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alwaysonthemend · 10 months

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Author’s Note: Coming to ya’ll once again with yet another Jake fic that’s just self-indulgent smut. Inspired by the lovely (read: horny) conversations that I had with my Jake lane besties yesterday. Blame them, not me. This fic is also inspired by the Gibson TV interview that Jake did a while ago because of this post from @indigofallingsky

If you haven't seen the interview, you can watch it here.

Content Warnings: Swearing, jake being a huge flirt, oral (f receiving), fingering, spanking, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (ik it's bad I just have a problem), squirting, softdom jakey, semi public sex, sir kink, lil bit of spit play maybe? and a shit ton of dirty talk. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5293

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You’re nervous, to say the least. And more than that, you’re frustrated because you’re so nervous. Being a photographer, it’s literally your job to be around famous people – and you pride yourself on never getting starstruck or anxious. You’d discovered quickly that most of the celebrities you interacted with were assholes anyway, and the few that weren’t assholes had either been boring or just plain weird. You’d stopped giving a damn years ago.

But now, as you stood there waiting to introduce yourself to the man you would be photographing, you couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as you watched him. You’d heard of him and his band before. You loved their music and you’d even been thinking of buying tickets to one of their upcoming shows if you could manage to get the time off from work. You knew what he looked like, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him in person. He was gorgeous – sinfully so. You couldn’t help but stare as he walked around the room, introducing himself to everyone that he would be working with for his interview.

The first thing you noticed was his hair; it was messy but beautiful, like someone had run their fingers through it haphazardly before he showed up. It was a gorgeous brown – almost copper when the light reflected on it. It looked especially gorgeous in contrast against his navy blue suit. And Jesus, did that suit fit him so well. He wasn’t a very tall man, but his entire body looked strong – solid. His thighs filled out those suit pants in a way that should be illegal. And his face… you could stare at it for hours. Plush lips, a perfect set of white teeth, and brown eyes that reminded you of bourbon. And of course he would be a fucking guitarist.

When he finally made it to you, you had to fight to keep your voice steady and your eyes on his.

“I’m Jake.” He said, giving you a dazzling smile as he extended his hand towards yours to shake. You took it, praying that he didn’t feel the slight tremor in them.

“I’m Y/n. I’m going to be your photographer today.”

“Hi, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The sound of your name from his mouth made your knees weak and you mentally rolled your eyes at yourself. “ Do you work for Gibson?”

You nodded.

“Yep! Have for a few years now. All I’m going to be doing today is taking a few candid shots of you while you play and then we’ll do some actual posed shots afterwards” You gave him your best attempt at a professional smile.

“Well, I’m lucky to have such a gorgeous woman taking my picture.”

Your jaw dropped as he walked away from you, calm and collected after saying such a thing to you. Your eyes followed his retreating form as he went to take a seat on the little stool in front of the camera. He turned over his shoulder and locked eyes with you. He winked and you could feel the blush as it overtook your face. You dropped his gaze quickly.

You took a seat on another stool by the wall. You wanted to listen to him before you took him over to take pictures.

“Whenever you're ready, Mr. Kiszka. I’ll be asking you questions, but we’ll cut me from the final so it will be just you speaking.” The director, David, explained to him. “Let’s start with your full name.”

“Full name?” Jake asked him, a half smile painting his pretty lips. “How long do you want me to-” he chuckled. “Jacob Thomas Kiszka, sir.”

His eyes locked on yours as he said the word, and your lips parted yet again as he pinned you with his gaze.

“I don’t know.” He laughed, eyes snapping back to the camera. You glanced around to see that no one else seemed to have noticed him looking at you. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves completely unraveling the longer you were in his presence. Get a grip, y/n.

“And tell us what you play.” David asked, and you watched on the little monitor as the second camera angle zoomed out for a wider shot.

“I play guitar for the band Greta Van Fleet.” He answered, and you marveled at the smooth sound of his voice. David continued to ask him questions and you couldn’t help but be impressed – Jake was clearly a master of his craft, and yet he didn’t come across as egotistical or too self-assured. His talent spoke for itself and your heart raced at the quiet confidence that the man exuded. He was a gorgeous balance of confidence and professionalism.

Every so often though, Jake’s eyes would sweep to find you. They’d linger on you for only a moment, before finding the camera again. Each glance was so fleeting you almost felt like you were imagining it – wishful thinking, and all that. But it kept happening; enough for you to believe that it had to be on purpose. You bit your lip, trying your best to remain focused on the job at hand and to stop the blush that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on your face.

Once David had asked all of his questions, he asked Jake to actually play his beautiful red Les Paul. Jake rose from his seat and strode quickly towards where his amps had been set up. He breezed by you, giving you another pointed stare from the corner of his eye. This time, you stared back – meeting the challenge in his eyes. He smirked.

You watched him as he plugged in his guitar and strummed the strings once, checking their sound. He turned a few knobs on his instrument before strumming the strings again, this time seemingly satisfied.

“Anything in particular you want me to play?” He asked, directing his gaze towards David.

“Nope. Just whatever you would like to, really.”

Jake nodded once before beginning to play. The sound he coaxed from the instrument was beautiful, each note crisp and clean and oozing with sex appeal. His quiet demeanor melted away to reveal a man who was a master at what he was doing. You stared as his fingers danced across the strings and frets, effortlessly quick as he played. His face was focused, lost in his own world.

Your cheeks blazed as you felt wetness seep into your panties as you watched him. Your breathing picked up and you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you watched toss his head back and close his eyes. You could only stare as he rocked his hips into his guitar in time to the beat of the song he was playing. You’d never been this affected by anyone in your entire life.

Your core ached and you clenched your thighs together. Jake’s gaze shifted to meet yours at the movement, and his eyes practically sparkled as his eyes drank in your form. There was no hiding your arousal from him. You trained your eyes on your shoes, unwilling to meet his eyes. He tore his stare away from you and retreated back into guitar world. All you could do was sit there in agony as your lust for him grew by the second.

Finally, he finished and David walked over to him and clapped him on the back.

“That was great, Mr. Kiskza. Excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jake smiled, unplugging his guitar from the amp.

“I’ll be turning you over to our photographer now, Mr. Kiszka. She’ll take good care of you.”

You wanted to shrivel up and die as David said the words but you just plastered your work smile onto your face and rose from your seat.

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.”

You led him into the little photo room off to the side of the main studio. It was a small space – adorned only with a backdrop on one side of the room and your equipment on the other side. One singular wooden stool had been placed in front of the backdrop. You walked over to the lights and switched them on.

“Just have a seat right there.” You told him and he complied without a word. You positioned yourself across from him, camera in hand. You peered through the lens, adjusting the viewfinder and fiddling with the settings until you found what you liked.

“Alright, Mr. Kiszka. Let’s just start with you playing for a bit.”

“Yes ma’am.” You prided yourself for only letting your eyes widen for a brief moment before you schooled your expression.

He began to play a soft tune and you walked around towards the left side of him, snapping shots as he played. The lights behind him from that angle created almost a halo around his head and brought out the red in his hair.

“Good. That looks good. You can stop playing now.” You walked back in front of him. This was easy – slipping into work mode in order to distract yourself from the sinful thoughts that had been plaguing your mind since he walked in. “Now look up to your left for me.”

“Like this?” He asked, turning his head.

“Chin out a little bit for me.” He followed your direction.

“Good. Now turn your body towards the door.” He swiveled on the stool. “Cross your left leg over your right and hold the body of your guitar in your lap.” He situated himself just as you explained. “Perfect. Now turn your head slightly to look at me."

The look he gave you was domination incarnate, his eyebrow raised just slightly, his eyes holding a challenge in them, and his plush lips just barely parted. You swallowed thickly as you took the picture.

“O-okay, now legs apart for me. Right hand in your lap. Hold the guitar in your left.”

“How do you want me to hold it?” He asked, giving you a smirk. You bit your lip.

“Prop it against your thigh.”

He furrowed his brows at you. You sighed and walked over to him. You nudged one of his feet out further with your own and you did your best to ignore the way the muscles of his thighs strained against the fabric of his pants. You ignored his stare as you walked around him, assessing the position. Slowly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, turning his torso to face the opposite wall. You could feel the warmth of him through his suit.

“May I?” You asked him, gesturing towards where he was holding his guitar.

“You may.” His voice was pitched lower, husky and smooth as whiskey.

You reached out and carefully took hold of his guitar, situating it so that it rested against his thigh at an angle.

“Take your left hand and hold right at the base” Your cheeks flamed as you realized the way your words sounded – the double meaning not lost on him either. He gave you a shit eating grin.

“You're good at this.” He said, voice nearly a whisper and dripping with… something, you just weren’t sure what.

You huffed a breath as he rested his hand against the body of the guitar, right where you’d told him to. Mustering all the confidence you had, you met his stare. “Thank you. Sir.” The grin that overtook his face was downright sinful but you ignored it as you walked back over to the center of the room to take the shot. “Look at me.”

“Last one. Would you mind setting the stool off to the side for me?”

“Of course.” He said, voice saccharine and eyes glittering. He placed the stool by the wall.

“I want you to face that way.” You jerked your head towards the right. “Hold it in your right hand, down by your side.”

He complied.

“This good?”

You cocked your head to the side, eyeing his position.

“Step your left leg forward just a bit.” That looked better. “Now look to your right, over my shoulder. Chin up. Perfect."

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you snapped the final picture.

“Alright, I think I’m finished here. Thank you, Mr. Kiszka. You’re free to go.” You hated the feeling of disappointment that took place in your gut.

“Shame. I was enjoying myself.”

“You like posing all pretty for pictures?”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Neither of you moved for a long moment. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop and your breathing was embarrassingly heavy. Every line in his body was drawn tight, like he was ready to spring into action at any given moment. The look in his eye was dangerous – threatening even.

Finally daring to break the spell, you turned around and switched the camera off.

“It was a pleasure working with you, sir.”

He simply hummed and exited the room quickly, not even glancing back once.

You released the tension that you’d been holding in your shoulders and let out a shaky breath. You could hear him in the other room saying thank yous and goodbyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t put your job at risk like that… and anyways, the longer you thought about it, the more you became convinced that he had just been messing with you – harmless flirting since he’d obviously caught on to your attraction to him. You shook your head at yourself and cringed – you couldn’t believe you’d been as forward as you had with him. Sure, he’d most definitely started it, but you’d allowed your self control to fly out the window. Damn you, Jake Kiszka, you thought as you began to pack up the equipment.

Once you were finished, you grabbed your purse and headed for the door. There were still several people there, milling about as you passed through. David was off in the corner, speaking to one of the sound guys.

“Am I done for the day, David?” You called to him, stopping just by the door.

“I release you from your duties.” He said, giving you a kind smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You waved and exited the filming room.

You’d made it almost to the end of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat. You spun around quickly, startled at the noise.

“Woah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You knew that damn voice. Jake emerged from one of the doorways, a grin on his face – the same one he’d been giving you all afternoon.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked him, clutching your purse tighter to your chest. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in nothing but a black button down. He’d untucked it and unbuttoned all of the buttons except for a few at the bottom. His necklace glittered where it rested against the tan skin of his chest. His guitar case was nowhere to be seen.

“Waiting for you.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

“Me?” You couldn’t help but ask, suddenly afraid – despite the fact that he’d been openly flirting with you for the better part of two hours.

“Forgive me for assuming,” he said as he stepped towards you, caging you into the wall with his body, “but I could see it all over you in there. You want me. I want you. Figured we could do something about it.”

You swallowed, brain working a mile a minute as you processed his words. There was no lie. You wanted him – and apparently he wanted you too. And doing something about it was sounding better and better by the second.

“What did you have in mind?” You finally asked, voice coming out far more confident than you felt.

“Oh, lots of things.” He said, voice low. “Been thinking about all the possibilities since the moment I saw you.”

“There’s a dressing room down the hall.” You said quietly, nodding your head in that direction. “Locks from the inside.”

“Oh?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “Can’t wait long enough to go somewhere else, huh?”

You flushed.

“No, sir.”

His eyes blazed at your words. Fast as lightning, his hand shot out to grip your bicep tightly and he all but dragged you down the hall. You pointed to the door to the dressing room and he ripped it open. You stumbled through the doorway, dropping your purse to the floor. He kicked the door shut and locked it and then he was on you – forearm pressed to your chest to back you into the wall. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his breath on you as he spoke.

“I’d like to kiss you now.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth. You submitted to him willingly, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no resistance. He tasted like cigarette smoke and somehow that turned you on even more, and you whimpered quietly into his mouth. His palms settled on your waist in a way that you could only describe as possessive, and he dug his fingers into your flesh as he kissed you. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, earning a groan from him.

He pulled away, a string of spit connected your mouths as he drew back to look at you. You thought he looked gorgeous earlier, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now; his hair was messier and his cheeks were flushed, and his plush lips were swollen and slick with spit. He looked so fucking pretty.

“You taste just as good as I imagined.” He said darkly. “Wanna taste the rest of you.”

Without warning, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He slotted his thigh between your legs and you moaned at the pressure. You rocked your hips forward on him, desperate for any type of friction on your throbbing pussy.

“Please, Jake.” You whined as he nipped at your ear.

He pulled away from you sharply.

“You call me Jacob or you call me sir, understood?”

You nodded.

“Words.” He urged, eyes ablaze with lust.

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He attached his lips to yours again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to jump up. You did, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gripped your ass with both hands, walking the two of you over to the vanity in the corner. He placed you gently onto the counter.

“Can I taste you, sweet girl?” He asked, lowering himself down to kneel on the floor so that he was eye level with your dripping cunt.

“Yes, Jacob.” You whined.

You toed your heels off, allowing him to slide your skirt off of you, tossing it impatiently somewhere in the room. He nudged your knees apart, splaying his palms on your thighs to keep you steady. He eyed the wetness leaking through the cotton of your panties and chuckled.

“You’re fucking soaked. Look at you.” He said, nuzzling his nose against you and inhaling deeply.

“Please.” You begged, pussy throbbing with your need for him.

“Please what?”

“Please. Need you. Need your tongue.”

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a grin. “Where do you need it?”

You whined and rocked your hips towards him.

“Jake-Jacob.” You corrected yourself. “Need your tongue on my clit. Please, sir.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He looped two fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled – effectively ripping the thin fabric. He wadded your ruined panties up and slipped them into his pocket.

“For safekeeping.” He said, before licking a stripe up your weeping center.

“Oh, fuck!” You yelled, threading your fingers through his hair. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter as you threw your head back. He swirled his tongue around your swollen clit, suckling on it in a way that was almost too much. You cried out with each movement, his tongue playing you like that damn harmonica you'd seen him play on stage.

Without warning, he plunged his tongue into you, and he pressed his thumb to your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh, squeezing so tightly you were sure you would have bruises tomorrow.

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, sweet girl. I want to taste it so bad.” He said into your heat, and you moaned loudly. He increased the speed of his thumb on your clit, and his tongue plunged in and out of you mercilessly, and it didn’t take long before you felt that familiar coil beginning to tighten in your belly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You mumbled out, legs beginning to tremble.

“Give it to me.”

It was like your body was waiting for his permission. No sooner had he spoken the words, your orgasm was tearing through you. Your entire body shook as you came, and you called out his name as he kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure.

Jake rose from between your legs and you moaned at the sight of his face covered in your juices. He swiped a finger through your folds to collect your release and then wrapped his fingers around it, groaning at the taste of you.

“You taste sweeter than fucking candy.”

“Kiss me.” You demanded, and you were embarrassed at the blatant neediness in your voice, but it melted away quickly as he met your demand. You could feel him, hard as a rock in his pants. You reached up with shaky fingers and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. When they were all unbuttoned, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and your eyes wandered over the expanse of skin, tan and glistening with sweat.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You whispered, sliding your palms across his chest and up to squeeze his broad shoulders.

“So are you, sweet girl. Slide back for me.”

You did as he asked, scooching back on the counter until your back pressed into the cold mirror of the vanity.

“Take off your top.” He said, voice suddenly hard and demanding.

You gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off, revealing the lacey bra you had on underneath.

“Shit.” He said, eying your breasts through the fabric. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out for him to admire. Wordlessly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, biting at the hard nub. You moaned at the sensation.

“You like that? Like when I bite these pretty nipples.”

“Yes.” You cried, and he bit down harder – the sharp pain serving as a warning. “Yes sir.” You corrected, tossing your head back.

Suddenly, you felt one of his talented fingers slipping into you and you whined loudly.

“Jacob!”

“Yes, sweet girl?” He asked, but you had nothing to say in return. You opened your mouth to ask for more, but all that escaped you was a loud moan. He caressed your walls with his fingers, eyes affixed to your face as he watched you surrender to the pleasure.

“You look so pretty like this, y/n. All needy. Your cunt is dripping.”

“All for you.” You told him, toes curling in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them inside of you in the most delicious way.

“God, look at you.” He said, leaning on his free arm as the other fucked into you mercilessly. “Never seen a prettier sight.”

You whined, and the sound came out as almost a squeak. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself hurdling quickly into a second orgasm.

“Already?” He asked you, cockiness dripping from his words. You clenched around his fingers, his tone spurring you on even more. “My needy little girl gonna come again for me? So soon?”

“Yes, please sir, let me cum. Please!”

“That’s it, baby. You sound better than my guitar. Cum on my fingers. Come on.”

Your mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as you came again, this one even more powerful than the first.

“Shit! Fuck!”

“Careful, y/n. Don’t wanna be too loud. Someone might come in here, just to see your pretty cunt squeezing my fingers.”

You’d never been one for dirty talk, but Jake was making it work. Something about his smooth voice saying such filthy things was driving you wild.

“Jacob, I need you to fuck me. Right now.”

“Oh you do, huh? Little kitten desperate for my cock?”

All you could do was whine in answer, brain cloudy after two orgasms.

“Mmm. Wanna feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me.” He said, pulling his fingers from you with an obscene squelch. He took your hand in his and pressed it to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “See what you do to me? Jesus, I’ve never been so hard.”

“Fuck me. Need it so bad.”

“Patience baby.” He laughed. “Lemme get a condom. I’ve got one in my wallet.”

You grabbed his wrist in your hand tightly, stopping him from reaching into his pocket.

“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. I want to feel you, sir. Please.”

“Fuck.” He said through gritted teeth, eyes so dark they looked black. “Dirty girl, aren’t you?”

You watched, mouth watering as he unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down so that they pooled around his ankles, and you moaned seeing that he didn’t have any underwear on.

His cock was big – bigger than you’d been expecting. The head was pink and weeping with precum where it curved upward to rest against his soft stomach. He was a sight to behold.

He brought his hand up to rest underneath your chin, fingers just barely grazing your skin.

"Spit."

You did as he commanded, allowing your saliva to drop from your mouth into his waiting palm. He groaned and wrapped his hand around his base, your spit mixing with his precum to make the perfect lubrication

“Can I taste you, sir?” You asked him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, one hand pumping himself slowly as the other caressed your jaw. “As much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t last if you did. And I wanna cum in your sweet cunt.”

“Next time?” The question slipped out without thought and your eyes widened at the implication.

Jake smiled, wide and dazzling.

“Next time, baby.”

He pumped himself a few more times, using his thumb to smear his precum over his head. Finally, he nudged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness.

“You ready for my cock, baby girl? Ready for me to split you open?”

“God, yes. Please.”

He gripped your hips in his strong hands and pulled you to the edge of the counter, allowing for your feet to touch the floor.

“Turn around and bend over, y/n. I want you to watch in the mirror while I fuck you.”

You moaned and did as he asked, pressing your ass back into him as you bent over the counter. You rested your forearms on the counter, and watched in the mirror as Jake slipped into you. Your pussy throbbed as you watched his mouth fall open – his brows clenched together and a breathy moan fell from his lips. The stretch of him was overwhelming as he pressed into you, slowly sinking into the hilt. He groaned in your ear as he finally bottomed out and you dropped your head back towards him. He pressed wet kisses to your neck as he stilled, allowing you time to adjust to his size.

“Jesus, you’re so tight wrapped around me. Smooth as fucking velvet.” He said, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Move, Jakey. Please move.”

“‘Jakey,’ huh?” He chuckled, beginning to slowly rock his hips into you. “I like that.”

He quickened his pace, pistoning in and out of you. You watched in the mirror as his face fell slack with pleasure and sweat dripped down his temples and neck. You pushed back into him with each thrust, desperate and needy for him.

“You want me to go harder? You sure you can take it, pretty girl? You’ve given me two already… think you can give me another one?”

You moaned loudly, high pitched and pornographic, at his words.

“I asked you a question.” He ground out through clenched teeth, wrapping his left arm around your waist to pull you into him. His other hand delivered a hard slap to the side of your ass.

“Fuck! Yes! Harder, sir!” You cried, the sting of the slap only adding to your pleasure.

“God, you feel like a fucking dream.” He groaned, slamming into you at an impressive speed. The sound of his hips slapping against you was loud, and the wet sounds coming from in between the two of you were lewd and unmistakable. If anyone walked by the door, there would be no doubt about what was going on in here. He slapped your ass again, this time much harder, and you wailed at the extra pleasure the sting gave you.

“Fuck, y/n, I’m close.”

You have no idea what comes over you as he says that in your ear, but you’re opening your mouth to say the words before your brain has time to process it.

“Choke me, Jacob. Fuck, I want you to choke me.”

“Oh, fuck.” He practically whined, wrapping his right hand around your throat. He squeezed lightly as he pounded into you.

“Harder, Jakey. Harder. Please.” You wailed, and his fingers tighten around your throat. Your head began to swim and your vision wavered as your climax finally starts to build up again. It’s overwhelming, a feeling like something is trying to claw its way out of you.

“I’m gonna cum.” You wheezed out, and Jake moaned nto your ear.

“Give it to me. Cum on my cock.”

Jake released his hold on your throat and finally, your orgasm overtook you. Your vision whited out and your whole body began to shake madly. You screamed Jake’s name as you cum and distantly you hear him as he reaches his own climax. He’s moaning curses into your damp skin but it’s like you’re in another plane of existence. Your orgasm seems to go on forever as you clench around Jake – drawing every drop of cum he has in him. You've never had an orgasm last the way that one just did.

He stilled in you, and the both of you sit there, breathing heavily.

“Y/n…” Jake says, voice wrecked and shaky. “You just- have you ever done that before?”

“Done what?” You slurred, brain covered in a fog.

“You fucking squirted. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You shook your head.

“No. Not done that before.”

Jake slipped out of you carefully, the both of you hissing at the feeling. You swayed where you were bent over the counter and Jake placed a steadying hand on your back.

“You okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah, fuck. I’m great. Just need to sit down.”

Jake grabbed his shirt and placed it on the floor before helping you ease down onto it.

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life.” You told him, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. He gave you a matching one in return. He looked so pretty looking at you like that – hair a mess, skin slick with sweat. He looked completely fucked out.

“Me neither. Holy shit.”

You giggled.

“Come back to my apartment with me.” He said, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them.

“Jake I don’t think I’m gonna be able to go again for at least a week.” You told him, letting your head fall back to rest on the wall.

“No, I’m going to make you dinner and draw you a bath. And then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you. Come on.” He helped you to your feet.

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and gathered your clothes up as well, handing them to you.

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” You giggled. “God, I’m probably going to get fired. There’s no way none of them heard that.”

“Good.” Jake said, slipping his shirt on over his shoulders. “Now they know who you belong to.”

“Oh I belong to you now?” You jokingly challenged, carefully stepping back into your skirt and wincing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake said with a smirk. He looked like sin incarnate. “I’m never letting you go.”

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joaofelix70 · 8 months

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A CRESCENT LOVE, AN EPHEMERAL PASSION | joão félix sequeira.

summary: you and joão spent all the summer together. you even met his friends and brother. could this be the beginning of a crescent love or just an ephemeral passion? his friendship with his ex would ruin everything between the two of you?

author's notes: after the win against luxemburgo, where portugal national team set the record of goals, his ex just posted "mysterious" pics with floki, his dog. joão was also there, almost hidden, actually. we all know she always does it, never assuming anything maturely, but instigating the frustration of the fans who care about him and to make every gossip website and tv show talk about it, just like a teenager who wants attention would act. basically, this inspired me. i really don't hate anyone, by the way. even thought influencers who don't spread any impactful content and nepobabies with no talent and only standard beauty annoys me, i can't lie.

warnings: bad language (of course it's joão saying the words), chaotically humorous almost all the time, but also involving sadness and angst. implicit sex reference, i guess? maybe?

what do you feel when you hear my name? shame? embarrassment?

does your brain even bring you any sign or memory involving me?

do you ever think about me?

are your moments with her comparable to ours?

can we talk? can we communicate?

is it my fault? do you miss me?

your head was drunk for the whirlwinds of questions that piled up and get bigger, like waves. they seemed to be drowning you. the glowing light and peace of your woody brown gaze gives you triggers. his smile remains embedded, in your heart, an eternal home. the numbness and wrapping of his lips, every inch of his tanned skin and firm muscles being appreciated and admired by you. his hair was shiny, soft and full by the salty waters of the european beaches: always caressed for you. his laughs at you giving him the most silly and lazy hairstyles, with you pretending to be a professional who was filming your customer to tiktok.

“do that pose! yes, your hand against your face! now, give me that playboy eye. just like that! you’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

when you get carried away in the game ‘who am i?’ and tried so hard doing the mimes, jumping excitedly and demonstrating your animation in a loud tone, before covering your own mouth and feigning naturalness, just to repeat the same instant acts.

when you made joão watch your random dances as soon as you won at uno and he’d tell how hilarious you were. when you cooked your regional foods and desserts for félix, his brother who’s hugo, alex — the photographer — diogo from the movemind channel and all of his friends. when he used to hold your face, rest his touch on your waist and thighs. tracing his fingerprints across your scalp, reveling in the ethereal smell of your hair, laying his lips against your entire face and stature, exalting you completely: from your ears, neck, collarbone, belly, legs and even your feet. being a gentleman, joão opened the car door for you, he intertwined the hands of you both in every single opportunity and helped you eat: having the cutlery for you to open your mouth and giving you support with the napkin. when you did his goal celebration. when the two of you invented a handshake, along with various inside jokes. for example, when joão posted many videos of him swimming and playing in the ocean.

“hey, flounder! ‘the little mermaid’? i loved it!”

“why am i not your ariel, tho?”

“why you didn’t say you’d prefer to be eric of the real life?”

“give me some respect, i’m the protagonist of this shit!”

“slay, king!”

you remember singing the songs that played in his car in the most chaotic way, using his hand as a microphone and taking the opportunity to kiss all over it and his fancy bracelets. you offered him affection biting his skin and enjoyed acting like his personal masseuse. you called him ‘my prince of portugal’.

“please, don’t become a stranger.” your last words, face to face. the intensity of the summer weeks of vacation, which were already ending, consuming you.

��you know i’d never do that. look, you’re such a unique person, and even though we’re gonna go back to our busy routines, i still wanna keep you in my life. i still wanna be that close to you.” joão declared and they both found comfort in each other’s arms. his perfume granted the beg leave and penetrated your lungs, giving you life. you felt like you shouldn’t let it go, but there was nothing else to accomplish. you were single, so was he. you ask yourself if everything would be different. maybe if you had tried your lips once again: asking him to give a chance to them, to have more. to not leave what you went through, together, in the box of forgotten memories. would that really suffice, though?

"it's obvious that you’d choose the blonde influencer with light eyes, slender body and member of a rich family. the one who was with a formula 1 racer days before she went to meet you. before you just disappear from my life, without saying anything. the one that doesn't show an ounce of authenticity and, of course, affective responsibility. who am i in comparison to her?! right, joão?" your voice flashed the disparity of fragility and indignation, trembling hands clutching the phone.

“y/n, listen to me. you’d never understand it, okay? you’re not inside this relationship, me and her are. you’re seeing it from the outside, just like everyone else. yeah, she was hanging out and making out with other people. so was i with you. but then, some things changed.” john seemed to be busy. echoes of other people's voices ran through the call.

“nothing has happened between us since the vacation, joão. what doesn’t make sense because i thought you were liking me. i only think about you!” you vented out and received silence. his answers tried to become existent and complete. he stammered, the audible sound of his familiar backwards cap being pulled off and his honey-colored hair being rubbed against his own fingerprints.

“do you think i don’t like you? holy shit, y/n. i even thought we could have so much more. a future together and everything. i think about you and i swear in the name of my family, and i already said that they mean the fucking world to me. the thing is: there’s something that still keep me going back to her. i don’t know if it’s because i’m with her since i was younger, but…”

“joão, this is emotional dependence. i’m sorry to tell you this, however, it’s necessary. i care about you. you’re so internally and externally beautiful, precious, successful and talented. you deserve better!” you interrupted him, stepping back and forth.

“y/n, i love her. when i looked at you…”

“she’s all that you see, right?”

“hm… yeah…” félix found himself in a bind. paralyzed, he remained without an answer for a while. the coldness of the material of his gold necklace touches his tongue: a way to combat the nervousness that generates the gnawed nails.

“my toxic behavior wants to help and fix you so badly, but i know i can’t get more involved than that. i’m not the one for you.” the words reproduced by yourself reinforced the fragmentation of your heart.

“j, baby… are you coming or not? i’m waiting for you, floki is waiting for his dad!” you heard that female voice call to him and realized the way that just this factor made his breathing destabilize.

“i think this is officially the end of whatever we had, joão. goodbye!” your voice was unstable and he realized it: sharp as deep, transparent and suffocating waters.

“i wish you the best, y/n. i apologize for not being what you expected, what you needed, and…”

“caralho, joão! que merda! (holy fuck, joão! what the hell?). come on, give me your phone!” the girl began to rant. her heels against the floor were exclamatory. she was running out of patience.

the call is over. again, you were superimposed on the ocean of blazing tears. you tried to convince yourself that everything went the way it was supposed to be.

but was it for real?

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jaded-jezz · 11 months

Text

Shutter Speed (Part 2)

Jack Champion x Photographer!Reader

Part 2/3

☁︎ Fluff

Summary: y/n is a photographer for the new scream promo and Jack thinks she belongs in front of the camera rather than behind.

(Y/N POV)

"Look who decided to show up!" I hear Jenna say but I am too occupied in taping marks on the floor to turn around. Leah goes over to introduce herself, welcome the late cast to the shoot and explain the plan and rules.

"You must be Y/N?" I hear my name and stand up to correct the voice. "I'm Leah, she's Y/N." Leah turns to me as I appear next to them.

“Woah…I mean Jack, I’m hi.” The boy in front of me stutters. “No! I mean Hi, I am Jack. Sorry for being late.” I hold back a small laugh and smile. “Are you sure you’re Jack? I mean the name ‘hi’ might suit you more.” I jest. “I’m Y/N, did Leah go over all the rules? Are there any questions?” My voice moves back into professional mode as we have a lot of work to do today.

(JACK'S POV)

"You totally played that off man" Mason chuckles behind me, pulling me out of the trance that this Y/N has put me in. I feel my face heating up and I can't tell if its the multitude of lights in here or her stare that burned through my heart. God snap out of it, Jack, you have to do your job today.

I watch Y/N fall into her element and do what, I can tell that, she loves. She is mesmerizing.

"Stop drooling, she may run away" I hear Jenna whisper to me and before I can defend myself, "Umm... next I need Jack Champion over here on the blue mark please" You need me? Ok say less, I joke to myself to calm my nerves. I keep my eyes on the floor to ensure I don't trip but also so that I won't turn into a blushing mess if she looks at me. God, this is the first time I've been glad these lights are this bright.

I follow her instructions, her voice is music to my ears. It's like I am under a spell. A love spell? No lets not get ahead of ourselves. Wait, she's staring at me.

"Jack? Do you wanna see one of the photos?" Leah suggests from the side of the room, trying to break the awkward silence between the two of us. "Oh sure!" I stumble over wires to stand next to her. "No, go over to Y/N, she'll show you how everything works and how the images will be edited after the shoot."

(Y/N POV)

I give Leah a panicked look before Jack turns to walk over. His curls bounce as he hops over the leg of the tripod. "Oh you are tall." I say without thinking. "Oh yeah, but so are you." He answers looking down at me. "It's probably my shoes." I laugh, "Did you wanna see the photos?" I bring up the subject to make sure I don't say anything I may regret.

"Do you enjoy being a photographer?" Jack inquires. That sets me off. I could talk for hours about photography.

"I have loved it since I was 10 and I could not imagine persuading any other career. I am constantly thinking of photo shoots whenever I leave my house. Wall of graffiti? Photo shoot idea. Aesthetic shampoo bottle? Photo shoot idea. I am constantly inspired by everything around me which means my job can be difficult when I am given a strict brief but luckily, whoever hired us, gave us full creative freedom." I wave my arms around for emphasis. But too much emphasism as I almost hit Jack. He swerves and giggles, luckily.

"Oh shit, I am so sorry." I cringe and look back to the camera screen. "It's ok, Y/N" The way he says my name makes a swarm of butterflies flutter in me. I look up into his eyes. Brown eyes used to freak me out because it is more difficult to see the pupil, but maybe I like them a bit more now. Maybe he can help me like other things too. Ew, don't get carried away or you will scare him off.

After our stares last a beat too long, Leah clears her throat and alerts the group that we will now be moving to an outside shoot. She tells them to go back to the changing rooms to get out of their costumes and into the brand we are shooting with for the second part of the day. While they leave, Leah and I start to collect the equipment we are bringing. I grab my notebook for the checklist.

"You are doing great Y/N, especially with a certain someone." Leah raises her eyebrows and winks at me. I roll my eyes and walk over to turn off some of the bigger lights.

(JACK'S POV)

As the group walks to change, I see Jenna and Mason standing by the doors. They are sharing a similar look towards me, it's kinda freaking me out. "He totally does!" "Yep, I can see it in his eyes." I roll my eyes at their odd behavior and attempt to walk past them. "Oh no Mister."

They drag me out of the studio and into the hallway. "Man, when I said charm them with your good looks, I sorta hoped you would also charm her with the rest of you." Mason starts. "Yeah, we knew you were awkward, but not this bad. I wanted to claw my eyes out!" Jenna exclaims rather loudly.

"Could you be any louder? And it wasn't that bad, and I am not flirting!" I shout in a whisper. "No one said you were flirting, except you." Jenna retorts. "We've exposed you without even trying" Mason shouts to annoy me again. "Fine, she's really beautiful and she is really passionate about her job which is kinda cute and-"

"Ok lover boy relax, you don't need to go into detail." Jenna cuts me off with a look of both disgust and happiness, so I know she is just being sarcastic. "We will help you get this girl of your dreams" Mason adds. I can't tell if this is a bad idea but I nod and walk to the changing rooms to make sure I am not late again.

When we are all re-dressed, the cast starts to follow Leah out but I look for Y/N. I see her pacing back and forth, looking rather stressed. I don't know if me going over will make it worse. But I don't have time to decide as two pairs of hands push me towards her.

"Y/N, are you ok? Have you lost something?" "Yes! My notebok. It has all my plans and lists inside. I really need it. Like right now. Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?" She panics. "Ok, you need to sit down before you faint or something goes wrong."

I reach for her hand and gently guide her to sit next to me. I scan the room for a notebook before asking her any questions. She keeps a hold of my hand and I have to pretend not to notice or I might be the one to faint. "Is it that green thing over there?"

(Y/N'S POV)

"Oh my god! Yes it is!" I jump up and grab it. When I turn around, I am again faced with Jack's chest. I look up at him and smile. I feel weirdly calm after that whole anxiety filled fiasco, maybe it's because of Jack?

"Thank you Jack, I think I would've died without this." I try to laugh. "That's ok, I think we need to go now though, I know you have quite a strict schedule for today." He responds.

Jack offers to hold some equipment to make sure I can see where I am going over the pile of objects. When we leave the building I see the other cast members grabbing or putting away stuff in their cars so I take my kit back from Jack to allow him to do the same. I walk over to Leah to let her know I found the notebook.

"I was going to come back to help you but I heard a certain someone calming you down." She says as I stand next to her. "He is definitely your type, isn't he? Tall, lanky-" I cut her off "Yes Leah you don't need to continue. I can't let a silly crush get in the way of today though. It's not even a crush! I've not even known him for five minuets! All I know is his name." I say so fast I almost run out of breath.

"Let's get going while the sun is still out." I shout to the group.

(This is the photoshoot that inspired this series so you can vision this location and photoshoot style)

(TIME SKIP + STILL Y/N POV)

We have been talking photos outside in both groups and alone. It's so sunny outside that no lights are needed, just portable reflectors. Which are big circles of materials that bounce the sun in a chosen direction. Leah and I split up for the last half an hour as we have different ideas due to the location and lighting right now. Some of the cast have moved away to film TikToks and to stand in the shade but some are continuing to model for us if they have less photos than others.

I noticed Jack had finished talking to Mason and Jenna before he started walking over to me.

"Hey Y/N! Is there any last ideas in your notebook?" He asks.

"Oh just this one." I start. "Because of the harsh sun I am are able to play around with different filters on my camera. One of my favorite makes stars in light reflections, would you try out over here?" My hands are shaking as I hand him a small square of mirrored glass.

We mess around for a while, me running back and forth to show him how to pose, how to angle the mirror to reflect light and to show him the results. After a while I am so out of breath that Jack finds it funny.

As the sun starts to go down, the cast all joins up for the last photo including Leah and I for our Instagram. We all start walking back slightly delirious due to the amount of running around some of us had been doing. Jack is walking next to me, at the back of the group, continuing one of our random conversations from earlier.

"You are really talented Y/N, I know you have probably been told that a lot today, but you really are." Jack says in a slight hushed tone. I can't control the big smile on my face. He is such a genuine human being. "Thank you for being a wonderful model." I laugh.

I notice him glance ahead at the group before slowing down and truing to me. "I don't know if i have read this situation wrong but I think you are beautiful and I get feel like we get along so well even though we haven't known each other that long and I am rambling aren't I?" He looks down at his feet and rakes a deep breath.

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me?" He finally looks me in the eye as he says this. "Wow Jack, of course I will. I don't think someone has made me laugh this much, apart from myself obviously" I jest. We trade numbers as we catch up with the group.

After the cast all go their separate ways, Leah and I burst out into screams of happiness. "MY BEST FRIEND IS GOING ON A DATE WITH A HOT, FAMOUS PERSON WHOOOOOP" Leah shouts as we skip around the car park, arms linked.

Who wants a Part Three? It will be about pre-date, during and maybe even their reactions with friends after too?

As always, requests are currently open!

Please do not repost this, reblogs are appreciated.

Also some people asked me to Tag them so here you go:

@gwenlore @multi-simp-page @daffodil-darlings @mummatiri

I’m quite new to tagging people so lemme know if you want to be tagged for all my Jack Champion Posts or just this series?

#actress #actress reader #fluff #im so alone #jack champion x reader #marry me jack champion #jaded jellyfish sting #jack champion #oneshot #x reader #photographer reader #photography #shutterspeed #shutter speed

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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 11 months

Text

Delicate (Superstar Chapter 4)

Sometimes when I look into your eyes

I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

'Cause I like you

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it chill that you're in my head?

'Cause I know that it's delicate

Roy and the Reader deal with the aftermath of petty jealousy.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.9k words

Warnings: Language, some tension and innuendo, angst that made my heart hurt

“She’s my assistant.”

“Poor thing.”

The words kept floating in my head as I leaned against the exterior of the building, thankful that the photographers had left hours ago, not that they’d pay any mind to me. It wasn’t like I was a gorgeous model, or the ex-girlfriend of a famous footballer. Not like Brittany fucking Brett. Brittany Brett, who probably had her tongue shoved down Roy’s throat as he forgot all about nights cuddled in our booth as Rose brought us our usual drinks at the pub. Or texting each other dinner plans while Ted went off on one of his incoherent rambles in his office. Or humming “Something Good” in my ear as he passed me on the pitch. Or the dozens of little moments of kisses and touches and glances filled with fondness, all seeming to hint towards the something real that Roy had told Jamie he wanted.

Honestly, I should have known better. He was Roy "Here There Every-fucking-where" Kent. I was no one special. Girls all over England probably grew up with his posters on their walls and screamed his name at games. I just happened to be the one to share an office with the man. I probably just provided him with a fun, flirty distraction while he waited for Brittany Brett, who the tabloids more than once referred to as Roy's "one who got away". In twenty years, I'd chuckle fondly as I recounted my brief fling with Roy freaking Kent with friends at a party, maybe make a viral post about his love for The Sound of Music, and be little less than a memory to him.

I’d have to be mature. Agree that what we had was fun and assure him that I could stay professional. I was sure I could at least get through the rest of the season before sheepishly thanking Ted and Rebecca for the opportunity to be a Greyhound and asking for a good recommendation.

“Shit! There you are!”

Keeley looked wild and panicky as she approached me. I groaned, not needing her commentary on Brittany Brett, who was probably a good friend of hers from Keeley’s modeling days, sharing that Gorgeous Girl™ bond that surely trumped any burgeoning workplace friendship.

“Are you alright?” she continued. “What’d he do to you?”

I rolled my eyes at Keeley’s dramatics. “Fuck’s sake, Roy didn’t do shit,” I muttered. “He has every right-”

Keeley shook her head frantically, hair flying. “What? No, Richard. Roy’s in there ready to pummel him. I’ve got Jamie trying to calm him down, which was probably not the best idea.”

“Fuck.”

I turned and rushed back into the venue, mentally cursing Keeley for helping me find shoes that, while gorgeous with my dress, were not made for running.

The party was still in full swing, no signs of drama. I turned back to Keeley, who grabbed my hand and led me out a side door, to a smaller party room that was clearly not prepared for any guests, judging by its bright lights and lack of decorations. Sure enough, Roy, Jamie, and Richard all stood there, Roy’s face uncharacteristically expressive. Of course, that expression was pure rage.

“The fuck did you do?!” he was bellowing as Jamie did his best to hold Roy back, sputtering something about calming the fuck down, Grandpa, which was clearly not helping matters.

Richard, showing no signs of panic on his face, held his hands up defensively. “Nothing! She just said she wasn’t feeling well and ran off! She is probably just in the bathroom.”

“Bullshit!” Roy nearly broke free of Jamie’s grasp.

“Roy!” I hissed, stepping forward to grab his arm as Keeley made sure the door was closed. “What the fuck?”

He turned his firey gaze to me, his eyes full of rage. “The fuck did he do to you?” he demanded. “I saw you run out of there like your fucking hair was on fire.”

“He didn’t do shit,” I said in a rush. “I wasn’t fucking feeling good. I had about a million drinks, in case you forgot. Needed some fucking air.” I huffed, crossing my arms across my chest. “You can’t kill one of your players. If nothing else, it’s bad for recruiting.” I stared at him, trying to ignore the warmth that I felt seeing the protectiveness in his face. “Just fucking stop,” I added quietly. “Just leave Richard alone and go out there and act like you didn’t just make an absolute arse of yourself.” I turned to Keeley. “I’m sorry about this,” I grumbled. “Clearly, I’m not the only one who drank too much. If this causes any issues in the press, let me know. I’ll help you clean up Roy’s mess.” I glared at Roy, who was still behind Jamie’s arm, though no longer trying to fight his way through the player. “I’m his fucking assistant, after all. Part of my job.”

Keeley shook her head and sighed, confusion in her eyes. “No, it’s all fine. Jamie and I were able to get them in here before anyone noticed anything was amiss.” She nodded to Montlaur. “But in case anyone’s being nosy, Richard, you should head on out. Jamie and I’ll come along in a moment. That way it’s not just a big group of us coming out all at once.” She offered up a small smirk in my direction. “Though we’d probably look like we just had the hottest orgy in the history of football.”

Her attempt to break the tension with humor only worked on Jamie and Richard, who let out soft chuckles.

I approached Richard, not giving a flying fuck that Roy was watching me intensely. “I’m really sorry for Roy,” I mumbled. “He clearly misinterpreted what he saw and got protective.” I shot daggers at Roy again before turning back to Richard. “I hope this doesn’t make work… weird.”

Richard shook his head, completely affable despite the drama. “Oh please. This is nothing compared to the husbands and boyfriends I have had to deal with. Especially the ones that found me still in their beds!” He laughed amiably before glancing warily at Roy. “But perhaps I will not ask you again to dance. And, sadly, I will not give you a kiss goodbye.” With an awkward smile, he turned and walked out, the noise of the party bursting through the door before it closed again, leaving the four of us in silence.

Keeley popped her lips. “Well, that was fun.” She glanced at Roy, who was red in the face and pacing, then back to me. “You gonna be alright?” Her eyes told me that Jamie could wait with Roy if I wanted to leave with her. That I didn’t need to deal with whatever this was, and that whatever this was, she wouldn’t ask. At least, not tonight.

“I’m fine,” I assured Keeley with a weak smile. “I’ll be out there in a bit, yeah?”

Keeley nodded then grabbed Jamie by the arm. Jamie shot me an apologetic smile and landed a friendly punch on my arm before following Keeley back to the party. Once again, the room was filled with the sounds of music, dancing, and fun, before giving way to the tense silence.

Roy stopped pacing, his face now more of a pink than red, and stared at me. “What the fuck?” he asked. It was a hoarse whisper, barely leaving his lips, and his eyes were filled with question marks.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I countered, perching myself up on one of the empty tables that dotted the room. “Why the hell were you trying to kill Montlaur? I know you think he’s prickish and all-”

“Because he’s a fucking prick!” Roy practically shouted. “And-and I told you I thought he was a prick to ask you out because we all know exactly what he’s interested in and then I turn and see you fucking clinging to him and suddenly you’re running out of the room looking like you’re about to fucking cry, what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

A hollow laugh escaped my lungs. “No. Back the fuck up, Roy. What happened between the dancing with Montlaur and the running out of the room?”

Roy stared at me in silence for a moment, his shoulders slumped as the gears in his head turned. “The fuck are you on about?”

“Okay.” I slammed my hands on my thighs and stood back up, making my way past Roy and towards the doors. “That’s how it’s going to be then. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night. Lookin’ forward to seeing photos of you and Brittany Brett’s reunion in The Sun tomorrow. See you Monday.”

Roy reached out and grabbed my arm, his grip firm but tender. “Is that what this is all about?” His voice was as soft as his face, thick eyebrows raised. “Brittany fucking Brett?”

Apparently, I hit my boiling point. “Of course it’s about Brittany fucking Brett, Roy! Fuck! You spend weeks all over me, taking me out, singing along to the fucking Sound of Music at my place, you practically tell me you want me to be your date to this shit next year, you make me feel special, like I matter to you, and then you turn around and kiss your ex-girlfriend.” I pulled out of Roy’s grasp and crossed my arms. “Which, I mean, that’s your own damn business, I guess. You’re single, after all. She’s single. So, go. Be hot and rich and famous together.”

A deep frown twisted Roy’s face, his eyebrows more furrowed than I’d ever seen. “Single?” he repeated, practically spitting out the word. “You think I’m single? I’m not fucking single.” He shook his head earnestly. “I… I haven’t considered myself single since….” He glanced up at the ceiling and shrugged. “Well, fuck, since we kissed at your parents’ house surrounded by all those fucking posters of me.” He looked back down at me.

My breath caught in my throat as I gazed into those brown eyes that stared at me with that familiar anxiety swimming around. “Then… then why’d you kiss her?” My mouth felt dry as I prayed that the next words out of Roy’s mouth would magically fix things.

He shook his head earnestly. “No, no. I didn’t fucking kiss her.” He sighed and placed a tentative hand on my arm. “She kissed me. And I immediately pushed her off me, which you fucking missed apparently. Told her I’m seeing someone that I really like. And that even if I wasn’t- which I am,” he clarified tugging me closer when he realized I wasn’t fighting him, “-I wouldn’t want fuck all to do with her.” He looked down at me. “Don’t you remember what I told you on our first date?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re the only person that has ever made me feel like you want me.” He scoffed and nodded towards the door, towards the party. “How d’you think Brittney Brett made me feel? Like I was some fucking accessory, this thing that would get her photo in the press more if I was next to her. You would never make me feel that way. It’s one of the many, many things I adore about you.”

“Oh.” I looked down at our shoes, blinking as I turned Roy’s words over in my head, my stomach and heart doing flips that Olympic gymnasts could only dream of.

“Oh?” Roy dipped his head. “That’s all you’ve got? Oh?” A hint of a smile graced his lips. “Come on. Put me out of my fucking misery here.” His arm wrapped around my waist. “Tell me… tell me we’re okay,” he whispered.

His eyes were still full of that anxiety, but now it was mixed with hope as he bit on his bottom lip, waiting for me to answer. I gulped, my head spinning from the alcohol and the events of the evening and whatever woodsy cologne Roy had on that I knew he was wearing just for me.

Roy sighed, his hand tracing gentle circles on my back. “Or we could go out there and enjoy the rest of our evening, and we can come back to this tomorrow?” He leaned his head against mine. “Come on, I’ve got some dopey surprise for you. Been looking forward to it all night. Real fucking romantic.”

I lifted my head. “You’ve got a surprise for me?” The corners of my mouth turned upwards in spite of myself. “A romantic one?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, tapping his nose against mine. “So why don’t we get back out there before Keeley tells everyone we’re shagging in here?” He squinted at me. “Unless…”

Now completely smiling, I smacked Roy’s arm. “Come on. I want to see this surprise.” I slipped out of Roy’s grasp and took his hand, leading him towards the door. Just before I reached for the doorknob, Roy pulled me back to himself. “What?” I laughed, the weight on my chest dissipating.

“Just gotta do this first.” His hand cupped my face and he leaned close, pressing his lips to mine for the first time that evening. His grip on me tightened as his lips parted slightly, allowing me to taste the beer he’d been drinking all night. In the back of my head, I thanked Keeley for her high-end, smudge-free lipstick that would hopefully not create an obvious mess on Roy’s face.

When we parted, Roy smiled at me. As if he could read my mind, he hummed, “Am I wearing your lipstick now?” In response, I simply wiped away the small spot of red that I had left on the edge of his mouth, then shook my head to confirm that he was good. He studied my lips carefully. “Alright. If we don’t go out there now, we might never leave.”

He opened the door and gestured for me to lead the way like a gentleman, keeping a friendly distance as we rejoined the festivities.

“Alright, Kent,” I started over the music. “What’s this surprise?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “Should be happening in about three minutes,” he mumbled. “Why don’t we grab a drink?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Only if I can come to the bar with you,” I teased dryly, hoping it wasn’t too soon to joke.

His dramatic eyeroll assured me it wasn’t. “Come on then.”

As we walked to the bar, we passed Jamie and Keeley, who both eyed us curiously. Roy gave them a curt nod and I shot Keeley a small thumbs up, assuring her that all was good. I knew she’d either corner me later in the night with cheeky accusations or call me the next day demanding details of what had happened in that room after they left, but for now, all I wanted to do was be with Roy.

Once we were settled at the bar, drinks in hand, I turned to Roy. “Alright, what’s the surprise?”

He shook his head. “Nope. You’ll know it when you hear it.”

“Hmmf.” My gaze turned to the dance floor, where our friends and coworkers were moving to the admittedly great band, having a blast. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them and enjoyed my drink. “D’you ever dance at this thing?”

“Not if I can fucking help it.” His eyes wandered to the stage, where the band was wrapping up their song. “But I might have to make an exception tonight.”

I took another sip of my drink. “What do-”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the band’s singer, a woman with dark, wild hair and a flowing dress, called out, “we had an anonymous request earlier this evening that we are thrilled to fulfill. We hope there’s some Julie Andrews fans out there.” She plucked at her guitar, creating a familiar dreamy tune.

“Perhaps I had a wicked childhood,” she sang. “Perhaps I had a miserable youth.”

I turned to Roy, my mouth slightly ajar. “The Sound of Music. Was this you?”

He shrugged, placing his half-finished beer on the bar and taking my glass from me. “Do you see any other Captain von Trapp-ish grumps around here?” He took my hand and nodded towards the dance floor. “Let’s go.”

My heart hammered as Roy led the way. I wondered if everyone could see the flush covering my face, even in the dim lighting. On the dance floor, Roy kept my hand in his, placing his free hand on the small of my back while mine rested on his shoulder. He kept a respectable distance, not exactly a professional one for two coworkers, but nothing anyone would bat an eye at. Not that it mattered; I could not care less about anyone else around us. Not Keeley and all her teasing, not Richard and his flirtatious ways, not even Brittany Brett. All I wanted was to be close to Roy and feel his warm breath on my cheek as he quietly sang the words to Something Good in my ear.

The rest of the night was miraculous and wonderful. Roy assured me that I could dance with other people without him throwing another fit- so I did. I danced all night as Roy watched. He laughed with Keeley as Jamie and I attempted to do the robot together and smiled as Dani Rojas twirled me around and clapped as Sam Obisanya dipped me dramatically and rolled his eyes good-naturedly while Ted held my hand in an attempt to teach everyone some square-dancing moves. After a particularly fun salsa with Isaac McAdoo, I approached Roy back at our table, who held out a glass of water to me.

“Having fun out there?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer.

I nodded. “An absolute blast. My feet are killing me though.”

“Guess I’ll have to fucking carry you home,” Roy joked, the fondness in his eyes telling me that he wouldn’t mind one bit.

“Looks like it,” I agreed with a smirk.

The band’s singer called for everyone’s attention. “We hope you’ve had a fabulous time tonight,” she began. “But unfortunately, it’s time for us say goodnight. On behalf of Rebecca Welton and everyone at A.F.C. Richmond, thank you so much for joining us and for all your support and generosity. Here’s one more song before we go.”

I turned to Roy. “Are you ready to head out then?” A small part of me was hoping for some alone time before calling it a night.

To my surprise, Roy shook his head. “Did you really forget? You promised me the last dance.”

I laughed and downed the rest of my water. “Were you serious about that?”

“Dead fucking serious.”

He grabbed my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. He kept my hand in his as he led me to the dance floor, giving it a small squeeze as he pulled me towards him. He placed his free hand on my waist, just as he had earlier. But now he pressed me close to his chest, definitely closer than two platonic, casual coworkers should be.

“But don’t forget who’s taking you home and in whose arms you’re gonna be, so darlin’ save the last dance for me,” the band sang.

“Are you alright?” Roy asked, leaning down towards me. “Tonight…. Didn’t exactly go the way either of us had hoped.”

“No, it did not,” I agreed, wincing slightly. “But I think we did a good job of salvaging things, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Believe it or not, even with almost killing Montlaur, this is the best fucking time I’ve ever had at this thing. Mostly because I didn’t get auctioned off like a fucking basket of fruit.” The corners of his mouth tugged upwards. “And because I got to spend time with you.” He somehow managed to pull me even closer, close enough so I could feel his heart beating. “Not nearly enough time though,” he added. “And I’m sorry about that.”

I shook my head. “We’re okay,” I assured him. “At least, I hope we are.”

“How about we talk tomorrow?” he offered. “We’ll have a good night’s rest and be sober, and we can talk about whatever shit we need to talk about.” He squeezed my hand. “How’s that sound?”

“I… think it’s a good idea.”

“Good.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you, by the way.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “For what?”

“Saving the last dance for me.”

Roy walked me up to my apartment, his suit jacket having been wrapped around my shoulders since we left the venue. We paused at my door, the way we had for weeks now. He smiled down at me in that same way, softness in his eyes, lifting his hand to touch my hair.

“Well, I’m just glad the night didn’t end fucked,” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “You sure know how to end a date.”

“This was a date then?” he asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Eh.” I shrugged. “Depends, are you going to kiss me goodnight?”

His mouth was on mine in less than an instant. He pulled me tight against himself, one arm completely wrapped around my waist as I pulled him down to me by his tie. His tongue grazed my mouth, asking permission. I obliged, tasting beer and a hint of the chocolate cupcake he’d shared with me towards the end of the night. His hand that was still tangled in my hair tugged a little, trying to pull me closer to himself. We were a tangle of lips and tongues and hot breath and soft moans, neither of us caring about the possibility of someone seeing us.

I pulled back mere centimeters, just enough to whisper, “You want to come in?”

Roy gave a little groan, pressing his forehead against mine. “I want to. I definitely fucking want to. But I think we should say goodnight til we talk tomorrow, yeah?” He stroked my cheek, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “Want to make sure we’re on the same page about things.” He paused, his thumb ghosting over my bottom lip. “Come over tomorrow. I’ll make you dinner.

The disappointment I had felt a moment ago melted and gave way to delight. “Roy Kent can cook?” I teased, fiddling with his tie.

He smirked with pride as his hand rubbed my hip. “Fuck yeah, Roy Kent can cook.” He kissed my lips, pulling away as my mouth chased his. “Tomorrow then?”

I groaned and buried my head in his chest, drunk off the drinks and Roy’s kisses. “Fine. Tomorrow.” I looked up at him. “One more for the road?” I purred, giving my best pout.

“You needy thing,” he chuckled, planting one more kiss on my lips before pulling away with finality. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised.

My mobile went off as I was lounging in bed late the next morning, smiling at Roy’s jacket draped over my bedroom door. I picked up the phone, my mind still back in front of my door, where Roy’s kiss had made my knees weak.

“Hello?” I answered, my voice dreamy.

“Alright, what the fuck happened?” Keeley’s squeals brought me back to reality.

I scrambled to sit up. “Morning Keeley!” I choked out, hoping I sounded breezy and casual. “How’re you? You have fun last night? Does Jamie remember doing the robot with me or was he too sloshed?”

I could practically feel her roll her eyes through the phone. “Oh no, we’re not playing this game. You owe me all the details about what happened with Roy last night. Spill.”

“Nothing!” I blurted, probably a bit too quickly. “We talked. He told me he thought Montlaur did something to hurt me and got protective. I mean, we share an office, we see each other every day, I kind of get why he’d be protective of me. Plus, you saw how much he drank, he probably doesn’t even remember what happened.” I cleared my throat. “So, we’re good. I’ll probably talk to him on Monday about apologizing to Montlaur, but other than that, I think we can all just forget what happened.”

“What about all the dancing?” Keeley challenged. “Roy never dances at the gala. Even when he’s brought a date, he’s good for maybe one dance. He danced with you what, like four or five times?”

I scoffed, flopping back onto my bed. “We danced twice,” I corrected Keeley. “As friends.”

Keeley hummed. “Oh, so you counted?”

“Shove off, Keeley,” I groaned, eyeing Roy’s jacket again. “Can’t you just accept that Roy and I are friends? I mean, shit, that’s headline enough.”

“Friends huh?”

“Yes!”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Then did your friend Roy Kent say anything about Brittany Brett? I’m desperate to know what happened there.”

My cheeks burned; I was hoping to forget that Brittany Brett had been at the party. “Nope. Didn’t say a word,” I said shortly. “Don’t know a thing.”

“Aw, babe,” Keeley clucked. “No need to be jealous. That’s long over from what I’ve heard.”

“’m not jealous,” I grumbled. But damn, I couldn’t resist the bait. “What have you heard?”

Keeley gave a small giggle. “Why don’t you come over tonight for a good old-fashioned sleepover? I can give you all the gossip like we’re little schoolgirls. We’ll throw on our pyjamas, get tipsy, sing some Spice Girl songs, crank call Jamie. Fuck, we can even go play knock-and-run at Roy’s place. Maybe we’ll catch a glimpse of him shirtless.”

Damn, this woman was a great friend. “Aww, Keeley, I’d love to hang out,” I started. “But I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Next time!” she gushed, unbothered. “What’s up tonight?”

“Oh, just some family stuff. Nothing too exciting, I’m afraid.”

Keeley gave a small hum. “Maybe brunch tomorrow?”

I nodded into the phone. “Sounds great.”

We stayed on the line for a few more minutes, making plans to meet for brunch at one of Keeley’s favorite places and agreeing that she should invite Rebecca to join us. After a couple more attempts on Keeley’s end to find out any dirty details about what happened between me and Roy, we hung up. Sometime during the call, I’d received a text message from Roy:

Can’t wait to see you

Of course Roy Kent’s house was huge. Of course it was. Sometimes it was easy to forget that the man was a retired football star. But standing in front of his house- mansion, practically- I was reminded all over again that this was the man on all those posters in my parents’ house. Roy “Here-There-Everywhere” Kent.

I stood tentatively in front of his door, debating if I should ring the bell or just send him a text to let him know I’d arrived. As I debated my choices and played with the hem of the dress that suddenly felt too short and too dressy, the door opened. Roy stood in the doorway, wearing the black slacks and shirt he’d been wearing on our first date. His eyes took their time eagerly traveling up my figure and to my face, where they settled tenderly.

“Fuck,” he whispered, cracking a full smile. “How’d you manage to look more gorgeous than you did last night?”

My face burned at the compliment. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” I answered, trying to sound casual as he ushered me in. “How’d you know I was here?”

“Got some sensor shit on the door,” he explained matter-of-factly as he closed the door behind me. “I dunno, Beard set it up for me. Man’s fucking paranoid.”

“Hmm.”

That was all I could manage as I took in Roy’s house. It was spacious, airier and lighter than I expected. I smiled as I recognized photos of his niece and sister everywhere, as well as an older man I assumed was his grandad.

“Sorry I don’t have posters of you all over the place,” he teased, taking my hand to lead me to the kitchen. “Could you believe they were sold out of you at the administrative-assistant-poster store?”

“Oh yeah, I’m really popular,” I played along as Roy pulled out a stool at the kitchen island for me to sit on. “Let me know if you want my autograph.”

He turned to the stove, stirring something in a pot. “How much d’you think I could get for it on eBay?”

“Enough to buy a nicer house. Sorry to break it to you, Roy, but this place is a regular shithole.”

Roy practically choked on his laughter. “Oi, now you’re getting personal.” He turned and faced me. “I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” he said softly.

My blush returned. “Me too.” I sat up to take a good look at the stove, trying to see what smelled so delicious. “Need any help?” I offered.

“Fuck no. You just relax.” He nodded towards a fully stocked bar in the adjoining dining room. “Drink? Or have you sworn off alcohol after last night?”

I shook my head. “I’ll take a drink,” I assured him.

Roy crossed over to the bar, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder as he passed me. When he returned, he placed two drinks on the island, the same one I ordered every time we went to the pub. He then served dinner and laid one of the bowls in front of me.

“Beef tzimmes,” he announced, sitting across from me. “My grandad used to make this for me when I was a kid. First thing he ever taught me how to make.”

I could feel my eyes light up as I took my first bite. “Shit, this is good!”

“Glad to know Phoebe’s not lying to me then,” Roy muttered as he began to eat his own bowl.

We ate comfortably, drinking and laughing and sharing jokes, as if nothing had transpired the night before. It felt like every other time we’d hung out; comfortable, relaxed, but charged with the attraction we shared. God, it was good to know that we could still be like this.

Roy cleared the bowls and left them in the sink before helping me out of my seat. “Wanna go sit outside? We can have our chat.”

My breath caught for a moment as I remembered why I was there in the first place; a serious talk awaited us. Roy placed a reassuring kiss on my forehead and grabbed our drinks, leading me out to his patio. I settled in a loveseat while he turned on a set of string lights.

“My sister made me get these,” he grumbled as he joined me, handing me my drink.

“She has good taste,” I remarked as I leaned back.

Roy snorted. “In fucking lights, maybe. In men…” He bobbled his head, making a face. He caught my unsure expression. “Sorry. You didn’t come here to listen to me rant about Phoebe’s shit dad.”

“Not this time,” I joked, trying to break the tension.

He leaned back, laying his arm around my shoulders. “So,” he started, his face suddenly serious.

“So,” I repeated.

Roy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry again. Really fucking sorry.” He turned his body to face me properly. “I’m sorry for trying to kill Montlaur. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and not talking to you. And I’m really fucking sorry you had to see Brittany Brett kiss me.” He shook his head and looked at me with those anxious eyes. “D’you forgive me?”

My heart tugged gently in my chest. “Of course.” I laid my hand on Roy’s thigh. “I’m sorry for screaming at you. And for trying to make you jealous. And for making you apologize to Richard.”

He frowned, confused. “You didn’t make me apologize.”

“No, I was saving that for Monday.”

“Fair enough.” He rested his free hand on top of mine. “Why’d you get so jealous?”

I shifted in my seat. “I mean… have you seen that woman? She’s literally a model.”

Roy shrugged. “So’s Keeley. You didn’t seem to care when she danced with me while you and Jamie did what I can only assume was an attempt at the robot.”

“Keeley’s not your ex,” I pointed out. “Brittany Brett is. And she was hanging all over you, and oh yeah, she kissed you.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “And I just don’t get why you were talking to her,” I admitted. “You say you want nothing to do with her, and that she made you feel like shit, so I don’t know why you would hang out with her at the bar.”

“No, that’s fair,” Roy agreed. “See…” He tilted his head back, thinking. “We went out during this really fucked time in my life. I was already starting to realize that I was passing my prime. And I was starting to get fucking scared that I’d never be a superstar again. And being with this internationally known model allowed me to pretend that I would be a hotshot forever.” He paused. “And then she dumped me for someone who was actually in the prime of their career. Which, obviously, felt fucking great.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I guess seeing her for the first time since then brought back some of those feelings of not being good enough anymore. And I guess I wanted to show her that I’m doing great.” He squeezed my hand. “Really great since I started seeing you.” He let out a growling sigh. “And once she started flirting, I think some part of me wanted to reject her this time,” he admitted. “But it absolutely wasn’t worth it seeing how things turned out.” He cleared his throat, looking down. “That’s some stupid shit, eh?”

I quickly shook my head. “I mean, it still hurt, but I get it now.” I paused, giving the ground a small kick. “I didn’t really appreciate the whole ‘she’s just my assistant’ shit though.”

Roy let out a dry chuckle. “Also fair,” he conceded. “Sorry about th-” He stopped, thick brows creased. “Wait, how’d you know that?”

“I may have been eavesdropping,” I muttered. “That’s about the point where I felt really shitty and dragged Richard out on the dance floor to make you jealous.”

“Hmmf.” Roy stared at me thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?” I nodded. “D’you consider yourself single?”

I blushed, remembering the way I had yelled at Roy the night before. “Not really,” I admitted. “I haven’t even thought about another guy since the first time you bought me kebabs for lunch.”

“And I told you last night, I haven’t thought of myself as a single guy since that night at your parents’,” he reminded me. His fingers drummed on my shoulder. “I think the problem is, we didn’t think of each other as not being single.”

“What d’you mean?” I asked; Roy was talking in circles.

He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think either of us would have been so fucking jealous if… if we both knew we’re both not single.” He glanced up at the string lights, face twisted in uncertainty. “Is that right?”

Something in my brain clicked. “Roy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Don’t talk like we’re fucking thirteen behind a Tesco,” he snarled. “But yeah, sure, however you want to fucking call it.” He leaned close, eyes searching mine. “I just want you to know I’m yours. That’s all. And I’d like to know that you’re mine. Because if we know that, then all the other shit- ex-girlfriends and stupid French pricks- none of it’ll matter. Because we’ll know how we feel.” He shrugged. “What d’you say?”

I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips against his harshly, desperate to show him how heartily I agreed with him. “I think it’s a damn good idea,” I mumbled against his mouth.

#he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #Roy Kent Superstar #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fluff #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

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c0la-queen · 2 months

Text

Tom Headcanons | The Tired Friend

---

Appearance:

Tom's skin is fairly tan. His hair is a light brown color and he keeps his facial hair at a chin scruff.

He is the shortest of the boys, standing 5'11 tall. The teasing he experiences from the boys due to this makes him grumpy and he is not afraid to punch them in the gut over it.

While he is slightly lanky (not to the same level as Matt, but not as bulky as Tord or Edd) he does have a healthy bit of chub to him.

It's unknown exactly how many tattoos Tom has, or if he even has any at all. He refuses to answer the question. If Reader asks, he'll just ominously say "you'll find out" then change the subject. As for piercings, he has an eyebrow piercing and multiple ear piercings.

Family Life:

Tom is the most tragic of the group in this aspect.

When he was young, his parents passed away in an accident. Since he was a child, his brain blocked out the entire experience, so he can't remember exactly what the accident was- nor does he really want to remember.

He and his brother went and lived with an aunt after this happened- they were still in town, so his friends didn't change.

He was never particularly close with that aunt so he fell out of touch with her after a while.

As for his brother, who is a year younger than him, he talks to him occasionally but not often.

So, overall, doesn't have the best relationship with his biological family- but that's okay, because the roommates are his family now.

Personality:

Seems kind of cold, but he's actually pretty friendly.

He's just tired all the time.

His sense of humor is broken. He would find fail videos the funniest shit. Probably loves the Everlong trend on Tik Tok.

A huge music nerd, but keeps it lowkey because he thinks its embarrassing. He knows all kinds of music, and can probably name a shit ton of songs that play on the radio off the top of his head. Definitely has a whole self full of vinyl records that he's collected.

I like to dip more into his bass playing than a lot of people I've seen ever do. He usually waits until he's home alone or only one other person is in the house to play, just because he doesn't wanna bother the others. Has learned how to play a good handful of songs on his bass. Follows those accounts on Tik Tok that do bass and electric guitar covers of songs.

He's pretty decent at singing, but never sings around others because it makes him flustered. Will occasionally sing lullabies to Reader when she can't sleep or had a nightmare. But she's the only one he'll sing for.

Although he acts like he hates all of them, he cares a lot about the others. He doesn't acknowledge it or admit it, but he does take care of his roommates here and there. Yes, even Tord.

On the flip side, he's shit at taking care of himself. it's honestly a miracle that he's as healthy as he is. Probably ends up falling asleep in random areas of the house the most, leaving the others to sigh and lay a blanket on top of him when they find him.

"Cry about it." "Sucks to suck."

He likes playing Minecraft. Finds it so peaceful, definitely a welcome break from the chaotic household. He'll let Reader lay between his legs while they lay in bed with him and he plays. Learned how to play his favorite Minecraft songs on his bass.

Chronic sloucher. The man has Certified shrimp posture. Help his poor spine.

Tom is a professional photographer! He's very good at what he does and has quite the schedule booked. Makes sure its very clear to his clients that he is not available for bookings on the weekends - those are reserved for his family roommates.

He loves Ghost-type Pokemon. I have no reasoning behind this one, honestly. Just vibes. He's got a Gengar Squishmallow on his bed that he treats like his own son.

A very simple man. Likes the simple and peaceful things in life. Too bad he got his ass irreparably bonded with three (four counting Reader) of the most unhinged, chaotic people in existence.

Yes. Several of his accessories are black and white checkered. Sue him, but he's consistent. Main things to note of this theme are his phone case, a pair of slip-on Vans, and the old skateboard in his closet that he hasn't used since secondary school.

Like Tord, he's got a smoking habit that he's trying to combat with vaping. Still uses cigarettes on particularly stressful or frustrating nights.

Likes drinking Java Monster Energy.

Very proud vinyl record collector. Not picky about what kind of records he gets, though he tends to prefer ska and classic rock (dad rock). One of the best things to get him as a present, he'll love it dearly.

Has so many playlists. Making them is therapeutic for him. It's one of his love languages, a way that he expresses his feelings. Also has playlists for his emotions, and for all kinds of different situations like rainy days or beach trips. Showing Reader his playlists would be him opening up to them in a huge way.

Playlist (From My Spotify Playlist For Him):

Arctic Monkeys

Tame Impala

Fall Out Boy

Green Day

The All-American Rejects

Halestorm

Waterparks

Wallows

Anthony Amorim

Lovejoy

Gorillaz

Cigarettes After Sex

#eddsworld #eddsworld x reader #eddsworld tom #eddsworld tom x reader

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wookiez · 9 months

Note

wdyt ab rich boyfie ricky 👀👀🥲

♱𓂃 리키 ━━━ rich bf! ricky

young and rich, tall and handsome, charisma boss lovelicky as your boyfriend. how lucky that would be. 🎧🤍

okay first of all, having ricky as your boyfriend is literally just you living out every wattpad reader's fantasies. he's tall, he's rich and he's so extremely handsome. what else can you ask for.

I feel like his love language, as obvious as it is, is gift giving. this man would spoil you so much just because he feels like it. if you want something, he'll buy it.

if you ever buy him any gifts he will appreciate it so much and cherish it forever. he doesn't care what the price of the gift is or what gift it even is, he will keep it just because it's from you. you could literally give him a childish gift like that unicorn fuzzy diary he got from his bday live that jiwoong bought him. as weird as the gift is, he will still like it 😭

his love language would also be quality time. he'd literally clear his schedules just to spend time with you. if he misses you or anything, he will come to you and spend quality time together. he cherishes every second he spends with you.

he is not usually affectionate with physical touches, so you'd probably have to initiate the physical touch first. he's more of a affectionate with words type of guy. he will call you sweet endearment terms like princess, baobei, darling, you name it.

he also gets shy if you actually do initiate the physical touches. if you hold his hands, his heart literally flutters. he gets especially shy if you squish his cheeks, boop his nose or give him a little kiss. the physical touch he's most used to is hugging. he is comfortable with hugging you anytime. he'll especially hug you when he's having a tough time. a hug from you literally heals him.

ricky seems cold outside but you know him well enough to know how warm hearted, soft and cute he is. he is just a silly guy to you, often comfortable being vulnerable and showing his inner child to you.

he seems like a patient person, so he'd always tolerate whatever shenanigans you bring to the table. you can be as chaotic and unhinged as you want but this man will still tolerate you and love you. sometimes he might even join you. he is a silly guy himself after all, so you'd both have fun doing stupid shit together.

this man will buy you bouquets of different types of flowers for every occasion. you're going on a date? bouquet of roses. coming to your house to visit you? a bouquet of red chrysanthemum flowers. going grocery shopping with you? a bouquet of red tulips. he would definitely remember every meaning for all types of flowers just for you.

honestly this man would stare at you with intense love eyes and a big smile on his face. whatever you're doing, he's staring at you with his eyes full of love. he will literally do anything for you. this man is way too in love with you, I fear.

unfortunately for you, he is the princess in the relationship. you'd have to dirty your hands and work hard to serve your pretty princess ricky. like when he can't open a can or a jar, you'll open it for him. doesn't he mean that he won't do anything though, he will always help you along with whatever assistance you need just don't be disappointed when he does it entirely different. 🥰 he is your babygirl fr !!

if he's not physically near you or if he's somewhere else far away from you, he will send you selfies of his day or whatever he's doing. obviously you're foaming at the mouth every time he sends you one.

being ricky's lover comes with the perks of being his personal photographer and having him as your personal photographer. he takes insanely good photos for you that looks like it's professionally taken and when you're taking photos for him he will tell you which angles and such for a good photo of him ☠️

"a little bit up, yeah like that, and tilt the phone a bit, baby."

"ricky my arms gone numb!"

"sorry sorry, princess. just one more!" and his beautiful giggle would be heard, immediately healing your numb arm (real)

having ricky as your bf is a blessing to your eyes, constantly seeing such a handsome man everyday is honestly like medicine. when he catches you staring at him, he gets a little shy and giggles but then he'll tease you about it.

"I know I'm handsome but you can always admire my looks more in a photo" he'd say while winking.

ricky seems like he could cook so he would probably cook you homemade meals. surprisingly his cooking isn't limited to easy recipes, he could cook a full course meal ngl. he tries his best and always puts in extreme effort to make his dishes as tasty as possible. just you wait when you get sick, this man will make you a 5 star soup that'll literally cure cancer just for your little sickness.

honestly it would be fun to tease him because of his cute reactions. overall, he would be such a sweet boyfriend who spoils you rotten.

©wookiez

#zerobaseone #zb1 #ricky #zerobaseone ricky #ricky x reader #ricky imagines #zb1 ricky #imagines #x reader #shen ricky #🤍☆ w𖦹𖦹kiez fics !

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pillow-anime-talk · 8 months

Note

8. “Bring your ass over here. I wanna some cuddles (or kisses, both if its okay).” -samatoki🍭

# tags: scenario; current relationship; cute romance; fluffy shit; living together; work!au; ooc!samatoki; text messages; sfw

includes: female reader ft. samatoki aohitsugi {hypmic}

author’s note: thanks again lollipop anonnie!

8. “Bring your ass over here. I wanna some cuddles and kisses.”

The afternoon shift was by far the most boring, tedious, full of unwillingness to live and longing for the warmth of you and your partner’s apartment (and that pleasant smell of his cologne he used since you gave him his first bottle on your second Valentine’s Day).

Just as the morning shifts seemed to make the most sense (and you still had the whole day to yourself so you could go for a walk, go to the doctor, or even meet up with friends), the 2 or 4 p.m. shifts were really stupid for you; you walked like clockwork all the time so you wouldn’t be late for work, and you ate lunch in a hurry – often alone – and cleaned your apartment as if you were in a race, hoping to catch the bus or subway to your office; you worked in a modeling company and specialized in choosing outfits for models from around the world. You also often helped the photographers and talked to star managers or parents of child actors, asking about the preferences of their pupils.

It was Friday and all you dreamed about was coming home, a hot bath in a bathtub filled to the brim with white foam, something warm to drink, e.g. tea with honey and lemon or milk chocolate with a pinch of cinnamon, a bowl of your favorite fruit with muesli and natural yogurt and an episode – or maybe three – of your favorite series. Unfortunately, instead, you were forced to choose colors and accessories for your Monday clients. You’ve been given the tough task of combining light jeans, brown leather and rose gold.

At some point, your phone vibrated, and due to the fact that you were alone (except for Mrs. Yuu – the cleaning lady who has been working for the company for over twenty years – and your dearest female friend who was on another floor of the building), you quickly unlocked the phone, smiling under nose.

toki toki; yo, bring your ass over here. i wanna some cuddles and kisses. now. please.

A light giggle escaped your lips and you just shook your head. You had a little over two hours left on your shift, plus you had to allocate another half hour to get back to your small apartment. You also wanted to stop by the night shop for some food on the way, but you definitely didn’t have the energy for that. You have decided to go to the supermarket tomorrow due to the long-awaited weekend, and thus a day off from work and professional obligations.

you; i want to hug and kiss you too, but i’ll see you in three hours :( i can’t leave early today, i did it a week ago...

You reluctantly looked at the monitor, sighing and resting your chin on your left hand. The night time definitely did not help at work. Moments later, you heard another incoming message.

toki toki; quit that dumb job, i make enough money to support us, you know that, bunny

You just sent a smiling face with heart-eyes emoji in response, then put your smartphone away from view. You had to focus on your duties; only after the shift was over could you think about Samatoki and other pleasures.

#—🎉#quote prompts #prompts challenge #4k followers #4k special #prompt 8 #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic scenarios #hypnosis mic imagines #hypnosis mic x reader #hypmic #hypmic scenarios #hypmic imagines #hypmic x reader #samatoki aohitsugi #samatoki aohitsugi scenarios #samatoki aohitsugi imagines #samatoki aohitsugi x reader

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mayakern · 1 year

Note

idk when you might take more model photos next, but would you ever be interested in sharing some photos where the models of all the skirt sizes are sitting? i’m in a wheelchair and i saw a few people on your blog looking awesome in skirts in their chairs, but i have a different body shape & idk how they would look on me. picking clothes that look good while sitting down is so tricky, but i absolutely adore ur designs and would love to buy one if it might fit me! the miniskirt longer back is super cute btw and i think might actually make me able to wear miniskirts sitting, i had only been looking at maxis or midis before

i have sitting photos of the sycamore and raspberry midis for both me and ariel, with and without petticoats, plus there are the banner shots on the front page that we shot with madi.

we’ll defs do sitting shots of me and ariel in at least one of the miniskirt designs when we have them, but we can’t do sitting shots for every single design because it’s just a LOT to get through. our last photoshoot, where we shot 8 designs with just me and ariel modeling and lindsy on camera, it took about 5-6 hours (minus a lunch break) and while that may not sound like a lot of time, when the whole thing is posing (something neither me nor ariel are particularly skilled at) under a lot of very bright and hot lights, and then doing a lot of spins, it just gets to be very overwhelming and a lot.

when it feels like we have the spoons for it (our entire team is neurodivergent) i’ve been trying to add in sitting shots for exactly this reason, but i can’t guarantee it’ll happen with every design.

we also do not have a size D model on staff and are not in a place right now where we’re comfortable hiring outside models outside of specialized shoots (like the one for the images on the front page). partly this is a COVID issue, partly it’s a living-in-upstate-NY issue, partly it’s an issue of me not having time to interview more models, partly it’s a financial thing, and partly it’s our own internal disorganization that i don’t really want to bring outsiders into. none of us are professional photographers and models and as we’ve been working out the kinks in our new set up, there have been a LOT of changes and mistakes and things we’ve had to reshoot because we’re trying new things. and me, ariel and lindsy work at this full time so we’re all bought into this. so if we waste time, yeah that sucks, but we need to learn this shit anyway. but bringing someone else into that? i would feel SO bad.

anyway here are pics from the sycamore/raspberry skirts and you can see more sitting pics on the front page

#ask #store #faq

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rosietrace · 1 year

Text

[ Sumeragi Yuuta Idol profile ]

"Let's not waste time, shall we? The show must go on after all."

Full Name: Sumeragi Yuuta

Japanese Name: 皇侑汰

Romaji: Sumeragi Yuuta

Stage name: Aijin (愛人)

V/A(Speaking voice): Uchida Yuma(内田雄馬)

Age: 19

Birthday: November 18

Horoscope: Scorpio ♏

Height: 185 cm

Hair color: Red and black(On-stage), dark brown (natural)

Eye color: Lavender

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

Idol Division: [ Ramshackle Division ]

Idol Group: [ (Co)-connect ]

Position: Alto-vocalist & visual

[ Singing Voice Claims:

[ Undecided ] (EN)

Toki Shunichi(JP/日本語)

Ni-ki and/or Jake(KR) ]

Likes: MONEY, debating topics w/ group mates, cleaning, fashion, modeling, singing, dancing, making his friends happy, gardening

Dislikes: Unclean environments, objectification by NRC Corp & fans, his boss(Crowley), jogging, orphanages (childhood trauma)

Hobbies: Cleaning, modeling, singing, dancing

Talent(s): Versatile vocals, flexibility, (almost) photographic memory, fast learning, agility, speed, negotiation, gardening

Flaw(s): Manipulative, judgemental, intense germaphobe, sadistic, VERY materialistic

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

[ Relationships with (Co)-connect ]

Mayuu ⌚ Neutral & respectful but she gets annoyed by his antics

Carol 🍀 Neutral & professional but they can't help but bicker(mostly because of Yuuta)

Juvia🪞Friendly & playful, they dance together a lot

Miren💙 Casual & playful, they often ✨fashion✨ together

Ellis❤️: Friendly & playful, they frequently harmonize when singing

Chizuko 🖤: Casual & neutral, she's a bit done with his shit but knows he means well and tolerates it (for the most part)

[ Additional Trivia ]

Uchida Yuma voices Fushiguro Megumi from [ Jujutsu Kaisen ]

Toki Shunichi voices and sings as Rui Kamishiro from [ Project: Sekai ]

Ni-ki and Jake are both members of [ Enhypen ]

Known in the fandom as the hottest member fanservice and the fashionista alongside Miren

His various showcases of fanservice include: Lifting his shirt, lip biting, winking, blowing kisses, etc.

Has the most thirst tweets and edits in the group

Finds confidence in being titled the group's slut💀

Takes after Maddy Perez in terms of makeup, rhinestones and all

Wears revealing and/or body-fitted outfits to show how confident he is in his body and appearance, not for fanservice

Non-fans usually ship him with the other members not knowing he's in the asexual spectrum (but wouldn't mind a relationship even if he isn't sexually attracted to his s/o)

Specializes in being the alto of the group but is also PHENOMENAL when he does high notes

Is likely to be featured the most in "(Co)-connect being pretty" compilations

Carries the group with his fashion knowledge with Miren

Unlike Miren, Yuuta gets along and isn't afraid of Victoria

But unlike Victoria, Yuuta gets along with Malleus from [ (!)nsomniac ]

Can be manipulative but that side of him isn't shown to his fellow group members and fans

His friendship with Ellis is the most underrated due to the lack of content surrounding them

His most popular friendship is with Miren and Mayuu

Him and Carol are featured in way too many "Carol being done with Yuuta's shit" compilations

Chizuko's usually the one to literally knock some sense into him

Mayuu might actually go insane because of Yuuta, like wtf 😭

──ㅇ─────↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺───ㅇ────

Tagging: @starry-night-rose @sakuramidnight15 @crazyyanderefangirlfan @fumikomiyasaki @windbornearchon @nem0-nee @authoruio @twsted-princess @geminiiviolets

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talkingtea · 9 months

Note

Lol at him sharing that. Literally runs around like he doesn’t even have kids 90% of the time and the one time he has them talking crazy about the women who provide and take of them the majority of the time. You really have to be worthless to say something that stupid. No one is dumb and knows he is barely there for them unless it has to do with money. Speaking of special needs that takes a lot of time and patience and you can’t just be leaving a child who has developmental needs so you can be selfish and do what you want. He is trash and I wish his BM’s would air him out for what he is. CP over there just condoning the shit 🤡

He should have nothing but praise, especially for Jewel, who has been taking care of his kids full time while he’s been gallivanting all over the world playing golf and dragging around his professional photographer/girlfriend. 🙄

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itsmaddienotmaddy · 2 years

Text

Whom else survived the lightning delay and finished up this weird ass game??

Anyways.

USWNT V COLOMBIA (Tuesday edition)

I love Alyssa Naeher. She’s the best. That save 😍

The backup back line with Huerta, Sonnett, Girma, and Pickett was really solid.

Huerta with the CROSSES, the forced own goal. She’s settling into her place comfortably and I love that for her.

And then Kelley coming in to just continue the right back goal supremacy for the game. Good shit.

Pickett with her first cap!! She did great and her crosses were excellent as to be expected from her.

I… really liked Sonnett and Girma together. Girma was this calm, Becky-esque final defender which I think relaxes the whole line. Sonnett’s passing into the midfield was extremely precise and it seemed like she was asked to play this CB/6 flex position. She was challenging the 50/50 balls in the middle and had a lot of success stopping any play from starting. A v classic, look how a player does when they play their preferred position.

Rose and Sanchez are very very very fun together and I’d love more lineups where we can figure out how to get them together. However, I do think the pair lacks a physical presence. They obviously have the foot skills so it’s not a huge problem, but it’s a factor. Sanchez had a quieter game. I think consistency is going to be v important for her. And feisty Rose with a card.

Lindsey… let’s say, if I had a professional coaching license and was in charge, she would not be playing. Her knee is clearly not okay. It’s held together with bubble gum and paper clips. Her running speed is slowed down and she’s clearly backing out of tackles. It’s a self preservation play that’s so unnecessary when she could instead be resting and rehabbing. Thankfully, Colombia wasn’t pressuring to a point where she was allowed to play make without people crashing into her.

and all this 6 nonsense. We don’t have one. Julie is pregnant and Andi isn’t healthy enough. Why we are not trying other formations is BEYOND me. 4-3-3 is not the end all be all. And to be honest, between club, high school, and college, I never even played in that formation. We don’t need double CB’s. Put Alana or Sonnett or fucking Becky at a stopper. Play North Carolina Courages weird ass box midfield. Stop trying to make fetch happen.

Kristie was about to fucking fight at the end of the game and lololol. The fact that Sonnett sprinted in to pull her away is even funnier. About her actual play? She’s also not a 6. Though she did serve the best diagonal long balls.

Hatch also. Starting fights!! Go Mormon go! Hometown brawl!

Alex should have been involved in more national team camps earlier in the year. She’s on fire right now in club. There’s no explanation for her play other than a lack of chemistry. And having Pinoe barely counts because 2022 Pinoe and Alex are NOT the same as 2019 Pinoe and Alex.

Midge was fine. She had very bright spots and other moments where it made sense why she came off at half.

Mal was the best player driving into the box, hands down. Finishing? Could use a little tightening up. But hey, she didn’t shove a photographer today. Proud of her!

Trin had great energy. She’s going to be a PROBLEM for international defenses in the future.

Korn sure was out there being tall!! She had trouble settling in, which is fine. She’s on cap 2, she came in late and there was a delay.

The team disconnect down both sides came down to chemistry. Crystal Sam Lindsey Pinoe Tobin Press Kelley. Those lineups had this innate connection. The chemistry was so obvious. Pickett Sanchez and Pinoe and the opposite side of Huerta Rose and Midge simply did not have the vibes.

I’m not a coaching expert but we gotta click some more pieces into place before I could be confident we’d win a major tournament with this squad. BUT TRULY, with everyone out with bébés and extremely rude injuries, it’s not the full squad yet.

Big whatever though. I still love these players and will still scream at my TV at midnight!

#uswnt #alyssa naeher #Naomi Girma #Emily Sonnett #sofia huerta #carson pickett #kelley o'hara #rose lavelle #ashley sanchez #Lindsey Horan #Kristie mewis #taylor kornieck #alex morgan #Ashley hatch #Trinity rodman #midge purce #Megan Rapinoe #mal pugh

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jobrookekarev · 3 months

Text

Little Details

Chapter: One of One

Words: 1,997

Summary: Alex hangs up the new pictures in the hallway before he hears his wife get up and goes to find her changing the sheets in the nursery.

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson

Characters: Alex Karev and Jo Wilson.

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: Romance, Humor, Family, Drabble, Light-Hearted, One Shot, Domestic, Pregnancy, Alex being sappy, Jo being stubborn

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

AN: Let me be clear in saying that I have plagiarized myself with this story. It's been sitting in my editing folder for a while and I keep forgetting to finish it. I got inspired a little while ago and decided to rewrite this fic for Kathony and posted it a week ago. This is my original story that I wrote and since I’m plagiarizing myself, I don't really give a shit about it so enjoy this story and it’s twin.

…………………………………………………………………

That afternoon, when Luna and Helena went down for a nap, Jo had laid down too. Alex decided to spend his alone time finishing putting up the family pictures Jo had wanted to hang in the hallway. They were the new portraits of the girls they had taken a few months ago after Luna turned two. They had gone to a professional photographer and studio to have them taken along with Jo's maternity pictures and family pictures. It was a little cliche with all of them dressed in jeans and white t-shirts against a grey backdrop, but they turned out well and Jo and the girls looked beautiful.

It was classic but cute and better than the maternity photos they had when she was pregnant with Helena. They had taken them in their backyard with Zola as their photographer. Although those had turned out pretty well, given that they were in the middle of a pandemic. The newborn photos they had of Luna in the NICU, were taken by Jo and one of the nurses who did photography as a hobby. Those photos were for her mom, Val. Although his favorite was the selfie they had taken together, of them sitting on the floors at their new home with one of the girls in each of their arms.

Alex took a second to admire the photos of his family. Luna was getting so big, but was still a skinny little toddler with a full head of blond hair. She had big blue eyes that made him want to give her the world. She was still learning how to sign as her speech and hearing therapy progressed, but she had always been so quiet and observant. She was so smart too. She loved to look at her picture books and had memorized several of them as she recited them to herself. She loved to learn about space and play pretend space explorer. Jo thought she was for sure going to be an astronaut, but Alex knew how much she loved books and could see a future for her in that.

Helena was the opposite, she was a leap first, look later kind of kid. Always physically active and ready to get up and go. Jo said she was like him in the sense, especially when she didn't think before she acted or spoke. But he thought she also got this partly from Jo. This caused her to be quite the troublemaker. She still had all of her baby fat with arm rolls and tummy folds and thick thighs that rarely fit into a pair of jeans. With wild Brown curls and big honey eyes that looked up at him with a spark of mischief. She was kind and helpful like Jo and had a soft spot for taking care of the younger kids like he did. Always willing to go get things for them and help them. She was so kind and loved to snuggle, making them forgive all her trouble.

And then there was his wife. Jo somehow looked even better with age, even while heavily pregnant. She was his everything. She was like a ray of sunshine and a single smile from her could brighten his day. She was so brilliant in everything she did and she was an incredible surgeon and doctor. She was so dedicated to her patients and providing the best quality of care for them. Her brain worked faster than he could even fathom, especially when it came to math. She was an amazing mother to their girls. Jo was so kind and caring and she would do anything for them. He would deal with any annoying stubbornness she had if it meant he got to see her smile. Each smile she gave him filled him with more love than he ever thought possible and when his girls looked up at him with similar smiles he was a goner. If this one was a little girl she'd have him wrapped around her finger, although regardless, they already did.

Now as he stared at the photographs of her, he no longer wondered which ones he would pick for her funeral. He just saw her beautiful smile and her glowing happy eyes. Still the possibility of Jo dying still plagued his mind. Her heart could give out when she went into labor and there could be another birth complication. Or her heart could just give out one day unexpectedly and he could be left to stare at her only in pictures.

Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and walked away from the pictures, going to find Jo to stare at her in person. Because he could, and it helped the fear inside of him. As he walked upstairs he heard the sound of the floor creaking as Jo walked around. He stepped into their bedroom only to find the sheets thrown back and the bed empty. Thus he followed the sound of Jo sighing and gasping to the nursery across the hall. Rather it was the new baby’s nursery, he supposed he couldn't call Luna and Helena's room the nursery anymore.

“I thought you were going to take a nap?” Alex asked with concern as he saw the sweat on her brow.

Jo had the crib mattress propped up and was putting on a new bed sheet. She was changing the green sheet to a light gray sheet with green trees. They decided to go with a gender-neutral forest theme for the nursery. At Jo direction he had painted the walls a light green with one white and pine tree wallpaper accent wall. There were also lots of forest friends and pictures. They had moved the girls into toddler beds and kept Helena's light brown crib for the new baby that now sat parallel to the window.

There was a forest friend's rug on the floor. A little white tent set up in the corner that Luna and Helena loved to play in. There was even a tree shaped bookcase that climbed the walls next to the rocking chair he had moved from Luna and Helena’s room into here. The nursery was completed a few days ago as Jo had put away all the clothes, books, stuffed animals, and toys.

“Do you know how hot it is in our bedroom right now? Let alone how hot it is between two toddlers that run as warm as you do?” Jo said with a huff, not even bothering to turn around as she stripped the sheet off and threw it over her shoulder.

“Well, given that we're in the middle of a July heat wave with no AC I know it's pretty hot.”

“Pretty hot is an understatement, I'm sweating all the time and not just because I'm pregnant.”

“I don't mind it when you're a little sweaty it makes you look hot,” Alex said as she turned around, she shook her head but she also smiled and he knew she took the compliment.

“Well, either way it's too hot to nap. God I can't believe I’m still gonna be pregnant in August,” Jo complained as she started to put on the new sheet.

“The AC should be fixed tomorrow so hopefully you’ll feel more comfortable come August.”

“I’ll be nine months pregnant.”

“Touche.” Alex said, leaning in the doorway as he watched her with a slight smile. “You aren't starting another project are you?”

“No, I just figured we should change the sheets so they don't get too dusty,” Jo said as she put the mattress back, nearly bumping into the woodland animals mobile above the crib.

“Should we just not put sheets on at all since we aren't going to use it for a while?” Alex asked for the shrug as he took the dirty sheet from her.

They both knew from past experience that the baby wouldn't sleep anywhere but the bassinet in their room for at least the first few months.

“No it'd be nice to use the nursery a little bit, you know, for feeding and play. Plus, it'd be good for them to nap in the crib every once in a while so they get used to it,” Jo said as she ran her hands along the crib, holding her bump with a little smile.

Alex smiled as he came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her bump. Jo melted back into him and their baby greeted him with a light kick. She sighed as she closed her eyes and he kissed her cheek. He looked over at the nursery all ready for their baby.

“We still have ten more weeks to go, though,” Alex said with a smile as he felt their baby press their arm out.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. They better come out before I hit 40 weeks. I'm already too big,” Jo huffed as she glared down at her bump.

“Well now you've jinxed it and you'll go at least until 41 weeks,” Alex said with a smile and a little laugh as Jo groaned and rolled her eyes.

Nevertheless, they had everything prepped and ready for the baby. The nursery was done. They had Frozen meals in the fridge, mostly from when Jo came home from the hospital. A list of take out and restaurants they could order from. His mom was already set to fly in when Jo hit 38 weeks to help with the girls and the baby. While Carina was ready to receive baby Karev when they made their entrance. Everything was ready for them, now they just had to wait.

“Well we're ready for you whenever you want to decide to come out,” Alex said as he leaned down and kissed her bump.

“But not before we hit 38 weeks. We’re not having another NICU baby,” Jo scolded them as she looked down at her bump.

They both paused as they waited for the baby and he felt a series of excited kicks against his hand at the top of her belly.

“I don't think they're coming today,” Jo said with a giggle as she stepped away and put a hand on her back, but he quickly took over for her and rubbed her back for her. She looked up at him with an adoring smile as she cradled her bump.

“You look beautiful,” Alex said, turning his head as she smiled and kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she stepped back into his arms. She reached up to hold his cheek like she always did and he held her in his arms. It was harder to hold her against him with the size of her bump between them, but that would never stop him. Especially as Jo pressed up against him and moaned into his lips as he deepened the kiss. He ran his hands up her back and under her shirt as Jo's hands in turn went to his neck and down to his chest.

“What do you say we take advantage of the free time we have together?” Jo asked with a smirk as she pulled his shirt down and played with his chest hairs.

“Are you sure you're up for it?” Alex said although he smiled as he watched her roll her eyes.

“Just take me to the bedroom,” Jo said as she rolled her eyes and he grabbed her hips and pulled her out of the nursery and to their own bed.

#jo wilson #alex karev #grey's anatomy #jolex #otp: home and heart #jo karev #grey's anatomy fanfic #my work #my writing #my fanfiction

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corvids-cryptids · 3 months

Text

I've been on the Clock App and boy, the clock app teens do not like that ao3 is an archive.

Seriously though, if you're going "why does ao3 allow ___ content?" the answer is because it's an archive. Archives and special libraries carry weird shit. I've actually done some work at a special library with a focus on sexuality and it carried weird shit. Like full on full-page explicit instructional photographs on how to perform knifeplay. Because it fell within our niche. Another librarian I know who worked at a similar special library with a focus on social history instead of education fully fought the upper management of the organisation the library fell within to allow them to preserve 1970s brochures encouraging people to join what amounted to a pedo social club. Because it was a part of social history that she felt was important to preserve.

She did not enjoy handling that brochure. She regards it as a particularly ugly thing she was honour-bound to preserve, because it was her job and the role of her library. Because our roles are to preserve and to make information freely accessible. At least in Australia, any attempt from a librarian or archivist to censor something in a way that impedes either preservation or the free flow of information and isn't necessary to ensure community engagement can see us lose membership of our professional organisation for breaking their code of conduct. That's how seriously the archives and library world take it.

So yeah, why does ao3 allow that? Because they're an archive.

#ao3 #some people really need to learn what an archive is

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thegreatwicked · 4 months

Text

Shadows of Deception

Chapter Nine

You Put A Spell On Me by Austin Giorgio

Summary: In Gotham City, a world of secrets and danger, Belladonna finds herself embroiled in a web of crime when she becomes a witness to illicit activities at Roman Sions' exclusive club, Masquerade Noir. Instead of eliminating her, Roman sees an opportunity and spares her life, forming an unconventional alliance. They pose as a couple, using each other as alibis to deceive the police. But as they delve deeper into their charade, their connection intensifies, blurring the lines between reality and deception. As desire and danger collide, they discover unexpected love in the midst of a thrilling and forbidden affair.

Rating: Explicit; graphic depictions of sex and violence

Pairing: Roman Sionis/OFC; Belladonna Black, slight Zsasz/OFC if enough interest.

What would he be like tonight? Would he manage to keep it together, or were they in for a one-of-a-kind Roman Sionis spectacular? What exactly did 'good behavior' even mean for someone like him? Was he going to cause a scene?

They were en route to the party she’d told him about part work, party party, part fashion show, a hybrid of all three events, and an open bar to boot. Photographers, journalists, and reporters would swarm the venue and everyone in it, hungry for both fashion highlights and scandalous stories. In the past that had never been an issue, as Belladonna wasn’t someone any of them had ever been particularly interested in, her presence went largely unnoticed, but that was going to change tonight. Her professional name and reputation hung in the balance, but there was more at stake than just her job. In the grand scheme of things, Roman's behavior was the least of her concerns.

Tonight was the night they were going to ‘make a splash’ as Roman had put it, and very publicly stick it to her father, and she’d be full of shit if she said wasn’t even a little bit scared.

Their little family reunion a few weeks back, made it clear that, despite being older and financially independent of him, he still held far too much power over her. She was still afraid of him. She’d gone from feeling like a goddamned queen after power walking out of Roman’s penthouse to shaking like a scared little mouse as soon as she’d seen him. It took almost a week for the bruise to fade, a lingering reminder that, when faced with a challenge, her response was driven by childlike fear rather than strength. She was a kid again.

Then there was the other thing.

Her mother. Sure, Roman had a point when he emphasized that her father's power was constrained; eliminating her mother would strip away his leverage. But, that didn't necessarily mean she was safe. He could still hurt her if he thought it would make Belladonna fall in line, and she wouldn't put it past her father's capacity for cruelty when things didn't go his way. He was nothing short of a spoiled little prince. Just like someone else she knew.

The air inside the car went from a comfortable temperature to stiffling.

Just like someone else she knew.

Trying not to draw attention to her sudden nervousness or how she was looking at him, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t realized the similarities Roman and her father shared until just this moment, probably because he was so damned good-looking. She’d been swept up in his charm and completely thrown caution to the winds whenever he’d touched her, every encounter screamed control, power, and uncertainty. It made her wonder if her mother had felt the same way about her father when she met him, if her mother had known anything about the man she was working for she’d run the opposite direction, all the way back to Italy. It made her realize that despite the time they’d spent together, the man sitting next to her was a virtual stranger. She didn’t know anything about him.

Oddly enough it never occurred to her to do a damn Google search on Roman Sionis, all she knew was what managed to stick with her from occasional glances at what was published and popular in the gossip rags. She knew the Sionis name was linked to Sionis Steel and Janus Cosmetics but beyond that, kind of nothing. She wasn’t really even sure how old he was, maybe mid to late thirties and Belladonna was a few months shy of turning thirty. Her mother had been fourteen, her father in his late thirties.

When she met Roman she’d watched him execute three men without even thinking, he might have had her killed too. He’d said so himself, ‘These things are always easier when they’re ugly.’ That was what he had said to her, would he have killed her if he’d found her less than aesthetically appealing?

Each interaction had been defined by control, bordering on obsessiveness. She was two for two; an older man and a clear power imbalance, her mom had been a maid stripped of her passport and Belladonna was tethered to Roman by violence. He was narcissistic for sure, did he even feel remorse of any kind, wait– No remorse would make him a sociopath, right? What did that make him? A monster like her father? What did that make her?

An idiot. It made her an idiot.

What kind of man had she gotten involved with? What would he do with her when this thing they had was over? Would he kill her? Let her go? Would he hurt her? So much about Roman screamed old-school Mafia Prince and she’d seen her fair share of mobster movies.

The darkness closed in, a crowded chaos in her mind. Uncertainty and fears clawed at her, disrupting her resolve, rattling her confidence, prompting doubts about everything she was undertaking, the impending actions, and the man at the center of it all. Amidst the overwhelming and suffocating mental tumult, a firm anchor yanked her back to the present — Roman's hand softly enveloping hers, his fingers delicately lacing with hers.

It was surprisingly laid-back, and felt natural, defying the expectations Belladonna had of their scripted arrangement. He didn’t even look at her, he was engrossed in his phone, probably checking his social media or whatever it was he did on his phone, running a criminal empire on an app. Did they have such things? In this day and age, there was an app for everything. His thumb traced gentle patterns on the back of her hand, a touch more personal and revealing than any of the staged kisses they'd shared. Strangely, he stayed silent, as if this little act of subtle affection were as natural to him as breathing, it blurred the lines of their orchestrated relationship and created an illusion of authenticity.

The car journey was marked by an anticipatory silence, with Zsasz at the wheel navigating through the city's pulse, his sharp eyes occasionally looking to the back through the mear view mirror. Belladonna's mind was a swirl of potential damage control scenarios, contemplating what might unfold if their plan took an unexpected turn. However, the internal chatter ceased abruptly as the car came to a stop, before she could open the door, Romans’s hand tightened on hers and pulled her back to him.

“You’re Belladonna-fucking-Black, baby.”

A pep talk from Roman Sionis seemed so very out of place, so much so that Belladonna was genuinely speechless as if she was trying to decipher if he was being genuine or pandering. At any given moment, she waited for him to crack a joke or sprinkle in some sarcastic remark to undercut the seriousness of his declaration. Surprisingly, he didn't, and that lent an unusual weight to the intensity of his stare. His eyes, dark and luxurious, held a hypnotic quality, ensnaring her attention completely. Though his gaze softened, it retained a certain depth, and he tilted his head slightly, teasing the idea of leaning in for a kiss. Not that she would've minded; Roman was undeniably one hell of a kisser, and she suspected, a skilled lover too. However, instead of a kiss, he gently brushed her hair behind her ear, nodded, and gestured for her to step out first once the door opened.

As expected, a barrage of camera flashes bombarded her as the initial confusion unfolded. The paparazzi, hungry for exclusive shots, snapped away before realizing she wasn't anyone particularly noteworthy—a status she was perfectly content with. Their heads swiveled sharply, seeking someone more prominent to photograph, leaving Belladonna as just another face in the crowd, a nobody with a pretty visage.

However, the dynamic shifted dramatically when Roman emerged from the vehicle. The paparazzi, initially scattered and disinterested, pivoted their attention fast enough to give you whiplash. First, one camera lens turned toward Roman, then another, until a collective realization sparked. Suddenly, the flashes intensified, creating a pulsating wall of light, and the questions from the eager reporters boomed like distant thunder. The duo was now the epicenter of the media storm, the unexpected frenzy escalating as their presence set the event abuzz with fervent speculation. The crowd's reaction was immediate, a cascade of double takes, heads whipping back in disbelief, a domino effect of questioning glances sweeping through the onlookers. Then came the murmurs, a rising wave of whispers that quickly engulfed the vicinity. The collective gasp of realization swept through the crowd, turning their attention from the unknown figure of Belladonna to a notoriously, well-known, enigma that was Roman Sionis. The camera flashes and the thunderous barrage of questions was overwhelming.

"Take the lead, Angel. I’m right behind you."

Roman staged the whole setup with intention, emphasizing that he was there with her, not the other way around. The spotlight was meant for her, despite his infamous presence. In this world, she was the star, and he was just walking into it. It was surprisingly considerate and a bit alarming how much thought he put into a seemingly straightforward party appearance. Belladonna knew Roman was smarter than he looked, a fact he probably used to his advantage more than once, but this level of straightforward manipulation was strangely inspiring.

The duo paused, maintaining their fashionable position for a few moments as the relentless cameras captured snapshots that would undoubtedly be splashed across tabloids and social media sites within moments. The secret was now out—or, at least, one of them was. The flashing lights froze a moment in time, a moment where Roman and Belladonna, with all their charisma and allure, became the focal point of public curiosity and speculation. The Gotham would soon be buzzing with questions and comments about the glamorous couple who had just made their official debut.

Roman’s hand slipped around her waist, settling comfortably on her hip while his other rested in his pocket with the air of casual comfort that only a man who was long desensitized to paparazzi could achieve. The little gesture wasn’t missed and cameras clicked like mad and the muttered questions thundered into a dull roar. Stepping forward with her head held high, she led the way slightly, with Roman a half step behind her. The questions from the paparazzi grew louder, but the narrative was shifting — now, they were clamoring for information about the mysterious woman in the spotlight, not just the notorious Roman Sionis.

The questions, from every direction, shouted louder and louder, each one trying to be heard over the other, bombarding them immediately like a wall of furious demanding noise:

"Roman, who's your date?"

"What label are you wearing?"

"Roman, does this mean you’re off the market? Who’s the lucky lady?"

"What about that socialite, Jezebel Jett, you were seen with in January? Is it over?"

All the questions being shouted were different, yet, all these inquiries shared a common thread—they sought more information about the black-haired woman whom Roman trailed after. Who was Belladonna? Roman didn't engage with any questions; he gave a wave or two and subtly nudged Belladonna forward following her silently, his gaze reflecting a man who was just out to spend a night on the town with his girlfriend with as little hassle as possible.

The transition inside the venue brought a noticeable reduction in flashes of cameras, but there was still enough poised to capture every fleeting moment. As Roman and Belladonna made their entrance, the hum of the environment transformed into a more refined atmosphere, one where questions weren’t shouted but casually asked over sipped vodka tonics, champagne glasses, and cigarette smoke. The air was much calmer with subdued excitement, a stark contrast to the frenzied energy outside.

The party unfolded exactly as Belladonna had come to anticipate from an industry steeped in the superficial, a spectacle of cameras flashing, extravagant drinks, couture that could break the bank, models resembling human coat hangers, and an atmosphere of entitlement reminiscent of a snobbish French waiter serving an oblivious American tourist.

Amidst this shift, Daisy, the ever-efficient aide, approached them quickly murmuring compliments on both Roman and Belladonna. She graciously relieved Belladonna of her clutch, seamlessly sliding into the role of a coordinator. With a quick efficiency that spoke of her experience in such settings, then Daisy provided Belladonna with a rundown of the key figures present, offering insights on whom to engage with and whom to gracefully sidestep. It was a whirlwind of information delivered in a matter of seconds, the kind of guidance that could navigate Belladonna through the social intricacies of the event.

"Sure could use a personal guide, telling me who's worth chatting up and who's best to steer clear of," Roman reflected, injecting a touch of humor into the situation. His words earned a genuine chuckle from Belladonna, a shared moment of amusement amid the refined orchestration of the evening.

"Yeah, my all-knowing oracle. Advises me on who's on speaking terms, what landmines to avoid, and, my personal favorite, the grand 'who's who' of the room." Roman scoffed and shook his head.

"Angel, are you seriously saying you don't know the players in your own industry?" His feigned shock drew a wry smile from her as she nudged him with her hip.

"I know the people who matter, not their sidepieces," Belladonna quipped, her no-nonsense humor a delightful treat that even earned a sideways smile from Roman.Navigating through the lively crowd, Roman and Belladonna aimed for the open bar, a refuge of libations in the sea of people. A seamless exchange of glances translated into orders — an Old Fashioned for Roman and a French Martini for Belladonna.

The bartender, a professional amid the bustling activity, acknowledged their choices with a polite nod. The orchestrated dance of mixing began, starting with Belladonna's French Martini. Roman observed with a seasoned eye, unsurprised by her preference for something sweet yet delighted she chose a drink of elevated class over a more commonplace choice like a cosmopolitan.

The drink arrived promptly, a frosted glass cradling the blushing pink elixir. Premium vodka, Chambord, and a splash of pineapple juice mingled in a delicate dance of flavors. It was a sophisticated choice, a reflection of Belladonna's refined taste.

Roman's Old Fashioned made its entrance, and to no one's surprise, especially not Belladonna's, it embodied the essence of Roman Sionis. She had once labeled it an "old man's drink," but now, she reconsidered. The amber hue of the smoky bourbon, coupled with the blend of muddled sugar and bitters, bespoke a refined taste that adorned Roman like a well-tailored suit. He wore it better than the old men who popularized the drink.

With drinks in hand, the glasses met in a delicate clink, a subtle toast to the pairing of sophistication and sweet indulgence. As the bartender received what appeared to be a generous tip from Roman, Belladonna couldn't help but appreciate the intricate dance of flavors and the subtle choreography of elegance that unfolded in the exchange. It was a moment of shared indulgence, and the open bar seemed like the perfect stage for their unfolding story.

“Daisy’s been studying these names and faces for weeks, each big event she gets a binder full of basic details to juicy tidbits and it’s updated daily.” Roman held a skeptical look, a binder of fashion elite to study? That was a job he didn’t envy and there wasn’t a paycheck with enough zeroes to hold his attention for that. Belladonna nodded her silent agreement, then she nodded across the room to a couple.

"See them?" Roman looked up to where she pointed, to the older guy, all decked out in a sharp suit that probably cost more than a small car. He had that vibe. Like he owned the place and everything within a ten-mile radius. Next to him, a young a pretty girl, all dolled up in a little black dress, looking like she just stepped off a runway. Her smile was a good one, almost convincing but it was a mask. Her eyes, though, told a whole different story – the kind that screamed, "Get me outta here, ASAP."

"That’s Colton Hauser, a big name in the industry. He makes his money funding new, up-and-coming designers, photographers, and models. Picks them up and considers himself a talent agent. That girl he’s with? She’s a third of his age, and she’s clamoring for a model job, hanging off his arm for months. Shame about it too—she doesn't need him. She’s pretty on her own, and an open casting call could get her a callback in a few days. Instead, she’s going to laugh at his jokes, get him drinks, and probably suck his wrinkled dick till he’s hard enough to get it up. Then she’ll have five minutes of disappointing sex and do it all again tomorrow till he throws her a better bone."

Roman couldn't help but let out a laugh, appreciating Belladonna's straightforward and, let's face it, probably accurate observation. Her humor was like a direct hit, no sugarcoating, and he found it rather refreshing. They both leaned back, sipping their drinks at a leisurely pace. Occasionally, his gaze would drift toward the curve of her lips around the glass and the graceful way she held it.

In a casual gesture, she nodded toward an inviting seating arrangement. "See those two?" she asked, indicating the pair of young Asian men in their mid-twenties. Each exuded a distinct style — one emanating a polished, professional air, the other a more artistic and free-spirited vibe.

Roman raised an inquisitive eyebrow, anticipating some intriguing gossip, leaning in closer, creating an intimate portrait of lovers taking.

"That's Jun Wen and Minghao Xu,"

The name Minghao Xu caused a spark of recognition to cross Roman's face. "The artist?" He narrowed his gaze, staring hard across the room, the lighting was dim and comfortable but after a moment of careful scrutiny he let out a genuinely interetest ‘huh.’

A bit surprised that Roman, with his rough exterior, would be interested in art. "Oh, don't look so surprised, Belladonna. Everyone wants a piece of Minhao Xu; I hear there's a waitlist for his next exhibition." Noting her raised eyebrows, he added, "I'm not an uncultured peasant; he's hot right now."

"Well, hot or not, stare too long, and you'll have a bone to pick with his boyfriend. Jun's one hell of a shark, he’s an independent lawyer—because no firm can afford to keep him on staff, and he’s got a reputation for playing fast and loose. It's practically a Cinderella story. Minghao shows up in Gotham with nothing but talent and naivety to spare. Thinks he's hit the jackpot when he snags himself a publicist and an agent, both in his first week. Turns out, they're a pair of con artists who lock him into a bogus contract.”

Roman interjected, "Yeah, I heard about that. Poor lad got swindled when he first set up shop here, left nearly penniless." Belladonna nodded, surprised at how much she was enjoying this exchange of normally deemed worthless gossip. “Didn’t get the details though,” He looked at Belladonna expectantly as she now seemed to be the storyteller.

“So, the guy's making waves, but his pockets are emptier than my Sunday schedule. Then enters the ex-boyfriend, a real abusive scumbag who isolates Minghao until the poor babe practically has Stockholm Syndrome. And that's when Jun steps in.”

“The two hit it off right away, causing drama with the 'boyfriend.' Minghao all but disappears from the public eye for weeks. Then Jun finally gets word out to Minghao; he knows he's in trouble and willing to help. So, Minghao makes a run for it. The breakup is as nasty as it gets, and the ex has one last power play. Threatens to leak some sensitive information, and that's when Jun goes to work."

Roman had a love-hate relationship with gossip. Unless it was relevant to him or his life, he hated it. But sometimes the stories were interesting, and so far, he was liking what he heard about this Jun guy. Seemed as cutthroat as Roman was. And who didn’t LOVE some drama at someone else’s expense? Gotham was a dog eat, dog world. "So, what happened next?" It was a bit odd that Roman wanted more details, but then again, as long as it wasn't his drama being leaked, it made sense.

"Jun sets Minghao up in his place and he goes 'out.' He's gone for a few mysterious hours, and when he comes back, his suit's a bit of a mess, and Minghao's ex is just gone. Supposedly there sno activity on his bank accounts, his credit cards, no cellphone activity, nothing. Then he goes to work on Minghao's agent and publicist; supposedly, he had a very frank conversation with them involving nothing but a ballpoint pen, and suddenly, the contracts are very open to interpretation." Roman chuckled darkly at the implication. A ballpoint pen? He liked that, he’d have to remember that one.

Roman gave a nod of approval, getting into the vibe of Jun's story. "So, after the whole drama, Minghao fired Jun, and they became a thing. They keep it low-key, but you know, everyone's itching to find out what Jun did to Ming's ex. It's all a bit hush-hush. Jun's the protective type; if I were you, I'd avoid staring too long, or he might just whip out a pen from his suit jacket."

Belladonna’s warning wasn’t concerning to Roman, but sure enough Roman had been looking a little too interested a little too long and had found himself under the hard, icy, scrutinizing glaze of Jun Wen. But Roman wasn’t looking to stir up trouble with a kindred spirit, hell no, he liked the guy, slipping an arm around Belladonna, drawing her in closer to him, mirroring the way Jun slipped his arm around Minghao. It was kind of sweet, really. Roman offered a dark smile and raised his glass in a silent, respectful toast toward Jun who simply offered a curt nod. "A brother from another mother," he mused, thoroughly amused.

“And who is she?” Roman asked calling her attention back to the young pretty girl hanging on Colton Hauser’s arm. She shrugged.

“No idea, but he’s cheating on his wife of twenty years, Rebecca, with her, while she’s in rehab for the sixth time. Which is probably fine since since she’s more than likely fucking the pool boy.” Roman’s subdued chuckle was full of amusement, as he sipped his drink. She was bored with gossip now but to be fair it never really held her attention for very long.

"You know, I'm surprised you weren't fielding questions to the paps out there," Roman shook his head, adopting a slightly patronizing tone before enlightening her.

"They're scavengers, angel. If you want a story spread, go to the right source." Roman flicked his hand in the direction of the photographers with better event access, and the wisdom in his words hit her. “Look around, what do you see? Who do you see?” She scanned the room, filled with big names, industry professionals, up-and-comers, photojournalists, reporters—all more credible than the vultures outside. “The paps outside serve a purpose, and that's to grab everyone's attention. They’ll get their scoops from the people represented here. You think any of those vultures outside are going to get Pulitzers for selling nip slips? No, no, angel. They're just the clickbait. You don't want them asking questions or telling the story. We need a more sophisticated mouthpiece than theirs, and it's virtually everyone in this room.”

In the chaotic swirl of flashing lights and probing questions, there was no need to shout to answer one question when six others were being hurled at you. The controlled environment inside offered a chance to shape the narrative intentionally. “Besides, we’re selling an image, not our souls. A real couple wouldn’t want the whole damn city prying into their lives. We’re just two people out for an enjoyable night.”

He continued, emphasizing the importance of control in crafting their public image. As he pointed out, "Talking to the paps outside just screams 'look at me, I want attention.' Not the kind of narrative we want. We want them to follow our every move and unseen gesture—all the little touches, smiles, whispers, and kisses. You have to make them feel clever, like the information they fight so hard to get is real because of how hard they struggle for it." Roman’s intelligence at times was downright startling.

His lips hovered close to her ear, casually tucking back her long hair. While Belladonna was no stranger to the media world, it had been years since she willingly stepped into its limelight with the purpose of grabbing attention. She understood that Roman, well-accustomed to this level of public scrutiny, knew how to navigate it effortlessly. Belladonna's boss waved from across the room, and suddenly more heads turned, whispers spreading. In an instant, nearly every pair of eyes was fixed on them.

"We've got their attention; now let's make them want us."

They were playing the game of perception with a skilled hand, keenly aware of every gaze and every captured moment. The strategic dance with the media had just started, and Roman, the maestro of manipulation, orchestrated their every move to craft a narrative that left the public both captivated and hungry for more.

The directive resonated as they wove through the crowd, aware of every gaze and every captured moment, playing the game of perception with a skilled hand. The strategic dance with the media had just begun, and Roman, the maestro of manipulation, was orchestrating their every move to shape a narrative that left the public both captivated and craving more.

Strikingly absent was the usual predatory or menacing aura that often surrounded him. Roman's subtle yet impactful gestures of attention and affection, like a simple hand on her lower back as they glided through the crowd and engaged with industry figures, subtly elevated Belladonna's standing, drawing increased interest from the attendees.

Their private conversations, nestled between larger social interactions, flowed effortlessly. Roman, being well-acquainted with most people present, thanks to his club, effortlessly guided discussions through the latest fashion collections and the anticipated directions of upcoming seasons.

Belladonna found herself pleasantly surprised when they tossed a few questions her way about her photography work, adding a nice touch to the evening. Yet, Roman, always perceptive, could tell that work wasn't exactly topping her list of interests that night. Sensing her unease with work chatter, he smoothly steered the conversation back to his domain—the art of creating a spectacle. With a gaze filled with intense yearning, the kind that reveals a man smitten, he leaned in during their discussion, so close that his words brushed her ear in a whisper meant for just them, "Come on, kitten, let that smile out. Show the world how happy I make you."

A grin spread across her face almost on its own, surprising even her. She glanced down, nibbling at her lip in a sort of shy way. It was the type of smile that spills the beans—like the one you give when your partner gives you a sweet compliment, whispers something naughty, or hints at plans for later. With this quiet yet telling move, the conversation effortlessly shifted to the topic that had everyone's curiosity but remained unspoken, setting the scene for the grand reveal of their artfully spun tale. Let the show begin.

"So, how did this happen? How did the two of you meet?"

The question just hung there, floating around like it had nothing better to do. Roman stared at Belladonna like he was caught in some weird spell or something for a good thirty seconds. Finally, when he snapped out of whatever trance he was in, he casually turned to the person who asked, looking like he'd been thinking about something far more interesting.

"Sorry, what was that?" his voice infused with the perfect touch of authentic confusion. The question got a repetition, and Roman, in response, gracefully draped his arm around Belladonna—not possessively, not domineering, but a tender gesture as if he simply wanted to draw her closer.

"Alright, buckle up for this one," Roman chimed in, launching into a tale that echoed the yarn he'd spun back at her place after the whole Jimmy's murder saga—minus the actual murder part. A chill grazed Belladonna's stomach, but she brushed it off; it wasn't the time for that. Nothing nefarious going on here, just a work party with her boyfriend. The precinct visit concern could take a back seat for now.

Roman held everyone enraptured as he spun the tale of that monotonous evening in his club. The drinks had lost their allure, and the music had become a mere hum in the background. He was teetering on leaving early when, like a scene from a movie, he laid eyes on her — the woman in the striking red dress, her olive skin and midnight-black hair creating a mesmerizing image. Smitten in an instant, he was determined to know her name before she slipped away, a mission that became urgent when an unwanted suitor approached her.

As Roman continued to narrate the story, Belladonna found herself drawn into the tale. She wore an expression not often seen on her face — one of starstruck fascination and undeniable attraction. The epic narrative unfolded like a fairy tale of enchantment, where Roman couldn't bear to let her go. It began with a simple offer of a drink, escalated to an inevitable kiss, and reached a point where parting ways was out of the question. The crowd hung on every word, thoroughly captivated by the carefully crafted love story.

Each phrase carried a blend of alarming intensity and convincing warmth, blurring the lines between fiction and reality. The performance was so masterful that anyone within earshot fell under its spell, instantly becoming enamored with this seemingly genuine love story. Roman's storytelling prowess worked like magic, orchestrating a transformation in perceptions of him in the blink of an eye.

As Roman skillfully spun his tale, the menacing image that clung to him like a shadow evaporated all together. The once-ruthless figure now seemed like a mere character in a story, and the notion lingered that these stories were nothing more than myths. The whispers of the crowd hinted at a revelation: the right woman could, indeed, alter the course of such a man. Long-standing negative opinions melted away, replaced by a newfound admiration.

In the brief span of Roman's storytelling, the room underwent a seismic shift in how the couple was perceived.His long-standing reputation as a violent, spoiled, and unreasonable figure crumbled in real-time, leaving everyone in a state of disbelief, akin to the revelation that your favorite reality TV show was as scripted as daytime TV. Men, who had eyed Roman cautiously, as if approaching a potentially aggressive dog, now saw a different side of him. He transformed into an ordinary guy, someone who had weathered the storms of media scrutiny, a self-made man they could imagine sharing a casual beer with. After all, tabloids didn't thrive on tales of well-adjusted individuals navigating stress; their bread and butter was scandal and sensationalism. In this narrative, Roman emerged as just another victim of their scandalous tales.

Conversely, the women in the room stared in awe, their mouths agape, overtaken by envy. Each of them harbored a secret yearning for a man who could cast a gaze as intense and affectionate as the one Roman directed at Belladonna. No doubt, this spectacle would unleash a wave of drama in their personal lives, leading to discussions with boyfriends and husbands about why Roman seemed to embody the perfect partner. It left them wishing their significant others would take a page out of his playbook.

The potency of his narrative was heightened by the fact that, throughout the storytelling, he consistently looked at Belladonna, always finding some gentle, loving way of touching her. At moments, he seemed to forget the small crowd around them, immersed in the tale as if it were a private confession.

The lie proved wildly successful, with compliments raining down on them. Observers marveled at how fortunate Belladonna was to have such an affectionate boyfriend. Roman, not satisfied with his own performance and needing to draw them in closer, swiftly corrected this notion, asserting that he was the fortunate one to have a talented, smart, and stunning angel on his arm and in his life. The declarations drew looks of longing and deep sighs and sounds of envy from the onlookers.

As the night unfolded, the party persisted, marked by a relentless onslaught of photographs immortalizing the elegant couple. Despite the occasion being a professional gathering, which she usually tried to leave as quickly as she was allowed, Belladonna discovered a genuine enjoyment of the evening, a sentiment that held true as long as Roman steadfastly accompanied her, never venturing too far away. The event, typically a mandatory chore, turned into an unexpected delight, an evening that she'd remember not just for the glamorous setting but for the unique dynamic she shared with Roman.

The relentless clicks of cameras, capturing their every move, gradually faded into the background. For a moment, the party atmosphere normalized, creating the illusion of an authentic couple navigating the ordinary affairs of a workplace gathering. Even Roman, burdened by the weight of public expectations, felt an unexpected sense of liberation. He relished in the simplicity of just being Roman, detached from the heavy persona of Roman Sionis.

Despite Roman's acute awareness of both self-perception and the nuances of Belladonna's demeanor, he couldn't help but notice her discreet yawns. Leaning in, he remarked, "You seem tired, angel. I think we've stirred up enough excitement. How about we make a discreet exit?"

She nodded gratefully, stifling another yawn. "I never stay this late at these events anyway. I’m usually catching up on some much-needed sleep by now. But I think I’ve shown face enough for the night, although I don’t think anyone was that interested in me."

Roman's disapproving 'tsk, tsk, tsk' at the notion Belladonna held of herself and he led her away, demonstrating an unusual knowledge of the building and its back halls. The shadowy corners absorbing their presence. Without wasting a moment, he pulled out his phone, and dialed Zsasz with swift efficiency, orchestrating the car's stealthy arrival. The atmosphere crackled with a sense of urgency as they vanished through the venue, slipping away from the prying eyes of the press and into the secluded alley. All the while they walked in silence at a casual pace, Roman had her hand clasped in his.

“Out the back?”

As they stepped outside and approached the waiting sleek black car, Roman, with his trademark smirk, shared a piece of insight.

"Come on, babe, real couples don't need the whole media circus. We'll just sneak off, keep 'em guessing, and maybe It'll cook up some juicy rumors about our mysterious rendezvous." His tone was a mix of casual confidence, like someone who's been around the block, and his grin hinted at a man who's familiar with a few covert escapades in dark corners and quiet hallways.

A scene straight out of a paradoxical tale, Roman played the gentleman, holding the car door open for Belladonna. But, in that moment, she hesitated, her gaze wandering past Roman, as if glimpsing something only she could decipher. With a touch of suspense hanging in the air, she eventually slid into the car.

However, just before closing the curtain on this episode of their public act, Belladonna decided to stray from the planned script. Bold, almost audacious, she gently cupped Roman's jaw, whisking them both away to a private realm, far from the prying eyes of the world.

Their lips embarked on a slow, purposeful dance—a kiss that transcended the play they were enacting. It was a moment of intimacy, an unveiling of a connection that surpassed the rehearsed storyline. In those stolen seconds, time slipped away, entangled in the covert world forged by that unexpected kiss, so authentic it almost felt real.

Her fingers traced a path from his strong jaw down to the lapels of his suit, lingering, splayed over his chest. It mirrored the memory of their first encounter, that evening in her apartment where a different, more enigmatic Belladonna Black had captivated him. He couldn't deny the attraction, and the interruption by Zsasz had been a source of frustration he had let loose in the confines of the car.

This was the Belladonna he had been insanely attracted to—the one who had stirred something primal within him. The memory of that interrupted moment in her apartment flashed in his mind, and even though

Zsasz had a valid reason, sure, but it was still bullshit and Roman had been furious, she remembered because she'd been pissed too. As the last echoes of the kiss dissipated, Roman, still in a slightly lowered posture, couldn't resist the temptation for more. He leaned forward, capturing her lips in several smaller kisses, each one a delightful echo of the initial fervor. It was a craving that lingered, intensifying with each stolen kiss.

“Well, well, Angel,” he purred, his voice carrying the faintest undertone of breathiness, well-concealed but not entirely imperceptible. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but where'd that come from?" His question hung in the air, a playful challenge and a genuine inquiry. He wanted to understand the motive behind that sudden, passionate exchange, and the tiniest breathiness in his voice revealed that beneath his confident demeanor, he was affected—perhaps even pleasantly surprised—by her assertive move.

Belladonna, with a cryptic smile, merely told him, “Just trust me on this one, baby,” before kissing him again. Then, she slipped into the car, followed by a grinning Roman, and they smoothly left the scene, leaving the glitz and glamour behind for a quiet, private journey.

~~~

In the sleek confines of the car, as the door closed, she braced herself for his usual forwardness, anticipating that Roman wouldn't settle for just a few kisses. Yet, much to her surprise, he remained still. His gaze, however, was anything but passive; it held the intensity of a tiger ready to pounce—more thrilling than unsettling.

Trying to shift her focus from the almost predatory look Roman directed at her, Belladonna attempted to divert her attention. It was the kind of stare that spoke of obsession or, perhaps, the calculated deliberation of a predator deciding how best to toy with its prey before the final strike. When the intensity became too much, she looked straight ahead, feigning indifference to his gaze, but the burning sensation persisted in her peripheral vision.

A soft chuckle escaped Roman, and he casually pulled a cigar from his jacket, propping his feet up on the seat across from him, his figure now a silhouette veiled in wisps of smoke. The car's speakers began playing music, initially soft, but as the silence lingered, she recognized the song.

You put a spell on me, I’m loosing my mind

You better stop these things, its a matter of time

Before I hunt you down, grab your chin, and kiss your lips

You bring me back, I lay you down

And grab your hips, and we lose all control

And before you know it

I put a spell on you

Now your mine

The sultry and seductive tune added an intensity to the quiet ride, making Belladonna wonder about where the night would take them next. As the familiar turn toward his penthouse was bypassed, curiosity surged within her. Their destination wasn't her place either; it was situated on the opposite end of town. A knot of nervousness settled in her stomach, wondering if Roman might have an expectation of something more. It wouldn't surprise her; she had all but shoved her tongue down his throat just now. Not that she owed him anything, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he thought she did.

To her surprise, Roman did nothing to indicate as much. He didn’t touch her, didn’t move closer. With the city lights streaking past the windows, the tension inside the car shifted. Before she could voice her question about their course, Roman responded with a predatory smile.

"Where are we going?"

He shrugged with nonchalance, explaining that he had instructed Zsasz to drive without a specific destination in mind, before he leaned back against the headrest of his seat and closed his eyes.

"So, we're just cruising around Gotham?"

It seemed like such a simple thing for a person like Roman Sionis to do, just enjoying a drive on a nice spring evening. But the more time she spent around him, the more she realized two things: one, he always surprised her, doing the unexpected just when she thought she had him figured out, and two, she knew next to nothing about him.

I've got a hold on you, at least for the night

You know I can't help myself when you ask tenderly

If I'd dim the lights as your hand brushes me

And the floor swallows your clothes

And your silhouette puts on a show

You put a spell on me

I'm losing my mind

You better stop these games

It's a matter of time

What made a man like Roman tick? What did he want? Money? Power? Respect? As far as she could tell, he had all those things. Sitting in the car just hours ago, she was determined not to look at him, not to let him know that practically everything about him screamed red flags and daddy issues, that he scared her. But now, she couldn't take her eyes off him.

Maybe she'd been too quick to jump to conclusions, to lump Roman in with the specter of her father. After all, she'd witnessed the true monstrosity her father was—the kind that thought nothing of using violence against women. Yet, Roman hadn't laid a finger on her, not even when the threat of danger loomed. Not really. Her father reveled in the power dynamic, exploiting younger women without a hint of remorse. The sounds from his room, the hushed cries—it had kept her up at night.

Yet, the more Belladonna scrutinized that dark aspect of her father, the more it clashed with the Roman Sionis she had come to know. Violence against women seemed to repulse him rather than appeal to some hidden penchant. The stark contrast between her father's twisted exploits and Roman's demeanor became increasingly evident. It made her question the narratives she had woven in her mind, forcing her to confront the possibility that Roman might not be cut from the same sinister cloth.

She observed him in the quiet of the car, her thoughts dancing between the stark contrast of the man before her and the notorious stories that painted him as a criminal and a killer. His eyes remained closed, a serene mask that hardly betrayed the tumult she suspected beneath the surface. Did he sense her scrutiny, or did he possess some uncanny peripheral vision that kept him aware even in this seemingly relaxed state?

"What’s on your mind, angel?" The words slipped from him effortlessly, a subtle acknowledgment of her unspoken musings. His lack of movement, the almost imperceptible acknowledgment, was eerie in its precision.

Taking a moment to weigh her words, she considered the delicate balance between truth and evasion. Did she dare reveal her thoughts, or was it wiser to cloak them in a veil of half-truths? The unspoken understanding between them lingered, pushing her toward a shade of honesty.

"You know, I really don’t know anything about you." It wasn't a question, more like a skillful sidestep, a way to keep the conversation on her terms. His eyes, now open and fixed on her, held a glint of amusement.

He grinned, a response that felt oddly out of sync with the dark stories surrounding him. "Ask away, angel. I’m an open book." The words hung in the air, creating a paradox — an open book from a man who, by all expectations, should have been adept at maintaining a shroud of mystery in every facet of his life. A peculiar statement from a man she'd think would keep two sets of books in all aspects of his life.

"Maybe I’m not thinking about anything, maybe I’m just enjoying the pretty scenery," Belladonna tossed back, a playful echo of Roman's usual cockiness. His grin widened, almost reaching the territory of a genuine smile — a rare sight from him. It was a fleeting acknowledgment of a man who enjoyed a bit of flattery, a trait she knew he took pleasure in.

“Well, thank you, angel, but we both know that’s not true.” He saw past the surface, his tone, though playful, hinted at impatience; and he patted her hand in a pandering way. “Angel, I just spent the last few hours socializing with people I wouldn't piss on if they were on fire. I'm not a patient man on a good day, but I'm still in a good mood. So, you may as well just ask me what's floating around in that pretty head of yours, and please, for the love of God don’t be boring.”

Oddly charming one minute, profoundly dickish the next. Roman Sionis, ladies and gentleman.

“How old were you the first time you killed someone?”

The question hit its mark. Roman's eyes flicked open, and he turned to her with slow calculated snake-like precision, a stark reminder of his predatory nature. He seemed downright entertained by both her question and her audacity, a wolfish grin breaking across his face, the tips of his canines making a brief appearance.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you, angel?”

It felt like a setup. Saying no would expose the lie; saying yes would reveal her fear. But the answer wasn’t black and white; she found herself somewhere in the middle. His intense gaze suggested he anticipated a response.

“I don’t know.” Her answer seemed to spark his interest, and to her surprise, he seemed pleased by the honesty she offered. He still hadn’t answered her question, she stared him down hard likewise expecting, an answer to her question and surprisingly enough he conceded, sort of.

“I’ve always had a bit of a temper,” His voice went heavy and dark, as though a monster from within was trying to come out, he huffed out a breath and shook his head when Belladonna kept her gaze on him expectantly, “Fifteen, the age of rebellion. We all have stories from that time, don't we? But let’s just say mine might be a bit more colorful than most."

Fifteen. He'd offed someone at fifteen, she was pretty damn sure. Belladonna could read between the lines, and Roman's intelligence was a constant surprise. Not what she'd expected when they first met. Back then, she'd thought of him as impulsive, brash, the kind to jump in before looking. Maybe that was true to some degree; he did act fast when angry or maybe ithad more to do with being cornered. But when calm, it was downright chilling how sharp he was. Here, in the back of his ride with Zsasz, his buddy and bodyguard, he wasn't giving away anything. Just vague responses, as Roman Sionis tended to do.

"Do you like hurting people?" His grin got darker, and he shook his head.

"Pretty personal for a first date, angel."

"You said not to be boring."

"I did say that, didn't I?" Pausing, he seemed more into this conversation. "Tell you what, angel. Come over here and sit on my lap, and I'll answer your questions."

He shifted, giving her an open invitation with his legs spread a bit wider to accommodate her. That smirk and the way he shut his eyes suggested he was pretty convinced she wouldn't go for it. But hey, either way, he seemed to get what he wanted – either dodging her questions or answering them on his own terms, plus the added bonus of her on his lap. It also hinted that, while she was throwing these intriguing questions his way, he wasn't planning on giving up much in return. The look of surprise on his face was pretty obvious when he heard that seatbelt unbuckle, and in she climbed.

"So, do you like hurting people?"

He looked off at an unfocused point somewhere in the car, lost in contemplation. Did he savor the suffering of others? Was it a twisted pleasure for him, like the enjoyment some found in gossip, TV drama, or the company of others?

“Sometimes,” he finally responded, a hardness in his eyes signaling an end to further elaboration. Familiar with his tendency to be stubborn, she casually unbuttoned her jacket, letting it slip off her shoulders and land on the seat beside them.

The darkness in his eyes shifted, suggesting an elusive intrigue sparked by this unexpected twist.

Before I hunt you down

Grab your chin

And kiss your lips

Then you bring me back

I lay you down

And grab your hips

And we lose all control

And before you know it

You give me fever

And drive me insane

“What about me? Would you hurt me?” She asked more out of curiosity than fear, though she knew better than to consider such a question lightly. It eas a dumb question to ask in the first place. Roman was a cutthroat man in every sense, was likely to leave her with an answer she didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” He warned, a tone that left no room for misunderstanding. He didn’t want to, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.

“What would be a reason?”

“Don’t lie to me, and don’t betray me.” His words were nearly a growl as he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer and asserting his dominance. “I’ll know if you lie.” It struck her as an unusual choice of words. He didn't say he’d find out; he said he would know. It left her wondering about the depth of his influence, his connections. How far, how deep did they go?

“I don't care if it's as simple a question as how your day was, if your coffee was cold, or if you had one of those raspberry scones you like so much," His casual knowledge of such mundane details was unsettling, so he had been watching her? "I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable like when I ask what happened with that sad little ex of yours, or how often you use that little toy you’ve got stashed away in your bedside drawer.” He smirked at that last one. “Never lie to me.”

The instinct to draw back, to retreat to the safety of her seat, was strong, but something about his brutal honesty held her in place, captivated.

“Are you a psychopath?”

He chuckled, like he'd just heard the best joke ever, his hands casually gliding up and down her legs and back, this mix of affectionate and possessive.

“The good ol’ doc at Arkham diagnosed with me mild psychopathy with narcissistic and obsessive tendencies. You know what that means angel?” She shook her head, having a limited understanding of what psychopaths did or didn’t do. “It means I can charm anyone I damn well please. My relationships are like business transactions, driven by what benefits me. Even if I like people, I don't get too attached. People, my dear, are about as disposable as the non-biodegradable cup I get my coffee in. And that's just for the folks I actually like. It means I'm not burdened with empathy, so I couldn't care less about people I don't like. Holding a grudge is an art form for me, and I'm not shy about seizing opportunities against those I consider enemies. I've perfected the art of sweet revenge, and I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

He took a moment, eyeing Belladonna with an expectant gaze, thinking she'd be all horror-stricken. But instead, she seemed oddly curious. "And for you, kitten, it means that as long as we're in bed together; you're mine. I'll be possessive as hell, like some grade schooler marking his territory. You'll be my world, sweetheart, but don't expect any warm and fuzzies from me. What bothers you won't even register on my radar, and I might just drive you mad enough that you'll be begging for a all-expensesd-paid VIP pass to Arkham just to catch a break from me." The final revelation came with a sly, calculated grin. “But you won’t.”

For a moment her expression was as unreadable as a blank Etch-A-Sketch, she seemed cold and detached, it looked like a mirror of Romans own indifference was being held up to him and it surprised him. It made him wonder, "Is that how I came off to people?" Yeah, he could see how it would be unnerving.

“Do you care if I get off?” Not the question he was expecting. He looked at her like she just sprouted wings.

Maybe not the question to blurt out but she couldn’t help it. Was she crazy attracted to Roman Sionis? Hell yes. Did that mean he was a stellar lover? Maybe not. Did he scare the crap outta her sometimes? Absolutely. But do you go with the devil you know or the one you don't, right? So, what was the harm in asking? At least she'd know if she needed to keep that little toy of hers handy for later.

His grin turned positively sinful, “Oh, Kitten… Did you forget what we did in the back of my club? Well, what I did to you? Because you really just kind of stood there.” She shook her head, how could she? That night had played over and over on repeat in her head almost every night since it happened, “I’m hurt if you forgot how easily you came for me with my hand in your panties,”

He shifted his hips adding a little friction between them, his grip suddenly like steel, thank god she wasn’t in a slinky dress like he’d hoped for, otherwise she was pretty sure her panties would be in an even worse state than they were right now. She had no doubts if that were the case it would be bunched up around her waist and he’d be giving her a repeat performance, but was that so bad? Then again, knowing Roman, he might have just as well have teased her without letting her come. He definitely seemed like the type who enjoyed holding power of all forms over someone.

He straightened up, fingers gently cupping her chin, tilting it up. Instead of a kiss, he brought his nose along the curve of her throat, a silent exploration that felt both intimate and provocative, creating a proximity that sent shivers through her.

“If I didn’t care about my angel getting off, I’d have made you suck my cock on your knees, gagged you with it until your mascara was running from the tears streaming down your face. But I wanted to see you fall apart, wanted to hear all those sweet noises you could offer me, and trust me when I say since then, anytime I’ve jacked off it’s been with those little sounds of yours playing in my head. I don’t care about the side piece that winds up on the dirty ground, but angels don’t belong on their knees. But you? You’re special, you’re afraid of me but you don’t cower, you’re smart but you know I’m smarter, and God I love a woman who can make me laugh, so when I tell you if I take you to bed, you can trust that I’m gonna make you cum so hard you cry.”

Well, this had certainly taken a turn, she should have been scared out of her mind, should have tucked and rolled and disappeared from Gotham but she couldn’t move, didn’t want to. Roman was about as trustworthy as a venomous snake but that forked tongue of his was tempting and made her feel alive.

It was a bad idea, one of the worst, anyone with common sense would says so, but unless you were sitting where Belladonna was sitting, then you couldn’t understand the pull Roman Sionis had. And he was pulling, the tiniest bit, just enough to throw off gravity so that she’d tumble right into his bed, and she lost her balance. Lips crashing onto his, fingers working the buttons on his shirt as her tongue tangled with his, she could feel him smiling into the kiss, like he knew he’d get what he wanted no matter what.

He seemed to revel in the fact that Belladonna was the one unhinged and he remained calm as can be like he enjoyed seeing her lose her cool, or maybe he just loved having a woman crawl all over and pawing at him like he was a fresh meal.

The deep rumble in his throat sounded like a purring lion and sent little molten shocks throughout her body, the buttons of his dress shirt undone and the smooth expanse of his chest bared to her exploratory hands while her mouth slanted over his. His hands were just lazily on her thighs, just softly caressing the fabric of her pants and he too found himself wishing she had worn a dress. Oh the things he would be doing if she was in a damn dress, he made a mental note next time to ensure it.

Belladonna had this idea — a kind of personal philosophy she was more than ready to champion: smug men deserved a visual reckoning, a map of possessiveness left on their bodies. And who better to be the canvas for her masterpiece than Roman Sionis, a man who practically oozed smugness like it was cologne?

Her Ted Talk topic, was simple yet profound: smug men deserved to be marked up as if they'd just wrestled with a tiger and lost. Hickeys a little too dark that makeup couldn’t hide them. Bites a little too reminisce of a vampire kink, nail scratches so deep that it might have looked like the act was more out of anger than lust, and the unmistakable imprints of handcuffs a little too tight — a tapestry of evidence that even the mightiest could find themselves in the clutches of someone else.

Her reasoning? Well, it was a silent rebellion against the arrogance that often accompanied power. Why not expose the vulnerability beneath the tailored suits and carefully crafted personas? A reminder that even the most seemingly invincible men could, for a moment, be somebody's willing captive.

So, with a grin and a twinkle in her eye, she embarked on her mission to turn Roman's confident exterior into a visible diary of shared intimacy. Each mark told a story, a narrative that whispered, "You might be in charge out there, but in here, you're mine." It was a deliciously defiant act, one that left a lingering sense of triumph in every little love bite and bruise. After all, what better way to prove a point than with a smattering of love-induced battle scars on the smuggest man in Gotham?

Her initial impression of Roman as a domineering force in bed, dictating terms and demanding control, was quickly changing. Surprisingly, he seemed content to cede some control to her. As they sat together, her in his lap, he became a willing canvas for the marks she left, seemingly nonchalant or perhaps not fully registering the situation.

This didn't translate to passivity on his part either. On the contrary, he actively and eagerly participated, tongues intertwining, and his hands inducing shivers, sparking a myriad of enticing thoughts. The dynamics were evolving in unexpected ways, defying Belladonna's initial expectations.

His chest rumbled in a low growl as she reached for his belt, deftly unbuckling it, the distinctive sound of zipper teeth lowering filling the car. Such a rendezvous wasn't part of his original plan, but Roman sure as hell wasn't about to put a halt to it. Unless she intended to give him a blowjob—because who really opted for a handjob when other options were on the table—then they needed to address her lack of a slinky dress. Those dresses made encounters like these way more convenient. But that was okay; he'd rip the damn thing off. Despite how stunning she looked in those high-fashion creations, he knew he could effortlessly tear through the intricate stitching with a hard rip, caring not a wit less.

His hips jolted forward as her hand found its way into his slacks, slipping inside, and Roman was on the verge of tossing her down on the seat. Romantic wasn’t a label he often applied to himself, but he had a certain idea of how things would unfold, especially with Belladonna. In Roman's world, cheap women were valued for what they could spend, and it was about more than just money. Those who invested time in a man were worth more than a quick encounter in the back seat of a car. Belladonna wasn't like those other women; she was worth time—the time it took to have a woman screaming his name. Cheap women weren't worth that. Yet, here she was, accepting his invitation to sit in his lap. Though he had intended for a more protracted encounter, a little good old-fashioned foreplay before the main event never hurt.

Belladonna was a wild one, and when he labeled her with "daddy issues," it seemed he had hit the mark. Sitting in his lap, tugging at his clothes, hand in his pants, tongue down his throat—especially after he'd just disclosed his diagnosis of being a psychopath. If he didn't know any better, he'd say she was turned on by that.

Women like her were the special ones, the kind that could give you the best experience of your life if you treated them right. He knew she was the type of woman who could make his dark dreams come true. SHe didn’t cower or shrink away, she rose to his challenge, and best of all? She wasn’t boring.

That was it. He was going to fuck her right there in the backseat of his car—maybe not what he had initially planned, but you know what they say about the best-laid plans...

The sound of the window partition lowering slightly brought Zsasz's voice cutting through the ambient noise.

“Boss, we’ve got a situation.”

Fucking Zsasz.

Roman growled as Belladonna's mouth sought refuge on his neck when his lips were no longer available to her, “What?!”

His divided attention didn't deter Belladonna; she continued her exploration, sucking on his neck with the dedication to leave as dark a hickey as possible. His hips responded, a slight thrust, and his hands gripped her thighs. The sting of his grip wavered from enjoyable to bordering on angry at the interruption.

“You’re needed at the docks; got word there's an issue with Cobblepots crew.”

Cobblepot. A name she'd heard sporadically in the news and tabloids but couldn't quite place it’s most recent appearance, Belladonna found herself in the dark. The docks made no sense without further context, except for their notorious reputation. Bad things happened there; people vanished, and sometimes, pieces of them resurfaced. Anyone with a shred of common sense avoided them after dark and Kept theri head on a swivel during the day. Roman's stiffening posture and the now painful and controlling grip signaled he was no longer present in the moment, indicating their fun was over. It would be the second time Zsasz played the role of a cockblock. Once again, plans for Roman were once again thwarted.

"Kitten,"

His voice shifted, his mind was transitioning from pleasure to business, the tone leaving no room for argument. But she wasn't arguing; she just wasn't stopping. "Angel, that’s enough."

His grip on her arms was firm but not painful. Not yet. Her fingers continued their slow stroking in his pants, practically begging for him to reconsider his devotion to the docks and the trouble that awaited him there. His hips canted up, a strained hiss escaping him. He didn’t want to stop, she knew he didn’t. She sped up, fully aware that Zsasz probably watched through the rearview mirror and she didn’t give a damn. Part of her curiosity drove this, wanting to test the boundaries of what Roman would allow her to get away with.

In better circumstances, she might have succeeded, but not this time. Spending time with Roman had made her cocky, giving her a false sense of power.

With a snarl, he seized her hair, yanking her head back and exposing her throat. In that fleeting second, a tinge of fear crept in, akin to prey awaiting the killing blow. His hand wrapped around hers, jerking himself a few times, grappling with a surge of rage and lust, like he was holding back some inner demon. Pissed off that once again his desires would be left unfulfilled, and, hell, he wanted to finish—no, who was he kidding? He hadn't even gotten started.

After a moment of wrestling with his inner turmoil, he abruptly pulled her hand off him and yanked her into an almost painful kiss, reminiscent of the time he barged into the studio when she'd ignored his messages and calls.

"I said, that’s enough! Get off!"

The predatory edge was back in his voice, but not the playful one hinting at some kinky nature—the one that froze her blood. He had warned her not to give him a reason, and had she just handed him one? He held her hair painfully for another minute before releasing it, then practically threw her off him and causing her to tumble back onto the floor of the car.

She didn’t dare move.

He was back. The Roman she hardly recognized — the one with the abyssal eyes and an icy demeanor, casually toting a gun as if life meant nothing. The man who spared her simply because she met his aesthetic standards. A shiver of fear ran down her spine, and she found herself momentarily speechless as Roman straightened his attire, slipping seamlessly into work mode. It was as if he retreated deep into the recesses of his own mind, leaving no trace of the man who, just an hour ago, was showering her with affection like an infatuated pup. Instead, before her sat a dark, brooding figure, unwaveringly gazing ahead.

She wasn't sure how long she remained glued to the car floor, but eventually, the vehicle came to a halt, and the door swung open. Zsasz stood there, extending a hand to help her out. She avoided a second glance at Roman, who sat there staring straight ahead, an unsettling disassociation masking his features. Silently, she accepted Zsasz’s hand, stepping out of the car, mustering all her strength not to flee. They had arrived back at her loft, and in total silence, they made their way up the elevator, Zsasz accompanying her, likely at Roman's insistence as part of his heightened security.

Zsasz, perceptive enough to sense the tension, mercifully refrained from offering any words or unwanted advice. The quiet ascent concluded with a nod from Zsasz, a reminder to set the alarm code, and a strong suggestion to stay indoors tonight. With that, he vanished, and moments later, she heard the tires squeal on the road as the car sped away, presumably back to the docks. What awaited there was unknown to her, but she had a sinking feeling that someone was in for a very bad night.

What the hell just happened? The sudden shift was a stark reminder that she wasn’t just dealing with a rich eccentric bachelor but a criminal, a murderer. The realization hung in the air, and Belladonna grappled with the uneasy truth of the world she had entered.

She needed a drink.

~~~

His lip curled into a sneer, a visible sign of the fury building within him. Roman couldn't care less about whatever mess was unfolding at the docks; this was about his reputation, hard-earned and soaked in the blood of his enemies. It was time to send a message loud and clear — you don't mess with Roman Sionis. Pity would be an emotion reserved for the unfortunate souls about to face Zsasz's surgical precision. Just moments ago, he had been on cloud nine, reveling in the heights of pleasure. Now, as the car maneuvered through Gotham's streets with a deliberate low profile, he had ample time to address the glaring problem — the one in his pants.

That was the issue: one that Belladonna had been more than willing to assist with, but she needed to learn a lesson — she didn't dictate his actions; he held the reins. He didn’t care how badly they both wanted it, when he said the fun was over that was all there was to it. The retribution he planned for those unfortunate souls who dared interrupt his time with Belladonna played out vividly in his mind in a symphony of screams, pain and bloodshed. He had sensed her fear when he had thrown her off him, and he both relished in it and despised it. Fear was a powerful weapon, and she needed to understand its potency. But he still didn’t like the way she looked at him, it probably didn’t help given the nature of the questions she’d asked him. God only knew where her head was right now.

"Zsasz," his voice cut through the air, icy and sharp. Zsasz made eye contact through the partition, awaiting orders. "Keep them on ice." A nod from Zsasz, and the partition rose, providing Roman with a semblance of privacy. His hand delved into his pocket for his phone, adjusting the volume. Simultaneously, he reached into his pants to address the pressing issue — His still-hard dick. It was difficult for enemies to take you seriously when sporting a raging hard-on — unless, of course, that was your thing. Roman wasn't above such games, but right now, playful moods were a distant memory.

Chapter Ten

~~~

Well, this might be my longest chapter to date so thanks for hanging in there! The good smut and more drama is coming, thought Belladonna needed a little refresher of who she's dealing with! Hope you all liked it and if you'd like to join the taglist (which I have yet to start) give me a reblog and throw in a unique tag to make me laugh, ya'll are so creative! Happy holidays!

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