping mullets onto pictures of babies and sending them to you at inopportune times.

"Maybe next time." You cough out an awkward laugh while Soldier Boy snorts behind you.

You continue down the hallway towards your apartment, the door next to his, and hope that he'll go back into his home, but no such luck.

“My mom made this for you!” He holds the dish out towards you.

“Oh um that’s so nice of her. But I can’t except that-“

Mike's mother comes to stand in the doorway of their shared apartment. She was wearing a bright purple Mumu, her makeup caked thickly on her face and her eyes accentuated with bright blue eye shadow. “Sure you can sweetie. You’re Mike’s special friend.” She winks before trailing her eyes up and down your body. “And you’ve got such a cute little figure.” His mother does a little shimmy as if trying to get you to do the same.

Kill me now.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Soldier Boy purrs behind you.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You mutter back, knowing full well he can hear you with his super-hearing.

Oddly enough Mike does look suspiciously like his mother, they are both the same height, exactly three inches under you, and have the same mullet, but hers is a shocking blue-gray and his is jet black.

He blushes at her words. “Aww mom.”

Soldier Boy muffles a laugh before disguising it into a cough. You elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Well thank you.” You take the casserole dish with one hand, hoping that you can open the door and usher Soldier Boy in before he makes a comment. "I've had a long day and it's really late-"

“I helped her make this one.” Mike interrupts scooting closer to you, so close that you get a lungful of his terrible cologne, the one that the super sells for four dollars and smells like baby powder and Cheez-its.

“A man who can do it all.” Soldier Boy whispers to you.

Mike looks above your head as if noticing Soldier Boy for the first time. “Who’s that? I thought I knew all your friends.”

“He’s certainly very handsome-“ Mike's mother blushes from the doorway.

“Your brother?” Mike offers.

You can see his expression turn hopeful.

Probably thinking about how he can become friends with "said brother" and that will escalate our "relationship."

“I’m Ben.” Soldier Boy says, stepping around you to shake Mike’s hand. “I’m y/n's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks bloom a bright pink, unable to respond to the ridiculous statement that he just made.

Murder. That's what sounds good right now.

“Oh.” Mike’s face falls. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” His eyes flick back to you, disappointment swimming in the irises.

You watch Mike’s hope begin to circle the drain.

“Well actually-“ You begin, but Soldier Boy interrupts you.

“Sorry I’ve been out of town for a while. We've been trying to do this long distance thing- you know how it is, late night phone calls-“ Ben trails off with a wolfish grin before dropping an arm around your shoulders. “But I just couldn’t take the long distance. Missed her too much. Phone call isn’t the same as sleeping in the same bed. Definitely not as satisfying. Not to mention there’s only so much my hand can do.”

Your cheeks bloom an even brighter red at his insinuation. That’s when Soldier Boy does something even more unforgivable, he pulls you tighter against him and kisses you right there in front of Mike and his mother. The kiss is searing, making everything in your mind go blissfully blank. It had been so long since someone kissed you, since someone had held you this close to them without trying to kill you. His tongue teases your bottom lip and before you can stop yourself you open your mouth wider to let him in sighing softly against his lips, while you grip the front of his jacket.

For a moment you can’t remember why you didn’t want him to kiss you, why you denied yourself of this for so long. And then Soldier Boy's hand slides from your back to grab a handful of your ass.

Right.

You slap him so hard across the face that you're sure it would have broken the cheekbone of anyone who wasn’t a supe.

But Soldier Boy only grins wider, squeezing your butt again. “She knows that I like it a little rough.” He turns his lazy gaze back to Mike.

You open your mouth to cuss him out.

“Well we should probably get going.” Soldier Boy breezes. “Probably going to be a long night. If you know what I mean. But we’ll try to keep it down. Then again my girl's a little loud.” He winks at your poor neighbor who looks like he might cry, while his mother stands behind him fanning herself like Soldier Boy is everything she wants in a man.

He's ten for ten with the older ladies I'll say that.

“Oh right. Well I guess I’ll see you around y/n.” Mike turns to go.

“Mike wait-“ You try to say but he’s already vanishing through the door.

“Nice to meet you Mark.” Soldier Boy calls at his retreating figure, getting his name wrong on purpose.

You don’t even use your key to open the door you're so mad, the plants inside let you in. As soon as it opens, you haul Soldier Boy by the front of his jacket through the doorway and pin him to the wall just inside.

The casserole dish lands on your counter and by some miracle doesn’t break.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your hand is fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

He only grins. “You didn’t want me to play along? Sounded like that guy had been trying to get into your pants for a while. Unless he already has been or you want him to?"

You flush a deeper shade of crimson. "That is absolutely none of your business!"

“Well if we’re going to be living together doll, I’m pretty sure it is my business.”

“WE AREN'T LIVING TOGETHER I'M JUST LETTING YOU CRASH ON THE COUCH TONIGHT AND THEN YOU'RE GONE.” You shout.

“I think you’re gonna get pretty attached to me sleeping here. Maybe even you let me sleep in your bed and even fu-“

You knock him back against the wall again. “If you finish that sentence I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“If you keep knocking me around, Mike's going to think you’re into some pretty kinky stuff.” Soldier Boy smirks down at you. “It’s actually turning me on a bit. Is it turning you on?”

“I don’t have to let you stay here.” You growl, releasing him.

“I think it’s because you like me.” He teases.

“I don’t.” You frown grows. “Okay couch is there goodnight.”

You point in the direction of the worn leather couch. You'd hauled it up three flights of stairs with Annie when you first moved in after you found a guy online selling it for nothing. And when you showed up to get it, he presumed to say it would be free if you let him take a picture of your feet. And after, when he had a black eye and a fun story to tell his wife, he gave you the couch for nothing as promised.

“No kiss goodnight?” Soldier Boy pouts his lips innocently.

“You already had one of those.” You snap thinking about slapping him again and trying hard not to think about how much you wanted to kiss him again.

Get a grip.

“Right. You liked it.”

“No I didn’t. And the next time you shove your tongue into my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“You’re really violent for such a little thing.” Soldier Boy eyes you up and down as if sizing you up.

“And you’re really dick-like for someone who’s supposed to have the wisdom of the ages.” You turn towards the hallway intent on going to bed to avoid any more conversation with him.

"Whoa." You hear Soldier Boy say as he looks into your living room.

It was the reaction that everyone had when they entered your apartment. You had a small one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building that you believed might be older than Soldier Boy. The kitchen and living room was mostly one room, the kitchen to the left with outdated appliances and a small circular wooden table with three chairs that served as your kitchen table and desk, and was separated by the large leather aforementioned couch that faced the wall that held two large windows. Beyond the front door was a small hallway that held the only bathroom in the apartment and your bedroom.

But that's not what was surprising.

Every open space in your apartment was covered in plants. There wasn't a single piece of unused space in your apartment. There were large standing monstera and fiddle leaf figs shoved into every corner and pots of dark green pothos bolted into the walls trailing vines to the ground so that every wall looked alive. Jasmine crept along the wall behind the tv that sat on an antique credenza between the two windows, sending the bright scent into the living room.

There was a large rectangular box bolted in the space above your sink where herbs and tomatoes hung down, probably a fire hazard, but you didn't care. The vibrant smell of mint, the spicy smell of rosemary, and soft tones of oregano and basil fused the air in your apartment with a life force that was impossible to ignore.

A large apple tree grew in a pot as big around as you next to the couch, with brilliant red apples hanging from it's branches, while a lemon tree and a tangerine tree intertwined their branches just behind the kitchen table. The refrigerator, once white, was covered in the tangled vines of blackberry and raspberry, hanging with full fruit, while a potted strawberry plant sits prettily on top of the kitchen table, the bright red fruit enticing.

It was a lot. You knew it was a lot, but helping plants grow was the only thing you were good at, the only thing that felt right. One day you hoped that you could move somewhere and open a farmers market, but today you were stuck here, with Soldier Boy, who probably thought that you were crazy.

"I mean. I knew you had plant powers but this is-" He begins to say.

"A lot. I know." You roll your eyes. "The bathroom is down the hall." You gesture with your free hand towards the darkened hallway. "I guess I'll get you a pillow."

Ben is still looking around the room dumbfounded, as if he's never seen anything like this in his life, and he probably hasn't.

He's been in a Russian Lab for the past forty years, I mean he's probably not used to seeing anything this green.

You find the extra pillow in the linen closet along with one of the crocheted granny square blankets you made last year when Annie and you had a Jaws movie marathon, and a towel, before you move back into the living room.

Ben is still standing awkwardly by the couch as if he's not sure what to do, and it's the first time you've seen him look lost.

"Here." You throw him the pillow and the towel before you drape the blanket over the back of the couch. "One night."

"Why are you working for Butcher?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard. You were expecting him to make another pass at you, maybe check you out again. He was looking at you, but it was different, his gaze was softer, curious.

"You don't seem like you-" He gestures around the room. "Like you fit."

You blink for a second. "Um."

"I mean Annie used to be one of the Seven, Hughie does whatever the fuck Butcher tells him, but you you're different." His brow furrows together as if he can't figure you out.

"I really don't want to do this with you."

"This?" He looks confused again.

"Opening up with one another. You're here for one night. That's it." You force yourself to say, but the reality was you were still surprised, surprised that he actually seemed to care.

Stop. He's changing tactics because nothing else worked. He's pretending to care about you because he still wants to sleep with you.

"Please."

You can't answer for a second. It was the first time that he'd said that word in front of you before, or acted this way. It was also the first time that it had just been the two of you, before Butcher had been there or Frenchie or Annie and Hughie, but this was the first time that the two of you had been left alone.

Maybe that's why?

You hesitate before you answer, he was the last person you really wanted to open up to.

"I don't know, it's not all that bad." You shrug. "Before I didn't really use my powers all that much except like this." You gesture around the room for emphasis. "And when I went to college everyone was so serious about their futures and I didn't really like any of the classes. The only thing I enjoyed was using my powers at Please Don’t Die, the plant store I work at. And then Annie asked me to come help her out-" You bite your cheek. "She's my best friend and maybe I wanted to spend more time with her."

"But is it what you really want?" He cocks his head to the side, holding the pillow in one hand and the towel in the other.

You'd never seen him look so calm before, relaxed, like being here with you was washing away any anger or frustration he still had about the past. It was confusing, and at the same time you could feel your heart beginning to betray you. It was hard not to fall for him when he looked so good, eyes soft, dark hair falling into his eyes, clothes still dripping rain on your hardwood floors.

No. I will not fall in love with him, I will not fall in love with-

"Goodnight Soldier Boy. I'll see you in the morning." You turn to go, ignoring his final question.

"You can call me Ben." He almost whispers it, the sound of his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

"What?" You look back at him.

"You never call me Ben. But you can, if you want." He shrugs his shoulders, before he shakes his head as if he's annoyed with himself for suggesting it. "Never mind, just fucking forget about it-"

"Goodnight Ben." You feel the end of your mouth twitch up into a smile and with that you disappear into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

And deep down you know that it's not to keep him out, but to keep you in.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you liked this story be sure to read my follow up fic that takes place in the future:

Open Mic Night!

Or if you'd like to read another series please try:

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

If The Stars Wish It So

A/N: I know it's crazy to start another series right now, but I'm kinda feeling this reader and Ben together? What do y'all think about it?

A/N: Update I've made a huge mistake and started another series.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

(Photos for series picture from Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #soldier boy x you #hughie campbell #jensen ackles soldier boy #billy butcher #soldier boy/ben #jensen ackles #the boys fanfic #the boys amazon #jackles #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #the boys fanfiction #annie january

912 notes · View notes

rainyorca · 9 months ago

Text

Rebirth 𓆗 Kenji Sato x Reader

Content warnings: F!reader, smut, pnv, cunnillings, long form, angst/comfort, no established relationship.

Summary: You aren't the type to date one night stands, however, after a rather compelling night with Kenji, you may reconsider.

Notes: I dropped one of my other works to work on this one, the idea came to me in the middle of the night and is slightly inspired by Love song By Rihanna. This one came from the heart, a little self reflecting in there but I find works where the author can reflect on are often times the best ones, a little bit more significant. Anyways I hope you guys like this one <3 I took a little inspiration from @spurbleu please go read their works!

Words: 7,987

MDNI

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

It all started as a simple one night stand, or so you thought. You’re not the type to date your one night stands, as it was something you deemed….inappropriate, just simply not something you're comfortable with. He doesn't really seem like the type to have time for a relationship anyways, given he’s a famous baseball player, which you weren't aware of at first, ironic his face was plastered all over Tokyo but you didn't care enough to pay attention. Why would he waste his time on you? But also, the overall idea of being in a relationship with a celebrity makes your head hurt, you have no desire to be the center of attention, especially with someone like him by your side.

But you always thought about it.

In truth, you always thought about him, whenever you had time to think. You remember the first night he brought you home, you weren't expecting much, given the way he acted when you met him. He was arrogant, egotsictal, but he was cute so you gave him a chance, flirting with him in hopes of getting what you wanted, just a quick fuck and you’d go, like usual.

However, there was a new found deepness in the way he kissed you, the softness and genuine feeling of his touch, the way he would moan your name, or even simply say it. It awoke something in you, made you realize something, you’ve never felt that kind of profoundness before and it uprooted some new feelings in you. That night, you sat awake in his bed, your mind replaying what had just happened.

Even before he gently opened your legs that night the whole experience between getting to his house was incredibly different, a sweetness in his eyes as he watched you admire the vastness of his place. How he would ask questions before to make sure you were comfortable, even offering you something to drink or a quick snack before he brought you to his room. Usually with your other hookups, your hands are already on each other as soon as you get through the door, even in the Uber or ride to someone’s place, but taking a breather before getting into things was nice, significantly better than what you were expecting.

The usual guilt after the climax always hits you, and it did this time just not as strong. You couldn't help but wonder if this is really what you wanted to keep doing, if you wanted to keep hooking up with random people. Another thought slithered its way into your brain, fangs sinking into the organ, intruding your thoughts. This was the most honest, real, one night stand you’ve ever had.

Something about the way he looked at you before kissing you, the way he spoke softly to you the whole night, how gentle he was, and most importantly how he cleaned you up afterwards, gingerly holding your legs apart. You stared at the softness of his face, noticing every little detail from the faint (but visible) eyebags to the beauty mark on the right side of his face, just a little below his bottom lip. His focused expression and relaxed posture made your heart swell, and the way he would praise you while he cleaned you up. Saying things like “you did so good” or “you took me so well.” He even asked about you, how you were feeling while he carefully helped you get your panties back on, mindful of your shaking hands. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Questions about you, paying no mind to himself. God, it was torture, from his looks to his mere and genuine kindness, he had you wrapped around his finger and he didnt even know it.

Everything about him was torture.

That morning you awoke to his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, his sharp features softened, a quiet snore emitting from him. You sat up, his arms sliding down to your hips now. Staring outside one of his massive windows, you could see the reflection of you and him on the bed, his shirt fitted over your frame, once worn by him. It made your head throb, your heart ache. You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, still trying to really wrap your head around how you were feeling. Carefully, you slide out of bed, his arms dropping onto the mattress softly. You dress yourself, taking his shirt off and leaving it folded at the end of his bed. As you always do, even for your worst experiences, you left him a note, but trying to figure out what to say to him was difficult. You left without waking him, leaving him with the scent of wisteria on his pillow.

But really, you couldn't lie, you did leave your phone number on the note, saying if he needed anything or wanted to reach out to give you a call. To your surprise, he did, about a few days later. He had asked to meet up again, and you physically reacted. You didn't know if it was excitement or regret for leaving your number, seeing him again, after all this is what you wanted, right? Of course you still went, it would be crazy if you didn't. He had made a nice dinner which you two shared and talked over, it wasn't long after that, his hands were all over you, studying your body and taking in the canvas of your skin, desperate to decorate it with his own colors.

A part of you wanted to believe it wasn't just lust and rather he felt something for you too, but in situations like these it was hard to believe.. And when he moaned your name as desperate and softly as he did that previous time it was like it all came washing over you, cold water splashing onto your face, jolting you awake in the middle of the night. Kenji’s arms wrapped around you again, holding you a decent distance away but you could still feel his warmth. Three in the morning and you were wide awake, staring at his beautiful face, struggling with the viper in your head.

It became repetitive.

Kenji would invite you over, have dinner, maybe even watch a movie or swim in his pools and then he’d bed you again. The more you spent at his place, the more confused you were but the deeper in love you fell. You didn't want to ruin what you two had going on and most of all you were terrified, fear stopping you from asking him out officially. What would he say? Would he laugh at you? He’s awfully arrogant sometimes. Would he end things with you, tell you to leave his house? If you did, would you ever see him again? Aside from the billboards, the Tv ad’s, not being able to see his face in person would destroy you.

But none of that really sounded like him, honestly. You wished you had the confidence, the power to say something, you were confident enough to flirt with him, to get him to fuck you but not confident enough to tell him you wanted to be with him. It was weird, something that seems so easy is so difficult for you to do, you felt like a little girl all over again, afraid to ask your crush out.

So you lay there, always up before him because that viper won't leave you alone. When you get home, you can't help but wonder, hope, that you're on his mind as much as he's on yours. It's pathetic, really. You tried seeing other people when you weren't wrapped around him, but it all felt empty to you, a cold spot on the bed. The others would treat you like any other girl, fuck you, leave you a mess, and then tell you to leave in the morning, something you were used to after spending years of this same cycle, and when they moaned your name it made you want to vomit. Nowadays, you leave before they can kick you out themselves.

And you always notice something about him, he only fucks you in the comfort of his bed. He never bends you over the table or sits you up on the kitchen counter, it’s always in the softness of his white sheets, surrounded by his room. Curtains halfway open, letting light pour in so he can see your face and so you can admire his.

You hated yourself for this, you wished you never got caught up in this lifestyle. You don't even remember why you started, desperate for love maybe, touch deprived? It's all blurry to you now. Eventually, you stopped hooking up with other people, but you stayed with Kenji. Your heart wouldn't let you leave him. And you know, his face has probably been buried in tons of other girls' thighs, even the days when you're not with him. But when he was buried between your legs, mouth working expertly at your core, deep eyes staring up at you, you couldn't help but feel, maybe he gave you better treatment than the others. Your love for him dripped out of your core, seeped into his mouth, staining his tongue, but he was too blind to taste it.

You wanted him, not in a sexual, carnal way but in a loving, passionate, devoted way. You wanted to be in his possession, you wanted to be his girl. You would whine his name, countless times as he reached your sweet spot perfectly, hoping he feels that same shudder, that same tingle when he would moan yours. The feeling of love in just the simplicity of a name.

One night you got home from work, a hectic day weighing on your shoulders, Kenji had texted you, asking if you wanted to come over. You broke down, suddenly, randomly, sobbing into your hands while you sat on your knees. You don't know why you cried, maybe stress from the rough day you had, or maybe it was because of him, oblivious, unaware, him.

“Oh, okay.” he said over the phone, his voice echoing into your ears. “Is everything okay though?” Perhaps he could hear your sniffles, your quiet sobs.

“I’m fine,” you responded, simple and quick. “Just had a rough day.”

He said, “I understand, if you wanna talk about it—-you know I'm here, always.”

You had tensed up, feeling sick to your stomach all over again. He sounded unsure, like he knew you were crying but didnt want to push, like hes never never had to comfort someone hes fucked before, only when theyre sore and hurting. You felt bad, wiping your tears as you tried to settle down after the rather short phone call. Again you were left wondering if he was thinking about you, that viper curled its scaled body around your mind, squeezing.

On the rare nights he would cancel, he was busy and didn't want you coming over too late, he would offer to give you some release over the phone. Always putting your pleasure first, that's what he's done since day one. When he called you that first time, it surprised you, he cared enough about you that he still wanted to help you out in some sort of way. You'd tell him you were fine, to enjoy whatever it was he was doing and usually that would be that. But sometimes he catches you at the right time, when you're frustrated, needing release. He’d talk you through it over the phone, drinking up the sound of your soft moans as you pleasured yourself to his voice. His voice, god. It was the most devastating, siren-like melody you had the honor of hearing. He knew all the right ways, tones, words to get you off. His voice was indescribable, he could literally call you by your name and you’d be on your knees, it always sounded best after his own release. Once you were finished he’d talk to you a little more, at least until you stopped responding, and then he would hang up.

He owned you, he owned your thoughts, your feelings. It was terrible, absolutely terrible.

The real eye opener was a few months into this situationship, after you had gotten rid of your other hookups, right around the time baseball started picking up again. He grew busier so seeing him, being able to feel him after not being able to in a while was rewarding. You remember it so clearly, he was buried deep inside you, his eyes closed and mouth agape as he pushed himself to his release, soft moans and grunts coming out of his mouth. That was when he finally released and upon the bliss, he spoke freely.

“I love you,” he gasped, not once, but multiple times, “I love you—love you….so much.”

That was it for you, really it was. The once tears of pleasure turned into something deeper and you cried in front of him (unnecessary, embarrassing tears you would tell yourself). He didn't realize at first, his head was resting on your collar bones as he caught his breath, settling down from his release. But your quiet whimpers and sobs made him sit up, his expression changing when he saw you crying. He knew it wasn't a cry of pleasure, you were full on sobbing, covering your eyes and wiping them with your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, pathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

Confused and bewildered, Kenji cups your face with both hands. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, “no need to apologize, are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you choke out, grabbing his hands as he holds your face, “no–” You couldn't even get the words out, it was embarrassing, choking on mucus and struggling to breathe. You weren't sure why you were crying, maybe because you felt bad, maybe because his words set you off, but why?

“Then what's wrong?” he pushed on, his voice as gentle as ever. “You can talk to me.”

You never told him, instead you continued to cry like a baby, until he pulled you into his chest, holding you tight. One of his hands running up and down your back soothing you until your sobs quieted to sniffles and then went silent. He was up before you the following morning, still rubbing your back softly, listening to your breathing, chest stained and damp with your tears. You left your mark on him that day, unnoticeable to the naked eye, but seen by him.

For once, you thought about praying, praying to whatever god there was, up there watching you. It's not like you were asking for the world, you were just asking for him, is he really too much to ask for? A few days later, he had hit you up, asking if he could come over this time. So he showed up at your place, standing in the doorway while the rain pelted down, soaking his clothes and hair.

God he was beautiful, he looked so good standing in the rain you couldn’t even find the words to express it. A tingle goes up your spine, making you shudder, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little turned on right now. That was his effect on you, just merely the sight of him can get you excited, turn you on, sometimes you even questioned yourself if it was your libido making you feel this way, but you knew it wasn’t, it was more.

You gave him a towel to dry off as he looked around your apartment, given it was his first time in here. The first thing he noticed was the smell, your place just smelled like you. It was earthy and floral at the same time, hints of jasmine. He looked at your bookshelf, multiple books of all genres, dusty and showing that they hadn’t been cleaned in a while, a clear give away to the state of your mind. You make him some tea, butterfly pea for yourself and regular green tea for him, setting them both on the coasters of your wooden coffee table. Kenji sat down on your couch, the towel resting on his broad shoulders. You sat next to him, feeling the awkward tension, averting your gaze. His fingers tap on his cup, as if he’s debating on bringing up what had happened a few nights ago, he’s tense.

“So, I didn’t just come here to-“

“I know,” you interrupt him, “I know.”

“You never told me what happened that night,” he continues, cautiously, watching your face for any change. You turn to look at him, pressing your lips into a line before trying to speak.

“It was-“ you stop yourself, “I was just having a rough day, that was it. Sometimes it catches up to me at the wrong times, I’m sorry.” It was a lie, of course it was. You didn’t want to tell him what it really was, especially now of all times. It’s silent for a few moments until he suddenly reaches over, grabbing your face with one of his large, gentle hands, scooting closer to you. “Hey, there’s no need to apologize,” he responds softly, “you should've said something earlier.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. Moments like these are what makes you feel like there's more to this, more than just the sex but still, you keep your mouth shut.

He’s gotten more stingy with his time, finding it hard to see each other. A part of you wonders if he's chosen to move on after what happened the past week, wondering if he decided to drop you completely. You wouldn't blame him if that's what he was doing, at least he was letting you off easy. His texts and responses were still the same but they became slower and eventually you stopped texting him, it was foolish anyways, pointless. Why in the world would he freely talk to you, waste his time, when you two aren't even together? When you were bored, you would find yourself watching his games on the Tv, or at least whenever they came on. You would focus on him the entire time, ignore every other player, he was your star, your black sheep.

You questioned if he would even enjoy seeing you at one of his games, after all he never invited you, you would have to invite yourself. So you did, the next game you went ahead and bought a ticket, clearing your plans for the night just to watch him play. Your seat was pretty good, you could see his face clearly from where you were sitting. His focused face always made you smile, always made you flutter, he was so indescribably charming it hurt. You kept your cheers quieter than everyone else, but it wouldn't really matter if you didn't, you would be fitting in with the crowd, but a part of you didnt want him to look up and somehow notice you, it would be hard to pick you out of this huge audience anyways.

After the game, you decided to stay, somehow finding where the locker room was, surrounding yourself with wives, even children of the other players, in a way you kinda fit in. You don’t know what motivated you to go there, maybe the ache between your legs? After seeing him play you couldn’t help it, something about a man with ambition, a man with passion.

You were still sticking out like a sore thumb, nervously tapping your foot and feeling uncomfortable, it was obvious, you were just too dumb to realize. Your eyes bore into the door, waiting for him to come out, a new found nervousness filling your soul. “Psst,” someone tries to get your attention, you didn't realize it at first until a lady bumped shoulders with you. You turn to look at her, brown eyes meeting yours. She was older than you, probably around thirty maybe even forty but you dont assume.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she says, voice friendly, “do you know one of the players?”

“I guess you could say that,” you respond quietly, trying to find a way to explain who you were to Kenji but most people wouldn't take “we hook up all the time” as an answer. So you kept quiet until she spoke again.

“Which one? I'm curious.” She pressed on, her tone dripping with some type of underlying excitement.

You clear your throat, feeling a little awkward.”Um, Ken–Kenji, Sato,” you try to keep your voice from sounding too shaky, worried she might assume you're an obsessive fan.

“Oh!” she exclaims, laughing lightly, tossing her head back and gesturing with one of her hands, “I’ve never seen anyone come see him, it's about damn time.”

You can tell she's just joking a little, you smile as a response. “God wow,” she says suddenly, sounding astonished, “you have a beautiful smile, absolutely gorgeous, wowww.”

“Oh,” the random compliment makes you smile a little wider, “thank you.” She nods, looking back at the door but then turning to you again.

“You're a real pretty girl, you know,” she hums, crossing her arms, “and you seem nice, I mean you came to one of his games. Sato must feel really lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That word, the word you avoided for so long, what a terrifying thing to be called.

“Oh, I’m–” you stop yourself, should you tell her or not? What's the chance of her bringing it up to her husband and then he says something to Kenji. “He's not my boyfriend, we’re just friends,” you settled with that, she seemed to be a little surprised and ... .upset?

“Oh but you like him,” you blink at her, the response unexpected, “a mother always knows, I can see it all over your face.”

Warmth spreads over your face, painting your cheeks a gorgeous shade of red and she notices, chuckling to herself. “I’ll tell you what I always tell my daughter,” she says, her tone morphing into something more firm, she turns her whole body towards you now, “it's always good to tell them before it's too late, you never know what’ll happen.”

Were you really about to express your feelings to a random middle aged woman? “But,” you start, shifting uncomfortably, “what if he doesn't like me?” You sound pathetic, like how you did in highschool, crying to your mom because you were confused on why you couldn't love the way others did. You suddenly felt bad for your highschool lover. The real question you should have asked is why do you feel uncomfortable at the mere thought of being in a relationship.

“His loss,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “but all you can do is accept and move on, it sucks and it hurts for a while but it gets better, trust me.”

It was nice talking to her, you don't talk to your mom anymore since moving to Japan, she also just doesn't approve of your lifestyle. Having no friends(too distracted, driven by lust to try) made it hard to get advice or even someone to talk to about problems. Having someone to tell you this made you feel a little better, opened your eyes.

“I guess you're right,” you mutter out, “thank you for the advice.” You smile a close lipped smile at her and she returns it. The locker room door opens and the first few players start to spill out, greeting their wives and children. Her husband comes out next and she turns to greet him, smiling widely as she wraps her arms around him. You can't help but feel envious, until Kenji walks out, hair messy and his bike helmet under his arm. Holding your breath, wondering if you should go up to him, his eyes scan the area, like he's looking for someone, then they lock onto you. You can feel yourself shaking, worried he’d be upset that you're here, especially after not talking in a while. His expression is unreadable for a few moments and then he smiles, you can't tell what type of smile it was. Happy? Surprised? Hiding disappointment? He walks over to you, a mixture between his cologne and sweat wafts into your face when he stops in front of you.

“What're you doing here?” he asks, his tone playful.

“Just thought I’d pay a visit,” you breathe, shoving your shaking hands into your pockets. “You played really well today.”

Before he can talk, the woman from before taps on your shoulder, you look and she quickly hands you a sticky note before smiling at Kenji and then walking off with her husband. Kenji raises an eyebrow, watching the woman leave and then looking at you.

“What was that about?” he questions, chuckling softly. You read the note, squinting at her cursive handwriting.

I can tell by the way he looks at you, he is so in love. Shoot your shot and if you need anything, call me :)

Her phone number was left under those words. “Just a friend I made while waiting,” you respond, shoving the paper into your pocket.

“Making friends now?” he nudges you, making you laugh softly. He must've found out about your loneliness a long time ago, something you both had in common but never spoke about. You walk out with him, passing by the other waiting wives.

And of course, he invited you over and you agreed, almostly immediately. Needing release, from your thoughts (thick scaled viper squeezing at your flesh), from your pent up arousal after not seeing him in what felt like an eternity. You were the one that latched onto him first this time, most commonly he starts it. Sooner than later he has you on his bed, legs spread, one captured between his in an attempt to keep you stiil. He lays on the side of you, fingers buried in your cunt while his lips stay attached to your throat, your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close. Cries of pleasure spill out your mouth, his name like a prayer on your lips. The sweetness from his kisses stuck on your tongue. Your back arches off the bed when your first peak washes over you, making you sob out his name sinfully as you always do, music to his ears.

“You have no idea–” he grunts, his tip now nudging at your entrance before sliding into you slowly, his jaw clenches until he's fully inside you, “how good it felt to know you were watching me play.”

He practically fucked you like he was thanking you, clearly appreciating your presence. For once your mind didn't wander other places(the viper loosened), too focused on the feel of his cock pressing against your sweet spot and his moans to even think about anything else.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “My girl, my good girl.” Those simple words always made you crazy, a moaning mess in short. It sounded so filthy during the moment but afterwards, when he's bathing in the afterglow, chest heaving, the words leave his lips again, and they sound less sinful, more fond and tender.

The next few weeks you ponder on what that lady had said to you, debating on texting her, asking her for more advice. As baseball started to come to a close, Kenji started having more availability. You started to invite him to more casual things, like coffee at your favorite cafe or a walk in the park just to talk. The whole time he was around you, a permanent smile worn on your face, he talked to you like you were more important than anyone in the world, however your time together was never long. This new feeling bubbled up inside you, happiness for once? Maybe excitement that you finally get to be around him without the sound of skin against skin. You invited him over to your place for some wine one night, sitting in your living room, music playing softly in the background while you two drank until your faces were warm and red.

“Do you see other girls?”

Fuck.

The question came off your drunken lips, a sober thought meeting your intociaxted mouth. You realized shortly after that you fucked up, quickly tensing up and waving your hands dismissively.

“I'm sorry,” you rush, “that just came out, I don't really mind if you do, it wouldn't change anything.” His face was unreadable, but he turned to stare down into his glass.

His response is simple, “No.”

“You're the only one,” he continued after a few seconds, “I stopped seeing other people a while ago.”

Your face heats up as if it wasn't hot enough already, a drunken smile on your lips, unnoticable by him. “Okay, sorry I asked,” you huff, deciding not to refill your glass this time, instead just setting it down on the coaster.

“What about you?”

His question probably catches you off guard as much as yours did. “I couldn't bring myself to do it,” you admit, “I did for a while but then things got complicated, so I cut everyone off, stopped going out to try and find sex and just settled with you.”

The silence is uncomfortable for a moment, until he speaks again. “Why?” simple, just like his response.

You bit your lip, staring at him and then looking away to avoid eye contact. “I….” you didn't want to admit anything now, not when you're intoxicated at least, “I just didn't want to see anyone else.”

He's silent again but then he hums, drinking down the final drops of red liquid before sitting back on your couch. “Come here,” his voice is quiet but strong, beckoning to his side with his hand. You hesitate but slide over to him, laying your head on his chest as his arm comes to wrap around your waist. Thoughts swarm your head (the viper slithers into action once again), but they are quieted when he speaks again (the ear bleeding hiss, silenced).

“I didn’t wanna see anyone else either.”

Mentally you smile, physically you probably made a weird face he couldn't see but you stayed quiet, listening to his heartbeat through his clothes.

𓆙

The thought about what that lady said to you lingered in your mind. You’ve known Kenji for a year now, fucked him for a year now, at this point you shoudlve told him, save yourself the suffering. The winter was long, nights growing ever the more longer, you found yourself reaching out to him for warmth rather than just sex.

And to your surprise, you came home after work to a freezing apartment, your heater had broken leaving you with nothing but sleepless nights in your freezing bed. You had complained to company numerous times until they finally got someone to come by and take a look, and to make things worse, it would take longer than usual for them to fix. You weren't really sure why, you weren't the only one having this problem in the complex, numours people had left because they were taking so long to fix them. Out of options, and exhausted, you called Kenji. You were worried he would decline but he agreed without hesitation. So, you packed up some clothes, your necessities and headed to his house that night.

It was safe to say he was pleased by your company, upon living alone himself, despite having a supercomputer floating around, he still loves you being around. He respected your space, fed you, made sure you knew where everything was. Mina would talk to you when he was gone, you freely asked her questions about him, oftentimes she would give you a schedule of what he had going on today and when he would be home.

Before he would get home from whatever he was doing that day, you would cook for him on your days off of course. He’s a late eater, assumingly due to him coming home late from practice or games, so you always start cooking a few minutes before he arrives. He comes home, smiles when he sees you in the kitchen, walks over to you and snakes a hand around your waist, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before disappearing somewhere into his huge house. Moments like those made you forget you weren't in an actual relationship, you don't even know what you would call it, friends were too simple, lovers were too complicated. Friends with benefits would be overlooking everything, you two were not close like friends but you two still hung out, had sex, no strings attached they would say. But still, there was never a right label to describe what you and Kenji were, so no labels were used, by either of you.

Sleep was still hard to come to, difficult in such a large bed, you would turn to your side, expecting him to be there but he wasn't. Sometimes you would hear a faint beeping sound, then some rustling outside your room, a low rumble below you and then silence. It happened often, not so often it was repetitive, but often enough it made you curious, too curious.

One night after the rumbling stopped, you left your room, tentatively heading to his room. You opened the door to see his bed was empty, your heartbeat quickened, slowly stepping into his room until Mina called your name from behind you. “Where’s Kenji?” you ask, shutting the door softly behind you.

“His father asked for him,” she says simply, “you should go back to bed.” You were suspicious, there was no way his father was calling him at two in the morning, his dad was old but not that old that he couldn't take care of himself. However, you listened, heading back to your room, opening the curtains of the massive windows to look out at the ocean, something you always found peace in.

And then, you heard him come home around an hour later, hesitantly you go out to greet him. You catch him right as he’s about to go to his room, making him stop in his tracks and stare at you. He takes in your slightly exposed form, all you had on was a shirt and panties, acting as if he hasn’t seen you naked before.

“You’re up?” He questioned, his face confused, he looked guilty of something. You stare at him for a few moments, blinking tiredness out of your eyes until you settle with a sigh, not questioning where he’s been.

“I can’t sleep,” is what you settle with, yawning to make it more believable. A soft smile graces his face, and then he beckons you to follow him, so you do. For once since high school, you sleep in until noon, face buried in his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent.

You knew something was up, you’ve always been good at figuring things out and Kenji was a terrible liar, also terrible at hiding things in general. You wanted to be respectful, mind your business and not act like an overbearing lover, if that’s what you would even call yourself, but you were desperate to know his little secret. That viper squeezed a little tighter these past few days.

So you waited for him to come home after disappearing, sitting up in his bed with the lamp on, you had grown accustomed to sleeping with him rather than in your own bed, after all it was just a few more days until your heater got fixed and you wanted to savor this feeling as long as possible. Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, watching all the news about Ultraman and the recent, ongoing Kaiju attack. The door opened up to his handsome face, a visible cut on his lip still bleeding. Then it clicked for you, his awkwardness when coming in, the surprised look he had on his face. When he got in bed you hesitated to speak, but then he spoke for you.

“I’ve been keeping something from you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ve noticed…” you respond, trailing off slowly. You watch him seemingly debate with himself mentally, biting his cheek. He wets his lips with his tongue, some of the blood smearing but going unnoticed, he’s vulnerable right now, you tread carefully.

“Kenji, you can tell me anything you know,” you hum, putting your phone down, “nothings gonna change my view of you or whatever.”

“I’m Ultraman,” he blurts, looking more surprised than you. The expression on your face is probably what made him nervous, really he didn’t know what response you would give him.

“Oh,” you say, quickly softening your face, “um well that’s something.” He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. “Still, that doesn’t change anything,” you continue, pushing the blankets off and crawling on top of him, straddling him.

You cup his face, your thumb on his bottom lip, wiping off the excess blood. “You’re still the same Kenji I know,” you sigh, wiping the blood off on your shirt. He makes a face, like he’s surprised but disgusted by what you had done, he starts to smile slowly.

“Being a…twenty foot tall metal man doesn’t change how I feel about you,” your words make him raise a brow and it was then when you realized what you had just said. “And how do you feel about me?” He teases, grabbing your hips to hold on to you, his demeanor shifting slightly.

“The same way I always have,” you quickly try to change the subject, planting a kiss on his lips, “anyways you should get some sleep.” He holds you still, his grip on you tightening as you try to get off of him.

“I’m not tired,” he coos, running a hand up your shirt to feel the bareness of your body.

“Well I am,” you remark playfully, squishing his face with your hand before getting out of his grasp and settling down beside him. You reach over and then turn the lamp off, pulling the blankets back over you and closing your eyes. His secret was safe with you, and the fact that he was so trusting of you made you think, maybe it really isn't just his libido. Kenji stares at your back, a concerned expression on his face before he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in.

Your heater was fixed just a few days later and you left Kenji’s place with a heavy heart, standing in his doorway with your bag in your hand. It was weird, how you felt, that viper had become still for a moment and then it was back, hissing and sinking its fangs into your already hurting brain. You didn't know when you would see him again, but you knew it would be soon.

The night before you left, Kenji had shown you a picture, his face a mixture of emotions. “Who’s this?” you ask, pointing at the woman next to him, it was a dumb question but as stated before, you dont assume.

“My mother,” he responds plainly, the underlying hurt heard in his voice. He’s hurting, you can tell, and he's vulnerable. You dont push, instead you compliment her.

“She's beautiful,” your eyes scan over her still face in the picture, noticing the same, signature beauty mark Kenji has, “I see where you get your looks from.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips, smiling fondly.

The vulnerability he showed while you were staying at his house, made you fall ever more in love with him and it made you sick, the venom seeping into your brain and spreading throughout your body.

𓆙

Rain pours down outside, loudly pelting against the windows, sounding like hail. The sound drums loudly in your ears, making your head hurt for once. The grayish blue lighting seeps into the expansive space of Kenji’s living room, the city fogged and rain wrapped in the distance.

Placed on his lap, legs on either side, straddling him fully clothed, damp from the downpour outside. His clothes sticking to his skin, his chest and torso exposed under the soaked white fabric, visible to your searching eyes. Black panties pressed against his crotch, not in a teasing manner. Your shirt sticks to your skin but loosens as it dries in the chill of the room. Kenji’s eyes, gray and lustrous, staring up at your warm face, strong grip on your hips. His head rests on the arm rest, lifting it enough so he could get a good view of your precious body.

The viper is still, its fangs frozen deep in your consciousness.

His lips part, glossed over from the rain as well as his chapstick, he starts to speak. “You look so pretty like this,” he breathes, reaching up to feel your body, an empty canvas waiting to be painted, to be marked.

You shift, eliciting a rather warm noise from him, a moan in short. His cock desperately wanting freed from the prison of his pants. The fabric of his pants rubs against your throbbing clit through your panties, making you hum a soft tune of anticipation. The viper moves, its teeth itching further into your ruined brain. Chewing on your bottom lip, you move again, a little rougher this time.

“You’re tense,” he randomly points out, making you freeze, “relax, baby.”

“I am relaxed,” you remark, rutting against his clothed cock again.

“No, you're extremely tense, I can see it,” he pushes on, his voice hoarse, “keep your shoulders down.”

“I’m frustrated,” you admit, dipping your head down so all he sees is your hair while you mindlessly tug at his pants. He watches you, lifting his hips so you can pull his pants and boxers down to his knees.

“Then tell me,” he says suddenly, “tell me your frustrations, ride them out on me.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, “I hate you.” You move your panties to the side, slowly sinking down on him with a delightful moan.

He hums, watching you slowly grind against him, his tip already nuzzling against your sweet spot. The viper moves again, this time its scaled body curls around, tears suddenly stinging your eyes. This is the type of sex you liked, sensual, slow, the type he always gave to you. You grab one of his hands, interlocking your fingers together in a warm grasp, letting his hand rest near his head while you use it to steady yourself. “So beautiful,” he purrs, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, his other still gripping your hips.

“I hate how good you make me feel–” you cut yourself off with a shaky gasp, “and how–how…” He raises an eyebrow, watching you with an amused expression, waiting for you to continue. “Mmhm,” he hums, eyes closing briefly, devouring the feeling of your walls around his cock.

“You stress me out so much and you don't even know it,” you shudder, your body relishing the way he throbbed inside you, poking at your spot, “you really have no idea.” Playful banter at first, at least that's what he assumed, but you couldn't stop talking, couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“So I'm the cause of your frustration?” he asks, his voice sickeningly sweet and playing his part, a melody to your ears. You gasp, lifting your hips and then sinking back down on him again, slow and steady.

“Yes,” you whine hoarsely, “you're on my mind all the time, you have no idea how annoying it is.” His expression softens, going from a small smirk to a slight frown, he’s trying to debate if you were being serious or if you were still being playful.

“I'm on your mind…?” he questions, sounding unsure, a deep groan breaks from his throat.

“Fuck yes, all the fucking time,” theres a throb in your heart, “your like a fucking snake, squeezing my mind—mmmh—making my head hurt.”

“You have no idea how bad I want you,” you whimper, throwing your head back when you feel him suddenly buck up into you.

“But you have me already,” his voice is gentle, as sweet as candy, understanding.

“No, I don't,” you roll your hips, squeezing his hand, “No–” His other hand comes to caress your bare skin, sneaking up your wet shirt, his sounds of pleasure starting to pick up in volume. You clench around him.

“I don't understand,” he hums, “I'm right here, underneath you, feeling your body. I'm real, my love.”

“Don't call me that,” you hiss, “please.” Your plea ends in a whine rather than a firm word, his expression completely changes.��

“Do we need to stop?” puzzled, he sounds concerned. “No!” you exclaim, a little louder than you intended. “No, please don't stop, I don't wanna stop.”

He gives you a questioning look, but allows you to continue riding him, your orgasm starting to build up deep within you. “I don't have you, Kenji,” you keep talking, suddenly feeling a whole new wave of confidence, maybe it was your mind torn between pleasure and the truth, maybe you finally realized it's time, “and it's killing me.”

Endearing, that's what he thinks as you ride out your truth on him, spilling from both your cunt and tongue, staining him once again, but this time he can taste it, feel it, bathe in it. “You don't get it,” you sigh, keeping up with a steady pace, trying to bite back moans as you speak to him breathlessly.

He doesn't talk, doesn't say a single word, why would he need to if you can see it in his eyes? He wants to know more, wants you to keep going. “Im tired–tired of this,” heat pools in your stomach, the feeling of release drawing ever closer, “shit..”

“I've been keeping this quiet for so long, too scared to tell you anything because–because I didn't know what you would say or do,” the viper freezes, your orgasm approaching, tears starting to fall down your cheeks, onto his shirt.

A mixture between pleasure and pain falls onto him in drops, he reaches up, wiping your tears with his thumb. You grab his hand, holding it on your face while you start to ride him quicker, desperately.

“I'm in love with you,” you finally say, coming out more as a choked out sob than simple words,”I always have been.” You open your eyes hesitantly, looking down at him, unable to read his face. Expressive as he is, he had no physical reaction, he just stared at you, blankly.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, “I know I just ruined everything, but I needed—fuck—needed to tell you before i dug a deeper hole.” His hand still remained on your face, flush against the warmth of your cheeks. Then he smiles, soft and understanding, a mix of relief in there too.

You erupt into a whiny sob, digging your nails into the back of his hand. Your climax comes over you, a viper shedding its old, dulled, colorless scales into something new, bright, and colorful. Rebirth.

While you're riding out your orgasm, pulling his out of him too, he sits up, quickly adjusting himself, and he captures your lips into a kiss, passionate and heartfelt. Your arms curl around his neck, sobbing against his lips as you kiss him back, your grinding coming to a slow even pace and then stopping completely.

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away from your swollen lips, “as I always have.”

Kenji is a terrible liar, you can see in his eyes, he's telling the truth. More tears well up in your eyes, body shaking, tremors from your orgasm.

And then you cry again, a mixture between happiness and sadness, apologizing profusely as he pulls you in for a tight embrace, your tears staining his shirt that was once soaked with rain water.

°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °°｡ ⋆༺𓆙༻⋆｡ °

#ken sato #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #⋆｡𖦹°‧ukume!#ultraman rising #kenji sato smut #ken sato smut

430 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 6 months ago

Text

What's Mine

Summary: Bucky pushes you too far and decides to explain how your situation works. Or doesn't.

Word Count: ~2.3 k

Warnings: Dark Fic, Implied dub/non con, Power imbalance. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous Part; Next Part

It's been a few months since Bucky "claimed" you. He followed up on his promises of taking care of you. You frequently woke up to some surprise gift or another. One day it was a fully stocked kitchen. Another day it was the leak in the bathroom sink getting fixed. More than a few times it's been jewelry with his initials on it.

And all it cost was letting him use you. You swear a piece of your soul dies every time he makes you cum. Every time he coats you in his semen. Every time you match his fervor. It might not be so bad if he didn't gloat every time. That damn smirk haunted your dreams. Or was it nightmares? What was the difference anymore?

It had definitely affected your standing in the community. People were scared to interact with you. Fewer parents brought their kids to the library when you were there. Ruth and her friends had no problems calling you all sorts of degrading things under their breath. You definitely caught them giving you the evil eye more than a few times.

Part of you suspected that if you'd quit trying to fight him he'd lose interest. He liked when you were in a fiery mood. If you could just give in, give up, he'd likely stop using you. But you couldn't help yourself. You hated him. You hated yourself for enjoying the pleasure he gave. That hate needed an outlet.

You pull into your driveway, no longer surprised to see Bucky's bike there as well. You sigh, wondering if you can talk him into to leaving. You're exhausted. Walking into the house you don't even have a chance to take your jacket off before Bucky is on you.

"Bucky, please no. I'm just too tired."

He chuckles, "don't worry. I'm just really happy to see you. We're going out tonight."

You sigh, "I'd rather stay in."

"Then that means you have the energy for me all night."

"Ugh, fine. Where are we going?"

"I've got you an appointment at the tattoo parlor."

"WHAT?! I hate tattoos! I can't get any!"

He smiles as he growls at you, "you're going to get a tattoo just for me. No one else is going to be able to see it, but we'll know it's there."

"Isn't the jewelry enough of your 'ownership'? You even got me a brooch for my cardigans with your initials!"

Bucky licks his lips, "it was just the beginning, Doll. So far everything I've done to mark you are things that can wash away or heal up. This is the next step."

"I refuse," you declare, crossing your arms.

"Fuck, Doll, you're getting me riled up." He puts his arms on each side of your head, boxing you in against the wall. "And you're getting that damn tattoo. We can either go now, while you're still cleaned up, or after I've fucked your brains out and you're a cum covered mess."

"Fine," you drop your head. "Let's go to the tattoo parlor."

"Not yet." He grabs you chin and makes your look at him. "You need to thank me, first, Doll."

Bile rises at the back of your throat. "Thank you for letting me preserve my dignity."

He laughs. "Give me another," he taunts, using the same voice as when he's telling you to give him another orgasm. You hate yourself for the involuntarily clench your pussy does.

"Thank you, Bucky, for...for introducing me to Bunny. It is nice to have a friend." A friend who understands how fucked you both are, you think.

That gets a more sincere smile on his face. "It is important to me that you know my best friend and his girl. I'm glad you're good to them. Bunny is gonna need you when she's pregnant."

"What are friends for," you dryly reply.

"That's my good girl, Doll."

The tattoo is pretty much what you expected. His initials, right over your heart. If you wore anything low cut, it would be obvious. You were sure that was the point: can't even show a hint of skin without reminding everyone who it actually belongs to. At least it wouldn't be a problem at work, given you always dress conservatively.

By the time you're home Bucky is practically salivating at the memory of the tattoo on your chest. He might be eager to see this permanent mark of his claim on you but at least he's willing to follow instructions for proper care so it doesn't scar or make you sick. You made sure to thank him for that, knowing he likes to hear it, and he reiterates, "I take care of what's mine."

"Any chance I can just get some sleep tonight? I wasn't lying when I said I was tired."

"I'm all worked up, Doll."

"I thought you take care of what's yours," you snap back. "How is keeping me awake, not letting get good sleep, taking care of me?"

He grips your chin and gives you a thoughtful look. "I suppose you're right," he admits. "Even a vibrator's batteries gotta recharge every so often, right?" You roll your eyes and he grins. "But I'm going to hold you all night and when you wake up, it's on. I know you don't work tomorrow."

"Is that why you helped with my budget? So I'd have more free time to be your personal toy?" You can't fight the fire in your voice. You're tired, yes. Tired of being so angry all the time.

"Aww, you admit you're mine," he teases.

Unable to hold back any longer you smack his face. "I have never been so angry or tired as I have been since you showed up. You want to take care of me? You want me to be yours? Treat me like a fucking person!" Tears are pouring out of your eyes, the stress and frustration of the months finally finding a kind of release.

Bucky glowers at you and grabs your throat with his metal arm. "You shouldn't have done that, Doll."

"I don't care anymore," you croak.

That seems to catch him off guard as his hand loosens and his face softens.

"Oh, Doll," he shakes his head. "You really should've said something sooner." You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears start falling. He removes his hand from your throat and brings you in for a hug, causing you to cry even more. He pats your hair and coos, "there, there," until you can't cry any more.

"Let's get you to bed," he says quietly.

"I...I don't...I don't understand."

He gently lifts your chin, "you know, before Bunny ran, I tried to warn Steve he was being too controlling. That she was going to bolt. He didn't listen and, sure enough, she escaped. Wouldn't surprise me if she continued to try because he hasn't learned to loosen his grip. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes. Yes, you're mine and you'll never be rid of me. But that doesn't mean I can't be benevolent."

You sniffle as your brain tries to comprehend the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Now lets make sure that tattoo is properly cared for," he says with a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I...I hit you," you stammer.

"You're over-stressed and tired," he shrugs. "If I thought you were doing it just because you wanted to hurt me, yes, there would be repercussions. But I've apparently been overworking my poor Doll, so I'll forgive that one smack." His tone at that last part implies any more attempts to lash out at him will be punished.

"Thank you, Bucky," you murmur as you hang your head.

"Mmmm. That's more like it. Now let's get you to bed and tomorrow we'll work on your communication skills."

You wake up feeling like you're hungover without having had any alcohol. The delicious smells of breakfast lure you out of the bed, even though you dread meeting the cook.

Bucky's shirtless and smiling as he works. If you were in anything close to a healthy relationship you'd smile at how happy he is. Instead you keep your head down, trying not to think about that metal hand wrapped around your neck. About how those muscles feel pressed against your back, or on top of you.

He sees you and gestures for you to sit at the table. He brings you a plate of breakfast, a mug of coffee and kisses the top of your head before sitting across from you. You don't eat right away like he does, lost in your confusion about this change in behavior.

"Eat, Doll," he orders. "I didn't stock your kitchen and cook this up just for you to let it go cold."

"What is going on?" your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm taking care of my girl," he answers, nonchalantly. You look at him like you've never seen him before and he sighs. "Eat, or I will force it down your throat."

You grab a slice of the toast and start chewing. "Thank you, Bucky," you grumble and he nods in his approval.

"One of the differences between me and Cap is that I know I'm a monster," he tells you between bites. "He likes to think we've done all of this to keep his girl safe and give her the life she always wanted. I know better. But we've been best friends since we were kids. Ride or die, you know? So I'm always going to have his back. I've just made peace with the fact that it means ruining lives."

"You never tried to talk him out of it? Out of taking over an entire town?"

He shakes his head. "Steve's the kind of guy who can never be talked or distracted from his goal. One of the things I find endearing about him."

"So, he gets you all to take over everything here and you, what? Enjoy the spoils?" Feeling the bile rise at the back of your throat, you go for another slice of toast to try to settle your stomach while keeping Bucky happy.

"It's a balance," he grins. "We take over and just start doing whatever the hell we want, a lot of people are going to die trying to get rid of us. So we set up some rules for our men. People will remain upset, of course, but they're less likely to 'rise up' so long as we have a level of restraint. It's, honestly, the biggest part of my job as Cap's second."

You think on this for a minute, mindlessly eating. "I get why the town, but why me?"

He shrugs, "I needed the stress relief. It ain't easy keeping a crew in line and I was initially just hoping for a quiet spot to read to calm down. Then I started watching you. Saw you expertly handle all kinds of difficulties. When you snapped at me, I figured, like me, you could use some stress relief."

"Stress relief?!" He gives you a look that has you clamming up.

"And fuck you were so good," he muses. "That first photo is still the background on my phone." Heat rushes to your face. "I decided to go ahead and keep you as mine. You're not only a good fuck, but you were quick to befriend Bunny. Everyone else who sees her with Cap has decided to avoid her. Something I know you've been experiencing, even though you haven't told me." You look down, unable to say anything. "I honestly thought you liked the rough treatment and was happy to give it, but I'm guessing we hit a limit for you."

"You branded me," you snarl.

"No, I got you a tattoo. Branding is something else and would've hurt you a lot more." His tone is stern and you return your attention to your food. "You've played a critical role in helping me keep things under control. Plus, since you're my girl, you get some privileges and protections. You think Steve would've beaten up Walker for some random librarian? No. But for his best friend's girl? That's another story."

"So, you're just going to keep using me?"

"Yes," he nods. "And now that I know more about your limits, I'm less likely to get stabbed in my sleep."

You look at him, aghast, "that's why you never stayed the night before?"

Bucky chuckles, "so smart. I love it. And now that you have more information, hopefully you're smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together."

"If I hurt you, Steve drops everything to find and kill me. Probably painfully." He nods. "If I make you angry, you're likely to take it out on someone who doesn't deserve it or you lose control of your men for long enough that they hurt someone who doesn't deserve it." He nods again, smiling at you. "And if I stop playing along like everything is okay, it's another sign to the townsfolk that might set them over the edge and have them shooting, getting hurt, or worse."

Bucky finishes his breakfast, nodding at your conclusions. "God, I love that you're so smart. Makes a lot of this so much easier." You start sniffling and he reaches across the table to gently grip your chin. "I get that this is a lot to take in, Doll. But I know you'll make the right decision. If you really didn't care about this town, you'd have left when you only had a skeleton budget. You're willing to work yourself to the bone to take care of these people, you're willing to be mine to keep them safe."

"I can't say 'no'," you whimper.

"But it doesn't have to be all bad. Remember, I take care of what's mine."

Previous Part; Next Part

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly

#biker!bucky barnes x librarian!reader #dark!bucky barnes #biker!bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x librarian!reader #dark!bucky barnes x librarian!reader

328 notes · View notes

kira-fluff · 1 year ago

Note

I saw the “Sleeping with no pants on” headcanon and was wondering if you could do a pretty setter squad containing Atsumu, Kageyama and Akaashi please- ☁️

sleeping with no pants on | fem!reader x haikyuu!! [pt. 5]

a/n: i was not expecting everyone to be so obsessed with this prompt but I am LIVING for it. I love you guys so much 🩷 p.s. my lovely, atsumu is actually in pt. 1, but I'm going to switch for twinnie osamu, okay? 💕 also I'm so sorry i was gone for so long. busy busy busy working 3 jobs with college. forgive me if I'm a bit rusty. tw: sorta spicy idk

pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

osamu miya "hey, 'samu, 'samu." "hm." he replied in a grunt. "'m tired." the two of you had stayed up the entire night trying out new recipes that osamu had thought of when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. so, now here you were at midnight, sprawled out on the couch, exhausted. "'n go 't sleep." "don' wanna drive home." "'n stay." you murmured an acknowledgement, then began slipping off your pants. osamu immediately sobered from his tiredness. "wait, the hell are ya doin'?!" "'m goin' to bed, obviously." "ya can't just take yer pants off with a man in the house!" you let out a little scoff, "oh, get over it." but osamu's mind was already racing. he tried to act cool on the outside, but you were just in your fucking panties and acting like it was no big deal? why were you always so clueless around him??? did you really not see him as romantic material??? osamu couldn't help but stare at the round shape of your ass even as your long shirt covered you. he had scarcely time to begin devouring the sight of your legs when you cleared your throat. "are you.....staring... at me?" he cleared his throat and looked away. "...s-sorry.." you leaned in close, just below his ear. "ya know... if you really wanted it that badly, you could've said something.." you smirked, taking a blanket and covering up your lower half with a conceited smirk, walking away. "h-hey wait! the fuck did ya mean by that?!" he trailed behind eagerly. the rest of the night? well... "just friends" was no longer in either of your vocabulary anymore.

kageyama tobio you friends, after all, nothing more. and you didn't want to make it weird. weirder than it already felt having hidden feelings for your best friend. it getting late after a particularly long study session which involved you trying to drill basic math facts into a brain that only understood volleyball. it was a hopeless endeavor, but you took him getting anything above a "50" as a win. so, you continued to attempt to help him improve his grades. you supposed "attempt" wasn't necessarily the right word, as his scores were generally improving, but sometimes you found yourself wondering if there was really a point to it all after you spent the whole lesson trying to help him relearn everything he misunderstood in the lesson from that day. so here you were, exhausted, with your head down on your table at home, tobio sitting across from you. "hey, kageyama, let's just call it a night." he paused for a moment, then spoke. "....do you want to sleep with me?" if you had any liquid in your mouth, you're certain you would've had a comical spit take. "ah, um, WHAT?" you sputtered, trying to make sense out of what he said. he didn't mean it that way, did he? no, of course not. "it's... late." yep. just offering a place to stay. "it is. but there are still trains. i can take a late one." "just get in my bed." your eyebrows raised. "hey, tobio, a normal person would misunderstand what you just said..." he ignored you. "just sleep with me." your face took on a reddish hue the more times he said it... and he just didn't get it? why was he messing with your heart like this!?!? "um... there are different ways to say that. like... 'want to spend the night?'" "then, spend the night." "why are you being so pushy?" "because i like you." as a friend. yeah. we've been over this. "ok, ok, you've convinced me with the power of friendship. but I'm sleeping on the couch." "no." "yes." "no. my bed has enough room." "not for me!!" you laughed nervously. does this guy even have hormones? like, what the fuck? "....I'm going to go shower. I'll see you in my bedroom." does this guy not understand the meaning of no? still, you found yourself begrudgingly trudging over to his bed, especially after you saw his couch was made with the comfort of a burlap sack. I mean, if he offered, might as well take advantage right? what could go wrong? spoiler: everything goes wrong. you thought he was fast asleep. so, in the stealth of 1000 ninjas, you slid off your sweatpants for the sake of comfort. it wasn't weird, right? oh well. you were tired and damn did he like his room hot. you jumped when you felt him arms wrap around you. then, he stiffened. "...are you not wearing any pants?" "um... maybe..." he sighed. "are you trying to seduce me?" "n-no it's just more comfortable!" he turned you around so you were facing him. "well, whatever you're trying to do, it's working. I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep." "wait, is it because I'm making you uncomfortable?" he went silent for a moment. ".... you could say that." "I'll... just put them back on then. sorry. it's just that your room is really hot and-" "can I kiss you?" you blinked in disbelief. "can you what?" "kiss you" he answered without a beat. you spluttered some more as he slowly leaned it, asking for permission, silently this time. you nodded and closed your eyes. sparks flew as his lips moved against your own and you finally understood what he'd meant when he said "I like you". kageyama tobio was head over heels in love with you, and you hadn't a clue. until now. the two of you broke apart. "...can we... do that again?" he asked brazenly. you leaned forward again in reply.

akaashi keiji akaashi would rather die than confess to you the things he woke up at night fantasizing about. you'd likely be especially mortified if you discovered that one of your most embarrassing mishaps was on a frequent replay in akaashi's brain when he fell asleep. he was supposed to be a gentleman, not some gross pervert that looked at one of his best friends like... that. but since it was all in his dreams, it was impossible to "turn off" no matter how many times he tried to think about something else before he went to sleep. and so, let's recall The Incident shall we? he had come to your house late at night and knocked at the door, fully expecting to see you up and awake as it was the early evening. to his surprise, however, you answered the door groggily, eyes still bleary from exhaustion and sleep. the way you looked would be forever ingrained in his mind. you were blinking back the remnants of sleep, wearing one of his shirts. it hung low on you, but not low enough to cover your supple legs and the white panties that peeked out below the hem line of his shirt. you hadn't noticed yet, either. "... what d' ya need...?" you asked tiredly, rubbing your eye. akaashi swallowed harshly, his brain turned into complete mush. "uhh.. uhh...." goddamnit, MOVE YOUR EYES BACK UP TO HER FACE. were her legs always that long? STOP. when he still hadn't answered, you followed his gaze down to your lower half. he still remembers the succession of events as follows: you blushed, stammered, and then slammed the door in his face. you didn't talk to him for a week. after, you finally awkwardly explained that you sleep without your pants on and that you didn't realize you hadn't put anything on when you answered the door because you were so tired. it sucked that you ignored him. and even that you explained yourself. because all it did was bring those... memories... right back to the forefront of his mind. whenever he saw you in the hall and you'd flush and look away, he was immediately brought back to the sight of your bare legs. when you stumbled through your explanation, his mind reeled back to those white panties. and he hated it. what kind of friend looks at their friend that way? but he knew in his heart that what he was feeling for you was beyond sexual attraction when, in his dreams, you smiled at him. and told him you loved him. and so, what if he dreamt a little longer? hopefully you'd forgive him. and maybe someday he could tell you how you made him feel...

#haikyuu!!#kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi fluff #Akaashi keiji x reader #hq osamu #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader

848 notes · View notes

nishloves · 2 years ago

Text

jelly; yuji itadori (jujutsu kaisen)

yuji itadori (jujutsu kaisen) x f! reader // fluff oneshot //

words : 1.5k // masterlist

requested by @feat-sun

hey there sunny! i sincerely hope this is upto your expectations and that you like this little oneshot which I wrote (I'm sorry that it's rather short) yuji is such a walking green flag and it was so fun to write him 😭🩷 also let's pretend that sukuna is prolly hibernating inside yuji's brain (coz i didn't know how to add his snarky remarks in the fic 🥲) also, hope it's to your liking <3

"yuji~" a small pout graced your features as you laid your head on yuji's shoulder while he gamed, too oblivious to your pout and desperation.

you just wanted cuddles and he wasn't giving you any, you understood he couldn't just turn the game off and spoil you and you didn't want to seem like someone who would deprive her boyfriend of games but you were feeling clingy and yuji not paying attention to you did slightly hurt a little.

"yuji," you reluctantly whispered in his ears as your boyfriend just hummed, "y/n, give me like fifteen minutes please, todo and I are nearly going to wipe this round off!" he announced, burying himself deeper in his video game as you pulled away from him.

you could vaguely hear todo's voice asking yuji if he can still play the round and your boyfriend immediately said a yes with so much hype that it almost made your pouty mood foul.

you realised you weren't gonna get any attention from him, so you switched to the next best thing, megumi.

you got up from your boyfriend's side and went over to megumi's room, who looked at you lazily and allowed you to come in.

"itadori annoyed you?" megumi asked as he passed you a can of coke which you happily took.

"precisely. i don't really think it's his fault though, maybe I'm just being clingy and desperate," you groaned, sipping your drink as you settled yourself on fushiguro's bed who scowled at you as he had just made his bed.

"it's not bad to want your partner's attention," megumi muttered.

"but atleast lay down like a person, not an animal," he smacked your leg as he sat on his bed's edge, thinking about how to retain his peace back and help you without offending you.

"not my fault that you're grumpy, grandpa," you muttered, nudging fushiguro with your toe as he sighed in exasperation.

and then something clicked in his brain,

"hey, you had a crush on inumaki, right?"

"mhm yes."

"how did you go from inumaki to itadori is beyond me, but why don't you hang out with him?"

"inumaki?" you asked, your eyebrows quirking up.

"yeah, you used to like him so maybe you won't leech off attention from him," he rolled his eyes as a grin embarked on your face.

maybe megumi didn't mean that it will help making yuji jealous but that's what you thought.

you suddenly got up from his bed and left the can on his bedside as megumi called after you, while you just grinned in his direction and saluted him before taking your leave.

"did i accidentally do something?" megumi whispered to him himself as he smacked his head on the bed.

you rushed towards inumaki's room, a small smile on your face as you knocked on his door.

"good morning inumaki!" you greeted as inumaki's eyes turned into crescents on your arrival.

"kelp." (greetings)

"well, yuji is busy, so i was just wondering if you would you know... like to go to the market with me? i was thinking to buy some clothes and accessories," you said, a bashful smile on your face.

"tuna mayo?" (me?)

"yes!"

"tuna tuna" (do you really trust my skills?)

"i do, and it will be more fun if I have someone with me, so please?" you asked, trying your best to seem convincing as inumaki sighed, a small smile evident on his face as he replied, "salmon." (okay)

as much as fun you were having with inumaki, it was better posting every picture you took with him on social media; a picture where you both are grinning next to each other, another where you dressed inumaki up with jewelries and a girlish hat, another where you both hid your faces beneath ridiculous masks and another which you took next to beach and the best of all, you captioned the post with "a platonic date" and inumaki commented with red hearts on it.

now amidst the outing, inumaki had himself understood the meaning behind your actions, but you were really so sweet to be around that he didn't say anything, well why should he when he was having so much fun too?

"thankyou so much, leaving my intentions aside, i really did enjoy the outing," you grinned at inumaki as he smiled at you slightly. his eyes looked away from yours to the scenery as he said, "oh salmon cod roe." (hey look here)

you whipped your head around to where inumaki was pointing and it was the prettiest sunset you had seen, pinkish sky with hues of blue still lingering, clouds framed the sun as slight wind blew on the beach, you grinned and clicked a picture of it, and then a picture of inumaki with the sunset, and then posted it too.

"salmon tuna mayo kelp roe cod," (you're really going after yuji, aren't you? even he will get jealous of that.)

"I am," you affirmed as you chuckled, a small smile on your face as you found yourself lucky for having such great friends.

"thankyou so much."

"mustard leaf." (it's okay)

now when you had returned, maki had called inumaki over for some second year discussion and your eyes fell upon megumi and then on yuji who was talking to gojo behind megumi.

another wild thought crept up to your mind as you rushed towards megumi to give him a giant bear hug almost making the poor guy fall, but as cold as megumi was he was still very tolerant of you and he still reciprocated the hug.

you could feel yuji's eyes boring into you and you could see gojo's lips quirking up as he understood just what was going on.

"thanks for the drink today megumi," you gushed as fushiguro slightly patted your head.

as soon as you pulled away from megumi you eyes landed on another pair of kind brown ones, his face contorted in a frown as he looked away from you, you giggled as gojo whistled, "I think there's some talking due here so~"

he pulled both you and itadori together as yuji whined for being dragged.

"nu-uh you both are gonna talk and we," he pointed towards himself and megumi, "are gonna leave."

he pushed you both in a room and closed the doors (he didn't lock them) as yuji groaned and looked at you, "what was that for y/n?" he asked, a pout etching it's way on his face again as a small smile quirked up on your lips.

"what do you mean, yuji?"

"baby~" he whined, looking away from you, "you know what I mean..." he fiddled with his fingers as he looked down at the floor, "you know... you going on a date with inumaki..."

"but that didn't mean anything," your heartstrings pulled at you as despite your plan you rushed towards him, your hands snaking around his waist as you rested your cheek on his back.

"i don't know, you both looked pretty happy, and you were gone for practically the whole day," yuji murmured, his hands coming to rest on yours as he leaned his head back on yours.

"yuji," you laughed at his whines as his pouts became more prominent and he pulled you in front of him from his back, your eyes widened slightly as you momentarily stopped laughing from the pleasant shock.

yuji's hand rested on your shoulders as his eyebrows were furrowed, you don't think you have seen him look this adorable before.

"you shouldn't laugh on that!" he whined, a deeper frown on his face as his eyes sincerely looked sad. "i came to find you in fushiguro's room and then he told me that you were out with inumaki, you didn't even inform me by yourself."

your smile dwindled as you lean forward, letting your lips rest on his as you kissed him softly, you could feel yuji's hold relax on you as he pulled you in a hug, pulling you closer to him.

"sorry for making you feel bad, yuji."

you both pulled away as your noses still touched, both of you red with slight embarrassment and proximity, and both immediately realising that you just had your first kiss with itadori!

"sorry for ignoring you earlier, baby," he muttered against your lips as he looked at your eyes for any signs of discomfort from the kiss, but all he saw was your radiant and bashful smile as his heart started beating miles faster.

"y/n, baby..." he murmured as you hummed cooly, "yes?" his hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead to touch yours, his ears red as he still looked into your eyes.

"can i kiss you again?"

you grinned, rubbing your noses together you said, "yes."

1K notes · View notes

y-junghyeok · 19 days ago

Note

Lookism reaction to lover wearing their clothes please?? Thank you very much ♥️

I really need to put a limit on how many characters I will answer orz so many of them react the same way

Daniel is pretty used to it by now because you often stole his clothes when you stayed over, but it gave him all types of flutters the first time it happened. He thinks you're so cute in his clothes, and he probably tries to take about three billion pictures as keepsakes.

Eli will tail you around the house like an overly attached dog the moment you put his clothes on. He can't help it, the sight of you in his clothes scratch his brain in such a pleasant way, especially since you don't do it often at all. So whenever it happens, he's like 👁️👅👁️

Johan probably shared clothes with you often, even before the two of you officially dated. So by the time you're together, he doesn't really see anything different with it. He does feel protective of you in general, so the sight of you in clothes intensifies that instinct a little.

Samuel is befuddled by how his clothes don't look that big on you. Then you point out he often wears them a few sizes too tight. The two of you end up spending the whole night arguing over what's actually a good clothes size to wear.

Jake has a habit of throwing his coat over your shoulder in general. He thinks it's cute how you seem to drown in his coat. He knows you have the habit of underdressing, so he often wears two in case you get cold anyway. His sharing a coat is basically this thing lol:

James "This is designer, don't ruin it. Remember to handwash it before you put it back." "..."

Gun doesn't think much of it. As long as you don't ruin the clothes while wearing it, you can wear whatever you want. You only ever wear his shirt for going to sleep anyway, so it's not like he has much needs to worry. He likes the look of his coat over your shoulder though.

Goo "Take it off, I didn't agree to let you borrow my shirt." "Sheesh, don't be so stingy, I didn't expect to stay over, so it's not like I have any other clothes to change." "Yeah, so??? You can sleep naked." "..." "..." ":D" "Start running." "D:"

#lookism #lookism x reader #headcanons

78 notes · View notes

acalfinthemuseum · 1 year ago

Text

nightingale

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No???”

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

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

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

“Aw, thanks.”

“What do you want?”

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

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

“Are we?”

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

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

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

“Can I come in? Please?”

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

“Y-yeah, come on….”

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

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

“Are you always this nice to your guests?” His face scrunches up as if offended but the hint of amusement in his voice relaxes you a bit.

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

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

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

“Take this.”

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

“You better not be trying to roofie me.”

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

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

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

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

“Yousaiditfirst.”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

He was right.

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

“Roman! Roman, wait! Rom—”

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

“Come on, let’s go.”

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

“Where the fuck are you even going?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You look nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm.” A skeptical sound from your cousin.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sorry ?” You’re gutting him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, okay. . . I’ll shut up now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Deep breath.”

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It does actually, yeah.”

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

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

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

“Open up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, I see you all the time.”

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

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

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

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

“You’d get sick of it. Sick of me.”

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

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

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

“I’ll kiss it better later.”

“You really are a bitch.”

“Sure am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did, yeah. I was mad at you and I said that and I’m sorry. . . you know when people just say things they don't mean?"

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

"But I don’t really hate you, Rome, I like you too much to ever hate you.” You cut him again and a happy warm feeling bleeds out.

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

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

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

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

“Ew.” He says it softly, teasing.

“I need you to be serious with me.” You chuckle as you speak.

“I am being serious.

“Are you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you asking for something to look at?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“. . . yeah?” You chirp sweetly. A blush is clear on your face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

295 notes · View notes