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heart2sea · 1 month ago

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࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ below the waves (read on ao3)

word count: 1.7k

tags: rafayel pov, angst & hurt/comfort, seamonster!raf, raf's lemurian form, graphic descriptions of sex, graphic descriptions of killing and death, throwback-ish to his seething flames card, two fools in love

summary: it shouldn't have happened this way. Never like this. It should've been under his control. But now she sees him, scaled and long and like the merciless predator he is, and he spirals.

It shouldn't be embarrassing, not really. It should be pride, a moment of glory and the sweet smell of a homecoming. To no longer be restrained by the slightly-too-tight, always a bit too-warm shape of humanity; how wonderful and sincere, to be embraced once again by the ethereality of the luminescent scales—a gift by birth—and the comfortable weight of his tail.

But not like this. Never like this.

Because as Rafayel sits pitifully within a bathtub, chest heaving, pearls scattered throughout the cold marble floor (a beautiful sight, were not the terrifying circumstances of the familiarity of the new shape asphyxiating him), he refuses to meet her gaze. Her eyes, so wide, so full of concern, glimmering with awe and previously fear, and he can not return it. How delightful the banter they'd shared just a few hours ago, simple and devoid of complicated feelings beyond a very deep, almost hidden to the untrained eye, subtext of sensuality. But now her nightgown is all wet—not in the way he would want to, and her fingers tremble with the effort of not touching him due to foolishly thinking she'll hurt him.

Because she could hurt him and has. But not in the way she thinks she would.

"Are you... are you feeling alright?" She speaks, her voice too soft. He wants to scoff. He knows she is purposely avoiding the elephant in the room, seemingly preoccupied with his well-being and conveniently ignoring the meters long tail just brushing past her thighs. It's a game they both know too well; dancing around the main issue, vaguely referring to it without diving straight into it. Other ways are passè. Too on the nose. Whatever dynamic they had come up with is much more exciting and keeps everyone (including him) guessing, a tension that hurts him deliciously, akin to applying pressure to a sore muscle. He isn't sure if she feels the same way.

He simply nods at her question. His eyes close, trying to think about anything but her drenched, warm presence that was now chattering her teeth due to the open window. She doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to react. They are truly a perfect pair.

But then she reaches to the fin sprouting out of his human ear, and stops for a moment as if asking for permission to continue. Her hands envelop the scaly skin, caressing it with a devotion that's most certainly more curiosity than concern, her eyes roaming through his face for any sign of discomfort. The water makes a sloshing sound with her gentle movements, a stark contrast to the petrified form of her lover. Water should be his element, it's true, but it's water that smells like salt and foam and the rotting carcass of Lemuria on the seabed, not the filtered, vanilla scented water of the bathtub.

And yet, it seems his body cannot distinguish the two. He doesn't know what happened. He's no longer in control. The tides have shifted and receded and left him beached and stranded at her feet. Again.

"Do you need to go back to the sea?" She asks and he feels like crying. Does he? He does. But not really. Would she follow him there? What would kill her first? The lack of oxygen? The pressure unbearable to the human body? Perhaps, almost comically, a too-hungry killer whale.

Rafayel finally looks up and drinks her in. She always wears her emotions on her face, and it takes every ounce of willpower to not grab her face between his hands and kiss her senseless; not because he's full to the brim with melancholy and a deep sense of forlorn—which he is, but because for creatures like him, kissing always evolves in devouring.

She thinks she knows how that goes. That his passionate kisses always end up on her neck, her chest, her abdomen and lower. That his insatiable mouth latches onto her core like a man possessed and starved by a demon of lust and hunger until she's squirming, as scalding hot tears leave her blissed-out eyes, overstimulated, then he plants more kisses in a trail upwards until they end lost in her mouth again.

But she definitely does not. Despite the erotic, vivid imagery, that is the fairytale version of what he does not dare to tell her. That despite her complimenting the softness of his lips, there's a dark grey void in his anatomy that is always looming, slowly cornering Rafayel in an attempt to intimidate him into giving in. And sometimes, it almost works. Like now.

"No." Rafayel answers, his voice raw and distorted. He's careful to not gesticulate much so as to not scare her with the glittering sharpness of his teeth. He doesn't know where the full extent of her Evol lies—all he knows is that, somehow, it just saved her life. It stopped her from becoming another human skeleton in the depths of the sea.

It would be easy. Far too easy. And that's what scares him. In his nightmares, he has played the scenario over and over until he simply decides sleep is not important. He would lure her in with the promise of the sunset over the sea, of making love between the waves. Maybe be a bit too rough; nibble her neck and collarbone with enough force to tear apart the flesh just slightly. If she asks, blame it on passion.

Then, when she's weak with the afterglow of her orgasm, look at her hopeful, living eyes one last time and drag her into the depths. Watch her struggle to breathe, claw her throat, her lungs, his arms. And then, as some sort of psychological horror poetry, a callback to the gentleness of his love bites, he would tear her throat apart with ease and munch on it. The water around her would stain itself a crimson red, signaling to all the other predators that this prey already has an owner.

But it's not what he wants. It's what's written under his skin, flowing in his veins, but his heart is carved in the shape of her, forcefully overriding his animalistic instincts. How could he do that to her?

He wants to believe she still has time. That she can still run away and find a much more gentle, unassuming lover. Someone whose caresses are not one sea storm away from ripping her in two; someone whose kisses stay as kisses and not a gaping hunger consuming them.

But as she forces him to stare at her, her eyes full of love and worry and a million emotions about to spill over, he knows it's way too late. For her. For him. Even if she wanted to leave, her heart holds the leash of his soul. He would swim behind her, always at arm's distance, watching as she embraced someone else, silently hoping his instincts take over and rip her paramour apart. But never her. Gods, never her.

And it's like she can sense him spiralling, losing himself in the dark pit of his restless mind when she draws closer to him and traces a delicate finger on his cheekbone.

"I like your scales." She says, a nostalgic throwback to times where, for the first time, he didn't think himself unlovable. Small, vulnerable, half-dead—merely a larva, not quite grown into his tail, his teeth not finding their sharpness just yet. Does she remember? Or is it just the depths of her consciousness gasping for air, begging to see the light of the day like it does every once in a while? He just laughs. A shaky, uneasy laugh that quite frankly does a terrible job hiding his inner turmoil. Rafayel always believed he was a master at wearing masks; with her back in his arms after centuries of longing and waiting, he's not so sure anymore.

"Don't say that." He manages to croak, as if pleading with her to not draw him closer, to please stop ensnaring him any further. Because yes! There's always a looming threat that he could hurt her, kill her even. But gods, she hurts too. And it's addictive. And she would hurt like him, too, if she just remembered.

"Why not?" And oh, she laughs, the corner of her eyes crinkling. He wants to paint that scene in his mind for the rest of eternity. "It's true. Did they call you the most handsome fish in the school?"

And there it is. Her way of trying to lift the fog in his heart. Something she learned from him—humor; but it has to be that particular kind of silly, almost childish humor. She thinks they're his favorite jokes. He knows it's to soften his own edges for her.

And he hates how it just fucking works, because he now has a stupid, goofy smile plastered on his blue-scaled face. She smirks, victoriously, knowing she just lifted him from the void he was being swallowed in, and he has a mind to wipe off that smugness from her face. With a kiss or two. He attempts to cover his mouth as to not show her his teeth, but she grabs his arm with the excuse to inspect for injuries. She finds none, of course. But it's her way of saying I'm here, despite what you think.

She kisses his nose and he wants to melt into a puddle at her feet. The spirits of the sea have shunned him away long ago for surrendering his soul to a human woman. But Lemuria has long crumbled away, and there are no courts to sentence him and hold him accountable—it is now his own burden to bear, if it could be called that, because it is a weight that he enjoys being crushed on. It's a weight that whispers him awake in the mornings and nuzzles him when thunder strikes too loud and appears in the evenings with a box of warm food when she knows he hasn't eaten all day. He couldn't care less.

He clings onto her like a barnacle, embracing her. He wants to say sorry for almost killing you, but he knows she'd just roll her eyes and swat his hand away. It's almost cute how she's just unafraid, perhaps due to being a Hunter. Or maybe she simply does not mind death.

Whatever it is, he won't dwell in it. He gently encircles her with his tail and sighs into her shoulder, his claws mindlessly playing with her scalp. She shivers at the feeling and he knows, much to his dismay, that she's tethered to him in the exact same way he’s to her.

It’s almost ironic how much hope he can find in this hopeless situation.

#love and deepspace #qi yu x reader #lads rafayel #qi yu #my writing #rafayel #they put me in a room gun to my head asking me to write anything but angst and i simply choose the bullet.#ANYWAYYYYY seamonster raf has been stuck in my head for days now. i kind of need him. but not without him suffering a bit for it.

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thesimstree · 5 months ago

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10+ unique templates to enhance your The Sims story

An easy way to make your sim’s profile stand out in the sea of family trees and dynasty channels is to use a variety of visual templates. We think these are perfect for character diary entries, adding flair to descriptions, sim galleries, or even the entire family. Of course they’re also great for your sims-themed social media.

In most cases working with templates requires only basic Photoshop skills. We’ve put together a selection of character profile templates, chat and story layouts, passports, travel tickets, and much more! Download your favorite designs below, create something unique, and share your vibrant sim stories with us on the platform. By the way, all these templates are perfect for using in your Sim's diary on TheSimsTree.

Character/sim card template for Photoshop by @cosmicamos-archive

A basic character profile styled in the spirit of our favorite game. It’s super easy to use in-game icons to quickly fill out your sim’s profile, all while keeping it fresh and original.

"Character in 5 Minutes" Template for Adobe Photoshop by @nulevhroma

A quick and fun questionnaire to reveal your sim’s personality in new ways. The prompts are thoughtfully selected, but you can easily tweak them or add your own ideas.

Character Sheet Template for Canva by thesimbience

An incredibly cute profile template where you can even showcase your favorite outfits for your sim. It's also a great place to highlight hobbies, work, and favorite spots.

Sim Character Sheet for Canva by @stormistargazer

This template is perfect for capturing all the most important details about your sim. You’ll need to decide what truly defines their biography and personality.

Kids’ questionnaire template for Adobe Photoshop by Ephiemera

A nostalgic throwback to the fun of filling out friend questionnaires in school. Why not let your sims enjoy the same experience? Plus it’s a great way for you to get to know them better.

Of course this isn’t just for kids – see an example design by DiVet below.

Simstagram Story Overlay for Photoshop by @honeycombsims

As they say, “If it’s not on Simstagram, it didn’t happen”. This applies to your sims too! Don’t leave their journals without travel or event stories – your followers won’t forgive you!

Playlist Template for Adobe Photoshop by DiVet

Perfect for those who love fleshing out their characters on every level. Your sim’s favorite music can add more depth and life to their personality.

Text Messaging Template for Photoshop by @kouukie

An amazing way to tell a character’s story – just like forwarding texts to your friends for advice. After all, important decisions often happen in messages, and your sims are no exception.

Wikipedia Template for Photoshop by @lucky-content

In our Sims worlds full of characters and events, some deserve their own Wikipedia page. Movie stars, legendary scientists, infamous criminals, city founders, or the heads of ancient families – this template highlights just how unique your sim or event is.

Criminal Case File Template for Photoshop by @nulevhroma

Not all dynasty members are peaceful, some love to party, cause chaos, or even commit crimes. A police dossier on your sim is a great way to enhance their story.

Let's Travel (Template Pack) by gingenr

If your family members travel often, this pack is for you! Create realistic tickets for planes, trains, or buses. Designing tickets for an upcoming trip is such a delightful touch.

Passport - sims 4 worlds - emtpy PNG by gingenr

Where there’s travel, there are passports. This atmospheric pack includes passport templates for each Sims town. Passports aren’t just for travel, they can come in handy for jobs, weddings, or even police encounters…

Ultimate social bunny templates for Photoshop by pxlverse

No Sim story is complete without posts from their in-game social networks. This beautiful template helps immerse your readers in your sim’s journey.

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kimmipettie · 3 months ago

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3/20/25 - 26billws/ 193 - Sometimes in the early days of petticoating boys have the urge to escape, simply because that's what's expected of them. Once they discover the delights and sensations of panties, petticoats and peignoirs, the desire to run quickly fades away.

Our classic Throwback Thursday debuted on Petticoat Punishment Art nearly 20 years ago, in late 2005. Thanks Christeen and Carole Jean.

#christeen #kimmicaption #carolejean

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absolutebl · 5 months ago

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BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

Ones we have dates for:

The Boy Next World

1/5 Thai iQIYI trailer

Is this the backstory of Cirrus & Phugun from TharnType 2 or just the same names? Regardless this is BossNoeul in a multiverse "slip through time" kinda thing but it's Mame + high concept so we in for a bumpy ride.

When it Rains it Pours

1/9 Japan MBS

Convoluted story about a man in a relationship who is sexually unfulfilled and his friend who is in love with him, who accidentally become secret confidants.

Impression of Youth

1/15 Taiwan

Exclusive Love

2/14 Taiwan Line

Shy aspiring singer inherits funeral business and a sexy mortician to go with.

Top Form

3/25 Thai WeTV

Adaptation of a Japanese manga. Boom (Chains of Heart) opposite Smart (Don't Say No). Actor recognized as the "The Sexiest Man of the Year" has his first-place position usurped by young newcomer. But while he sees them as rivals, turns out the new kid has other ideas.

My Sweetheart Jom

4/25 Thai YouTube

Saint is back in a BL? Who knew that would ever happen? When he gets tangled up with a mafia boss's son's girlfriend and ends up in a scuffle, young Yothin needs to find a safe place. Instead of sending him overseas, his father decides to send him to the countryside! There, he stays in Bang Pho under the care of subdistrict headman, a close friend of his father. He's also under the watchful eye of the village headman who happens to be the subdistrict headman's grandson and is overseeing his probation. As Yothin spends more time with Jomkhwan, his perception of the village headman begins gradually to change.

ANNOUNCED FOR 2025

No date as yet, alphabetical order.

8Hours

Thai

Season 2 of 4 Minutes.

A Dog and A Plane

Thai trailer

A prissy gay flight attendant in a push-pull relationship with an EMT dude-bro. Characters are a bit throwback to PeteKao (no bad thing) not to mention the looming shadow of What the Duck? (bad thing). But the side couple is the always appealing MarcPoon. Okay GMMTV, surprise me, I'm game. And you know TayNew are my OG GMMTV pair du jour.

Allure of the Siren

Thai trailer

Bitter rivals, Dao and Chaisai, are reluctantly thrust into an unprecedented partnership as they embark on a relentless quest to locate missing strippers.

Be My Soulmate

Thai

Star Hunter is putting MosBank back in uni. Engineering student shacks up with a judo jock, sexual tension is high but nothing changes until one of them becomes single.

Boys in Love

Thai trailer

Our only true high school BL from GMMTV and it's fresh faces for the youths and old favs for the teachers. It's milk teeth Make it Right and that is perfectly fine with me! I like lotte milk. Also DIMPLES! Yay! I suspect they're using this one to test some new pairs for future seasons. Like a Project 101 Thai BL.

(Honestly I just invented an amazing reality TV for you GMMTV, you're welcome.)

Burnout Syndrome

Thai trailer

GMMTV doing edgy is never a good thing IMHO, and in this one they're handling sex work. *shakes head* However, Not Me is the noted exception and this is that same pair with the same director. So I'm curious if not wild about the content. That said, I'm delighted to see Gun with someone else (Dew is a stunning choice, thank you Casting) even if only for a love triangle moment. It's been a WHILE.

Cat for Cash

Thai trailer

Finally something fluffy with a pair I like from GMMTV 2025. Looks cute. I like cute. Yay for me! Adorable gay boys and cats. This one is basically made to be a tumblr comfort meme meets thirst trap. I see what you're doing GMMTV and I applaud you. Carry on.

Doctor's Mine

Thai YouTube trailer

Another try at adapting Gown & Gear. Couldn't possibly be worse than the first attempt.

Eyes On You

Thai trailer

Fight for You

Taiwan

Da Hei reluctantly takes on dangerous odd jobs to earn medical funds, unaware that his roommate Xiao Bai is secretly an operative sent by the intelligence agency to take them down.

Flavor of Us

Thai trailer

A critic inherits a restaurant and his mother's debt and to keep the inheritance he has to hire the chef he hates.

Flirt Milk

Thai trailer

Originally slated for 2023, now entirely recast. The facial hair is KILLING me.

Friend to Fan

Thai WeTV trailer

Goddess Bless You From Death

Thai trailer

PavelPooh are back. Thup, a young man with extraordinary senses, is drawn into investigating a mysterious murder case involving brutally mutilated bodies found in the forest alongside the more rational thinker Singha.

Dare You to Death

Thai trailer

JoongDunk as police investigators in a mystery suspense thriller. Yes, I'm in. This is it. This it the one I wanted to instantly watch. Even though their's 20 BLs airing right now.

Head 2 Head

Thai trailer

The Boo kids are back. I don't love this pair (I find their chemistry and acting awkward) or the main trope (E2L) but I do like the new sides and their trope (2nd chance is a fav of mine). So this one will depend on whether those are full side dishes or just crumbs.

I Promise I Will Come Back

Thai-Taiwanese colab

Stars 2 Thai actors and the Taiwanese identical twins from H3, that's mostly intended to be a tourism advert for the Thai countryside.

I'm The Most Beautiful Count

Thai trailer

Not long after famous actor Prince came out as queer and rose to the top of the entertainment industry, he wakes up in the body of a good-looking noble in the Thongburi Kingdom of the past.

Interminable

October? Thai YouTube

BillyBabe are back in a reincarnation historical.

Khemjira AKA Spirit Reborn

Thai YouTube trailer

Was 2024 officially moved to 2025. Supposedly the scariest BL ever. Khem is born cursed. A daughter would be safe but a son dies at 20 so Khem’s mother cleverly gives him a girl’s name, Khemjira “forever safe.” But Knem is baout to turn 20 and he doesn't think it's working so he seeks the help of a curse-breaker, turns out to be his great love from a previous life.

Knock Out aka Knockout

Thai WeTV trailer

A low quality less fun and funny version of Wandee Goodday.

Got too long for tumblr find Part 2 here.

(source)

This post is static and not updated. All information is to the best of my ability at the very end of 2024. Not responsible for changes, cancellations etc...

#upcoming bl #new bl #2025 bl #forthcoming bl #A Dog and A Plane #Fight for You #thai bl #taiwanese bl #Dare You to Death #joongdunk

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booksoftea · 6 months ago

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No negativity towards other ships, just some thoughts

(sorry for the mistakes, English is not my native language)

Before I started watching the show, I didn't know much about it. Just that it was mysterious, beautiful and weird in a good way. But then I went on Tumblr. I saw a million gifs, and I was sure that Charles was in love with Edwin, and Edwin didn't realize that he was in love him back. Imagine my surprise when I discovered, scrolling through the posts further, that Charles - the boy with heart-shaped eyes and sweet smiles - "rejected" Edwin.

When i finally wached dbd, i realized that i wasn't so wrong. Charles clearly adores Edwin with his bitchy manners and kindness. And it's hard to call it "rejection". He didn't say "sorry, i'm not in love with you". He had entertained the possibility even when he hadn't had time to think about it.

On the roof, he hadn't been embarrassed by Edwin's confession, he'd been delighted by it. He had his own "𝘰𝘩" moment after the hug in 1.08 like Edwin did in 1.05. And the final shots prove that he's not just aware of his feelings, he's acting on them. He's flirting purposefully, no one can convince me otherwise. And Edwin knows it. He's not upset that Charles is playing with his feelings. He enjoys it because he knows that something is going on between them.

And in my opinion, the decisions with the Edwin's "crush" and tck are quite strange (with all due respect to the catwin shippers). And Charles and Crystal's attempts at romance in season two, too (with all due respect to the cryland shippers). Crystal needs to figure out who she is and she doesn't need a complicated relationship with anyone right now, especially after David. Especially not with one of her closest people, who she could lose because of an doomed affair that will hurt both of them.

The last episode showed both Charles and Edwin consciously moving towards a relationship with each other, and showing them in season two looking for a relationship with someone else feels like a throwback to what happened in the middle of season one.

I know many people want "pining", I love it myself. But life is complicated enough, and I'm so tired of shows where it's obvious that the main couple is in love with each other, but they're always with other people. And after a million seasons, when the creators can't come up with another reason for pining and the fans get tired of waiting, the couple finally gets back together but creators often dump the show because they can't write anything but pining.

I'm afraid of this with dbd. Experience shows that even the most amazing show can be dumped.

#dead boy detectives #dbda #charles rowland #edwin payne #edwin x charles #payneland #save dead boy detectives #painland

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hanaleeappreciationweek · 1 year ago

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(this awesome poster is the handiwork of our wonderful host @sazanes!!)

Note: So sorry for the delay in getting this out!! IRL has been a little tricky these days.

It gives us great joy to announce our third edition of the Hana Lee Appreciation Week!!

This year we are holding the AW around World Book Day (23rd April) in honour of Hana's passionate, long-lasting love for books!

Hana is talented at a great number of things, but is passionate about just a few. One is music - the other is reading. It was originally a hobby her parents introduced her to, to gain an advantage as a noblewoman, but Hana grew to love it far beyond what her parents expected. Her fondness for Jane Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, her delightful rebellions in secretly reading Wuthering Heights and manhuas, her adorable habit of leaving sweet notes behind, between the pages of a library book. Her love for books has deep and wonderful, and allowed her a window into worlds she didn't even realize existed!

But books and reading aren't our only themes for this AW! Take a look at our theme list for what we plan to do for each day:

April 21st - Character Appreciation/Throwback

April 22nd - Flowers/Fashion Design

April 23rd - Bookworm/AU

April 24th - Competitive Hana!/Culinary Love/Music

April 25th - Family/Friendship/Romance

This event will be held from April 21st to 25th. Any content is welcome, as long as it is Hana-centric and shows a positive depiction of her! Fanfic, fanart, meta, edits, moodboards, playlists, headcanons, interactive media - even simple appreciation posts and screenshots of fave scenes will be great!

It isn't absolutely necessary to post content only on the day of the theme! We often accept pieces even when sent on a later date, and also keep a bonus week in case you couldn't finish your pieces during the week. We also don't mind WIPs, so if you have one that is Hana-focused... we'd LOVE to see it!! We also love throwback pieces, so if you have any that you made previously, do reblog them and tag us!

We also will be accepting pieces after the event is over, and all year round until the next HLAW! So even if you have your post ready much later, please don't hesitate to tag us! 🤗

Blogs to Tag: @hanaleeappreciationweek, and hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes

Tags to Use: #hanaleeappreciationweek, #HLAW, #HLAW 2024

There are some incredible fan-community blogs that work tirelessly both to promote creative fandom works and make the experience fun for their writers! Do check them out!!

@choicesficwriterscreations, @choicesmonthlychallenge, @choicesflashfics, @choicespride, @choicesholidays, @choicesprompts, @wordwarriors

If you know any others who would like to be tagged, please let me know! Here are the amazing works sent in for 2023 and '22 if you'd like to get more inspired!

HLAW 2023 | HLAW 2022

See you all next month, and looking forward to all your amazing Hana content!! 🤗🤗

✅✅Signal Boosts will be greatly appreciated!!✅✅

#hana lee #the royal romance #hanaleeappreciationweek #HLAW #HLAW 2024 #signal boost #four weeks left!

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mjonthetrack · 2 months ago

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Back at the compound, the morning was just starting to stretch its arms. Imani stood at the kitchen sink, bottle in one hand, Sade balanced on her hip. Tasha leaned against the counter with a mug of coffee, eyes narrowing out the front window.

“Roman still gone?” she asked.

Imani nodded, shifting the baby. “Been gone since before I came down. Left out lookin’ like a whole storm cloud with Ebony’s forty in his hand.”

Tasha raised a brow. “So… he gone-gone.”

“Mhmm.” Imani exhaled through her nose, adjusting Sade’s bonnet. “He ain’t say nothin’ to nobody. Just walked out like the shit she left behind was heavier than it looked.”

Jacob, walking past with a bowl of cereal, chimed in, “Y’all actin’ like Ebony the type you can tie down.”

“She ain’t,” Imani agreed. “That’s what I been sayin’. My cousin don’t sit still. She got a hundred lives already lived, and she only halfway through ‘em. Roman just one more chapter—if she let him be that much.”

The sound of laughter floated in from the living room—Jimmy and Solo arguing over some throwback game—but even their voices paused when the house suddenly rumbled.

Not from footsteps.

Not from voices.

But from the deep, unmistakable bass that shook the walls like an earthquake set to a beat.

Tasha leaned toward the window.

“Now why do I know that bassline?” she muttered.

Imani, still holding Sade, peered outside too.

And there it was.

That candy-painted ‘84 Cutlass, gliding up the drive like it belonged there, speakers booming out the familiar thump of DJ Quik’s “Dollaz + Sense.” Ebony in the front, one arm stretched across the wheel, cool as hell in her shades, Roman in the passenger seat like it was always his seat.

Tasha’s mouth fell open.

Imani just shook her head and muttered, “Ain’t no way…”

The car came to a stop, bass still kicking, and Sade squealed in delight, slapping her little hands on Imani’s chest.

Imani didn’t even look away from the window.

“Y’all better act normal when they walk in here. Ebony don’t do explainin’, and Roman… he ain’t gon’ need to.”

Tasha blinked, then grinned.

“Well damn. Guess she do stay sometimes.”

——-

The car idled at the top of the drive, that bass fading into the background like it knew better than to interrupt what was about to be said. Ebony sat leaned back in the driver’s seat, one leg bent up slightly, nails drumming against the wheel as she lit the end of her blunt like it was the morning prayer.

Roman sat still beside her, the empty forty from last night rolling back and forth at his feet.

She didn’t look at him when she spoke. Just took a slow drag, exhaled thick smoke, then said cool as hell—

“Now don’t be up in here tryna tell these people we got somethin’ poppin’. Don’t get your feelings confused ‘cause I let you hit and didn’t kick you out the bed.”

Her voice didn’t cut—it sliced, smooth and raw like the edge of a fresh razor.

“Ain’t shit sweet about me, aight Unc?” she added with a crooked smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Preciate the talk.”

Then, casual as ever, she reached into the plastic corner store bag at her feet, pulled out a honey bun, and dropped it into his lap like a peace offering—or a period at the end of her sentence.

Roman looked down at the snack. Then back at her.

Before he could say a word, she opened the door, stepped out with her duffle slung over one tattooed shoulder, and slammed it shut. Her jaw was clenched, strides long and focused, like she could hear the thoughts forming in his head behind her and was already done with every single one.

The Cutlass creaked in silence, engine still running.

Roman sat there, the honey bun warm in his hands.

And for the first time since he was a boy—fighting grown men and swallowing his pride to lead them—he didn’t know what the hell to do next.

——-

He stared at the front door she disappeared behind, jaw ticking. The honey bun sat heavy in his palm like a challenge.

Nah. He wasn’t about to let that be the last word.

Roman stepped out slow, movements deliberate. Shut the car door with a solid thud, adjusted the chain around his neck like armor, and made his way toward the house like he had all the time in the world. But his eyes? His eyes were locked on her.

Ebony had just dropped her duffle in the corner and kicked her slides off when the door opened behind her.

“I know you not walkin’ around like you the only one in this house with control issues,” he said, voice low and calm like a warning.

She didn’t turn. Just stood there, shoulders tight, back to him.

“You tryna make sure I don’t catch no feelings?” he went on. “Ain’t gotta worry, I ain’t made like them dudes you used to playin’. I don’t chase.” He paused, stepped further into the room. “But I don’t get played, either.”

That got her. She turned, slow and sharp, her eyes narrow like she’d just heard some bold-ass statement she couldn’t let slide.

“You done?” she asked, lips pursed.

He stepped close enough that she had to tilt her head to hold his gaze.

“Nah,” he said. “Not even close. 'Cause the only thing between us was that kiss you hit me with, and you left me standin’ there like I imagined that shit.”

Her lips parted—maybe to fire back—but he didn’t give her the room.

“I don’t want the games. I want you. All that attitude, them scars, that mouth, the wild. You. So you can keep runnin’ your mouth like I’m just some fun—keep tossin’ snacks at me and callin’ me ‘Unc’—but you felt that shit too.”

He stepped even closer, now chest to chest.

“So either tell me I’m wrong—lie to me if you need to—or stop actin’ like you don’t want to see what the fuck this could be.”

The silence was loud as hell. Her expression unreadable—but her breathing had shifted.

And Roman?

Roman just stood there. Unmoving. Unshaken. Waiting.

Like he already knew she wasn’t gonna lie.

——-

The rest of the crew had gone dead silent.

Tasha sat frozen with her glass mid-sip. Jimmy raised both brows and muttered, “Damn.” Jacob’s eyes darted from Roman to the hallway like he was watching a pitbull circle a lion. Even little Sade sensed the shift and paused mid-play with her toy.

Roman didn’t flinch.

Didn’t flinch when Ebony turned her back.

Didn’t flinch when she threw that line over her shoulder—

“Whatever, stranger. Don’t bark, I bite back.”

Didn’t even blink when she grabbed her bag, hips moving like defiance was stitched into the hem of her attitude, and started heading for her room like she was done with the moment.

The sound of the door shutting barely had time to land.

Because Roman was already moving. Calm. Collected. But coming.

He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t curse, just said real low like it was only meant for her,

“Good. I hope you do bite back. I like a fight worth bruises.”

And then he turned. Walked past everybody like it was just another Tuesday.

Jimmy let out a laugh, slapping Jacob’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s up now. Auntie got herself a Roman problem.”

Imani stood there with the baby on her hip, eyebrows raised high. “Mm. She really done picked the wrong one to try that with.”

Tasha just took a slow sip of her drink. “Nah,” she said, eyes still on the hallway. “She picked the only one who might be able to handle her.”

———

Oh, she was heated. Not outwardly. Not loud. But tight in the jaw, pacing slow in that room, eyes narrowed like the walls had nerves she was trying not to snap.

Behind that door, Ebony stood frozen a beat, her hand still on the knob like it burned.

Because he had the nerve.

He had the unmitigated gall to not only talk slick back—but do it calm, confident, like he meant every word.

“Good. I hope you do bite back. I like a fight worth bruises.”

She scoffed under her breath, shaking her head like she could rattle the sound of his voice out her ears.

“Man, he got me fucked up,” she muttered low, tossing her duffle down hard enough it thudded against the bed frame. She yanked off her hoodie, heat in her chest rising like the bass that usually rattled her Cutlass.

She wasn’t gonna let no man—especially no broad-shouldered, quiet-talking, look-through-you-like-you-see-the-devil man—put a mirror up to her like that.

Not when she was the one who left him in the rearview.

Not when she was supposed to be the storm, not the one getting caught up in it.

Still, her hand was gripping the dresser edge too hard. She caught her reflection in the mirror—tattoos bold on her collar, chain glinting like defiance.

But there was that flicker.

That small, traitorous twitch at the corner of her mouth that looked too close to a smirk.

She slapped the light off.

Nah. He don’t get to live in her head rent free.

Not tonight.

————-

Knock. Knock.

She ain’t move at first.

Just laid there on her back across the bed, one leg bent up, tank top loose, shorts riding high on one thigh. Smoke curling from the blunt between her fingers, “Gettin’ Real” by SZA low in the background, soft like it knew better than to try her.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Louder this time.

“Who the f** keep knockin’ on this damn door?*” she muttered, swinging her legs off the bed. She didn’t bother putting nothin’ else on—this her room, her space, and anyone dumb enough to pull up best be ready for whatever came with that.

She yanked the door open, voice already firing off—

“Didn’t I say—”

But her words hit a wall when she saw him standing there. Roman. Tall. Calm. Eyes darker than the hallway behind him, like they’d been lookin’ for her even before he knocked.

She blinked once.

Twice.

Then, rolled her eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

“You again?”

She didn’t move to close the door though. Didn’t cover up, didn’t back up either. She stayed exactly how she was—shoulder leaned to the frame, thigh ink showing, mouth pulled in that low, annoyed curve that wasn’t fooling nobody.

The blunt still burned between her fingers. Smoke drifted past her cheek as she took a pull, then exhaled slow, staring dead at him.

“So what? You here to finish tellin’ me ’bout myself or you tryna apologize for poppin your lip at me?”

———-

Roman didn’t flinch.

Didn’t stutter, didn’t look away, didn’t let the sight of all that bare skin and attitude send him scrambling like most men would. He stepped forward, slow but solid, crossing that threshold like he paid rent there. His eyes didn’t wander—they stayed right on hers, cold and unmoved like he’d been carved out of silence and smoke.

Door still open behind him, he let it close with a soft click.

She didn’t move. Just arched one brow, her lips wrapping around the blunt again like she was daring him to.

“You bold, huh?”

“Always been,” he said, voice low, steady, and way too calm for how much heat she was throwing.

She shifted her weight, bare foot tapping against the floor once. He was close now. Close enough to smell the honey and gas on her, to feel that tension riding the curve of her shoulder like armor.

Still didn’t shake him.

“So what? You came to talk or just stare at my t—?”

“I came to let you know you ain’t runnin’ from nothin’.” His words cut her off, firm and blunt like a closed fist. “Not from me. Not from what this is. You don’t get to toss a match and walk away like you ain’t start no fire.”

Her smirk faltered.

Just a little.

He stepped closer. Inches away now. His breath hitting her cheek, his presence suddenly too real in her sanctuary.

“You think you shake me?” he asked, voice deep and slow. “You don’t.”

And she hated—hated—how that hit her.

——

She tilted her chin, exhaled a thick cloud of smoke slow and smooth—let it linger between them like her patience.

“Ain’t nothin’ changed, stranger,” she said coolly, eyes narrowed like a challenge. “You don’t know me. You don’t know shit about how to handle a woman like me, so why don’t you back the fuck up out my face before you get caught up in somethin’ you can’t control.”

Roman didn’t budge.

Didn’t blink.

That little half-smile started creeping across his face—low, knowing, dangerous.

“Funny,” he said. “You talk a lot for somebody who kissed me like she meant it.”

That got her. Just a flicker—just enough crack in her armor to make him press closer.

“You loud, but all that noise don’t scare me. I done seen storms meaner than you, and I ain’t never backed down from one yet.”

She stepped up on him then, right in his face, chin tipped up to match his height. Her bare skin hot from the smoke and steam in the room, her jaw clenched.

“You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” he said. “But I will.”

And she hated how that sat in her chest—like he’d just dropped the weight of that truth right on top of her ribcage.

———-

She leaned in slow, deliberate, that fire in her eyes daring him to flinch. Her bare chest pressed against his solid frame, abs firm beneath the thin cotton of his shirt—but she didn’t move like she noticed. Didn’t blink like she gave a damn.

“You think you got some claim, huh?” she murmured, her voice low, southern drawl curling around every word like smoke. “Think standin’ here lookin’ unbothered gon’ get you somewhere?”

She dragged a palm across his chest, not soft—testing, taunting.

“You keep talkin’ like you gon’ hold your own, but I don’t see no action. You gon’ stand there and stare, or you gon’ prove somethin’?”

She was trying to win off sheer force of presence—off the heat of her body pressed against his, her chin tilted, her gold chain brushing his throat like punctuation. She was used to being the one with folks backing down first. Folks folding under pressure. And she was betting heavy on that happening again.

But Roman didn’t move. Didn’t falter.

He just looked down at her—cool, quiet, unshaken.

“Keep talkin’, baby. You gon’ end up the one folded.”

That calm thunder in his voice hit different. Hit her low in the gut, the kind that told her he wasn’t playin’. And it made her blink just once—just enough for him to notice.

He leaned just slightly closer, voice dropping:

“This ain’t dominance. This you scared to see what happen if I don’t back down.”

————-

She scoffed, sharp and airy, like he was the joke of the day.

“Mm. You sound real bold for a random wearin’ feelings on his sleeve,” she muttered, pushing at his shoulder—not hard, but firm, like she was drawing a line she had no real intention of keeping.

“Go on somewhere, Unc,” she added, that teasing edge rolling right off her tongue as she tilted her head and smirked like she knew exactly what she was doing. “Before you get ya lil pride hurt messin’ round in the wrong room.”

She turned like she was done, like he was already forgotten, bare shoulders gleaming in the soft light as she moved toward the edge of the bed to grab her blunt off the nightstand.

But her eyes flicked over her shoulder real quick—just once—to see if he’d actually go.

He didn’t.

———-

He didn’t budge when she shoved him. Just looked at her with that slow, dangerous calm like a storm was about to break.

“I gave you space to act cute,” Roman said, voice low, rough with heat and warning. “Tried to let you run your mouth, get all that attitude off while I played nice.”

He stepped forward before she could finish turning, that wide chest closing in fast, backing her up before she realized she’d moved. His hand pressed against the door, the other braced just to the side of her head like a cage—but he wasn’t touching her. Not yet.

“You keep callin’ me Unc like you ain’t the one that kissed me first,” he said, his voice brushing over her skin like gravel and smoke. “Like you ain’t been runnin’ since.”

Her blunt stayed burning between her fingers, but her breath hitched—and he caught it.

“Ain’t shit sweet about you?” His eyes dragged down her frame, slow and deliberate, then snapped back up. “Then let’s stop playin’. Since you so tough—show me what else you got besides talk.”

———

Roman watched her slip past him, bare and unbothered, like she didn’t just dangle a match over gasoline.

“See yourself out, Unc. Whatever,” she said with a slick smirk, smacking her lips and pulling the last of her clothes off as she made her way toward the guest bathroom—deliberate, like punctuation to end the whole damn interaction.

The door clicked behind her, steam already curling up beneath the crack as water kicked on.

He stood there a second longer, jaw tight, eyes dark. Her energy had been a dare from the moment he saw her—loud, sharp, and a walking problem. But this? This was her putting a period at the end of it like he wasn’t capable of flipping the whole paragraph.

He didn’t leave.

Instead, he sat himself on the edge of her bed, elbows on his knees, watching the closed door.

“You can run your little laps,” he muttered to the empty room, voice low. “But you gon’ circle back. Bet that.”

Ebony stepped out the bathroom, steam curling around her like it was part of her aura—heat trailing in her wake. Skin dewy, edges still laid, eyes half-lidded from the warmth of the shower. She didn’t bother with a towel. Didn’t need one in her own space. She expected silence. An empty room. Her own rhythm uninterrupted.

But the room wasn’t empty.

Roman was still there.

Sitting.

Waiting.

Back against the headboard now, one leg bent up, forearm draped over his knee, eyes dark and steady like he hadn’t moved an inch since she left him standing. Like he belonged there. Not a hint of apology in his gaze—if anything, he looked more settled.

She froze halfway into the room, lips parting slightly, caught between reflex and confusion. Her mouth moved to form words, but the silence sat heavy between them before she could toss another jab.

His eyes moved over her, slow but direct. Not gawking—assessing. Holding her still without laying a hand on her.

Then he spoke, voice low, unshaken:

“Told you I don’t spook easy.”

———-

Ebony scoffed low, hand on her hip, the other gliding up to rest her freshly manicured nails against her cheek like she was bored of the whole scene. Her acrylics sparkled under the low light as she let out a lazy, exaggerated sigh, eyes rolling hard like she couldn’t believe the audacity.

“Ooh, you showed me, huh?” she said, voice dipped in sarcasm and sass. “Look at you. Sittin’ there all proud like you did somethin’. Big game, Unc… congrats. You can sit down.”

She gave a mocking little slow clap, the smirk on her face both teasing and taunting. Her bare skin still glistened in the soft light, but she carried herself like she was draped in a full designer fit—unbothered, unshaken, and still fully in control.

“What’s next? You gon’ tell me you good at leanin’ against walls too?”

She turned just enough to show off that confident strut again, acting like she was done—but only just enough to see if he’d finally fold… or show her she finally met her match.

————

That was it.

She thought she was playing him, working him like one of the many who crumbled the second she stepped into their space—bare, bold, and all that attitude like armor. But Roman didn’t fold. Not now, not when she rolled her eyes and tossed her words around like she owned the air between them.

He stood slow, patient… deliberate. That mountain of a man rose from his seat with that steady calm, like thunder before the storm. His jaw was set, eyes dark as night and locked on her with quiet intent. No loud threats. No chest beating.

Just presence.

And then he moved.

One long stride and she felt him behind her—heat, strength, that weight of a man who didn’t just talk but moved with purpose. She started to turn, her mouth already winding up for another smart comment—

But his hand caught her wrist mid-spin.

Not rough, but firm.

She blinked up at him, and that teasing smirk started to slip.

He leaned in low, voice deep and low enough to settle in her bones.

“You don’t run nothing in my space.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out fast enough before his other hand found the small of her back, pulling her flush against his chest. Bare skin to fabric, heartbeats close and heavy.

“You walk around tryna bait me like I’m some fool who ain’t been in fire hotter than your mouth,” he murmured, head dipping to the side of her ear. “But I’m not scared of your bark. And I damn sure bite back.”

He let her go with the same control he entered with—giving her space, but not permission. She was still in the room, but now he was in her head.

He stepped back once, slow and silent, waiting to see if she still had a game to play… or if she was finally ready for a real one.

—————

Ooh, she want to test him for real now?

Alright, let’s take it there—

She didn’t move right away. She just stood there, still bare, still proud—manicured nails resting on her hips, chin tilted like a dare lived in her throat. That same little smirk curled at her mouth again as she watched him watching her.

“Mmhm,” she muttered, voice dipped in sarcasm. “That’s what I thought. All that bark, and still just another soft-spoken church boy wit’ muscles. You ain’t bout shit, unc. Just another big dude scared to grab a real woman wit’ a real mouth.”

And that?

That hit.

Roman’s jaw flexed.

His eyes cut sharper.

She saw it, felt it—and still, still, she pushed. Stepped right up on him again, head barely coming to his chest, but looking up like she had him cornered.

“You one of them types that just look like pressure, huh?” she whispered up at him, voice all sugar-coated poison. “But really? Ain’t even heavy enough to move me. You just a nice lil view, unc. Ain’t nobody scared of that.”

She reached up, slow, dragged the tip of her nail down his chest like she was bored, like she was calling his bluff for the last time.

“You got all this mouth now,” she said softly, "but it’s real funny how you ain’t done nothin’ yet.”

And that—that right there—was the match to gasoline.

Because Roman didn’t respond with words.

He moved.

Fast, sudden, decisive. One arm around her waist, the other gripping the back of her neck—not hurting, but holding, like he’d made the decision for both of them. Her breath caught in her throat before her pride could catch up.

He pulled her in—close enough for heat to transfer, for her heart to jump against her ribs, for that cocky attitude to hang in the air unfinished.

His voice dropped low against her ear.

“Say one more word, and I promise you—you gon’ learn what pressure feel like.”

She tilted her head, nails drumming against her bare hip, eyes locked on his with that stormy, reckless glint. That smart mouth curled up into something wicked as she leaned in just enough for her breath to kiss the edge of his jaw.

“One. More. Word.” She said it low, like a promise or a threat—hell, probably both.

Roman’s jaw ticked, his breath steady but his stance shifting. That calm, unbothered look he usually wore was gone, peeled back by the fire she kept trying to dance in.

She thought he’d back down.

Instead—

He stepped into her space, body towering, hand reaching behind her neck slow, deliberate. Not rough, not gentle—sure. Like he wasn’t playing no more.

“I ain’t gotta say a word,” he murmured, voice deep and low like thunder rolling in close. “You do all that talkin’, but it’s your ass that keep callin’ me out.”

And before she could clap back, before she could roll them smart-ass eyes one more time—he kissed her. Hard. Full of all that tension she kept stoking. Ain’t no hesitation, ain’t no room left for games. He backed her into that wall like she wasn’t the one in control no more, hand still at her neck, his other gripping the back of her thigh to hike it up.

“You gon’ learn not to play with me, baby.” That voice—gritty, confident, true.

Ain’t no bluff in him now.

———

She laughed in his face—short, breathy, like she was trying to ignore the way her heart was beating like it was trying to escape her chest. Like she hadn’t just felt the whole damn room shift around them.

“You’re bluffing,” she smirked, voice cocky but shaky at the edges. “Ain’t nobody pressed over me like that, unc.”

But her chest was rising a little quicker now, her thigh still gripped in his hand, and he hadn’t moved—not even a little. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Roman’s eyes were dark, focused, lips parted just enough to show he heard her—but he didn’t believe her.

“That what you tell yourself?” he asked low, pressing his forehead to hers now, voice damn near a growl. “You call it bluffin’ ‘cause you scared to admit what it really is.”

He didn’t need to raise his voice. The stillness said it all—this man wasn’t going nowhere.

His thumb dragged lazy under her jaw, rough pad brushing skin too soft to ignore.

“Tell me I ain’t in your head right now,” he said, holding her gaze. “Tell me your heart ain’t about to beat out your chest.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

“You wanna call me a bluff?” he whispered, lips brushing hers now, breath hot. “Cool. Let’s raise the stakes then.”

He kissed her again—but this time it was slower. Hungrier. Like he was daring her to keep lying.

———

She tilted her head just enough to smirk, mouth slick with pride and nerves, pupils blown wide but her tone trying to stay sharp.

“Still ain’t nothing, unc,” she said, biting down on her bottom lip—hard, like she could chew the truth back into her throat.

But her voice cracked on the tail end of it. Her hands stayed still at her sides, balled in slow, shaking fists like she didn’t trust ‘em to reach for him first. Her chest brushed his with every shallow breath, and she was staring off somewhere over his shoulder now—anywhere but those eyes.

He caught that.

He didn’t say a word about it, just leaned down again, close enough to speak right into her skin.

“You keep talkin’ like your body ain’t already told me what’s real,” Roman murmured, thumb brushing her lip now, dragging across the spot she just bit.

“Pupils big, lip caught, breath short—yeah, you talkin’, but it ain’t makin’ sense no more.”

She swallowed hard, jaw twitching, but still trying to hold that cocky tilt to her chin.

“You want me gone?” he asked, low and steady, not a bluff in sight. “Say the word. But say it lookin’ me in the eye.”

And that—that—was the part she couldn’t seem to do.

——-

She tilted her chin up like she still ran the whole block, nose flared with that same “I wish a muthafucka would” energy—but her lips?

Locked tight.

Not a word left her mouth.

Just the drag of her eyes as they rolled hard toward the ceiling, like maybe the drywall would save her from the heat lapping up her spine. Like maybe if she didn’t meet his eyes, she could keep pretending her knees weren’t already softening.

Roman saw all that.

The fire, the fight, the fear… and the want.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, stepping in close again, his voice brushing against her jaw this time.

“That’s what I thought.”

He didn’t touch her. Didn’t need to. His presence did enough damage just standing there—solid, unbothered, all control.

“Now go ‘head,” he said, low and calm, like a dare. “Keep actin’ like you ain’t got nothin’ to say. But remember, I don’t need words to know exactly how to handle you.”

———

She hadn’t meant to touch him.

Not really.

Just meant to slide past him again with her usual attitude, maybe brush his ego with her words—but her fingers? They betrayed her.

Grazed along the curve of that wide, solid shoulder. Felt the heat of him under that shirt. The slow, pulsing tension in every muscle, like he’d been waiting on her to fold.

Her breath hitched, barely.

And her bottom lip?

Already trapped between her teeth, bitten like she could hold back whatever was rising up in her chest.

Roman clocked it all.

Didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Just looked at her.

His jaw flexed once, and his chest rose slow behind the black cotton stretched over it.

She was still holding onto that stubborn pride—but her hand lingered. Her lip trembled just enough to betray her. And he leaned in just a little more, voice low as gravel:

“Don’t do that unless you ready for the rest, ma.”

And this time, he wasn’t bluffing.

———-

She closed that space like it owed her something.

No hesitation now—just bare feet, bare skin, and bare truths wrapped up in tension thick enough to suffocate.

Her hand slid up his chest this time—slow, deliberate—until she was on her toes, breath warm and sweet against his ear.

And that voice?

Low, velvet, dangerous.

“Don’t play like you’re about it…” She whispered it like a secret and a threat all at once, the curve of her mouth brushing his jaw.

Roman didn’t blink.

Didn’t back up.

Didn’t even breathe for a second.

His hand found the small of her back, rough palm dragging down like he was marking territory. His lips ghosted just beneath her jaw, and his voice came out so deep it stirred something low in her gut.

“Playtime been over.” Another inch closer. “You the one stallin’, ma.”

—————

She moved like smoke—slow, deliberate, impossible to hold once she started.

Her lips grazed over his, not quite a kiss, more like a taunt carved in heat. The faintest touch—so soft it felt like it didn’t even happen, but it did. And he felt it everywhere.

Her eyes didn’t close. Didn’t flinch.

She stayed there, breath mingling with his, lips brushing again, just enough to test how long he could stand being touched without being taken.

Her other hand… lower now. Teasing the thick rise under his sweats from the outside, light strokes that mocked more than they promised. Fingertips tracing over cotton, knuckles skimming the heat of him as if curious how far she could push without breaking him.

“Still bluffing?” she whispered, her voice warm and dangerous against his mouth.

————-

His jaw flexed, eyes pinned to hers with a stillness that made the air around them feel like it cracked open.

“You really think this a game, huh?” he muttered, low and dark, his voice brushing against her lips like a warning—or a promise.

Then he moved.

Not rushed, not reckless—controlled. That calm-before-the-storm dominance that didn’t need to raise its voice to shake a room. His hand wrapped around her wrist—the one teasing him—and pressed it flat against his chest, right over his heart.

“Feel that?” he said, tone steady but thick with pressure. “That’s me still bein’ patient.”

His free hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, the hard line of his body undeniable. And just like that, the tease flipped. She was the one backed into heat, the one caught between her own games and the gravity he moved with.

“I’m not one of these boys you scare off with pretty lips and fast hands,” he growled, his mouth brushing her jaw. “You touch me like that again, I’ma remind you who set the rules.”

Then he kissed her.

Not a tease. Not soft.

It was possession—like he’d decided she was his the second she dared to test him. Like he’d been waiting to snap and she just pulled the pin.

She broke the kiss just barely—lips still brushing his, breath uneven, but the glint in her eyes was pure challenge.

“You think that’s supposed to shut me up?” she whispered, chest rising against his with heat, her voice smoky but sharp. “One kiss, and you think you own me?”

Then she pulled back just enough to glare up at him, head tilted with that trademark defiance—eyes locked, lip curled like she was about to bite again.

Her hand slid down his chest slow, intentional, before resting bold against that same rise beneath his sweats. Fingers pressing with just enough pressure to remind him she was still dangerous in her own way.

“I told you before… don’t bark if you can’t bite back,” she said low, lips grazing his jaw this time. “So what now, Unc? You gon’ tuck tail, or you gon’ really show me what all that bass in your chest mean?”

She held his gaze.

No flinch. No fear. Just fire.

Testing him again—one last time.

Daring him to rise to it. Or fall back.

Roman didn’t say a word.

Didn’t have to.

His jaw flexed, those dark eyes dragging over her with a patience that was far past gone. She’d lit the match, and now he was about to let it burn.

One hand gripped her waist tight, the other sliding up the bare of her back—slow, commanding, like he had the right. And in this moment? He did.

“You done talkin’?” His voice was a low growl, deep and dangerous, dragging over her skin like heat.

She opened her mouth—maybe to pop off again, maybe not. Didn’t matter.

He turned her around quick, strong enough to let her know this wasn’t a game, chest to her back as he gripped her jaw from behind—forcing her to keep those defiant eyes on their reflection in the mirror nearby.

“Don’t look away now,” he muttered, low and deadly. “You wanted a man to bite back? Say less.”

———

She smirked, still testing him, still thinking she could run circles ‘round a man like him. Her fingers grazed the waistband of his sweats, teasing, light, thinking she was calling the shots.

That smirk faded fast.

Roman’s hand closed around her wrist—not rough, but firm—still as calm as ever. He stepped in close, that slow, looming presence like a storm rolling in. No words yet. Just a look. The kind that made her stomach flip and her throat go dry.

Then he spoke, voice low like gravel, eyes locked on hers.

“Get on the bed.”

She blinked. He didn’t say it twice.

When she didn’t move fast enough, Roman peeled off his shirt in one motion—broad chest flexing, tattoos cutting deep under warm skin. She stared longer than she meant to. That man looked carved from tension and hunger and the kind of heat she ain’t ever been warned about.

And when he stepped out of those sweats, it was game over.

A low, shocked breath escaped her lips, pride almost making her take a step back—but her knees damn near gave in before she could move. He was built like every warning she ignored and every dare she ever made, staring down at her like he was the one holding the leash now.

He moved slow, crawling over her with deliberate weight, dragging fingers up the outside of her thigh like he had all the time in the world. Her body trembled before he even touched her where it counted. And when he did?

She gasped—back arching, mouth falling open as he leaned in close, lips brushing her ear.

“You sure you ready to bite back, huh?”

She thought she was teasing. Thought she was in control.

But the moment Roman pressed her wrists down into the mattress, her back arching instinctively beneath him, she realized—he was the problem. And the answer.

“Keep playin’, I’ma break that attitude right off you,” he growled against her neck, his voice thick with restraint. His hips didn’t move yet—he made her wait, made her squirm.

And then he sank into her.

Slow. Deep. Like he wanted her to feel every inch of what she’d been mocking.

The breath hitched in her throat, eyes rolling back as he filled her completely, stretching her in a way that pulled a sound out of her chest she didn’t even know she could make. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her open wider—owning her rhythm, setting a pace she couldn’t run from.

“You was talkin’ big, right?” he murmured low, dark eyes locked on her face. “Where all that mouth at now, huh?”

Each thrust was deliberate—devastating. He didn’t rush. He studied the way her body responded to him. The gasps. The clutch of her fingers. The way her back bowed when he hit the right spot—over and over.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. She was trying to keep up, trying not to let go too soon, but Roman wasn’t lettin’ her have anything easy.

When her legs started to shake, he flipped her over, one hand planted firmly on the small of her back, the other gripping her hair just enough to tilt her head back as he leaned in close, dragging his teeth against her shoulder.

“I said—where that mouth at?”

All she could do was whimper.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

He picked up the pace, deeper now, sharper. His name spilled out her lips in broken syllables she couldn’t control. Her pride, her bite, her bark—gone. Buried somewhere under every drop of heat he poured into her.

And when she came undone—loud, breathless, trembling—he still didn’t stop. He chased his own release with that same locked-in focus, groaning deep in his throat as her body clamped around him, milking every last drop of the lesson he came to teach.

By the time he was done?

She wasn’t cocky. She wasn’t loud. She was laid out—silk sheets tangled around her hips, chest heaving, lips parted like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to curse him out or pull him back in.

Roman leaned down, kissed her jaw, and whispered—

“Next time you talk slick, just remember who you called on.”

And damn if her body didn’t shiver all over again.

#romance #x black oc #alternate universe #mature fanfiction #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black oc

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belovaballerina · 1 year ago

Text

Everybody's Looking for Something

Hazbin Hotel: Alastor x platonic!reader

Rating: Teen

WC: 1.6 k

Prompt: Sweet Dreams for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Brief mention of past drug use, mention of a car accident, angst, Alastor having nefarious plans

Summary: Hell claims your soul and Alastor offers a helping hand

You don’t remember the pain; all you can recall is the blackness as it swallowed you up while the broken glass splattered onto the asphalt. You felt swallowed by the abyss, an endless falling as your limbs flailed in the hopeless attempt to grab onto something. Finally, you hit solid ground as the smell of burning flesh hit your nose. The acrid smell of sulfur made you gag. A deep groan rumbled through you while you slowly sat up to peer around your new surroundings. Brimstone crunched beneath you. A smoky haze clung to the air, making breathing hard, which you thought was rather silly. You were clearly dead; did you even need to breathe anymore?

“Salutations! My, my, where did you come from?”

The dulcet tones of the voice felt oddly soothing yet there was something in the tone that made the hairs stand up on your arms. It reminded you of the old black and white movies you watched with your parents as a child—Old-timey, a throwback to the past, yet a touch unearthly. You pressed up onto your palms, blinking your eyes a few times. Even in the dark, murky haze, you could make out the malicious grin, teeth spiked and dangerous in the widely stretched mouth. The figure was tall and slender, looming over your sprawled body with black antlers perched in the middle of their fluffy hair. Was this a man? No…it had to be a demon, right? This was Hell, after all.

“Uhhh…from above?” you replied, pointing your finger upward, “Can you tell me where I am?”

“Why, you’re in hell, of course! Up above, you say? I suppose that makes you a human sinner or a fallen angel then, though I would assume the former. A fresh soul.” An eerie green light flashed around the demon as they seemed to grow taller.

Your heart sank as you took in their words. You should have known, should have figured it out. Given the life you were living and how you crashed through the windshield as drugs pulsed through your system, you weren’t surprised this was your fate. How could you even be deemed worthy of heaven?

“Yeah…guess you must be right. Can I ask your name?”

“Only if you’ll give me yours in return. I’m Alastor, my dear. Now let’s get you off the filthy ground,” the creature chirped, the sharp smile still plastered on his face.

You told him your name as he extended his arm, offering you a gloved hand. “Thanks,” you murmured as you were pulled to your feet. You felt chilled to your bones even as heat blazed through this place.

“Come now, I know the perfect place for you,” Alastor stated, offering you his arm. While it probably wasn’t wise to go off with a stranger, what other choice did you have? Navigating hell by yourself seemed…stupid, or so you surmised from the screams echoing through the air. Better the devil you knew. Not that you really knew him., but he seemed the safest option.

“So are you a demon or ….” you asked, slipping your arm through his and letting him guide you away. You thought if he wished to harm you, he would have done so by now.

“Indeed I am, darling. They refer to me as the radio demon around here.”

A soft laugh fell from your lips, as Alastor tilted his head in a way that made your nerves stand on edge.

“Sorry…but that’s exactly what your voice reminds me of! I was thinking old movies, but radio dramas suit you much better,” you explained, feeling your cheeks grow hot.

His delighted chuckle chimed through the air and put you at ease. “Oh, you and I are going to be great pals, I can tell.”

Not much else was said as he helped you navigate the streets until you arrived at a hotel, blinking as you took in its sheer size and the neon sign buzzing overhead.

“I never would have guessed Hell would have a hotel,” you said in shock.

“My dear, you’ll discover we have all sorts of clever things down here. I have…friends who reside here and help to run it. Think of it as a safe haven.”

You clung tightly to his arm as you followed him inside.

“Hey Al! You’re back, and you brought a stray! What’s your name, gorgeous? I haven’t seen you around these parts before,” a spider-like creature asked, giving you a wink.

“A new arrival to our humble abode,” Alastor explained.

You nearly shrieked as a small creature with one eye scuttled under you.

“You are filthy! Dirty, dirty girl,” she cackled, her clawed fingers tugging at your clothing.

“Why don’t you draw a nice hot bath for our newest guest, Niffty dear?” Alastor suggested, and you watched in awe as the creature ran off, her tiny arms waving wildly in the air.

“A drink will help take the edge off. I’m Angel, by the way,” the fluffy pink and white spider creature said, shoving a shot glass into your hand.

“Nice to meet you, Angel. I’m lucky Alastor here found me,” you murmured before downing the liquor.

“Not sure luck has anything to do with it,” you heard a deep voice mutter, your gaze following the sound before landing on a winged cat creature. You might need another shot to process all this.

“Oh, Husker, what a jester,” Alastor sneered.

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” a cheery voice chimed, and you watched a tall, horned blonde dash down the stairs before throwing their arms around you, “I’m Charlie!”

You were shocked at first before discovering you enjoyed her hug. It certainly wasn’t the type of behavior you expected in hell.

“I hope it’s ok, Alastor brought me here,” you whispered, gently patting her back.

“Of course! Our doors are always open, especially to those who want to redeem their souls!” she explained.

“Is that possible?” you asked.

“Of course! Well…at least, I think so!”

“Wow, that’s really cool. Sounds like Alastor brought me to the right place,” you smiled as Charlie beamed.

“He sure did!” she exclaimed.

“Lots of other nasty demons and overlords roaming those streets. You at least ended up with the right one,” Angel said before taking a long pull from a bottle of whisky.

Husk raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you momentarily before returning to cleaning up the bar he stood behind.

“Your bath is ready, filthy, diry girl!” Niffty shouted, dangling from the banister.

“Allow me to escort you to your room,” Alastor offered, guiding you up the sprawling staircase.

The room was decent enough and clean, and the steam swirling around the air beckoned to you.

“Thank you, Alastor,” you whispered, surprised when he took hold of your hand.

“Truly my pleasure, dear. Enjoy your bath,” he hummed before leaving you.

The hot water felt soothing against your skin as you soaked in the bath.

“Hello, hello, I promise I’m not looking! I just brought you some fresh clothes. None of mine will fit you, but you seem the same size as my girlfriend, Vaggie! Ohhh, I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Charlie bristled, dumping a pile of clothes onto your bed.

“Thank you, Charlie. You’ve been super nice, everyone has…which is surprising for a bunch of…”

“Demons?” she finished for you, chuckling softly, “We’re a unique bunch.”

“I can tell, but I think I’m gonna like it here.”

“Oh, that makes me so happy I could burst! You must be special if Alastor brought you here! Ok, enjoy your bath!”

You stayed in the tub until the water grew cold and your skin was scrubbed clean; the faint odor of sulfur still lingered behind. Once you were dry, you picked out a pair of black leggings and a red top to put on, thankful this Vaggie preferred a more subdued color palette. You settled on the bed, closing your eyes for a moment until a knock came at your door.

“It’s Alastor, my dear, I’ve brought some food for you.”

“Oh, come in,” you called out and watched as he entered, pushing a food cart over to your bed,

“Something simple, dear, but you need to keep your strength,” Alastor explained as he lifted the lid off the tray, “A soothing, homemade chicken noodle soup.” The aroma made your mouth water and stomach rumble.

“Thanks, smells delicious,” you whispered, scooting to the edge of the bed before picking up the spoon and savoring the hot liquid. With each taste, the realization of everything that happened hit you like a ton of bricks. You were dead and stuck in Hell. Hot, salty tears rolled down your cheeks, splashing onto the white linen the soup bowl rested on.

“Now, now, there’s no need for tears,” Alastor tutted, sitting next to you and rubbing your back.

“S…sorry. It just all hit me at once,” you sniffled, swiping your hand under your dripping nose.

“You just need a good night’s rest. Come, let’s tuck you in.”

You allowed Alastor to move you under the sheets, tucking the blanket securely under your chin before he patted your head.

“My mother used to sing me to sleep, I found it most comforting,” he smiled, his eyes flickering and softening momentarily.

“That sounds nice,” you whispered, blushing as he began to sing to you. His voice was soothing yet haunting simultaneously.

Sweet dreams 'til sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams, whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me

His voice was incredibly comforting, curling over you like a warm, fluffy blanket and bringing you peace. Closing your eyes, you slowly drifted off to dreamland, sighing softly. You were out like a light by the time Alastor finished the pleasant little ditty. One clawed hand smoothed down your hair before a tentacle wrapped around your throat.

“Sweet dreams, my dear. Soon enough, your soul will be mine.”

#fic: hazbin hotel #sweetspicyhc #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor fanfiction #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel hell #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hurt/comfort

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