#i love him so much it's pathetic LMAOO

[seriousturd]

Whenever I feel stressed I doodle Nick in this genre

[gillotto]

He’s supposed to be studying.

[ravengards-rogue]

i lose control (when you're not next to me.)

javier escuella x reader

✧ tags : afab + fem!reader (gendered language + wearing dresses etc), established relationship, religious imagery (maybe sacrilege)takes place in ch.4 of rdr2, submissive!reader, soft dom!javier, some spanish petnames (mi amor mi vida, and hermosa i think), pillowing humping, penetration, very lovesick sex lol, veryy established dynamic, praise kink, written like. sooo explicitly for @nanamimizz, 18+

✧ wc : 5.2k (after editing mind you)

✧ a/n : this is fucking nuts LMAOO. i wrote this like. no bullshit in a day. i don't know how that happened. mentioned in the tags that this is for my beloved best friend but i think it's still okay to post. im losing it a little. i have hw due in an hour

✧ synopsis : javier can't help but feel some ways about the way you miss him. so dreadfully obedient. so apparently needy. how could he not adore you?

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something a little pathetic in the way you pine after Javier that makes him a worse man than he is. 

He’s good to you though. Always. Down to his bones, the core of him. The soul of him. It’s hard to be anything but good to you. 

In all of his life, across lovers, men and women - he doesn’t think he’s met a single soul who simply likes him as much as you do. Who preens so pretty with so little, who doesn’t need much at all. Never met a woman who tucks and folds herself into corners just to be polite. Never thought he’d find it so fascinating, either - but you prove him wrong often. 

It’s testament to Javier’s adoration that he can’t help but notice you anyway. That even when your featherlight footsteps and darling voice fall off and get caught on the wind and blown away - Javier will still manage to find you. Even with all of your attempts to make yourself small and unrecognizable, his sharp brown eyes will still catch on the linen of your skirts and the threaded gold of your cross necklace. Javier’s own body betrays him in his love for you, in his wanting. 

Even though he’s not interested in pretending he doesn’t love you, his eyes and mouth and hands would look and call and search. They’d never give him the opportunity to be anything but in love. 

It’s important that he makes that known. He’s only ever interested in being a good man to you. Holding you and kissing you and worshiping you until you’re melty between his fingers. Javier loves loving the resistance out of you and you always make it so easy for him. 

He’s a good lover by nature and by practice. Passionate and maybe a little conceited, it’s not his first brush with romantics. He can only hope it’ll be his last. 

Even so, he’s never been liked the way you like him. 

You like Javier in a way you seem embarrassed by when you remember. It causes you to act in ways out of character on the surface, emboldened. Maybe just needy. Enough to bask in his praise and affection once a little liquor has touched your mouth. You like Javier in a way that makes you lovesick and puppylike, all honeyed gazes and pouty lips. He’s never met somebody who likes him the way you do, without grandstanding. Just pure, puppy love. Almost innocent if you don’t look too long. 

Almost being what matters most. 

Javier knows the way you were raised, after all. Knows the intimate ways in which you fold yourself and tuck your wants between the pages of your diary and slip your requests under your tongue. It’s hard for you to want for anything too much because you’ve been told your whole life that wanting at all is a sin. Wanting may even get you killed. A good woman should want nothing but salvation. Anything more than that is indulgence and there’s nothing good about that. It translates in the way you carry yourself. You’ll stop and fumble and shy away before even fixing your lips to ask, like you’re planning on being rejected or told no. 

A good girl like you being told no so often, it’s made you all sacrifice and empty prayers. Javier often feels grief about your lives before each other but nothing makes it so evident as that. A good woman, a beautiful and kind and soft one like you should never hear the words no without the best of reasons. That’s what Javier believes for all of his lovers, but you’re special. 

And that makes it worse. 

For you he’d do anything. No price he wouldn’t pay, no place he wouldn’t go, nothing that’s too far out of his reach. He thinks maybe he’s so eager to give it to you because he knows you don’t have it in you to take it yourself. You won’t whine greedily even if Javier tells you too, so Javier’s giving is only a partial virtue. It’s mostly pride, after all. It hurts his ego a little when you refuse to bask in the love he so enthusiastically wants to drown you in. 

Despite his complaints though, it’s a part of you that makes him so weak to you. That you want with such desperation but don’t allow yourself to take - so it makes you pliant and willing and terribly, adorably pathetic. You’re so weak for Javier. Just for him, you always say. Always with a hand in his, or wrapped around his bicep. All yours, Javi. Always his. 

That’s the thing. Javier wants to give everything in the world to you. He wants to be good to you, and he so often is. But you do things sometimes, all collapsed under the weight of your own desire that drive him insane. Make him act in ways he normally wouldn’t dream of doing. Depraved and filthy and unromantic in all senses of the word. 

It’s really not very polite for Javier to stand and watch you at his door - humping his pillow with weeps and huffs. It’s not kind to embarrass you. He’s a good man, and a good man would cover you with his coat and maybe smile about how much you care for him. 

But there’s just something about the look on your face when you do it, something about the tear stains in your lashes and the way your cheek is pressed in his jacket. Something about that needy, incessant little ache in your voice as you call and call and call for him. As if you’re hoping you’ll answer despite him not being there.

Javier is a good man to you. Maybe he could be better. Maybe he’s not good enough.  

He stands in the doorway of your shared bedroom with a soft, gentle grin. There’s no question he’s behaving a worse man than he is. Than he ought to be. 

He’s quiet as he shuts the door, balancing his weight to remain noiseless. 

Javier doesn’t particularly like being all the way out in Saint Denis nor is he fond of intel missions. The city is loud, the people unfriendly - though he likes the music and art. He prefers staying in camp if he can help it, but this big bank heist has everyone busy. He’s at least thankful that it’s given him an excuse to be with you. Your knowledge of herbs and poisons and the like have been helpful to gathering information. Been a lot of slipping things in drinks and making people forget. The sort of dirty work he’s accustomed too, while also getting a chance to be with you in a place with four walls and a bath. A dream for the future, maybe. 

It’s been nice, but he’s been out now for two days - out in the streets gathering information about Bronte’s people. A bunch of lowlifes just like them, but with their hands in the pocket of the city. He’s only been gone for two days, so there’s no reason you should miss him this much. And yet he hears it anyway. And it pleases him, truthfully. 

He takes off his coat as he listens to you at the doorway. Shrugs the middle-weight material of his sheen suit jacket over his shoulders and lays it on a chair, takes off his wingtip-gaiter shoes, undoes the yellow puff tie from around his neck. Nothing but a white linen dress shirt and the dark black slacks he’s been wearing for days now, some parts covered in bloodstains he only barely managed to wash out in the river not long ago. 

He’s thankful he took a bath before getting in now, listening to you moan. His hands being clean feel like a blessing - just his luck. 

He manages to remain quiet as he steps into the main room - a single bed in the center. Javier finds you there in a heap as he rests his body along the wall of the entrance to his right. He crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a minute to take in the scenery, admiring the soft lowlights and the way they cast shadow on your body. 

The wooden bed frame creaks slightly as you rut your hips. You’re out of it, Javier can tell, since you’ve yet to sense the fact he’s come in. The paintings along the back wall click against soft red walls themselves, over and over in an arrhythmic tic. Javier tries not to laugh. Gives himself a minute to admire the moment for what it is, the vulnerable desperation of your lust. He has to get over the disbelief, too. Over the fact your face is buried in the open part of his bluecoat and that you’ve got a hotel pillow(his hotel pillow) between your legs. One that you’re humping so frantically he can’t help but feel sorry for you. 

You’re making a mess.

You are a mess. The way the white chemise falls over your back and hips, and the lack of finesse in your gestures. If Javier had to bet money on it - he’d bet money on the fact you probably didn’t start this way. He figures you nested with his coat and pillow to go to sleep and then worked yourself into something senseless and desperate. And he’d figure if he didn’t show up, you wouldn’t cum at all. You’d go to bed all frustrated and tired and just wait for him like always. 

Any man would be pleased by it, he thinks. And a good one would never embarrass you about it. Javier tries his best. Weighs his options, but the words slip from his mouth before he can think to stop them. 

Pure elation in his words wrapped up in a smug delight. “Aye, hermosa - you’re gonna ruin my things you know?” 

Your reaction is what he expects. You jump out of your skin first, sitting straight up. Javier bites back a laugh as you do, big wide eyes like a deer caught in the scope of a rifle. You look around the room, worried you’re imagining him. Once you’ve come back to reality enough to realize he’s real and tangible - all the neediness washes right back into your expression. 

“Javier,” You sniffle and god. Javier hopes the heavens are more merciful to him than he is to you. “Javi,” 

“I’m home,” He voices in a partial tease, walking towards you. He can tell you want to run to him. To crawl into his arms and lap and collapse there forever, but the dull throbbing between your legs is stopping you. “I would ask if you missed me but, somehow I get the feeling you did.” 

You let out a soft, sniffly whine as Javier sits in the bed next to you. He turns his body to face you a little better but keeps distance. You turn your face towards him. Javier cups your cheek in his palm, eyes tracing your features. Your lips are bruised like you’ve been biting on them to keep the noise down and your eyes are wet with tears, red stained in the waterline. His thumb brushes along the thin skin of your lower lip, clicking his teeth at you. 

“Look at you,” He reprimands, his voice tender as he leans in to give you a little relief. You kiss Javier too eagerly, impatient and lacking your usual timidness. It’s how he knows how far you’ve fallen. How simple and easy your reactions are. “You’re going to hurt yourself pushing so desperately,” He laughs again, a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Does it feel good, at least?” 

“It’s better when you do it,” You admit, falling forward. Javier doesn’t let you drop, but he doesn’t comfort you right away either. He laughs and lets a hand rest on your lower back, relishing in your reaction. You shiver, sensitive and overstimulated with so little at all. 

“I know,” He coos with as much faux-sympathy as he can manage. “Couldn’t wait for me a little longer? I’m hurt.”

“Nooo,” You draw the words out, pitiful and upset “I’m sorry. I missed you,” 

“It’s okay,” Javier says, knowing he wasn’t mad in the first place. Not even a little. “Ahh, what should I do with you now, do you think?” 

It’s hard not to laugh at the immediate noise of disapproval. He’s sure you’d be able to ask him for what you want if he coaxed you into it. One whispered word of tell me what you want, and you’d be begging for his cock with ease. Filthy words from such a pretty mouth, he likes the idea. 

But he’s feeling… something. Something on the border of sadistic and loving that has him instead thinking. 

Pretending to think. 

“Maybe you should keep going, hm? You’ll think clearer once you’ve let it out, don’t you think?” 

“I can’t,” You bemoan, pleading with him. “I’m trying but it’s—it’s not enough, Javier, please.” 

He shakes his head. “Oh, man. What am I gonna do with you? Should I help you, mi amor?” 

You nod your head rapidly. As if he’d ever leave you out to dry when you look all pretty helpless. He doesn’t mention it to you. “Please,” 

“Yeah? I’ll help you then.” He offers, taking your hand and guiding you to his lap with his legs stretched out. He sits you over his thighs, glancing back at his jacket and pillow, brows raised when he sees how sticky they both are. Your habit of drooling and your cunt soaking his pillow case, he laughs just a little seeing the state of them. You must notice because you hit his shoulders weakly. “So needy,” 

“Javier.” 

“Alright, alright,” He laughs again, kissing your cheek as he brings you to him. You frown but comply with his handling of you, strong hands pulling you over his thigh. He sits you down until your bare cunt is pressed against the clothed muscle. It dawns on you what he’s doing as he’s doing it, a noisy little whimper sounding as Javier pulls you close. Close enough to wrap your arms around his neck. He puts a hand on the back of your head, encouraging you to bury his face into the space of his shoulder. He can feel the relief in you when you do, slumping into him a second time today. “You have to move on your own, you know? I won’t help you.” 

“You’re being awful,” You say with no real malice or bite. 

“I’m a little hurt, that’s all. And I’m helping you aren’t I? Is that not what you want?” 

You groan against the skin of his neck. “I want your…ngh,” 

He hums against you, decides to be merciful since he’s teased you plenty and he’s going to tease you more. 

“Wanna feel me right here, don’t you?” He puts a hand between your bodies, pressing the back of his hand into your stomach. “I know, I know. But I want you to cum like this first.”

“Can’t do it by myself,” You sniffle. Don’t even try to push back, so obedient and willing. Javier hums sympathetically. 

“I’m here right? I’ll help you, mi vida. I’m not that mean, am I?” 

You shake your head no. He most definitely is, but maybe he can keep that a secret from you a little longer. 

“Here,” He says. Javier pulls your chemise up until it’s pooling at your waist. Strong, tan hands hold at your hips, squeezing the soft skin with a warm sigh. You keen immediately. He pushes his thigh up just slightly to give you the right kind of friction. Hiccuping in his lap, he sets a pace for you to grind yourself on him. A slower back and forth. When you get too wet, too needy - you get sloppy. Sometimes he can give it to you hard and fast but you’re sensitive. Sensitive to the point it’s easy to make you hurt, make yourself hurt if you’re too clumsy. 

You’re always chasing pleasure but you don’t know anything about build-up. For a girl who tends to keep to herself and is always so meticulous - there’s something about seeing you get so sloppy that turns Javier on. When you’re wet and can’t think straight “Not too fast, okay? You’re sensitive, need it slow at first to make it feel good if it’s like this. Did you forget?” 

You nod, then moan hotly against his throat. Javier shivers at the way your tune changes. He can feel you breathe in his scent and relax as he guides your hips. He eventually stops touching you. Lets you take control of the pace just like he shows you. You manage to pace yourself despite how much you want to cum. Javier can feel how pent up you are. The fabric of his slacks going sticky, tacky from cum and arousal. 

You smell nice and soft, like baby powder and something floral. 

Javier’s been hard since he got in the door, but it’s starting to fog his mind up. Feeling your tits press against his chest, feeling your skin against his. Soft and pliant and beautiful. He kisses against your shoulders as you slowly start to build your orgasm up again. Not that it’s hard. 

You pull away from him, briefly - and your face makes his dick twitch. You’re always pretty but you’re especially pretty like this. Drool drips from the corners of your mouth, eyes lidded and barely blinking.

“Javi,” Your words are slurred. Javier laughs but doesn’t clean you up. “Kiss me,” 

“Sure,” He replies, though he’s all too happy to do it. Javier kisses you with tongue. He knows it’s what you want. Your hands curl up at his chest as he brings his own to cup your head and pull you to him. His tongue in your mouth is invasive but precise, knowing all the ways you want him to nip and kiss and suck on your mouth. You whine in complete pleasure, drunk from the sensation and he’s hardly touched you at all. 

He thinks of how he’ll fuck you as he kisses you. He’ll touch you more than he is now and you’ll fuck like lovesick rabbits until sunrise. It’s less something Javier decides and more something he knows. Like once he opens the door to pleasing you like this, it’ll be tough on him to close it again. 

“Javi,” You keep calling his name. It might be the only word you remember. Always seems to be when you get like this. “It feels so good. Feels so good when you touch me,” 

Javier kisses against your bare shoulder and neck, teeth scraping soft against your clavicles. “Mm. You’re doing well. A very good girl today,” 

You shudder at the praise, all the hairs on your neck raising from the drop of it. Javier laughs. You whine his name again but he doesn’t reply. He can feel you more than he can see you. Your body is twitching against his thigh and your muscles are tight where you hug against him. Javier calms you. 

“Gonna cum soon, huh?” 

You nod over and over, but can barely keep your head up to do it. And he laughs, full of fondness and affection as he peppers your face with kisses. He doesn’t have it in him suddenly, to tease you about it any more. He encourages you instead, hand on your hips to give you more friction as you start to grow erratic in your breathing. You pant hard against his ear, like you’re chasing something. Little bunny rabbit, he thinks. Your voice is little more than a croak. 

“Oh,” You moan, loud and helpless and needy as you cling to him. Your hands fisted in the back of his shirt as you cry out his name one more time. A prayer, maybe. Or a curse. Something in between. “Javier, oh,” 

“Shhh, that’s it. Just like that. Good girl. You’re so good to me.” 

You weep into his neck as you cum, your whole body tightening before breaking out into aroused shakes. You’ve completely lost it in front of him. On the brink of insanity with nothing but pleasure filling your empty-head. You hump against him thoughtlessly as you ride out your high, then finally lean against him when you’ve managed to reach the end of it. You don’t move. Javier can feel how big the wet patch of his pants has grown and tries not to laugh. 

You’re only barely coherent when you’ve finally pulled away. Your pupils are blown out and your face is flushed, sweat making your hair stick to your skin in the places it’s not tucked away. Javier laughs at the state you’re in, brushing his thumb along your cheek just beneath your eyes. 

“Are you with me still, do you think?” 

You nod, seemingly exhausted. He laughs again and kisses your temple. 

“Want you,” You say, despite your state. His eyes widen again at how soon after you’re asking him. He was planning on taking his time, but that plan might just be out of the race. He’s not above you begging him so sweetly. “Please, Javi. Need you, need you so bad.” 

You sound like you’re about to cry. He speaks in soft murmurs. “I thought you’d be too tired to keep going right away.” 

“No,” You mumble and shake your head. “Please. Please, want you so bad.” 

“You’re exhausted, mi vida.” 

“Please,” 

He chuckles. “Okay. Okay, don’t cry. Whatever you want, remember. Unbutton my shirt for me, mi amor.” 

You sniffle, your hands shaking as you fulfill his request. You’re exceptional at listening. Javier smiles at you, your eyes meeting as you do. You flush and pout, only barely managing to maintain his gaze without looking away. You unbutton his shirt dutifully. He puts a hand on your arm and rubs it soothingly. “You must’ve missed me a lot, huh.” 

You nod. “It’s bad, you know? Two days shouldn’t feel so long. It didn’t use too.” 

“Just means we love each other,” Javier assures, a safe place for you to express your neediness. “That’s nothing bad,” 

You nod, pressing your forehead to his. “That’s true,” 

“See? And it’s nice you know. Having someone miss me. Wait for me. Makes me want to come home instead of, I don’t know.” He feels his throat tighten at the sincerity but pushes through anyway “Dying for the cause. Or even just because.” 

It’s the first time you’ve smiled all day and god. Might be the only thing that’s ever mattered. Above all forms of love prior and past. Above revolution. Above god. Just you. You smile, happy and elated and keep unbuttoning his shirt with a coquettish-ness to you. Comfortable and safe. 

You help Javier out of his shirt, and wait for his approval to go after his pants. Undoing the buttons, you free his cock from the confines with a soft gasp. Javier laughs at the reaction, cat-like grin on his features. 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.”  

“It’s so big,” You say, your hand wrapping around it briefly. Javier swears, head against the headboard. 

“Careful,” He warns, laughing thickly. “I’m pretty pent up too,” 

“Want it inside me,” You say so easily it startles him. You blink up at him through your lashes, too pretty for your own good. “Please?” 

“Should open you up a little.” 

“Want it to hurt,” You reply instantly. Javier feels his breath hitch. 

“Oh, fuck.” He breathes, trying to keep himself from cumming in your hands. “We’ll go slow.”

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait any longer. Javier curses himself for not being more polite. 

He guides your arms around his neck, his own arm around your waist as he lays you down on your back. You look up at him, surprised by his handling of you but not upset by it all. You mumble something he doesn’t catch, but it sounds pleased. 

Javier finds that he’s fond of missionary. He didn’t think he was the type, but there’s something about seeing you laid on your back that he likes. Likes being able to look at you and be close to you, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as you curl into him. He lays you down gently on his spine, laughing at the way your legs wrap around his waist the second you’re comfortable. His hands go up under your knees but don’t push you too far. You spread your legs for him naturally, eyes fluttering with exhaustion and leftover stupid want. He looks down at you and smiles. 

“One more, okay? Just the one.” 

“I can’t,” You whine “Too sensitive. Just want you to cum on me,” 

“Are you doubting me?” He challenges, only partially. Your eyes widen and he chuckles. “Of course you can. One more,” 

You whimper, suddenly realizing you had no choice in the first place. But you nod, relenting to him like you so often do. Javier kisses you. It means more things that he’s comfortable telling. Means thank you, and that he’s sorry, that he loves you. He kisses you one more time after that, and smiles at how happy you seem because of it.

Finally, when Javier lays you down on the sheets beneath you - it feels like finding religion all over again. The loose material of your chemise has given up on covering you, exposing the soft mound of your chest and hardened nipples. He can see your neck and shoulders and everything else above and below. You’re so beautiful his cock twitches again, hard. 

He sits back up on his knees and takes a deep breath as he lays his cock against your puffy folds. You breathe soft, an aching sound from the back of your throat as you pull your skirt up to give him better access. He laughs gently at that, examining how nearly seven inches measures up to you and feels a little dizzy in the process of it. He’s done this with you so many times now, practically trained your body to take him without too much trouble. A welcome change from when you could barely fit the tip, too inexperienced to do it but even more determined. 

Even still some part of him worries about it. It’s not enough to stop him though, not nearly. His cock twitches against hard, wanting for you. He looks down at you and sees you stare up, admiring his figure. He laughs. 

“Like the view?” 

You nod. “Mm. Uh-huh.” 

“I’m glad,” He replies, then adds “Deep breath,” 

So you take a deep breath, and Javier pushes the tip of his cock into you with a loud grunt. You’re so soft. Wet, and pliant and soft around the swollen head of his cock, he can’t help but shudder with relief and desire. Can’t help but grit his teeth and grip onto your hips to steady himself. 

You breathe like the air has been punched out of your lungs, saying his name dreamily. “Oh, Javi,” 

He swears under his breath, something incoherent as he pushes the tip push into you evenly. It’s not easy. The resistance is there, but you don’t whine in pain right way - so it means it’s not too hard on you. Perhaps loosened by the previous orgasm, or simply so needy that it doesn’t bug you. Still, Javier makes sure to keep himself tight. He rocks, back and forth, ignoring the agony of that sensation to keep him from thrusting up into your soft, welcoming cunt. If he listened to what he wanted, he can’t be confident it wouldn’t make you ache. He already knows you will with this much. 

It takes a few minutes, and some whimpering from you before he finally manages to bottom out. 

You feel good. God, you feel good. 

He can’t imagine heaven, but he thinks being inside of you might be close enough. There’s certainly all the makings of religion when he makes love to you. You, a soft and loving deity, and him - a man laden with sin who longs to be saved. It makes sense to compare you that way. And it feels just as euphoric as the always described, being wrapped in you. Being part of your completion. What's religion without worshippers, anyway? 

Javier groans as he bottoms out inside of. When he manages to peel his eyes open and look at you, you’re debauched. He’s debased you this completely and he doesn’t know if you can even tell. He laughs, leaning down to kiss your neck and run pecks against your jaw. 

“Feel good?” 

“Feels so good,” You moan, then hold him tighter. “I love you. Love you Javier,” 

“Me too, mi amor. Para siempre. ” He hums, kissing your forehead before looking at you. “Can I move?” 

“Please,” 

“Touch yourself for me,” He tells you patiently. “Make yourself feel good.” 

You nod, dazed - a hand between your bodies as Javier sets a pace to fuck you. He knows you in and out. At least well enough to know exactly the ways to make you feel good. Only a few thrusts for him to find the perfect pace, perfect rhythm, perfect spot. You make a noise like a songbird, deep in the back of your throat and Javier can feel you pulse around him in pleasure. 

You stay like that, with him. Javier fucks you to his hearts content in deep, long thrusts - angled against the softest parts of you and wanting to make you feel good. He whispers sweet nothings as your nails dig into the muscle of his back. You feel good for him. You are good for him, wet and perfect. It takes all of his strength to fuck you consistently, the bed rocking underneath you both as he gives it to you hard. 

“I’m close,” You whimper, not seeming to believe yourself despite. “I’m so close, oh god, Javier.” 

“That’s it,” He whispers, chuckling against your skin “One more. Just one more and I’ll give it to you.” 

It’s the promise of his cum that drives you over the edge. You gasp and groan, shuddering as Javier pounds you through your second orgasms. He groans as he feels your pussy spasm and tighten around him, practically begging him to put it inside. He’s nearly lost his sense enough to do it, unhelped by the way your sweet voice begs him for it. He practically has to pry himself away from you, out of you to keep himself from cumming inside as deep as he can possibly go. 

He manages, barely, to stave off his own orgasm. Long enough pull himself out of you with a broken gasp and cum outside of you. Making a mess of your stomach and your soft, swollen cunt with his seed. He paints you in thick ropes of whites as he swears loud in the process, euphoria rumbling through him uninterrupted. 

“Fuck,” He moans, finally getting to the end of it. A little embarrassed by how much of a mess he’s made right along with you. “You do something crazy to me, you know that?” 

You stare at him, bleary eyed and giggly despite your exhaustion. “I know. Me too. I missed you,” 

He laughs, and can’t find the words to say anything but the same back. Of course Javier is a worse man when you’re around. 

Any man loved this much is bound to be a little ruined. 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I like the kink hcs you did for Arthur and the boys. What about kink hcs for some of the less popular characters?

Kieran, Sean, Micah, Eagle Flies?

Maybe a sprinkle of Lenny, javier, hosea?

Kink HCs Ft. Kieran Duffy, Sean Macguire, Micah Bell, Lenny Summers, Javier Escuella, Hosea Matthews

I've done Eagle Flies a few times already so I'll stick to these guys hehe. Also finally someone else who thinks Hosea is fine HEAR ME OUT YALLLLL

Warnings: pet play, humiliation, voyeurism, rough sex, name calling, impact play, marking, knife play, blood kink, bdsm, sadomasochism

Kieran Duffy

Surprisingly kinky, and incredibly submissive

I feel like he'd be into puppy play

He's just a sad, wet, and pathetic dog

And I'm talking leashes, collars, maybe even muzzles

You can order him to do just about anything

He'd probably be into humiliation. Will bark if you ask tbh

Part of that would probably involve public sex and the embarrassment that would come from the possibility of being caught

So low-key a voyeur maybe maybe just a little

If you've had a long day just go ahead and take it out on him during sex because he'll love every second of it

Orgasm denial and edging is definitely on the table

Until you have him swearing he's a good boy and deserves to cum

Sean Macguire

This man will do anything as long as he gets to cum

Though he'd probably steer away from the heavier kinks

He's into body worship. Not for his own body but yours

Kisses every inch of skin and appreciates your entire being before and during the act

He'd kiss the very ground you walk on tbh

Likes dominating but he doesn't mind taking things slow and kissing your feet and legs while you talk about your day

He's a real fun guy so I'd imagine he'd also like some form of roleplay. Ends up being really silly but plays his part real well. Makes sense his favorite roleplay scenario would be cop and criminal

He seems like the type to have fuzzy pink handcuffs LMAOO

Micah Bell

Let's be realistic he's probably into some freak shit at your expense

Rough sex always. Ain't no sweet and slow love making

Definitely into degrading

Hair pulling, slapping, spitting in your mouth or on your face, etc

Probably into spanking

Will "punish" you for just about anything

Lots of spur of the moment sex, like y'all will be in a public area and he'll suddenly want to take you

Name calling !

Whore, bitch, slut are commonly thrown around

Marking, you will always be bruised or have teeth marks and even scratches

Lenny Summers

He's such a sweetie, I have a hard time imagining him being very kinky

He'd probably be into some more gentle shit

Y'all would go through your more experimental phase

He's wholesome so he'd like praise, and that would go both ways between you two

Would let you order him around but more so he can learn what you like and what you want him to do

Once he gets more into it he'll become more passionate, he just needs more practice

I feel like the farthest he'd go in terms of inflicting any discomfort would be choking, but it would never go far. He'd end up taking his hand away last minute

He'd probably want to try different dynamics so he'd want to try subbing

Needs to be reminded of his role because he gets too enthusiastic

Javier Escuella

It's a universal fandom headcannon that he's into knife play

So knife play

Ghosts the tip of the blade up your thigh closer to your pussy before pressing the cold metal flat against you

Then runs it back down to your knee, repeats the same motion over and over again until you're shaking

Would probably enjoy typing you up/cuffing you so you're helpless to whatever he does

He'd probably be scared to actually draw blood but if you're into it he'll be down

Licks up any bloody wounds or sucks on them

Praises you so much the entire time

He'd be incredibly romantic though, incredibly good at aftercare

I think there'd also be times where he gets really into it and feeds off on the fear in your eyes

Hosea Matthews

He's such a sweetie but I feel like he'd be an incredibly experienced dom

These are my headcannons and I think Hosea is fine asf so leave me alone

Into leather crops, whips, blindfolds, gags, etc

Drips candle wax on you

Very flexible in terms of what he'll do

But he has to Dom

He can either be really good at praise or will degrade you

Brat tamer for sure

I can even imagine him having cages bro

Talks you through everything and gives you very detailed commands

Inflicts pain on you but knows extremely well how far to go and how much is too much

[n3ptoonz]

Hello! I saw your most recent headcanon list thing with the Earthrealm guys being caught Slonking it Silly Style™ and uh. I was just wondering if you'd be willing to do something similar with the Outworld guys as well? Obviously you don't have to if you don't want to, but I think it would be neat! Thank you so much in advance! I love your work :)

deep, dramatic sigh. (kidding anon tysm i gush over comments like this ily smoochhhh) also the terminology made me laugh out loud ty for that

Shang Tsung

kinda sorta didn't gaf. who's to say he didn't want you to hear him. the world may never know

you were to report to him about some findings for his experiments and there he was, leaning over the table and straight up cranking it over a bucket (he's odd like that) honestly when you acknowledge your own presence he's like... can i help you?? you see i'm busy???

but at the same time he's like hold up i have a fine specimen here to help me out here...he's leaving here with SOMETHING (studio laughter)

Rain

i don't think he'd care either if you walked in on him. in fact, he might welcome it. he's used to having his own space, but he doesn't mind sharing it with people he's ok with being around. yes that includes you (is it only you? not even he knows yet)

day 8163 of using Rain's arrogance to push my narrative that he's not only in love with himself but how he looks in the mirror. you definitely walked in on him wanking it in the mirror and he'd freeze but recover so quick

ain't no way you're leaving here after you just caught him though. how else will his problems get solved? you went and made him hard all over again!

Reptile

syzoth has two, let's get that out the way. AND he uses both hands for them LMAOO

president of syzoth is a lil subby bitch society. so when you catch him tugging on both and reduced to a pathetic mess from his own hands??? he's frozen and quite literally has no clue what to do. he's sweaty, there's tears in his eyes, and his fangs are much more pronounced than usual

once you give him the green light that you're into whatever tf he was just doing watch him crawl over to you on all fours and hug your legs, practically begging you to touch him

Havik

expect this smug fuck to claim he wanted this to happen. dude was hunched over and going at it behind his own desk, grunting like a cave man who discovered self pleasure for the first time

1000% expect him to demand you help him, but instead it's after he froze for like 5 seconds and then tried to play it off

he would also be internally shocked when agree to finish the job, but on the outside it's like "that's what i thought...now get over here" whole time he's jumping up and down and twirling in his brain

Reiko

it's already rare that he has time to himself and definitely RARELY has time to be with you for an extended period of time, so you catching him when you wanted to surprise him with your presence it triggered his fight or fight LMAO

legit laughed at the thought of him jumping up from his chair hands ready to be thrown...but his dick is swinging PLSSSSSS

he's like well shit now he deserves your help after you almost got two pieced by your own boyfriend...but who's complaining?!

General Shao

this man weirdly reminds me of bowser sometimes. with that being said i think he'd do a BUAHA as a shocked sound when you catch him thwoping the schlong

as much as i can't fucking stand him he does look a lil better in this game i will admit. i'm not gonna sit up here and lie, he def has a HUGE wanker innit. so you didn't miss shit when you walked into his chambers

he would also demand your help. but if you have a lil push back just for fun, he'd eventually say please and be all soft and shit. why? cause it's you god damn it!

Baraka

let's be fr. truly i do not think mk1 baraka would masterbate simply bc he's like depressed all the time😭but for the sake of shits and gigs, ill humor y'all

let's say he hasn't seen you in a while and misses you dearly. he knew you were on a quest for a while, and he was very pent up... so what better way to release stress other than sparring! oh. not enough? time for another type spar 😈

if this were old baraka i'd say he has two 👁️ but since this version of tarkat is a disease let's say it made the skin around his wee like ribbed or something ya SO when you caught him he was in a straight up panic and apologizing profusely but once you calm him down and tell him you're glad he missed you so much, he's like oh shit...well help me out then...only if you want to!

a/n: i did it y'all FUCK. my bad for taking so long to release this i'm a perfectionist to a fault💀

[mountainficss]

I love your writing so much omg it inspires so many of my own thots. We all belong in horny jail I swear lmaoo I woke up from a depression nap and all I could think about was softdom!joshua letting/guiding virgin!dk to fuck his girlfriend for the first (of many) times and it just becoming a threesome like 🫨🫨🫨 and as we all know by now DK stands for Dude Kisser. Hawaii Joshua🤝Follow Incheon DK Trying To Kiss Woozi

!! mentions of: virgin!seokmin, soft dom!joshua, threesome, fingering, handjobs, oral sex, unprotected sex

thank you so much anon!! so glad i can inspire you <33 and i knowww i need to be locked up. horny jail is definitely for me.

i think seokmin would be open about his inexperience with joshua, and would feel a bit more relieved after he shares his feelings with him. he knew that shua was experienced, and he’d ask his hyung for some tips for losing his virginity. and instead of giving tips, he’d offer to instruct him instead! with your consent, of course ;) and why would you mind if your boyfriend’s hot best friend sits in while you have sex?

so that’s how you’d spend your saturday evening, sprawled out on your plush bed while seokmin hovers over you and joshua just sits back and watches. he’d be peppering kisses all over your neck, and you’d feel the heat of joshua’s gaze on the both of you. you’ve had previous partners before, but knowing this was seokmin’s first time had you buzzing with excitement. you could tell he was excited too, eagerly tugging off your clothes and practically drooling at all of the skin being revealed. “don’t rush it,” shua would chime in from the chair in the corner of your bedroom. “take your time with things, seokminnie. you should enjoy your first time.” he’d glance over at his hyung, whimpering quietly as he presses slower kisses over your chest. you could tell it was hard for seokmin to slow down, but he still tried his best to savor the experience. he’d slot himself between your legs, pumping his throbbing cock a few times as his face flushes a gentle pink. you’d wrap your legs around seokmin’s waist, trying to ease his mind and pull him in a bit closer. “nervous?” joshua would question, receiving a slight nod from poor seokmin. “there’s nothing to be nervous about,” he’d soothe, rising from his chair and making his way to the foot of the bed. “i’ll teach you exactly how to do it.” shua would then look at you with a gentle expression. “is it okay if i show him?” he’d ask you, seating himself on the mattress and waiting patiently for your consent. and of course you’d comply, opening your legs a bit to accommodate him. “watch,” joshua would urge, snaking a hand down between both of your bodies and cupping your heat. he’d slide his fingers through your arousal as the both of you watch, slipping one into your hole and gently fucking you. “all you have to do is put it in like this,” he’d coax over your small sighs of pleasure. “and thrust in and out. just like i’m doing, seokmin.” the sight of joshua finger-fucking you would be such a turn on for seokmin. he knew it was supposed to be a demonstration, but the perverted side of him was enjoying the pretty faces you made way too much. he’d stick a second finger in, causing both you and seokmin to let out pathetic whimpers. “you have to prep first,” joshua would continue, trying his best to focus on guiding seokmin and not the lewd sound of your heat squelching around his fingers. “and you can go at whatever pace is comfortable.” he’d slowly withdraw his fingers, sucking them into his mouth and giving seokmin a slight nod of reassurance. seokmin would still feel nervous, but after joshua’s demonstration he’d feel a bit more confident. he’d line his cock up to your heat, pushing in ever so slowly and letting out a choked sound at the tightness. you’d whine at the feeling of his swollen tip pushing in, wrapping your legs around him tighter as he continues to bottom out. meanwhile joshua would be mumbling sweet praises, telling you both how good you were doing and how proud he was of the both of you. “you’re both so pretty like this.”

after seokmin is fully inside, he’d bring his hips back slowly as he tries not to cum too fast. he never thought he’d be so close to his climax this quick, but the combination of your heat and joshua’s gaze would have him dangerously close to the edge. he’d thrust clumsily back inside, a moan escaping you as he buried his length into you. you could tell he was getting more comfortable, slowly fucking you as he gropes your exposed chest. your eyes would roll back as seokmin speeds up his pace, hands clawing at the sheets below for support. and oh joshua would not make it any easier, looking down at you with the most lustful expression you had ever seen from him. having two gorgeous men in front of you would make you delirious, holding seokmin’s hand while you reach to grab shua’s thigh with your free one. his jaw would clench, untying his sweats and guiding your hand below his waistband silently. you’d be met with his hard length, sitting heavy in your hand as you take all of seokmin’s cock.

you’d wrap a fist around joshua’s cock as seokmin watches, fucking you faster at the sight of you pumping him underneath his sweatpants. joshua would groan quietly, slightly bucking into your fist to chase the pleasure. you’d stroke him faster, meeting seokmin’s thrusts with your hips at the same time. shua wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, and he would free his cock from his sweats in order for you to have easier access to him. you’d stop stroking him, instead opting to enclose your lips around the swollen tip of his length. your actions would pull moans from both seokmin and joshua, causing shua to run his fingers through your hair. “is this okay, seokminnie?” joshua would grunt out, ripping his eyes away from your face to look at the blushing boy. seokmin would nod carefully, slowing his thrusts inside of your heat to watch you suck joshua’s cock. “i-i like watching,” he’d mumble shyly. joshua would just smirk evilly. “then change positions,” he’d command, twisting his fingers through your hair and prying you gently off of his cock. “if you do it from behind, you can really watch.” seokmin’s eyes would widen at the suggestion, pulling his cock out of your heat and helping you flip over onto your hands and knees. you were facing joshua now, his erection tall and throbbing right in front of you. you could feel seokmin sliding in slowly from behind, and joshua would cup your face as he slides his cock into your awaiting mouth. the sensation of seokmin stretching you out combined with joshua’s length on your tongue would drive you insane. and seokmin wouldn’t be doing much better at controlling himself either, watching his lover suck off one of his best friends would give him butterflies. he’d just fuck you harder, his hips moving frantically as he chases his high. the force of seokmin’s hips colliding against you would push you further onto joshua, taking his length completely down your throat and earning a drawn out moan from him. “f-feels like—‘m gonna cum,” seokmin would whine, gripping your hips harshly as you bob your head on joshua’s cock. your moans would travel straight to joshua’s erection as he fucks your mouth faster. not even seconds later you’d be cumming around seokmin, triggering his release. he’d fuck you full as you finish around him, letting out desperate whines and cries as he overstimulates himself for you. meanwhile joshua thrusts harder into your mouth, letting out a satisfied groan as he fists your hair and cums inside of your mouth. the sound of heavy panting fills the room as you all try to recover from your orgasms, the three of you eventually flopping down onto the mattress to catch your breaths. “enjoy your first time?” shua would ask seokmin playfully, his breathing still labored from his intense climax. seokmin would nuzzle his head into your neck out of embarrassment, but nodding excitedly at shua’s question. “wanna do it again sometime,” he’d mumble into your skin, loud enough for the both of you to hear it. joshua would just sport his little devilish smile, thinking of ways to get the both of you in bed again.

after that it would become a routine, the three of you fucking the daylights out of each other whenever you have the free time <3 you just make each other feel so good, what’s the harm in having double the fun?

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @ccchani , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

[bowieandqueen11]

Kissing Roman Roy Would Include...

Request: oh my god! your kendall roy kissing headcanons were adorable! would it be possible to get some for roman as well? i just know that man is touch starved and definitely had an awkward time kissing the reader early on in their relationship. obviously, you can choose to ignore but thank you!

Awww yes of course you can get some my love this man is 100% touch starved you’re so right <3

LADS OKAY I’M COMING BACK TO SAY THIS IS NEARLY 7K AND MY LONGEST FIC BY FAR LMAOO BABYGIRL CODED anyway comments are much appreciated because I am so tired lol ty ty ily all! :)

Warning: mentions of injuries/ blood, childhood abuse, and some swearing! Also MAJOR spoilers for Season 4!!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @xihatiancai.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

We all really took one look at Roman Roy and went wet pathetic disgusting meow meow man I love you, and I really love and appreciate that for all of us. Because like... if not babygirl, why babygirl coded?

The first time you guys ‘kissed’, you were both around seven years old: on the tennis court, Shiv had sent a ball flying at Roman that had bent his hand backwards, and left quite a nasty gash of blood running down his arm. Instead of comforting the brother she had just bruised for the umpteenth time, the set of Roman crawling down to sit on the grass while cradling his arm just made her furious, and she went storming off towards the kitchen for some chocolate milk to cool down. You had been watching from the doubles side line, dropping your own racket as soon as Roman began to snivel, squeezing his skin back together and wincing as warm blood gushed out onto the grass. You run over to kneel in front of him, the harsh rays of light blushing across your head like a halo as you grab onto his elbow. You press the back of your shirt against it, hoping it will do until a nurse or one of the waiters comes running out with a first aid kit; as you glance up, the furious face of his father comes pacing past the balcony doors, and so you turn Roman’s head to look at you instead, praying that he won’t spot him. It will only make him whine more. It surprises you when he curses curtly instead at the feel of your fingers pressing down hard against his wound, but when you mumble an apology he finally stops scowling down at the ground and looks up: it’s as if he’s seeing you properly for the first time. His eyes light up as you gently lean down and press a kiss against the bloodstains; just the slightest hint of pressure, and tingling warmth of your your lips is enough to send a flourish through his body and make Roman Roy feel nourished. No longer withered, no longer left to rot. Roman gazes up at you: past the dappled sunlight, past the dotted clouds, past the earth and skies and heavens, and past it all he sees you. 

You’re the first and last person he’s ever wanted to kiss. Like craving poison, he knows it will pass through and destroy him if he allows himself to indulge. But by god, if it wouldn’t taste so sweet as it pours down his throat and overwhelms every dilapidated part of his body.

The first time he works up the nerves to kiss you back, is in one of the pool storage huts just past the outer boundaries of his father’s estate. Shiv had finally convinced her father to allow her out into the city to go shopping for some new suits, and Ken had been chained into a business meeting to take notes for Logan, so Roman had been left all alone to wander around the ostentatious shadows and lonely halls of the house he hated to call home. Feeling trapped, like he couldn’t breathe, he wanders towards the ‘safe space’ the two of you had created a couple of years ago: a small nook you and Roman had spent the day nestling out (and nearly breaking his arm shoving unused surfboards and pool cleaning chemical boxes) in the dim, and slightly damp room. Finally feeling at home as he stepped into the mildew-steeped scent cloud that enveloped the square box stuffed full of things his father had wanted out of his sight, his heart is allieved to spot you already there. You don’t even have to look up from your book as he comes dawdling towards you like a puppy afraid it’s about to be kicked. When you open your arm up to him willingly, the true him comes leaping forth: like a darting hummingbird, he comes flying  into your side, nestling his chin on the hard part of your shoulder so he can scan the words lazily past your head. After about half an hour of him gripping onto your shirt, as sweet and softly as infant spring, he glances up towards your face and an overwhelming urge overtakes him. Before he can stop himself, before he can make sense of his decision, before he can chide himself for his weakness, he lifts his head up and presses his lips firmly, if a little harshly, against the side of your cheek. Your book crashes to the floor with a thunderous slap, lifting a small cloud of dust as you raise your fingers to the wet spot in surprise. He immediately shuffles backwards at the noise, before making an awkward, fumbling excuse and running out the door.

He never brings it up again, but whenever you’re round at the Roy residence after that you can feel the intensity of his eyes land on you far more often. He blinks away and scratches the back of his neck nonchalantly whenever you catch him, or sometimes scrunches his nose up and starts biting the edges of his fingernails if he’s really nervous. But the love is there. He just can’t say it yet.

Once, when you were the only person in the house besides Connor and Logan, you were asked by the second-born eldest son to help him find Romie. With a concerned sigh, Connor wanders off to check behind the bathroom door off the living room, his lips forming a tight line as he disappears off down the corridor. Turns out, Logan had found out that Roman had been the one to spill his ice cream cone in the car on the way back from his fencing lesson, and Roman had run off cursing and crying when he heard the roar reverberate out from his father’s office at the news. You know where he is, instinctively. Of course you do: you don’t even need to think as your feet guide you towards his bedroom, and your body shrinks down to scoot under the bed and lie on the pristinely clean floorboards. He’s hiding behind the tendril weeds of his fear, making himself as small a target as possible as he balls himself up, trembling like heavy branches when lanced with frost. From behind his raised elbows that protect his face, he’s sniffling, his feet leaving the ground every few seconds from how harshly they shake. You lie down carefully on your side beside him, so hyperaware of any part of yourself brushing against him, in case the wounded creature decides to bolt. Thankfully, he comes sliding towards you, only stopping when your chest does the job for him; being as physically close as he can get to you, he huddles into your embrace while you stroke back the few curls by his ear. Once you’ve finally managed to choke back your own tears, your lips latch onto the spot of skin by the lobe of his ear, eyes closing and ticking his skin. He warbles against you, shivering, and the kiss just makes him whine more harrowingly against your chest.

Romie’s always around you. Always. He finds it difficult to actually be physically intimate, so it says quite plainly (even if you can’t understand it yet) that you’re the love of his life when he comes barrelling down the front stairs of the veranda and straight into your hug whenever your first foot falls onto the estate. It also means that during family dinners, when he’s finally mastering the skill of slouching back in his wishbone chair and tuning out all the horrible and spiteful things wrapped up in faux sincerity his family are saying about each other, he turns instead to kick your feet under the table. The brush of his ankle against your shoe is soon followed by the heavy pressure of his fingers reaching over onto your lap and entangling with your own. When the two of you are finally excused, you decide not to go back inside straight away. Instead, the two of you go for a dander around some of the verdant fields around the edges of the property: a few green patches here there that are filled with the scent of honeysuckle and freshly blooming rainbows splattered amongst the dirt. You decide to stop and sit for a while on the edge of a cobbled stone wall, laughing as Roman nearly falls off the uneven patch as he settles down beside you. He shrugs you off with a wave of his hand, but he’s smiling as you pluck a daisy from between the blades and tuck it behind his ear. For a while, the two of you just exist: watching the sunset brew violet and lilac gleams across your eyeline, talking shite and poking fun at each other, until Roman shyly takes a break from his rapid talking to blink slowly. He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He climbs into your room later that night, and you nearly hit him with a baseball bat when you come strolling out of your bathroom to see a teenager laying splayed out in a heap on your rug, a few pages of your homework flying over your desk from where he had banged his knee and tripped. With a lopsided grin, he decides to just stay lying there (once you had convinced him that you weren’t going to actually hit him). Sometimes Roman just likes to watch what you’re doing: to observe as an outsider what normality, what contentment should and could feel like. As you sit by your lamp and finish off your english essay for the next morning, you notice with furrowed eyebrows that Roman is moochier than normal tonight: he keeps squirming, rolling about and whining as if he’s debating something in his mind. That’s why when he’s gripping onto the ivy and finally climbing back down into the darkness later that night, you grab onto the collar of his sherpa jacket and heave him up through the air like a flustered bird towards you. After his initial surprise at the feeling of you pounding your lips against his own, he melts into you: clumsily, messily, desperately, but with one hand gripping so hard onto your window frame that he splinters the wood. His top lip refuses to let you go: capturing onto your bottom lip over and over and over again, the sweet taste of cherry flooding your senses as you bite down on the lip forcing its way into your mouth. When he pulls away, he looks so uncharacteristically serious for a moment as he hovers a few inches away from your face. His eyes never break from your lips, as if he he looks away the miracle he’s been graced with might fly away and he’ll be left with the hellish nightmare of his normal reality. But it doesn’t, and so you let him go.

He burns a crimson red and starts muttering incoherently as his feet work their way back down the garden lattice, but he’s got this giddy smile and a spring in his swishing walk the whole way home.

I mean, like, of course Connor invited you on the camping trip. And man, I mean the tension that had been expanding between you and Roman over the last few years was becoming more and more obvious to his brothers, and it pierced Roman’s heart with a stroke of fear when he realised it was to him as well. Connor’s little fishing expedition by the river turned out a little differently than he expected: instead of a placid moment between family, learning and teaching new skills together and bonding over one activity they could all share in, it was more of a ‘watch little gremlin Roman flirt obnoxiously with Y/n and, once again, ignore everyone else’ fest. Kendall sat on the shore, itchy against the reeds of grass and sighing every time he looked down at his watch. Connor was still having fun, though, from where he was wading his brand new, and never worn again wellies into the shallow end of the creek. It was just that every now and then he would have to trip over his fishing line and scoot to the right to avoid large splashes of weedy water landing on him; Roman had decided a much better use of his time was to try and pull up handful of mud and chase you around the river side with it. Your squeals, as you ran around the tamarack trees and peered around the sides like a meerkat, could be heard from the campsite. So, too, could Roman’s hyena laugh as he went laughing around the bend after you, and Connor had to spend half the night ignoring your shared snickers as he apologies to camper after camper. 

I don’t even know how, but somehow the two of you managed to convince Connor that it was a great idea for you and Roman to share a tent. Thanks to Kendall’s pointed warning for the two of you to behave and ‘not embarrass the family name anymore’, you were both surprisingly well behaved during the night. Mainly due to the fact that before you fell asleep, you leant over and left a chaste kiss against Roman’s cold forehead, before turning onto your side facing him and wishing him a goodnight. He wiggled down into his sleeping bag like a little worm as the electricity from your touch spread down like firebolts through his body. That man did not sleep one wink that night. Not one. Instead he rolled onto his left side, and chose to spend his time contemplating you: taking you in. The milky buzz of twilight flooded through the loose zip, the chirp of bouncing crickets on the darkened rocks outside match the intense thudding of his heart. Fumbling his fingers up so they rested underneath the side of his jaw, he made himself comfortable as he observed the way your chest rose and fall: the way your nose crinkled up in disgust when you were in the throes of a weird dream, the way your mouth mushed as you turned more into the stony ground. How much he loved you. How happy he could be if he could just summon the bravery to tell you. How fucked he was. How, if he did, his father would immediately utilise it, weaponize his love against him.

Roman wasn’t stupid, but he was. He didn’t know if he could find a way to escape this cage. Deep in his heart, he knew there was no key to this dog kennel, to this bird cage, to this leash. But he lay there, still, dreaming of freedom.

You get invited along on their family holidays a lot, mainly because Logan spends his whole time on phone calls and not mentally being present so he doesn’t really notice you’re there. If you and Roman aren’t spending the afternoons sitting together on a sun lounger, reading aloud softly to him by the pool side, it’s spent actually in the pool. A freshly seventeen year old Roman had seemed nervous, besides the usual annoyance at having to wear nothing but swimming shorts: shaken all day; when you touch his pinkie finger and grip onto it, silently asking him with your stern expression if you were okay, only the most miniscule of grins could cross his face in response. He still seemed unsettled in the water, besides the fact that Shiv’s foot nearly thwacked him up the face as she and Kendall wrestled each other under the water, both unrelenting in their accusation that the other had lost their splashing match. While you watched on in horrified curiosity, you nearly jumped when you felt Roman softly touch your elbow and lead you away from the affray. You think he’s trying to guide you towards the Jacuzzis as you bob across the water, or perhaps back to his room to escape the antics of his family. Instead, Roman leads you further into the deep end for a moment; after a sharp turn right, you’re surrounded by a small well, a shallow area just out of sight of the main swimming area. The imposing walls loom over your head as you take a perched seat on the brick bench that runs around the semi-circle, and Roman’s breath trembles as he follows suit, sitting maddingly close to you. You open your mouth to ask him what’s going on, but before you can get a squeak out he’s lunged at you, fervently enough to make you nearly bite your tongue. It’s not super romantic, and it’s incredibly clumsy as an inexperienced Roman Roy mashes his lips against your bottom one until he can feel his teeth clash against yours. You can taste a touch of pineapple from the inside of his mouth as he sloppily raises his cupid’s bow, and soon after the tang of chlorine as he falls too far forward and sends you both tumbling backwards into the water. But when you come back up for air, heaving him up by his underarms and staring dumbstruck at him as he pants heavily and tries to look anywhere else, you burst out giggling. Roman’s smile grows brightly enough to blight the sun as he looks incredulously at you, the laughter only stopping short on his lips when he catches the squinting look of his sister watching the two of you from the boundary edge.

It’s the first and last time Roman Roy kisses you for a while, terrified that one of his siblings will go squealing to daddy and he’ll take you away from him. And then, suddenly, the two of you have grown up. Roman’s still stuck to you like glue, but the repression festers away in his stomach until he feels as if some kind of scaly tooth monster is gnawing away at his insides. He feels the leather tighten around his neck whenever he’s standing like an affronted ostrich in that office with his father, his master, his demise, his ghost, him. 

So, Roman starts to try and avoid you whenever he’s at Waystar, worried that the grief that never seems to leave his mind will strangle you if he lets you in. Terrified that his father will die, but also that his father will never die. That this is just another cage. Eventually, after weeks of him turning on his heels with a manic jolt and running out of every board room he spots you in: after months of the child dressed up as a man putting his phone to his ear and having nonsensical phone calls every time he passes you in the corridors, you manage to nab him when he’s walking out of the break room. Even though a stuttering cousin Greg thinks you’re trying to kidnap him when you grab Roman by the collar and start dragging him to the elevator, you refuse to let go until Greg’s waving hand is firmly shut behind the metal sheets. You let go, and he fumbles backwards onto the hand-rail that runs around the small rectangle with a bemused ‘what the actual fuck’, but you just cross your arms and stare at him, refusing to talk first. 

Your austere façade quickly drops, and you’re quick to slam your first into the emergency button on the panel, gripping onto Roman’s sleeve as the elevator lurches to a stop between the twenty-second and twenty-third floors. A kind of acceptance has washed over Roman, some kind of known and familiar claustrophobia from having spent his whole life locked up, his whole life thrown about sets in. He picks at his fingernails as his eyes dart about, wild and brutal and crushing as he looks around for an escape route. It’s only when you put a hand on his shoulder and draw him in for a hug that he breaks down; he squats down so the two of you are resting a few inches off the floor, his face buried just atop of your heart as he shakes and he cries and he allows himself the security to just crumble. To melt down. To kick his feet and hope his father feels the wring of the shackles against his own ankles. He hopes for the first time in his life, as you stroke the back of his head and shush him comfortingly, that they hurt him. 

Something changes between the two of you that day. You’re kinder to each other, and slowly to yourselves. It’s not outspoken, or rushed, or ravenous, but it begins to grow and grow and grow until it’s not only confusion and anguish that lies at the pit of Roman’s rotting core.

It starts with him becoming more comfortable showing affection to you around his family. Like you sitting on Roman’s lap at Shiv’s wedding reception, not listening to the speeches but trying to hide your giggles in Roman’s palms as he’s busy trying to take roses out of the centre piece and pin them through your hair. Or his full weight against you during the professional photos out on the balcony, and not even Shiv flicking her brother or Tom waving his hand at Roman to try and get him to behave could stop him from leaning backwards and planting a kiss underneath your jawline once the man said he was taking the final photograph. The two of you go out into the gardens later that night, trying to escape the ear-hammering loud beats of the D.J., and to try and make an early escape from the growing fight that seemed to be coming between Tom and Shiv’s old work acquaintance. With two beers and slightly tipsy heads, you sit down and talk on the dew-ridden grass, shoulders swaying against the other’s in time with the falling pine leaves. You felt like children again, and against the smouldering clash of fireworks that brandished the sky in bursts of red and gold, you both felt undying as well. He kisses you then, his hand reaching up to brush against the side of your cheek, his bottom lip teasingly tugging at your bottom lip and making you swat him away with a laugh. As you take his hand in your own and press a promise filled kiss against his middle knuckle, he hopes that one day he’ll be able to kiss you at your own wedding.

When you know he’s having a rough day at work, you like to try and sneak into his office and wrap your arm around his stomach, peppering kisses up and down his spine. Although he tries to shake you off like a startled starling at first, when he realises that you also managed to close the blinds on your way in without him noticing, he quickly relinquishes himself onto your barrage of adoration. He becomes all whiny, and soft, and needy, and all the things he’ll never allow himself to be outside of the security blanket of this closed off room. Although he still isn’t comfortable with anything too sexual, you won’t find him complaining as he wrestles you to the sofa. Once you’ve had the wind knocked out of your lungs, and Roman’s satisfied with how fully you’re splayed out on your back before him, he’ll go scuttling over to the end of the sofa and kneel down beside it. With a mischievous glimmer in his eye, he’ll swish his hips from side to side and come crawling up the sides of his body like a wolf slinking towards its dinner. Then he attacks: his tongue heavy and slick as he draws a hickey out just under the pulse point on your neck, pressing him firmly against you if you try to squirm away, chiding you with a warning. When it becomes too much, he lets you grip him up by his tie and walk him backwards until his thighs hit his desk. He jumps up to perch on it, and you stand between his legs as they tighten around you. You’re slow and careful as you loosen the material between your fingers, opening the first button of his shirt, and only the first so he doesn’t become too uncomfortable, with a satisfying loud pop. He whimpers as you lean over to scrape your teeth against the exposed skin, working your way up until your lips are tantalisingly hovering over the stubble on his jaw. He can feel your breath, hot and unsteady as it pants against him, but he still can’t stop the shiver that racks through him as he takes your hand and guides them under his shirt. With your hands firmly planted against his abdomen, you look at him quizzically, worried, but he just keeps his fingers on top of your own and answers you by sweetly pressing his top lip over his own. Just once, he wanted to feel safe, to feel okay with the love of his life touching his body.

The two of you have this game where you try to steal kisses from each other during the most inappropriate and annoying times possible. Oh, Shiv’s trying to talk to you in her kitchen about how her trip to England went? Roman barges in between the two of you, nearly making Shiv chop her thumb off, just so he can interrupt his sister by smirking against your mouth. Kendall wants to run through a presentation the two of them have to give the next morning? You’re grabbing onto Roman’s head as you run through the office, nearly giving him a heart attack as he scrambles backwards and allows you to drop his head back onto the cushion. With a full plant landing on his already pliant lips, Kendall’s left with a fed-up ‘hey’, yet unsurprised look of disappointment on his face as you run off back to your own desk.

When his father called Romie a moron in Prague, the look of desolation that crossed through his teary eyes was enough to make an angel weep. But it broke you even more when he pattered out of the dining area, walking shoulder to shoulder with you, but not saying anything. He was just staring down at his hands as if they were blotted: stained with specks of blood, and he would have to spend another sleepless night scrubbing them out of his skin. It wasn’t the first time he heard it, but it was the first time you were there to hear it too, and you weren’t going to let him get comfortable wallowing in that fearful acceptance. You grip onto his shoulder and steer him away from the milling crowd of sheep, stuffing him into a bathroom stall of the east wing of the hotel. Crowded together, Roman’s hamstring bumps against the porcelain as the two of you scoot about until you’re standing facing each other as best as you could. He looks at you, bleary eyed, and you look at him, bleary eyed. He breaks. Choking, gasping, breathless sobs, drowning in his misery. He grabs onto your shirt, clawing into the meat of your shoulders as if he’ll sink if he lets go. He keeps babbling through bubbles of spit about how he just wants to make his father proud, how he wants to be just like him, how he wants to prove that he can rule all this too. How he can never replace him. But he can. He wants it all to burn, but he wants to stand on the ruins and be the one to plant the foundations again. To make a better world, in honour of his father: in honour of the god of war that rages within his head. You press quick kisses on his sweaty forehead whenever you can, doing your best to dodge the quick turns of his head and wiping away the trails of tears with your thumb. All you can do in that moment, as you press your lips against the side of his ear and whisper it to the most intimate, lost parts of himself, is to let him know that you’re proud of him, no matter what happens next. You always have been, and even the ghost of Logan that possess Roman can’t stop that.

The sloppy kisses he gives you the next morning omg. When the two of you are sitting on your bedroom steps, and you’re biting your bottom lip in concentration as you try to do up the buttons of his dress shirt and make him look presentable in front of his family. Like a feral dog, he uses all of his leftover energy trying to nip and bite your fingertips, catching them on his tongue and pursing them against the roof of his mouth whenever he can.

You cannot convince me that Roman isn’t a jealous bitch. Like at Kendall’s fortieth birthday party, when he finally gives up trying to get up into his special little secret treehouse club, and Shiv has left him to go ham on the dance floor instead. You finally manage to convince him into relaxing for a fricking minute, making him join you at the bar. If someone tries to grab your waist, though, or butt into your conversation while the two of you are hyena giggling and seeing who can spurt more beer into the other’s face, Roman will full on goad them into fighting him. I mean, chest puffed out, crazed look in his face, hands up by his side until they send a weak shove in their general direction. It only ends when Roman either: near topples you to press a bracing kiss against your lips, or you dragging him off and having to hold him through the brackets of his arms. In the corner of the room, over by the sheets of warbling fire that seems to be coming from a central room, you stand behind his feet and wrap your arms up his chest. You can feel the fury roll off him, allowing him a moment to blow off the steam, until his head finally falls like putty and begins to synchronise his breathing to yours again after you hold your lips against the nape of his neck.

The kisses when he comes back after being held hostage (I am doing this so out of order apologies) omg??? He clambers sombrely to sit beside you on the deck of the boat, looking so out of place and serious as he leans back against the cushions. His siblings make fun of him, and tease him, and although he realises it’s harmless and he’ll see it as a key bonding moment a couple of years down the line, in the inside the typical Roy storm is brewing. He can’t say anything: just hides behind the jokes and snide comments so the words don’t choke him. You just feel his weight fall against yours little by little, until his hand reaches out and takes your own so tightly you know it’s going to bruise. The muscle in his jaw tightens and he squeezes his eye shut in an enduring pain at the sight of his father’s helicopter coming in to land. So, for that kind second before his life comes crashing back down around him again and he has to revert back, to hide behind the brick wall again, you take him over to the railings. It’s just the two of you, the warm sea salt stinging against your grimacing faces, and the ungodly sight of a near-naked Cousin Greg lying stretched out beside the slide below you. After a few goes, you manage to unlatch his claws from the white metal and replace them with your soothing palm, rubbing semi-circles against the back of his hand. You’re here. You’re here, with him. You’re not going to let him go it alone again, if he wants.

And he does. He could cry, he so desperately does. Some of the tension falls from his shoulders as he raises your joint hands to his lips and kisses them, gracing over every inch of skin his mouth can latch onto. 

You both know, in that moment, that it’s enough. It’s a promise. You’ll stick together, no matter what. You’ll love each other through everything, no matter what. You’ll stay around, no matter what or who he becomes.

Which brings me to... kissing him when you find out about the passing of his father. Standing on that boat, on the most joyous of occasions, feeling as if the whole world is shattering around you. Feeling miserable at the knowledge that deep down, some part of you is overjoyed by the news. Feeling even more downtrodden to realise, as the streaky eyes and thousand-stare faces of the Roy siblings flash back and forth in your line of sight as they pass the phone to each other, that Logan will never really be gone. They’re talking to his lifeless, empty shell through the speakers, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s here in this room. He’s staring through their eyes. Talking in their quivering, harsh voices. Pounding through their feet. Tearing them apart as they try to cling onto each other. In their accusations that burst through their mouths innately. In the ordered instructions hurled out to keep business running smoothly. Hidden between the cracks of their voices as they sharpen their words and seethe them out between clenched teeth when the slightest chance of Logan even being dead is raised. He’s here, right now, as you let go of the death grip Kendall and Shiv have on both of your hands and catch sight of Roman rocking backwards and forth on the floor.

Giving a final squeeze of apology to Connor’s arm, you take Roman out of the room before he combusts. The whole air seems to be chilled: still, like something’s lurking unspoken between the threads of air. Like you’re leading Roman through the cold remains of a morgue. He wanders around for a minute, not even hearing the click of the door as you close it behind you. Not even crying. Not even speaking. For the first time in his life, he looks so much like his father. Too much. It scares you. Until eventually he just closes his eyes and trods over to the wall, thumping his forehead down on the cool metal until it burns. He holds his hand out to you, cufflinks gleaming like the edge of a knife past the ceiling lights, as if he’s offering a contract out to you. Apprehensively, your tentative hand creeps out and places itself gingerly on top of his own. He takes it, his dry lips latching onto you until the bridge of his nose is resting now upon your hand. The deal is done.

When you get back to your apartment though, and Romie finds out that Matsson wants him to fly out and meet him in Norway... that’s when Roman gets weird. Devastated. Freaks out. Grieves. You come out from your shower, wearing one of his suit shirts as your pyjama top, and he doesn’t even give a whistle of appreciation. Instead he’s crumpled on the floor by the canopy of your bed, cradling his knees to his chest, swearing into his kneecaps furiously. But you - you, oh god, you’re the only thing that can stop him from being swallowed up by Logan’s fury. You tilt his chin up during a tangled rush of expletives I don’t dare to copy down here, a scowl setting itself into his face like stone. It begins to soften when he realises you’re touching him, when he can feel the scrape of your nail around his jugular. You do your best to warble an unconvincing smile as you turn his head to the side, so you can better wipe your bottom lip against the edge of his throbbing mouth. You mould yourself to him, working at his pace as he winces at first, before slowly falling more and more easily into your grip. His hands loosen from his arms and fall onto your triceps as he deliriously tries to come back to himself through searching through the velvety warmness of your mouth: by swiping against your tongue and choking back his grievances as you pant into his open, waiting mouth.

You wake him up the next day with a fond kiss against the tip of his nose, and for the first time in a long while he smiles before he wakes fully up. The morning light cradles his bleary face as he sleepily runs a few fingers over the edge of your cheek, before cradling himself into your side again. He feels safe, weary, anguished, loved enough to fall asleep again, after pressing a few gentle licks behind your earlobes to try and hear you laugh again. Even through it all, his main concern is you. 

You trace his features while he restlessly dreams, although he squirms from time to time and alludes you to the fact that he’s secretly awake. A kiss here, between the junctions of wrinkles on his furrowed forehead. A kiss there, on the patchy stubble just underneath his left ear. A few there on the dark circles underneath his eyes, until you’re balancing over him and holding yourself up by the hands splayed over his pillow. He just needs to be reminded he’s beautiful from time to time. That he’s perfect. That he doesn’t need to try and be someone else. To encapsulate his father. 

But also like, Roman fucking hates Matsson. The way he looks at you during the whole field trip, like a hunter about to swallow its prey whole. Although the continuous comments about his family, and the two new Co-Ceo’s, and the legacy of his father make him burn down to the pit of his stomach with a white hot fury, he can deal with them if he would just leave you the fuck alone. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone but him looking at his soulmate with such adoration and lust in their eyes, so if that overgrown yeti gives you the up and down check out one more time he might actually just deck him in the middle of the retreat. He bites down on his tongue so harshly that his taste buds begin to bubble and prickle with blood, deciding it best to storm off and collect his thoughts before he lashes out and does something he can’t take back. You finally manage to track him down a little way off the beaten track, winding your way over some cobbled steps to find a branched alcove with nothing but a bench and a breath taking view of the gushing river down below. He’s hunched over with his fingers knotted over his knees, his lips so tightly drawn together that at first you don’t even spot the droplets of blood until he turns with a raised eye to look at you.

He knows it’s not your fault, so there’s no convincing or apologies when you join him. Just Roman finally getting all of that pent up sorrow and distress out. After an awkward moment of bouncing your foot up and down, you decide your best course of action is to just open your arm up to him again, like you used to do when you were children. At first he raises a confused eyebrow, before the realisation dawns over his face, and his features crumble. His lips purse, his throat bobbing as he heaves the tears back down, but he can’t stop his lips from trembling as he falls into your side. That kiss was the sweetest, as he leans his chin familiarly against your shoulder and bumps noses with your own. He frowns, sobbing at the knowledge that he can kiss you, finally, in the way he’s been yearning for all his life, and yet it all feels so wrong. So upside down. So far away from what he had dreaming. The freedom feels like a tether, and yet he juts his chin out and latches placidly onto your bottom lip anyway, the tears trickling down and falling between your mouths. 

It’s an act of defiance. A key sliding into the lock. He still can’t say it, but he won’t allow himself to smother the feeling anymore. The first sip of poison gliding down his throat, and Roman prays as he presses his forehead tearfully against your own, that it would kill the Logan part of him first.

[ithinkabouttzu]

hello!

can i request a bob headcannon about the gn!reader having a cat that doesn't like the boys :)? feel free to skip this if you don't feel like writing it!

Easy co. reacting to their s/o having a cat that doesn’t like them!

a/n: Thank you for request love! i hope you enjoy!! 💗

genre: fluff!

warnings: swearing, a little jealousy?

description: Some of men from Easy reacting to their gn s/o having a cat that doesn’t like them!

taglist: @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl @samwinchesterslostshoe @ronsenthal @sweetxvanixlla @mstiemountainhop (If you want to be on this list, let me know!! :))

BoB masterlist

Dick Winters: Every time he’s at your place, he would just simply try to avoid your cat as much as possible. Like knowing that your cat doesn’t like him one bit, he’s not going to try and make friends with the little guy/girl. Maybe every once and while he’d buy your pet toys or treats for special occasions.

Lewis Nixon: It’s kinda pathetic how desperate he is to make your cat like him. Not because he likes cats a whole lot or anything but mostly because he wants to impress you. I could def see him whispering to your cat while you’re out of the room like, “hey you little fucker, why don’t you like me, huh?” He makes sure to get them a custom-made vat 69 chew toy.

Carwood Lipton: “Hey, you don’t have to be scared.” Unlike Winters he IS going to try and make friends with the little critter even after it’s been made clear that they don’t like him one bit lol. Everytime that he is over at your place he always greets your cat and immediately gets rejected by a hiss lol. He would sweetly talk to them when you’re sleeping like, “Your parent is the best person I know, you be good to them alright?”

Joe Toye: The feeling is surely mutual. You would probably think the feud between them two is hilarious. Like if your cat gives Joe that side eye look (that one all cats give) you better believe Joe is giving one right back to them. “Something is wrong with your cat, I think he/she’s plotting something evil.”

Joe Liebgott: He tries a good bit to be friends with your cat at first, but after a while he just learns to keep his distance after a good scratch on his arm. Even after that though you will always see Joe coming back to your place with treats, food, or toys. “I know you like me. You’re just trying to put up a front cuz’ i’m with your parent.”

Bill Guarnere: He has SERIOUS beef with your cat. Like the moment your cat even GLANCES at him he’s gonna say some dumb shit like, “Babe get your cat before he catches these hands” Lmaoo he’d never actually hurt your cat but he talks a big game to them alllll the time. Bill and your cat “act” like they don't like each other but then you’d see them secretly cuddling while you’re not paying attention.

George Luz: He’s kinda like Lip, willingly trying to play with your cat when they are just OVER it. Whenever the cat and him are alone it literally looks like the cat is babysitting Luz lmao. He would buy your cat a bunch of little fake rats and feather toys in hopes they would play with him. “Oh c’monn! You can’t act like you hate me forever!”

Bull Randleman: He’s gonna stay as far from the cat as possible. In all honesty, and he probably wouldn’t say this to you because he wouldn’t want you to get mad, but he HATES cats. 1. Because he’s allergic, 2. Because they’re always grumpy (In his words not mine.) He might pet cat a few times but that's about it.

Eugene Roe: “Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you I promise.” He’s so patient with your cat, it’s so freaking sweet. He doesn’t want to make your cat nervous or uncomfortable so he wouldn’t try pushing to play with him/her especially knowing that they don’t like him.

Floyd Talbert: He’s definitely gonna sit there and bribe your cat with treats for sure. Also saying shit like “You gotta start liking me someday, i’m gonna be your new dad soon” LMFAO. I have a feeling he would get oddly jealous over your cat if you were cuddling them and not him. “If you kiss them, you gotta kiss me too, yk?”

Skip muck: When you warn him that your cat isn’t very friendly and might get territorial his exact words are, “No way! I’m amazing with animals, practically a cat whisperer.” Pan to him a couple hours later keeping a three feet distance from your cat because it bit the shit out of his ankle and now he’s genuinely afraid of your cat. Let’s just say he’d keep his distance after that.

Don Malarkey: He would try being as friendly as possible with your cat (despite him being a very big dog person) at first, but once he realizes how much your cat actually hates him he gets kind of offended not gonna lie. “Honey, I’ve done almost everything to socialize with them, am I doing something wrong?”

Babe Heffron: He sneezes every time he’s around your cat soo much and he swears to you that he isn’t allergic. The beef all starts when he starts sneezing super hard around your place and it scares the fuck out of your cat. He doesn’t mean to antagonize them, but it just comes off that way with the loud ass sneezes, will buy a couple toys for them tho.

Shifty Powers: This man is the actual male version of snow white, so when you tell him your cat is a bit reactive and probably won’t like him he understands, but at the same time when he meets your cat he’s going to spend the rest of his night trying to get them to like him. (And it obviously works somehow because he’s an animal whisperer.)

Frank Perconte: “If that cat bites me or claws me, I'm swingin’.” Right from the moment he meets your cat he’s giving them the dirtiest looks EVER. Sometimes he feels like he’s definitely fighting for your attention whenever the cat is around. He might act like he’s your cat's biggest hater but in all honesty he loves them to death.

Ronald Speirs: He is ODDLY quiet around the cat. The only way I can describe the relationship is Brennan and Dale from Stepbrothers. They love each other, can't stand each other, but are also seen being together all the time? Both him and the cat will act like they don’t like eachother but they do.

Johnny Martin: He’s very willing to push for a relationship with your cat, even if they absolutely hate him. Mostly to make you happy and comfortable with them two being around each other. Whenever the cat hisses at him he loves to say that “they’re just warming up to me.” And it’s literally been 5 months LMAO.

Skinny Sisk: “Aw, aren’t you a little cutie?” The hate is so one-sided it’s horrible. He will desperately try to hangout with your cat while they actually want to bite his eyes out. “Here, let me feed them, maybe they’ll like me more if I do it.” Sweet baby is COMMITTED to making your cat like him.

Chuck Grant: Whenever he is at your place and sees your cat, he acts simply invisible. His reasoning is, if he acts like he isn't there then he practically is. He won’t go as far as to even look your cat in the eye. He might pet them once or twice but other than that he likes to keep his distance.

David Webster: He probably wants to read you an article on reactive cats and the proper way to fix the aggression coming from them of course. He wants to make sure your cat doesn't hate him for long. He would try playing a lot of calming music for animals and stuff like that when they are hanging out.

Buck Compton: He’s probably going to go out of his way to buy your cat all kinds of stuff like toys and treats but as far as interacting goes he doesn’t like to be around them for too long (especially when you aren’t there with him too lmao) he’s scared of your cat but definitely won’t admit that to you haha.

Again, thank you for requesting! If you enjoyed, make sure to like or reblog!! 💗

[nkogneatho]

How about Toji's girlfriend cheating on him with Megumi?

A/n: Oh let me tell you megs will take his revenge for the trauma toji had caused him lmaoo.

Megumi's breath was getting heavier with each time he pushed himself in you. He waited for this for so long. Now that he finally had you, he was going to make sure to corrupt every inch of yours Toji has touched.

He left bite marks wherever he saw a skin bruised with hickeys.

"Megumi, Ah! Don't do that. He'll know," you hissed in pain.

"Good. I want him to," long fingers playing with your nipples. "I want him to know how fucking nasty his girlfriend is."

"Ngh! Too deep. Ah—megumi."

"Don't want him to find out yet you're moaning so loud. What my old man would think if he hears you in the next room?" The taunts leaving his mouth humiliated you more. You tried to bite your lip, pathetically trying to hold back the filthy noises leaving your lips. Although, it only fueled Megumi's ego. With a low chuckle, he increased the pace, making it even harder for you. At last you gave up.

"Mhm, f-fuck!" you mewled. "Right there, megumi. Yes."

"Do I make you feel better than that asshole?"

"Ye—oh my god. Yes, you do. I love your dick so much." It drove him crazy. He lifted you by your waist, your body half in air and pushed so deep, it made you come. Your vision went blank. You should've come to your senses by now, knowing what you were doing was wrong. But you only craved him more.

[wayfayrr]

Take as long as you need on my request Moss <333 I’m more than happy to wait however long <3

But on another note, I’ve suddenly been reminded that in the self aware aus, the boys heard *everything*. Which then reminds me, the amount of shit I’ve said during their adventures- specifically Sky and Twilight’s.

1. The shit talking I have said about enemies, some more than others (looking at you Ghirahim, Demise, Ganon, and Zant). I shit talked them whenever I saw them, especially Ghirahim honestly, bro’s hair looks greasy enough to be used to fry food, and he looks like a wet paper towel.

2. The shit I said about the Links omggg. Again, this is mainly about Sky and Twilight (honestly mainly Sky cause you’re so right, he has the sweetest sounds) because the *t h i n g s* I would do to them after they pull some cool ass shit would not, in fact, be family friendly. Ofc, I talked about how pretty they are so many times- the amount of times I moved the camera at an angel so I could see their face and gush about how gorgeous they are is,, a lot. Called them perfect so many times too: slicing grass? Perfect <3 Fighting a bokoblin? Perfect <33 Tossing a bomb? Perfect <333 honestly was using any excuse to call the boys perfect, I love them so much. AND OM THE OTHER HAND THAT REMINDS ME OF HOW OFTEN I SAID I LOVED THEM LMAOO

But I digress. Anyway, you know those thirst comments on tiktok? The type like ‘until the shape is embedded in my throat’? I pray for self aware Sky, I said unhinged shit like that all the time for him- even more so than Twilight- whenever he did anything cool. Sometimes said it when he didn’t even do anything cool; used the claw shot to get high up? Charging up for the sky slice (can’t remember the name)? Aiming Fi in the direction needed to go? Said unhinged shit then too.

~🍀 anon

yep :3c they've heard everything, every single bit of praise you've given them, every curse when you mess up - anything you said to any friends while playing? all of it.

1- I think they'd be ecstatic to hear you slandering their enemies, there would be a weird dissonance if you were fond of the villains. Not because they're jealous no, never, how could you assume that. they are and they are impossibly bad at hiding it, their hatred of seeing you praise someone else in their game might be your first clue that something is wrong with your game They also just get a good laugh at how creative some of your insults can get <3333 it's not like they hear any genuine ones often!!!!

2- it's almost impossible to play a zelda game without fawning over how cute link is (I myself have so so many screenshots of him and just can't go more than five minutes without complimenting him) and I think they'd love it!! though it makes them a bit upset that they're still trapped and can't return any of the compliments without scaring you into resetting or deleting the game :( they've got to work up the confidence that you won't abandon him before he does anything (or simply the desperation to) despite how much you've told them you love them, they've still got enough common sense to know that this isn't normal

rfgbhsbghgfbfsgb he's just going to be a blushy mess when he can finally go against the games precoded animations and has his own free movement but he's just so pretty and as flustered as he drinks up each and every one of them. [I can absolutely see him playing up a more 'pathetic' demeanor in order to milk more from you between giving you plenty back ofc] I have so many screenshots of his game ong it's an issue

peep and I were also joking about how when you put in the boss key sky's just standing there watching you struggle with the puzzle (and for dowsing he can feel you cake full control of his head to look out of his eyes and it's where he feels the closest to you <33)

[goddamnitchuuya]

hi! i saw ur reqs were open so i thought id ask (absolutely no pressure if u don't want to write for this^^)

nyway could u maybe write smth about pm!dazai + degrading??

i rlly don't see enough appreciation of pm!dazai on tumblr and i am starving for content lmaoo

he!!! 🛐

contains: dom pm!dazai x f reader, dazai is a sadist, degradation, choking, exhibitionism, very light bondage, breeding, creampie.

minors dni.

"Can't even keep quiet during the last seconds? If the door wasn't shut so loudly, he could've heard a whore choking under my desk. Or perhaps he really had, 's that what you want?"

Dazai who roughly catches a fistful of your hair and pushes you deeper onto his cock. The sheer amusement in his laughs when you gag more sends shiver down your body. Your throat closes tightly around the fat cockhead, boosting his ego even more. He thinks whether it's because of how you absolutely love being humiliated by him, or getting caught by his subordinate or just literally anyone. How pathetic you are when he pushes you off his cock, he watches you cough and suck in deep breaths, wiping the remaining white fluid on your chin.

"I'd get up and shoot him twice, but you just had to get in my fucking way."

Dazai, whose lap you're being held in place on. Being his cockwarmer already has you frustrated, now even with a vibrator right above your swollen clit. Your lips must hurt from how hard you're biting them, palms all bruised by your own nails digging into the skin. He won't touch you properly, no. Can't you see he's busy? His chin over your right shoulder, dark eye fixed on the mess of work on the desk surface. But you're just a greedy slut who can't keep her mouth shut - his words - who's god damn desperate for his attention, constantly hungry for his cock, can't live without his cum fucked deep inside you. Those things slipped out from his mouth as if his dick weren't twitching and aching to thurst up to your cervix.

"Cut the whines, slut. Unless you want the entire Port Mafia to know how cock starved you are, stay still and don't fucking dare squirt all over my paperwork."

Dazai who doesn't run out of saying to degrade you. He has you bent to the nearest wall once you arrive at your shared bedroom, not bothering to strip you both off. Your wrists are all red, locked in his single hand while his other toys around with your mouth, long fingers pressing down on your tongue that's still coated a bit in his seed. His cock is filling your pussy up so full but he won't stop. It gets all messy on your clothes and he doesn't care. He mockingly calls you a princess, the dirty princess who never gets satisfied of what she gets, not even when her hole can barely hold his cum in anymore.

Dazai... who whispers in a soft voice of how much he loves you when you're fucked too stupid to form any coherent word but his name.

[rosesradio]

Fluffy and smutty jercy?

hiii 🫶 so this is not fluffy in the slightest but uh not-sober!me got this idea in her head & then sober!me had to edit it hell out of it because it turns out i was Not in a state to be writing anything coherent lmaoo. so anyways 🧍

warnings: oral sex, fwb

Thalia was going to fucking kill him, but it was worth it. It was worth it a million times to see her younger brother like this.

Thalia and Percy had been at each other’s throats for years—from sports competitions to academic rivalries (which was a feat, considering neither of them cared that much about school). They were seconds away from beating the shit out each other at all times, and if she knew what Percy was doing at that moment, he had no doubt she’d fight him again. But it didn’t matter. Not when—

Jason whined, tugging Percy’s hair like he couldn’t help himself. Percy was brought back to earth, nothing but pleased to be snapped out of his daydreams if this was the reality.

That reality was, of course, Percy giving Jason head in the back of his beat-up Chrysler. He was parked a couple blocks away from Jason’s place, though that didn’t stop the blonde from being anxious about his sister finding them. Percy, ever the gentleman, reassured him that nothing was better anxiety relief than a quickie.

He’d never done this with Jason before. It was clear from the first few times that Percy went out with him that Jason would be borderline pathetic in the sack if he weren’t so pretty and vocal. He reacted at the slightest touch, eyes darkening in the bright blue as he drew closer and closer to each orgasm. The way he gripped at Percy—at his arms, his hips, his hair. It were as if he’d never made himself cum, as if he wouldn’t be able to without Percy’s kind assistance.

“P-Percy,” Jason whined, carding his fingers through Percy’s hair as if he were Jack-fuckin’-Dawson. Percy had no choice but to love it, really. He rubbed Jason’s thighs, his touch greedy and pressing over the sensitive spots over which he’d already left marks.

Jason’s breath quickened, his chest heaving like clockwork. He wasn’t quite as built as Percy, though he wasn’t that far off. Percy remembered one time (was that last week? The hookups all blurred together), in which Jason had cum untouched in his jeans, his face all cutely scrunched up. He then insisted on getting Percy off the way he wanted. Next thing Percy knew, he was coming on Jason’s chest, marking him in a way that left both of them flushed and breathless.

Perhaps that would happen again. Perhaps, given the time and Jason’s anxiety, Percy would settle with only getting him off tonight. He could live with that—if Jason was down for it, Percy would send him a video so he could see just what he missed.

Jason rolled his hips up, squirming like a girl on prom night and moaning like one to boot. Still, Percy couldn’t deny how hard he got in his jeans at sounds he was making, at the feeling of him hard between his lips.

It was then that Jason jolted, pushing his hips against Percy as he came hard down his throat. Percy did a little maneuver that he knew Jason would love and hate—he pinned his hips down hard against the car seat, meeting him where he was at, not allowing him to move an inch. Percy prided himself in his head game, after all, and he couldn’t leave Jason wanting for anything.

Only after he’d swallowed every last drop and began to hear Jason whine did Percy pull away. He leaned back up, shamelessly licking up Jason’s neck, along the hickies he’d left earlier.

“I sure made a mess of you, didn’t I, sweetheart?” Percy mused, handing Jason his clothes, and—pointedly—his own swim team sweatshirt. “Now, why don’t you get composed…and then you can go in there and tell your sister I said hi, hm?”

Jason steadied his breath, clearly satisfied from head to toe, though hesitant to admit it. “Fuck you.” He fired back, pulling his clothes back on.

“Ooh, feisty,” Percy narrowed his eyes, an amused smile on his lips. “I like that—you’re still gonna meet me after practice tomorrow, right?”

Jason paused, glaring daggers at Percy. He couldn't deny that they had the perfect arrangement: Jason would meet Percy after swim, or Percy would meet Jason after track. They’d go to dinner—nothing too fancy, they knew what they were here for. Then they’d get their rocks off. Jason had to know that he was perfect for what Percy wanted, being both Thalia’s brother and their University’s finest eye candy.

Jason threw on Percy’s sweatshirt, adjusting his glasses afterwards. “Fine.” He settled. “Dickhead.”

“Good boy,” Percy grinned, pulling Jason close by the article, pressing a kiss to his lips. Perhaps it was a tad egotistical, though he couldn’t get enough of how his scent mingled with Jason’s when the other boy wore his clothes—sue him.

Jason grabbed his things and got out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Percy climbed into the front seat, starting the car up. He followed Jason down the block for a minute, making sure he got home safe before peeling out and down the road.

It was a weird, melancholy feeling Percy had as he left. He’d never really felt it with anyone else he’d hooked up with, but…Jason looked really cute and comfortable in his sweatshirt. The streetlights had cast an odd glow against his skin, and the way Jason looked at him—both when they were hooking up and not—it intrigued Percy.

He was sure that being intrigued by a Grace sibling would be the death of him, but damn it if it wasn’t worth it.

[under-loch-n-key]

I. I just finished 1x13 and like. When Juliet was being cryptic, she was telling Shawn that Lassie's into him, right? I mean she made a comment about him wearing a pink shirt right after, in the mid 00s. Like I'm pretty sure Shassie isn't canon but at this point I'm like... how? How do you go for multiple seasons after this without them getting together?? And the thing with the bike at the end there? And this is the episode right after Shawn helped Lassie get his groove back, finally convincing him that Shawn does genuinely care about him. Like. There's literally no heterosexual explanation here, this is a romcom!!! Kinda considering just stopping at some point and live in my imaginary alternate universe where they did get together at the end of season 1. Like. What the fuck else is this???

I knowww. It’s literally a rom com. Lmaoo. Believe me, stuff that occurs later in the show and in the movies is insane. Lol. Like, dear god, Shawn holding Lassie’s hand when he’s asleep was so precious in the second film. I adored it. 😭

I love Shassie so much. It is not canon, but they’re so great. Lassiter being canonically pansexual with two mums is also pretty great.

Jules giggling at them and secretly shipping them in the beginning of the series was so funny. Her being like “H & K’s stands for Hugs & Kisses. 🥰” is and Lassie being like 😑 is so funny. Gus is also very over it.

Shawn makes so many comments about Lassie’s stern bush in the series because I mean, Lassie and his chest hair is 😩💅🏻✨ but that’s beside the point. I’m bias since Timothy Omundson is literally one of my celebrity crushes sooo- anyways.

Those two are actually hopeless. I love them. They’re both pathetic, fruity, and hopeless, but they’re such great characters.

I can like actually rant about them for hours because Psych is my favourite show of all time and will forever be my comfort show.

I am in the process of making a little Psych crossover with a certain fandom. I’ve already done it with House MD butttt I’m doing it to Psych now because I’m an artist and I need to satisfy my urges to make AU’s. Lol.

[lizzy019]

Do you think you could write a blurb of johnny or twobit with y/n bringing up the idea of riding his face? She'd be like "johnny/twobit d'ya think i could like..." Johnny/twobit: "🧍huh, ya sure...?" LMAO idk im sry i suck at asking requests 💀

I have to do this with Two-Bit lmaoo I have an idea!

~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~

Seated on the couch with a blanket draped over your lap, the screen's flashing lights displayed Mickey Mouse. Two-Bit was happily watching a rerun and drinking his beer as he did so.

He was enthralled with the cartoon, and his sweet laugh could be heard whenever something he found funny or amusing came up. It was nice in a way, to share something he enjoyed and see why he loved it so dearly. Maybe it was a bit childish, sure, but he really seemed to like it.

"Oh lord, Pluto's so dumb! The dog ate a damn piece of wood thinkin' it was a bone." Two-Bit giggled, turning to you and smiling.

You smiled back. Soon, the commercials had interrupted the show, and Two-Bit frowned.

"You alright? You haven't talked much." He asked you, putting his beer bottle down and looking at you.

You shrugged, thinking back to something Dally had mentioned earlier.

"Y'know, I met up with this girl who was drunk offa cheap alcohol and she told me she wanted to put her face on me. I ain't gonna lie, that was some good shit, man." His words rang clear in your head.

It was certainly a bold question, but you looked at Two-Bit, took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Can I ride your face, Two?" You had dropped the bomb.

The poor guy was stunned speechless, almost choking on a sip of his beer as he stared at you incredulously. You were struggling to keep your eyes on his, and you were so nervous that he'd start berating you on whatever the hell you just asked him.

But he didn't.

Instead, he smiled and shrugged.

"Is that what you want, little lady?" Two-Bit hummed his question, smirking down at you as he placed his beer down.

With a hesitant expression, you nodded your head vigorously and waited patiently for his next move. In all honesty, you began to question whether this was a good idea or not, but slowly enough, Two-Bit had accommodated.

His body was adjusted to lay flat onto the couch, his hands pulling your soft body onto him as he made sure to assist you in taking off your pants and undergarments to make sure you were ready for him.

Once your lower half was stripped naked, you haphazardly got yourself situated onto his face, nervously beginning to drag your hips forward and backward along his now open mouth to get his tongue to make friction.

Soft moans were happily fleeing from your mouth, making a lovely little melody that Two-Bit would absolutely adore hearing on the daily.

Your hips grinded against him, your hands grappling at the couch's arm rest as you let yourself slip away into a state of pure passionate pleasure.

Regardless of your pathetic movements, Two-Bit helped move you back and forth with his hands firmly cupping the fat of your ass. He was trying (and failing) to get you to slow down since you were getting a bit of your slick on his nose and cheeks. But did his attempts work?

...No.

It didn't take long until you had found a rhythm that had you climbing up the stairs of ecstasy in no time. It was fast, brutal, and his tongue was practically raw from how much you were using him like a sex toy.

The cord in your tummy was tightening, so much so that your legs began to tremble and your pace slowed. But luckily Two-Bit was there to help move you and keep you going up those stairs of pleasure.

"Oh, Two! Two, your tongue feels so good!" You mewled, your hands digging into the fabric as you teetered on the edge of pure passion.

And soon enough, with a cry of his name, your legs seized up as your pussy made the creamiest mess on his mouth and chin. It felt hot, your veins and your nerves. It rattled your body just a bit too much, and you slouched instantly after.

Two-Bit was lapping up the excess, relishing in how sweet your cum was and how much you so graciously handed to him.

But once he noticed that you were all tired and worn out, he made himself useful and at least put on your panties before putting you back in your regular spot and covering your lap with the throw blanket once again.

And for the rest of the evening, it was lazy cuddles and innocent kisses.

[kiryoutann]

I have read 'a man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing' and when I tell you it leaves marks in me, it is. I still can feel the pain, each words, I still can feel it at all. It's been years I didn't read any CoD fanfic and I found you, It's like I've been searching for a mystic flower everyone is so sure it is a mystic but I found it lol, and I also love your writing style. And the funny thing is, I kinda relate to the reader lmaoo.

Idk what I want to write more about this, but I'm glad I found your blog hehe, and dont forget to take care of yourself 🩶🩶

-🍞

when i tell you i immediately smiled when i saw this!!! omg. made my day, made my whole week my whole june and my whole july. thank u for giving me my first feedback for my lil ghost fic🥺💘 you’re an angel

funny thing about me is that i rely on feedback so SO much when writing fanfiction, and usually the lack of it makes me feel like i’m doing smth wrong or that it’s not interesting (i’m TRYING to not do this tho). but when i saw this??? and i read the part where u relate?? THE MYSTIC FLOWER??? ILY ILY ILY FOREVER.

and this is gonna be long and random but GOD. i’m sorry that you relate to it but i hope you can find comfort in the story and the upcoming chapters. AND HEY! sometimes we cope by reading something that we relate to so it’s ok

here comes the long unasked explanation…

the main reason why i came up with the plot is cause i need to get smth out of my system and maybe it’ll help others to process whatever they’re feeling too. and also, it’s the fact that i gotta pour my heart and thoughts that i gathered after making a playlist of it.

so like, the URGE to somehow write it all down, to explore simon’s character, my portrayal of him, and THESE TWO – this destructive duo with the MC and her anxious attachment style while simon’s more on the avoidant attachment side. the way he thinks he’s protecting her, not wanting to hurt her—but in reality it was just some kind of justification for his self-sabotaging habits, his inability to accept that maybe he deserves smth good in his life.

can’t say much about MC cause she’s probably gonna be a more complex character (surprisingly) than him. mostly gonna be linked to her parental issues. my pathetic, sad, love-starved girl who’s gonna learn that maybe mother was right all along – that a man’s heart is truly, a wretched, wretched thing.

can’t wait to share more with u 🍞 anon<33 have a great day lovieee. stay happy n healthy and TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF. xoxo!!!!

[pycth]

So let’s talk about our love for Blake🤭

Let us, have a seat—

No because the way I literally had just relistened to his confession video again prior to when you sent this, love you for that

He is just babygirl to me

I honestly hadn’t thought I was gonna like this fool, especially since yanderes aren’t my type really, but the way he’s written and portrayed is just chef’s kiss

Sometimes I feel like it’s one of those ‘you hate to love him’ cases every now and again when I think about him because you know what’s inevitably gonna happen, but that’s what makes me love it yk

I don’t think I’ve mentioned Blake much, only once as a matter of fact, but The Balance is my second favorite storyline behind the Freelancer Series.

(Also let me use this for a second to talk about Bestie, if you will)

I believe that Bestie is secretly very aware of the kind of person Blake really is and possibly even knows what’s going on. They’re not sporting rose tinted glasses, they’re not as easily manipulated as people think they are. If anything, I’d think that’s what they’d want you to think. Some part of them could feel manipulative in a way. They know what strings are being pulled, they know the cards being dealt. That’s how I portray them anyway. It’s makes theirs and Blake’s dynamic more complex and all the more better in my mind 👀

Now circling back—

I also just love pathetic men, what can I say lmaoo

Like just the desperation in his tone whenever he starts getting frustrated and/or struggles to keep his composure? Lord

(18+ thoughts below)

(Now Ik you won’t agree with me on this cause I’ve seen your Blake nsfw content, which is still really good btw all of your stuff in general is 🫶 , b u t a n y w a y—)

Now as my personal preference I headcanon that the man is submissive (maybe verse, but definitely heavily sub leaning for me). He’s so whimpery. Between those kisses, the way he sounded pleading with Bestie when warning them about their relationship— even just his shaky voice/breaths from before when he first confesses his feelings; That’ll do it ✍️

Bro also has the biggest praise kink, you cannot tell me he doesn’t go nuts when addressed with any form of endearment/being told how good he’s doing for Bestie. Blake Redacted is a pleaser, thank you.