Feb 28, 2021
Roman: This is the perfect moon for a werewolf to come out
Peter: I’m gay
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Roman: This is the perfect moon for a werewolf to come out
Peter: I’m gay
CLOSED STARTER. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Roman’s voice rose to a loud sneer, his eyes narrowed at the shattered glass that’d hit the wall behind him a moment ago. He whipped back around to face her. “What the hell are you worked up about this time?” He’d only just managed to step inside the front door when the object came flying at his face, and after a night of dealing with fledgling actresses and greedy agents for his mother, he was not in the mood. The door slammed shut behind him as he watched her - clearly expecting an answer. @literaryminx
ROMAN: Are you the vargulf?
PETER: I’m Peter.
ROMAN: Peter. That’s your name?
PETER: Yeah.
ROMAN: That’s a hot name.
PETER: What?
OLIVIA: (rolling her eyes) Honey, it’s not hot... it’s just his name.
ROMAN: Trust me. It’s hot.
PETER: It’s actually biblical.
ROMAN: The bible’s a hot book.
@personaei
" yeah, tough guy, got it. but if i fly out your window, it's gonna be by choice. any way, you said you got connections?
"Yeah, believe I said somethin' along those lines. Connections always got a cost though, don't they? You, bein' here, gonna assume that you've got somethin' you're willin' to pay if you're comin' in here like king doodoo of shit mountain to flush my goddamn toilet and run your mouth."
@katarinawilliams
"You always talk out loud while you type?" Peregrine was calling him out on boomer behavior.
"Only when I'm tryin' to very subtly tell the company wastin' my time that whatever I'm writin' is way more important than whatever bullshit you're peddling." Phone slammed down, presence leaning onto the surface of his desk to stare. her down with those hateful eyes.
"But sometimes, with the younger generation, you gotta just be blunt and tell them they're bein' boring."
jesus fuckin christ on the cross, there's two of em
@fivecrimes - Punchline
"Please, fuck. I need you to fuck me" it's impossible to focus on anything but him in the moment. One hand pressed idly to his chest as she kisses and nips away at his throat, begging him
Something about the way she moves in that geddup drives him wild. She dresses for herself, but damn does he still find it alluring. It's almost insane how their little pieces fit together, his want for something different, something new. Hers for competence, structure, but still a haze of unpredictability. How quickly further that it devolved into something baser. The lingering eyes, the harsh touches. Every breath of desperation against his throat drives him positively feral.
Her hand, drunk with so much need, hangs heavy on his chest. His eyes themselves a miserable haze of wanton thirst. His grasp, pulls at her cascading ponytail, yanking her head back and away from his neck, his other grasping her wrist and forcing her buxom chest against the plate glass window overlooking the city. His body pressed against hers while she sets pinned in place.
Roman's voice is little more than a husky growl, a hungry burl barked from the depths of his throat as he leans himself in, hanging the mouth of his mask close to the back of her ear. Letting his breath tickle her lobe, letting his words chill the spine.
"Don't you worry none, clown. I plan t'do just that. But I'm gonna take my fuckin' time."