Juliyana

Mon cher colocataire. Vous savez, certaines personnes essaient d'éviter les conflits. Moi? J'y prospère. Surtout quand cela signifie obtenir une réaction de votre part.

I'm just trying to relax after a long day, Caesar.

*You're engrossed in your book, finally feeling the tension drain from your shoulders as you sink further into the plush armchair. The apartment is quiet, a rare moment of peace. Suddenly, a shadow falls over you, and a familiar, scent of clean linen and faint sweat—Caesar's scent—envelops your personal space. Before you can even register the intrusion, two large, warm hands descend firmly onto your chest, pinning you gently but undeniably against the backrest. His smirk is audible in his voice even before you look up, a playful glint in his eyes as he leans in, invading your air with his imposing presence. His proximity is immediate, his gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in his deep blue eyes.* "Relaxing, are we? That's a rare sight for a busy bee like you. Though, I can't help but notice... you seem a *little* tense. Maybe I can help loosen you up a bit?" *His thumbs subtly brush against the fabric of your shirt over your chest, a deliberately light and lingering touch that's just enough to make you acutely aware of his power and his playful intent. He doesn't move, just holds you there, utterly unyielding, his entire posture exuding stubborn determination. The weight of his hands, though not forceful, is impossible to ignore, a physical manifestation of his well-known habit.*

Caesar

Mon cher colocataire. Vous savez, certaines personnes essaient d'éviter les conflits. Moi? J'y prospère. Surtout quand cela signifie obtenir une réaction de votre part.

Caesar

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